Chapter Text
“Okay, as we wrap up with the mid-eighties with Whitney Houston’s ‘Saving All My Love for You’. We will enter ‘Off the Record’ confessions with your dear host, Will Byers! Jason Allan, signing off!”
The illuminated neon sign of the WSQK stood out against the pitch-black night. The faint hum of electricity coursing through the lights and the meteor shower of rain created a symphony, singing out into the void. As Hawkins continues to rebuild itself, the population has only been steadily increasing, tuning in to the WSQK as their daily station.
“Alright Will, this is all you. After this song, you’re on.” Jason said with a yawn. Standing up out of his office chair, ready to end his shift.
Still shoving his backpack into the employee lockers, Will absently remarked back, “Okay, see you tomorrow, Jason!”
He shuffled past him, sloppily waving while he exited through the back door.
It’s only been a few months since Will was hired at the WSQK, yet he was pulling in numbers with his new late-night show, ‘Off the Record’. After Rockin’ Robin’s retirement, the WSQK needed a new radio host. After Will graduated from college in New York, he needed to find a job in the meantime. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to reintroduce himself to Hawkins after the long years he had been away.
The charming aspect of his show could be the absolute secrecy of the confessions. Though Hawkins has been growing, its community stood intertwined, instantly revealing any anonymity in everyday life. ‘Off the Record’ lets the faces behind the confessions stay anonymous, creating an environment where speculation can grow and fester, where even the ones closest to you could have the darkest of secrets.
Will locked the metal door of his locker with a loud clank. He walked towards the recording booth and spun the black mesh office chair around, sinking himself into the seat. As the last thirty seconds of the song played out, he got himself ready, rolling his chair into the desk, strapping the heavy black headphones over his ears and gearing up to sound like he hadn't chugged three cups of coffee in the last hour in an attempt not to fall asleep on the drive here.
The song concluded,“—So I'm saving all my love. Yeah, I'm saving all my lovin'...Yes, I'm saving all my love for you…For you…For you…”
He twisted the volume knob to the left and raised the slider on the stereo, smoothly transitioning into his beaming voice, “Hello! Thanks for listening in, it’s Will Byers, hosting another edition of ‘Off the Record’! How is everyone on this rainy night?... I feel like it’s been raining this whole week.” Shortly after finishing his sentence, he pressed the button on the pre-loaded mixtape. Ringing out a silly sound effect for thunder.
Lifting his finger from the button, he continued, “But at night, the rain washes away all secrecy…So for tonight, I’ll ask you a question…”
He briefly paused, giving it a thought and asked, “What do you regret the most?... It seems like tonight is the perfect setting to share some regrets. Things we wished we did or didn’t do… We all have 'em right?! May as well confess them now, before you add another one to your list.” He inquired, drawing up gossip.
“Stay in tune for ‘Off the Record’. We will get back to you after these commercials!”
“Coca Cola's refreshing flavours—”
Instantly, the chimes of the phone rang loudly, penetrating through his headphones and reverberating against the glass panels of the recording booth.
He pushed his chair back, wheeling up to the phone station behind him, having exactly three minutes to pick up calls and put them on hold.
Will picked up the phone and efficiently interrogated, “Thank you for calling the WSQK. Where are you calling from, and what did you want to say?” Pulling out his notepad from his drawer to jot down brief notes.
Nothing but thundering rain on the other end rang out. Impatient, Will blankly stated, “Hello?”
On the other end, a nervous, breathy male voice answered, “Oh, uh, hi…Yeah, I’m calling from a telephone booth, and I wanted to confess a regret I had…” They paused. “To a really good friend of mine.”
“Okay…” He scribbled information down.“So uhm, what is the location?”
“Oh!...Yeah, sorry, Hawkins.”
“Okay, great, I’ll hook you up pretty soon. And make sure to turn down your radio because there is a seven-second delay. Stay on the line.”
The voice confirmed, almost a whisper, “Okay…”
As Will collected two more callers and put them on hold, barely 10 seconds remained in the commercials for him to roll his chair back to the microphone and hook them up to the radio.
Will strapped his headphones back on, “—If you need a reliable tow, call three one seven, six four six, eight two zero eight! Hook EM Up today!” The advertisement enthusiastically sang as he connected the audio jack of the phone to his mic.
He quickly turned down the volume and played the intro music, blending in the chime to transition to his voice, “Welcome back to ‘Off the Record’! Thank you for waiting while we collected some calls, and now, we will resume our nightly confessions!”
Glancing back at his notes, “So, this first caller is calling from Hawkins and wants to confess a regret they had, regarding their good friend…Though this confession sounds nothing out of the ordinary, remember this could be you they're talking about!”
“Let’s welcome in caller number one!” He introduced while clicking the button, letting the mysterious caller be heard.
“Okay, caller number one, let's see if we can hear you!” He leaned in.
“Oh, uh hello?” They said. The sound of rain and the skid of cars passing by are distinct in the background.
“Yes, we can hear you. You can now state your confession!”
“Oh yeah…Sorry, I’ve never done this before, but uhm…This has been weighing on my heart for the longest time…And now, I’ve got nothing to lose…There is so much I want to say, I just—uhm” The voice broke.
With a gulp, they resumed, “There was this part of me, which has always been there. A part of me knew that I was not like…Most. I had this…really, really good friend who was just like me. I felt like we were different…together.”
Now that Will had heard enough of this voice, it rang familiar—something about its softness, its rasp. Through the thick veil of memory, its shape could be formed, its corners rounded, and its body blurred. He could recall this tone very sparingly; potentially being someone from his years of school, but it felt domestic—so close.
“There would be times where he would look at me the same way I looked at him, o-or observe the same things I noticed…And it scared me. I-I didn’t want to be…Fuck, I don’t know—”
After a pause, they continued, on the brink of sobbing, “Sorry… I just wanted to say that… I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry for not realising, or for realising and being so fucking dumb. You’re the only person in my life that I cared—No, loved enough to put you in front of all my selfish desires…”
He would usually comment along with the confessant, but his mouth dried up, along with his commentary value.
Will’s eyes are wide. No, fuck no…It can’t be him. He gripped his desk so hard, almost making divots in the wood with his fingers.
“I’m so fucking sorry…” Finally releasing a sob.
“But for one last time, I’m going to be selfish again. I should just let you be happy, and forget about me…But I just have to put it out there.”
They took a long pause, clenching his chest in conflicted anticipation.
“I love you, Will.”
“I always have. I just never allowed myself to. I don’t want to be your Tammy.”
With his hands shaking, he gripped his hair and tried to say something. His heart is beating so hard that it could have been audible through the microphone.
Trying to compose himself, he could only utter,
“Wait! Mike don’—”
Abruptly, the dial tone played.
He sat there, his mind reeling. His viewers must be so confused. He should say something. But he can’t bring words to form, the syllables getting lodged in his throat.
His mind raced, “Wait. One last time?... No, Fuck, NO.”
Instantly standing up, the chair rolled back from the force, taking off his headphones and leaving them dangling by the wires. He shut off all the electricity, letting radio static play out on the other end.
He ran towards the employee lockers. His hands are shaking, but he forces them to steady and, thankfully, enters the correct code. Grabbing his jacket, with his car keys in the pocket, he pushed the back door and ran out. Leaving his locker door wide open with the rest of his belongings spilled out onto the floor.
He nearly slipped on the wet gravel, but caught himself. Racing to the parking lot, he got inside his car. Before he could strap on his seatbelt, he put the keys in the ignition and floored the pedal.
Trees, buildings, and other cars are flying by. He is going thirty over, but his mind is racing far faster. His eyes are wide, his chest is heaving, and even though freezing raindrops are hitting the windshield, his whole body is covered in a layer of sweat.
He has not commuted in this part of Hawkins in a long time, but eventually, the landscape started to become familiar, dirt roads transforming into long, windy streets of typical row houses. Pulling his car next to one of them. The house is completely hidden in the dark, if not for the dimly lit street lights, faintly illuminating the numbers printed on the support beams. He rapidly parked, his front right tire driving up the sidewalk.
He hurriedly opened his car door, not bothering to turn off his headlights, and sprinted to the front door.
He pounded his fists on the dark oak door, the impact of his knocks echoing throughout the neighbourhood.
“MIKE! ARE YOU IN HERE?” He desperately yelled.
He jiggled the doorknob, not expecting it to actually open.
He nearly fell into the dark hallway, but his eyes adjusted to the darkness, scanning to recognize those black curls or that full, lengthy figure. He stepped in, and immediately tripped over—Mike?
Terrified, Will flicked on the light switch and looked down to find Mike lying on the floor, his body hunched against the cold tile floor. His posture slouched, and eyes closed. But thank god, his breathing is shallow but still present.
He shut the door, preventing any more moisture from getting into the house, and knelt down next to him. His face looks awful, his hair is sopping wet, his thick-framed glasses are still holding drops of rain, his eye bags are so prominent, it looks drawn on, and his sunken cheeks are like craters. He reached his hand out and paused. Hovering over his face.
Will’s eyebrows furrowed. Analyzing the face that used to glow with a permanent smile, which was the symbol for all of his best childhood memories, that now hangs low in front of him, plastered with absolute misery.
Finally, he reached his hand out and touched his shoulder, the dampness of the rain transferring from his blazer to his hand. He paused for a second before shaking him.
“Mike…Mike, it’s me…” He gently shook him awake.
Mike slowly opened his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking around his surroundings and then focusing on Will. His eyes widened, and he let in a sharp inhale, coughing immediately.
“Hey, hey, don’t strain yourself.”
Mike let out a desperate, strained plea, “W-Will?”
Will’s heart stung; he hated hearing Mike in this state.
“Yeah. It’s me…Are you okay?”, placing his hand on his back, trying to elevate him.
Mike sat up, but diverted his gaze, his cheeks flushed and biting the skin off his lip.
“Will, you should go…I’m sorry.”
“I’m not leaving you in this state. Do you want some water?”
“No, I really mean it, you should go…Fuck, I—” He leaned his head back, grabbing a fistful of his own hair.
“Mike…Please, I’ll leave if you want, but only after I help you.”
Mike silently agreed. Still avoiding his gaze.
With a sigh, Will stood up and took off his shoes, “Okay…just sit here, I’ll be back.”
He walked into his cramped kitchen, opened his refrigerator, and tried to ignore the lack of groceries as he took out the water canister. He closed the door with a light thud and reached above to open his wooden cabinet. His collection of dishware was minimal, but the Star Wars mug he gave Mike for Christmas stuck out; it was well-loved, with some missing chips from the rim and a bit of coffee staining. The sight made him softly smile, knowing that Mike had not thrown it away all these years. He took it off the shelf, filled it with water, set the canister on the counter, and walked back to Mike once more.
At the sight of Will walking back, Mike made an attempt to stand up.
“It’s okay, let's just sit here.” Ushering Mike to sit back down. “Here…” He offered the mug full of water.
Mike grasped the handle and brought it close to him. Sliding his back down against the wall.
“Thank…You.” He softly said with an undertone of sorrow. Briefly flickering his eyes to look at Will. “Will, I—” Pausing his speech.
“I’m sorry, this probably looks so fucking pathetic. I don’t know why I did that…”
“Mike…” Will swallowed. Finally, sitting down next to him, his back resting against the hallway.
“It’s really no big deal. It was a temporary gig Robin got me while I came back from college.”
“No, I…Don’t just mean that, I mean, I’m sorry for that too, but…”
He abruptly stopped.
“Never mind.” Placing the mug on the floor.
Will wanted to interrogate him and ask what he meant. But when he turned his head to look at Mike, he spotted a single tear sliding down his cheek, glimmering in the harsh, warm light, absorbing into the raindrops already on his face. His lips were tightly pressed together, and his eyes shut in anguish.
They sat in silence. Both wanting to say something, but swallowing down the words before they could surface. Their breathing bodies, emitting the air they both share. Mike started to fidget with his fingers, his eyes looking down, sheltering them from his gaze.
Will has never seen Mike like this. Crying? Sure, like when they were kids, and he scraped his knee on the concrete, or when Nancy went overboard when she was teasing him. But watching him throw away collectable items he would have killed for, just a few years ago? Not hearing from him for months and months on end, when in the past, he would endlessly ramble? Having a glimpse of him going through pure mental instability? No.
Keeping his eyes on the wall across from them, Will broke the silence.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you...I felt like it’s been forever since we’ve played DND.”
Mike kept his mouth shut, still looking down at his lap.
Realizing he isn’t breaking through to him, Will confessed, “...I’ve missed you. And I mean you. Not the you that you bring whenever we have a mandatory party meeting. I miss you.”
He scooted closer to Mike, testing out how far we could get. Mike did not move, but he looked away. Taking off his glasses, he wiped his eyes with his rain-soaked sleeve.
“I don’t blame you for changing. We didn’t grow up as most kids, but through all of that, you were always…There. You know? Somewhere deep down, you were always you.” Will shared, wishing he would turn around and look at him.
After a pause, Will pleads, “Mike…Please.”
Mike turned his head back to look at Will. His eyes, red, worn down, and full of heartache. He is so fucking tired.
“I can feel that he is still in there.”
Will felt a tear slip down his own face. Fuck, he was supposed to be comforting him. But seeing him—No, feeling him be like this, he couldn’t help but let a few more tears fall.
Counterintuitively, their collective sadness made Mike softly smile. For the first time tonight, he softened his hard gaze, exhaling a small chuckle. Soon followed Will.
They sat, legs sprawled out, in Mike’s doorway, stupidly laughing at each other like children.
After their frenzy came to a halt, Mike spoke, his voice croaking and drowsy, “Will?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Will moved closer, both now feeling the heat from each other’s bodies, and promptly embraced him. Letting his shirt get soaked by Mike’s.
Mike paused, his arms hovering mid-air, hesitating to touch Will, not wanting to soil him, not just from the rainwater, but from his feeling of impurity.
Sensing the hesitation, Will added, “It’s okay, you can touch me.”
He eventually dropped his arms, letting them get tangled up in Will’s. Resting his cheek in the divot between his shoulder and neck.
Will felt dampness near the exposed part of his collar, feeling Mike let another tear dissolve into his skin. Though he initiated the hug, Mike hugged back twice as hard. He let him hold him as long as he needed, until he softened his grasp and let them part.
They sat in silence once more, but one that was closer, softer, and comfortable.
Until, in the corner of his eye, he noticed Mike shivering.
“Oh shit, you must be so cold.” He worried.
“Eh, it’s okay…”
Already standing up, “No, it’s not! I’ll get the shower ready for you.”
He attempted to walk away to the bathroom until he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve.
“Really…Thank you, but I can’t really stand for too long, so…”
“Oh…How about a bath?”
Mike exhaled a laugh, “A bath? I haven’t gotten one since I was a kid.”
He smiled back, “Well, let me be your mom tonight. Can you try to stand up?”
Mike slipped off his shoes, leaned against the wall and pushed up off the floor. Still shivering, he grappled the hallway for support. Will quickly put himself to use, putting his arm under his, and slowly shuffling their way to the bathroom.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Mike perched on the ledge of the tub, his hands planted by his side, touching the cold porcelain, as he watched Will bend over the tub, feeling the temperature of the water, adjusting the knobs until it was perfect. He plugged the drain and drizzled in some liquid soap he found under the sink, watching it start to foam and bubble. Eventually, he sat on the closed toilet seat next to the bath.
He took in a long breath and relaxed his shoulders, then looked at Mike, who was already staring at him. At the expected contact, they simultaneously diverted their gaze.
“Uhm..I’ll get some dry clothes for you, I’ll be right back.” Swiftly standing up and walking towards the door.
“Oh yeah, thanks.” Mike responded as Will was already out the door, leaving it ajar.
As he walked through the hallway to his room, he noticed how desolate his house really was. He might have even preferred his house to be an absolute mess. He never imagined Mike would live like this; his presence was always known back at his parents’ house, shelves overflowing with toys, various items littering the floor of the basement, and on every hard surface were picture frames and posters. Now, bare minimum necessities are the only things taking up space. He finally reached his room, grasping the metal doorknob and gently pushing it open.
The door creaked as he opened it, his whole room dyed dark blue from the rays of the moon shining through his window. He reached for the light switch, illuminating the space. Though there wasn’t much to be brought to light, at least his decoration in here was better; he kept some of his pictures of his family and friends. But what stood out, hung up against the wall of his bed, was the painting of the party he had made in Lenora. The sad beige wall juxtaposed with the bright colours Will used to paint it. He cringed at the old art piece, summarizing his deep, extensive feelings with dismissal. Besides that, his desk was flooded with papers; it stuck out from his drawers, and some fluttered away and became stranded on the hardwood floor. Lastly, a thick stack of books was piled up against his bed, acting as a make-shift nightstand.
Feeling guilty for snooping, he finally opened his dresser and grabbed a fresh change of clothes.
He felt awkward as he shuffled back to the bathroom. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he was not going to let Mike be buried back down after he saw a sliver of him, starting to stick through the soil again.
With a fresh change of clothes in his arms, he elbowed the door open. Mike glanced back up from fidgeting with his glasses and took an apprehensive breath.
“Oh uhm, here's your change of clothes.” He placed the folded pile on the counter.
“Thank you…”
Again, silence rang out. Will felt the need to interject, to break the streak of silence, fearing that if he did not, it would make him uncomfortable.
He looked past Mike and at the bathtub, the water filled slightly above midway. He walked towards it, inches away from Mike, and shut off both the faucets.
Kneeling next to the tub, he queried, “It looks like it’s full…If you want, I could leave.”
“If you want to go, that's okay…” Mike stared at him, his eyes full of ache, obviously not okay with it.
“No…Mike, do you want me to go?”
“I don’t want to bother you, and you probably would want to go back to work…” He stared off again, his hand itching the back of his neck, focusing on his reflection in the water.
“No! Mike!” Will yelled.
Mike looked back at him abruptly, his expression slightly frightened.
“Sorry…I didn’t mean to yell, but…Please Mike, stop acting like you’re bothering me. Just answer me. Do you want me to leave? Yes or no.”
With such a direct question, Mike pondered his response. Biting his lip and finally holding his gaze again, admitting,
“No…Please don’t go.” Coming out more desperate than he anticipated.
Finally satisfied with his response, he warmly smiled back and reassured, “Okay. I won’t.”
Will stared at the bathtub, the water swirling and bouncing off the bright white ceiling lights. The foamy bubbles, reflecting his own conflicted face.
Mike stared at Will, mesmerized by him. His gentle kindness twisted the knife he left in his heart. He completely ruined his reputation in Hawkins, making an absolute ruckus on live radio, and yet he is here, on his knees and running a bath for him. It very well could have been the harsh white lighting, casting its glare, but he swore that Will was glowing.
“Well, it seems like the bath is ready.” Will turned to look up at him, breaking Mike out of his daze.
He wanted to say something more, but all he could muster up was a meagre ‘thank you’.
Will smiled back and briefly nodded, making his way out the door and slowly closing the hinges, giving Mike some privacy.
“Wait!”
“Oh—yeah?” He pushed the door back open a crack.
“Can you…Leave the door open a little?”
“Oh sure...”
His hand grasped the door and left a sliver of space between them. Will paused, putting his forehead to the wood, and ultimately shuffled away.