Work Text:
April 1976
What a lame gift. What am I supposed to do with a journal???
I don't even know how to write properly yet. Nancy is writing this for me. Whatever
She says to put my thoughts on here… to write what happens to me. It’s not like I have that much to say
Oh! I made a new friend today!!! His name is Will. He says he likes to draw. Tomorrow I’ll bring him the crayons that mom got me for Christmas. I don’t even use them anyway
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
March 1980
Dear Journal,
Have you ever heard of a little game called… Dungeons and Dragons????
I LOVE IT. It has monsters, quests and clerics. I am the narrator. Well, the dungeon master it’s what it’s called actually. My friend Will’s brother gave it to him for his birthday and now we always play it together.
Maybe having somewhere to write my thoughts wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I could start planning my stories here!!! It could be fun!!
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
May 1981
Dear Journal,
I thought of a campaign for the game Will and I always play! It still needs to be finished, but I thought it could be something like this:
In a far, far away land, the Paladin and his friends, a Knight and a Bard, searched in every place for the mysterious man who everyone called “Wise One”, to help them find the right magic to defeat the dragon…
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
November 1983
He can’t be gone.
I know he isn’t gone.
Why is everybody acting normal?
Why am I the only one that cares about him? About Will?
I don't believe in what they say. I can't believe what they say. I won't. He isn’t gone. He just can’t be.
He is not gone.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
November 1983
It's been a few days now.
He still hasn’t come back.
I just keep thinking of how scared he must be, all alone in there. Eleven says he is okay though.
I miss him.
I wish he wasn’t alone in there.
I wish I was with him.
I wish I was the one that got taken.
Will is smart, so much, but I am so scared that it is not enough to survive there.
I can't stop worrying about him there. Alone, scared, hungry, cold.
It’s not fair.
He shouldn’t be there.
He shouldn’t.
I miss him.
When I miss him too much I just take the stack of drawings that I kept of his and look at them.
It makes me feel like he is still with me.
We’ll bring him home. I'll bring him home.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
November 1983
WILL IS BACK!!!
He is okay. Sort of… they kept him a couple of days in the hospital for checkups.
I went there every day to make sure he wouldn't disappear.
I was terrified he would be gone again.
I was terrified they would take him from me again.
Eleven was right, he has always been there. Now she is gone, left to protect us I think.
They would have gotten along well. I hope she is okay.
But Will is here now. Will is here.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Fall 1984
Something’s wrong with Will.
He keeps on… seeing things. And I told him, I told him I'm here for him, I brought him home, I held his hand. It was nice. His hands are soft, but really cold.
I tried to help as best as I could… told him I'll be there for him.
Even when he feels like he is going crazy.
He isn’t crazy.
Even if he is, we’ll go crazy together.
I won't leave him alone.
Not again.
I will never forgive myself for ever losing him.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Fall 1984
I'm worried about Will.
That day at the lab… that was terrifying. He didn’t look like himself.
He wasn't himself.
He recognised me though.
He knew who I was. That means Will is still in there.
I was so scared, he kept on suffering, they were hurting him.
They were hurting the spy but he was the one taking all the hits.
I cried that night. All night.
I mean, I guess I also cried during the day when I was with him. I saw him do it too.
I saw the tear slip from his eye.
It matched mine
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Spring 1985
El is great, really. She’s a superhero.
I like her very much, she’s a great girlfriend.
That's weird, right? Having a girlfriend.
I guess I always thought that a girlfriend should be someone you have known forever.
Like a friend, or a best friend.
I don’t know if I like know her like that.
There’s so many things she doesn’t talk about, so many questions she doesn’t answer.
We don’t really know a lot about her past…
How can I like someone I don’t fully know?
I should though, right?
I'm supposed to like her. Like her that way, I mean.
I’m supposed to like kissing her.
The fact is… I don't think I do.
I like spending time with her though. Like with everyone else in the party.
She’s great!!
I guess I wish I had as much fun with her as I do when I’m with Will.
I have been thinking a lot about him lately. When I’m with her, I mean.
Sometimes I think about him even when I'm kissing her. Like, I think that I'd rather be with him.
Not kissing!!! Just… just with him. Spending time together.
I don't know what that means.
But Will and I are best friends, you know? It's normal to always want to be with him.
Right?
I don’t know.
Maybe I’m going crazy.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Summer 1985
El dumped me, and it’s all Max's fault!!
She keeps putting ideas in her head.
I didn't even do anything wrong? Hopper told me to stay away from her, and that’s what I did.
He is right, you know. We do spend a lot of time together.
We should be spending time with our friends too, not only me and her. It’s not fair to the other members of the party.
Plus, he kind of scares me so it’s better to just do what he says.
Why would she be mad at me though? I mean, yes, I guess I’ve lied about the whole nana thing. But it’s not like it’s a real lie.
It was more… a way of getting out of it easily.
I swear this is all Max’s doing, convincing her that I treat her like garbage.
Whatever
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Summer 1985
I am a huge piece of shit. An asshole.
I don't know why I said that… I don't think those things.
The words just slipped.
I guess I was mad? Offended? I don't know.
It’s all my fault.
He just wanted to spend time with me us, like old times, and I snapped. I took it out on him, but he didn’t deserve it.
I have to make it up to him. I have to go see him and beg him for forgiveness.
I just hope he understands
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Winter 1985
Will and El have been gone for months now.
It’s weird to not see them every day, to go to school and not find them among all the other students.
Well, actually El has never been with us at school. So I guess it’s just weird to not see Will in the corridors. To not share looks with him every time Mr. Clark says something funny.
I miss those little moments.
I miss them.
I feel like I don't know anything about their life anymore, like I'm not part of his their life anymore.
El does seem happy, from her letters I mean. She always talks about how many friends she has, how much fun she is having.
I guess I'm worried Will isn’t as happy as she is?
He never mentions other friends, or how he spends his days.
She told me he might like someone. That he paints a lot.
I wish I could see his paintings. It's been so long since I have received one of his drawings.
Maybe I'm not that special to receive a gift from him anymore.
Writing letters to him is so difficult... Which is weird, because talking to him has always been easy.
I guess I shouldn't think so much about saying the wrong things? But if he really has a girl he likes in Lenora, maybe that’s why he doesn’t say much.
Maybe he is worried that I'll get sad or something.
That I’ll worry he might replace me the party.
Maybe I should also write less. Call less.
So that he understands, you know? That it’s okay.
It's okay if he wants to move on.
God knows he deserves it. Deserves to forget those horrors.
Yeah, maybe that’s what I'll do.
I won't make him feel pressured. I won't suffocate him.
It’s not like he would want to hear from me if he has a girlfriend anyway.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Spring 1986
I am going to Lenora for Spring Break!
I'm so excited to visit Will and El, to see what their life is like there.
Is it weird that I am also a bit scared? That it won't be the same, I mean.
We haven't seen each other in so long.
Will is probably incredibly tanned by now, spending all his days at the beach.
I wonder if he goes there with that girl.
El didn't tell me much more about that.
Not like I asked, though.
Whatever. We'll see how it goes.
I just hope he is they are as excited as I am to finally meet up again!
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Spring 1986
El broke up with me. Again.
I deserved it this time though…
I couldn't tell her.
I couldn't say those words to her, not again.
Friends shouldn’t lie.
I don't love her. I don't know if I ever did.
I was wrong for letting her believe that, she doesn’t deserve it.
Will gave me a painting, said it was from her. That she commissioned it, I mean.
I don’t know if I believe him though…
She doesn’t care about D&D, and she definitely doesn’t know about our roles.
I guess I wish it was from him.
That those were his words.
I wish he was the one who believed that I can be a leader. That I’m the heart.
I don't know what to think anymore.
I’m very sad.
I should be wanting the words to be from her, right? I should be thinking about my girlfriend, where she is, if she's okay.
Instead I'm just here, silently crying in the back of a van while my best friend is sleeping next to me, with his head on the window.
I’m crying because I don't know what it means to want those words to be from him instead.
Crying because of how much I…
How much I…
Fuck.
Fuck this.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Summer 1986
The Byers moved into our house a couple months ago.
It's nice to always have Will here, to spend so much time together. It's like an endless sleepover.
We used to have them all the time when we were kids, staying up all night talking and laughing.
I could get used to this.
I could get used to having him here all the time. To live with him.
I could get used to this being my life.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
September 1987
The Byers have been staying with us for almost a year and a half now.
The house is never quiet anymore.
Jonathan sneaks off to Nancy's room basically every night, I always hear him.
I have thought about sneaking off too, to go to the basement with Will.
So that he doesn’t sleep alone. He doesn’t like to sleep alone.
A few times I went to spend the evening with him down there. We usually read a comic or prepare the next campaign, but most of the time he just stays here in my room after dinner.
It's nice when he does.
We don’t always talk, we just exist within each other. I write, he draws. I read, he listens to music.
He always goes back to the basement to sleep though. I tried to make him stay a couple times. I didn't actually say the words sleep here with me tonight, because I never could.
But I tried to make him understand that it’s warmer here, that the basement is cold and it’s dark and it’s not like it’s homey. He didn’t take the hint though.
He always goes back to it.
I guess he just doesn’t want to sleep here with me.
I mean, I can't really blame him.
It's not normal for a boy to want to sleep in the same bed with his best friend.
I am not normal.
I keep wishing to be close to him.
I feel like there’s this incredibly strong force pulling me towards him.
My dad always says something about people that are like this.
People that like someone they shouldn’t.
He talks about it like it’s twisted, like it’s something that shouldn’t happen.
He says that they will never have a happy life like everybody else.
Maybe, for people like me, being happy was never in the cards.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
October 1987
I have to stop this.
I can’t do this.
I can’t.
I can’t want it-
I can’t want him.
I can't keep wanting him.
He is my best friend. I have to stop.
The sheer intimacy of a beautiful friendship… ruined.
Ruined because of me, because of who I am.
I can’t-
I care for him, oh so much. So deeply.
No, no, that’s not right.
That's not enough. Not even fucking nearly enough.
I think… I think I love him.
Have for a while now.
I love a he.
I love him.
I love my best friend.
I love him because he is my best friend.
But I can’t.
I can’t.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
November 1987
He knows. He must have understood something.
He looked at me.
He looked right at me as he said “I know they are not like me”
Because he knows that I am.
He knows that I am like him.
He knows that we have always been the same.
He knows that I don't like girls either.
He knows that I have always reserved a sweeter voice for him, a more gentle touch, a tighter hug, a kinder stare.
He must have realised I have feelings for him.
He wouldn’t have looked at me if he didn’t know.
There is no other explanation for it.
He knows that I like him. And he doesn’t like me back.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Fall 1988
Guilt.
Shame.
Shame and guilt. That's all I feel nowadays.
guilty. guilty. guilty. guilty. guilty. guilty.
I love him.
I swear that’s not the only reason why I want to be near him though. I swear.
I love him as a friend.
It just so happens that I don't only love him as a friend.
I feel guilty to love him, but I swear it’s not like that.
I don't spend all my time with him just because I desire him, because I hope that one day he might look at me with the same devotion that I only reserve for him.
I do because he is the best person in the world.
Because he looks at me like I matter. And don't get me wrong, I don't believe that I do. He just makes me think that I might.
He makes me feel like life is worth living.
I swear I don't only spend time with him because I love him.
He has a heart so pure that I hurt every time he looks sad.
He deserves to be the happiest. He deserves the world.
I wish I was worthy of giving it to him.
I am selfish.
What if I want to be the one to make him happy just so that he might love me back?
I am an awful person.
He deserves everything,
I am nothing.
I have been asking myself if I am deserving of love.
I believe the answer is no.
I so want it to be yes.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Spring 1989
I feel nothing all the time, except for when I’m with him.
I feel warm when I’m with him. Sad, still. But warm.
Warm because he is the sun that shines even in the darkest of places. Sad because he can never be mine.
That analogy fucking sucked.
I can't think these days.
My love for him is consuming me.
I am not well.
We are graduating in a few weeks, and I am going to follow him at college. I applied at the same university he did.
I couldn’t even think of being apart.
I don't think I could survive without being next to him.
I know I couldn’t.
I don't ever want to be far from him.
I need him.
selfish
I want him.
shame
I love him.
guilt
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
Graduation day, 1989
My feelings are to be buried with me.
I can't risk ruining our friendship. He means too much to me.
I genuinely think I can do this.
Pretend, I mean.
Pretend that I don't love him.
I can do this.
I will do this.
Being near him is enough for me.
He will always be more than enough for me.
Mike stared at the page in front of him, pen still in his hand, not really knowing what else to write there. He has been pouring his heart out on those pages for years now, and it’s time to let go. He can’t bring the journal with him to college, he decided. First of all, it’s too risky, being that he and Will are rooming together. Second of all, he really decided to let go and bury his feelings.
it’s just for the best. He won’t ever risk ruining their friendship. It’s too important.
Will is too important.
So, for one last time, he writes it again.
I love him.
˗ˏˋ🗒𓍢ִ໋𓂃🖊ˎˊ˗
“I’ll be right with you guys, I think I left my keys down there.” Will says before disappearing down the stairs to Mike’s basement.
Lucas, Dustin and Max are still in the kitchen, talking with Ms Wheeler about the future, college and how excited they all are, while she moves around the stove to tidy up what’s left of dinner.
“I will miss your lasagne though!” Lucas says with a smile, earning a hug from Mike’s mom.
“You kids will always be welcome to come back here and eat my Italian food any time you want,” she says, releasing Lucas from her embrace and moving to place a hand on Dustin's shoulder, her eyes going softer. “You’re all growing up so fast. I remember you all running around here in those Ghostbusters costumes.”
Lucas groans. “Oh my God, please don’t ever bring that up again.”
“I still have the photos,” she continues, delighted. “With the little proton packs? And those goggles Dustin would not take off.”
“I stand by that decision,” Dustin says, folding his arms. “Those goggles were awesome. And historically accurate.”
“They were plastic,” Max says.
“Historically accurate plastic,” he counters.
They all laugh, the sound filling the kitchen. For a second, it really does feel like nothing’s changed.
Mike is leaning against the door frame, an already nostalgic smile forming on his face while he watches his best friends move around his house as if it’s their own. It feels nice.
Everything feels incredibly domestic; his friends, best friends, here in his kitchen for one last time before parting ways for a while.
God, he will miss all of them so much. The chaos, the noise, the arguments over who gets the last slice of pizza, the late night campaigns, the way they just… fit. Like they were always meant to be there.
At least he is going to be with Will.
He won’t be alone.
He will still have a hint of normalcy, of home, with him.
“What is Will doing down there? Did he drop the keys in the upside down or-” Dustin doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before Max’s elbow hits him in the ribs.
“OUCH?!”
“Don’t you dare joke on something like that ever again, Henderson.”
Mike can’t help the grin that escapes on his face.
“I’ll just go see if he needs any help,” he says, and he swears he can hear a of course you would right before he opens the door to the basement.
“Will? Is everything okay?”
No answer.
“Will?”
He starts to go down the stairs, the room still lightly dimmed with only the desk lamp on, and the air feels heavy.
Will is in front of the D&D table, his back to the stairs.
“Hey, did you find the keys-“
The world stops.
Will has turned around, Mike’s journal in his hands.
Opened.
He feels dizzy. Panic creeps up on him and he feels the sudden urge to run, to hide himself.
All of his thoughts are there. All of his feelings, everything he ever let himself feel towards his best friend, towards Will, is right there.
Even if he stopped addressing him.
He stopped writing his name, when he understood the gravity of his feelings. When he put a name to what he was feeling towards him, Mike stopped writing Will’s name in his journal.
But how much of it did Will read? How far back did he go? How much does he know? What does he know?
Does he know?
Mike feels his throat closing and his eyes watering. It can’t be. He can’t have ruined everything.
Stupid.
Why the fuck did I leave it there for everyone to find.
“Why do you-” Mike starts asking, but Will interrupts him.
“What is this?” Is all Will can say, and Mike notices that his eyes are glassy too and that his lips are trembling.
“I-“ The words fail him.
The boy who has been writing for more than ten years about his feelings, is out of an explanation. Out of excuses.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Will’s words cut through him like a knife.
“A joke?” Mike’s voice is hurt, and he does nothing to hide it. “A joke? You think I wrote all those things as a joke?” He feels dizzy. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
It can’t. It can’t. He was so careful all these years. Please don’t let it be real. Please. He can’t lose him-
He can’t lose him again.
“Why would you think it’s a joke? What did you… how much of it did you read?”
“Enough to know that you are writing as if you are a boy in love with his best friend. You are writing as if you are me.”
Mike feels like he has just been slapped in the face.
As if you are… what?
“I opened up with you guys, I told you I didn’t like girls, that I liked you, and you- you are writing a fucking story out of it?” Will continues, and he is shaking now, his stare piercing through Mike’s soul. All he can see is anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Vulnerability.
Mike is confused, replaying the words in his head because he is sure he heard them wrong. He must have. He must have heard wrong.
I told you I didn’t like girls, that I liked you.
That I liked you.
I liked you.
You.
“I’ts not- that’s not what that is. It’s not a story.” The words come out as a whisper.
“Why would you write about something like this then? About being in love with your best friend?”
You. Mike wants to say.
Not in love with your best friend. In love with you.
“Will, you are not hearing me. It’s not a story. It’s my story.” He doesn’t know what else he could say, to make Will understand. He thought he was obvious. He thought he had been obvious. He was terrified of it all these years.
“What do you mean when you say that you liked me?" His tone is more anxious now, desperate for the answer to be exactly what he has wanted to hear his whole goddamn life. "What do you mean, Will?”
“You are kidding. You must be literally shitting me.”
“I have never been more serious in my entire life.”
Will slams the journal on the table, moving his arms in a frustrated way. “You know that I liked you. I told you guys that day at the Squack.”
Mike can’t believe this. He is shaking, his body practically on autopilot, moving towards Will.
“No, you didn’t. You said that there was someone- someone that wasn’t like you. And you looked right at me. Because you knew. You must have known that I- that I was also like you. That’s why you looked at me.”
They are now so close that every word uttered above a whisper feels like a scream.
“I looked at you because I was talking about you being the guy that I liked, Mike. Not because I thought you were like me. It was- it was the complete opposite," Will starts, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "I have fucking liked you for-”
Mike doesn’t even let him finish. He moves before he even knows what he is doing. His hands go straight up to cup Will’s face, tilting his head, and closing every distance between them. His lips find Will’s so easily, it’s as if they were never meant to be apart.
As if it was in the stars for them to always be intertwined. Connected. Together.
They kiss like they are hungry, like their lives depend on it.
They say everything that they couldn’t say all these past few years.
Mike moves his hands from Will’s face and grips his hips tight, bringing him even closer, as if that’s possible. A moan escapes Will at the closeness, and he moves his hand up to Mike’s hair, tugging it fiercely.
They break the kiss to rest their foreheads together, lips swollen and red, breathing into each other's mouths.
“If you had- if you had kept on reading,” Mike starts, unable to shut up, “you would have seen what I wrote on the other entries, you would have found so many pages of me spiraling. Panicking. You would have read of how much I can’t stay away from you. Because you are the sun, Will. My sun. And I felt guilty, for so many years, because it was so selfish of me to want to be so close to you.”
Tears are now falling free on his face, and he can taste the salt on his lips.
“I was so fucking scared of my feelings. Terrified that you would think that I was keeping you near only out of my sheer desire. But it’s not- it’s not like that. I care so much for you, you are my best friend. And I love you, Will. I always have. I always will. And I’m sorry. I'm sorry that I was so stupid. That I didn’t say anything. That I didn’t understand what you meant that day. I’m so fucking stupid.” A sob escapes him, and Will grabs his face, forcing him to look him in the eyes, holding his gaze.
“You don’t have to apologise, Mike. Never. I too was fucking scared of saying it out loud. Making it too real. I couldn’t have survived if you had rejected me. I spent so long thinking I didn’t earn the right to be loved, Mike. It’s not your fault.”
Earning the right.
How could Will ever think something like that? How could anyone?
Earning the right. That’s just fucking stupid.
Mike feels sick to his stomach for ever letting him think he had to earn the right to be himself.
“I would have never rejected you, Will. Not in a million years. Not ever. There would never be a single universe out there, in which I would reject you if you confessed.”
Will can’t help the smile that escapes his lips.
“I know. Now, I know.”
Their lips find each other again, but this time there’s no rush, no hunger. There’s just two boys sweetly kissing each other stupid, absolutely beaming with love.
Two boys that have been convinced their whole lives that it was never in the cards for them.
Thank fucking god that they changed decks.