Work Text:
Rain tapped steadily against the basement window as Will sat cross-legged, sketchbook balanced across his knees. His pencil moved across the paper absentmindedly, letting it wander where his mind refused to. Will wasn’t even sure what he was drawing. He sketched the outline of a face, one that had a striking resemblance to his “best friend”, Mike. If you could even call them best friends at this point.
Fuck. He did it again.
Will angrily erased the drawing, slamming his sketchbook shut and setting it down next to him. He closed his eyes and rested his head on his knees, the darkness of his eyelids filling his vision.
We’re friends! We’re friends.
Mike's voice rang in his ears. He groaned and jumped up on his makeshift bed on the couch, pulling the covers over him before-
Knock knock.
A gentle bang shook his door.
He ignored it, which shows to be difficult as whoever is behind the door begins to knock 3 more times, each time growing in intensity. Will grunted, ripping the covers off his body. The absence of his blanket left a cold ache where there was once a familiar, comfortable warmth. He hesitantly walked over to his door, hand hovering over the doorknob before he eased the wood open just enough to see a shadow shaped like the one person he didn’t wanna see.
Will instinctively closed the door, shutting it in Mike’s face.
“Will, come on man!” Mike begins to bang on the door again.
“I just wanna talk!”
Will hurried to the pull-out mattress, his breath shallow as the door rattled under the banging. Escaping onto the mattress, he pulled the duvet tightly over his head, curling into a ball to hide from Mike’s yelling. All the words he wished he could say to Mike began to fall from his eyes and onto his cheek, each teardrop a silent tribute to his anger, sadness, and confusion.
Will opened and closed his mouth before the words eventually fought their way out, “I don’t want to talk to you right now, Mike.”
Will paused, waiting for a response.
Silence.
Of course Will wanted to talk to Mike. He wanted Mike to fight for him. He wanted to see Mike beg for him, yearn for him just like Will had his whole life. He slowly pulled the covers off his face, just enough to see the shadow of Mike’s feet hesitate, then slowly disappear.
Will closed his eyes, a sharp pressure blooming behind them. He swallowed hard, trying to force the lump in his throat back down. He wiped his eyes as he grabbed his walkman, putting in his headphones. He clicks unpause and “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure fills his ears. “I would say I'm sorry...” Robert Smith’s voice sang out, echoing Will's own tangled thoughts. He clenched his jaw and turned his face away, allowing the upbeat tempo mask the tremors in his hands and lower lip. He escaped into the lyrics, leaving the weight of his dried tears behind, and slowly drifted off into sleep.
—————————————————————————
You’ve called maybe a couple times. Meanwhile El has a book of letters from you!
The words stung in Mike’s ear. It’s not like Will was wrong, he had only called a couple times over the course of a year. But he didn't understand why Will was upset that he contacted El often. He yearned to understand Will, and he always has. Since they were little, Mike tried to pick apart Will’s brain, craving to sympathize with the joys, horrors, and sorrows that shaped Will’s world.
Mike sighed, lifting himself off his bed where he has been rotting for the past couple hours. The rain pounded down onto his window, making it even harder for Mike to get up. He treaded over his mountains of clothes that were scattered across his room to his desk. Once he got to his desk, he began to open his top drawer, the hinges creaking as he slid it open seeing as it hasn’t been opened in over a year. Mike pulls out a folder, containing years and years of Will’s drawings that Mike had kept safe. Oftentimes, Mike would feel guilty that these drawings had been left untouched. In a sense, it makes Mike feel all these memories have gone to collect dust and be forgotten, and along with it, their friendship. A familiar drawing caught Mike’s eye while he flipped through the collection of sketches and paintings. He froze, inhaling a quick, jagged breath. He ran his fingers over the illustration, tracing out his and Will’s face. This used to be one of Mike’s personal favorites. The drawing depicted Will and Mike around the age of 7, hand in hand. Mike exhaled and, without hesitation, ran out of his room, en route to the basement.
Mike’s leg’s raced towards Will’s door, his body unable to catch up with the lower half. Before he knew it, there he was, standing in front of the entrance to the basement. Mike lifted his hand, then dropped it.
Was this a good idea?
Would Will even want to see his face?
Reluctantly, Mike closed his sweaty palms and released two gentle knocks on the door. He held his breath, then…
Nothing.
Mike pauses before beginning to grow frustrated. Why was Will ignoring him? How can he expect Mike to know what he did wrong without even communicating it to him? He started to knock a little harder, each knock growing in force.
“Will, come on man! I just wanna talk!” Mike’s voice cracked slightly.
His breath hitched at Will’s soft, but fragile voice. “I don’t wanna talk to you right now, Mike,” he said, his voice sounding brittle and pinched, as if every word required a massive physical effort.
Mike opened his mouth to say something, but what could he say? He couldn’t force Will to talk to him, no matter how much he wanted to. He ran his fingers through his hair, thinking of the next course of action. Eventually, Mike slowly walked away, leaving all his words hanging in the air behind him. A tear fell from his eye and he instinctively wiped it. He didn’t even know why he was crying, he and Will had fought before. But not like this. They’d always worked through it, but this time things were different. Mike felt the blossoming flower of their friendship slowly die, leaving the rotting stench of his own failure and guilt to haunt him.
—————————————————————————
Will flutters his eyes, the bright sunlight from his overhead window peeking through his eyelids. He yawns and turns over to look at the clock which reads 10:30 AM. Will groans and surrenders the comfort of his blanket to meet the cool, summer air. He throws on whatever sweater he finds first, being met with the comfortable warmth once again. He made his way towards the stairs and dragged his feet up each step, the old staircase creaking under his feet.
”Morning, honey!” Karen’s voice was loud in Will’s ears, not fully adjusted to being awake.
“Morning..” he croaked, taking a seat at the dining table and rubbing his eyes.
Will turned and realized he had just sat himself right next to Mike, who seemed oddly invested in his cereal. Mike looked up, initiating eye contact. Will’s breath hitched, immediately looking back down to see Karen setting a bowl of soggy Honey Nut Cheerios in front of him.
He looked up at Karen, “Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler.”
Karen smiled at Will and went back to the kitchen to clean the dishes that had been left in the sink from the night before, the particular dinner that Will noticed Mike’s absence at the table. He exhaled and continued eating his cereal.
Once he finished, the majority of the Wheelers had left the house, except Mike. Will stood to put his cereal bowl in the sink, taking slow strides to the kitchen, glancing behind him to look at Mike whose cereal had not been touched. Will set his dish down in the sink and began to walk out of the room, but was stopped by a strong grip on his arm. Will sharply inhaled and looked behind him to see Mike, who had an intimidating, almost scary look in his eyes.
“Uh..” Mike looked down and loosened his grip on Will’s arm, still keeping a firm hold.
“We need to talk.”
“O-okay…” Will mumbled, before being dragged by Mike’s hand down to the basement. Mike let go of Will’s arm, opening the basement door. The corners of Will’s mouth turned down as the absence of Mike’s hand on his arm made him realize how much comfort it brought him.
They stepped down into the basement, cold air instantly hitting Will. Now he really wished he could have Mike’s warm hand back on his arm. Mike began to pace back and forth, which made Will nervous.
Did he hate Will?
Was he here to tell Will he didn’t wanna be friends anymore?
Will would find out soon enough, as Mike opened his mouth and began to talk.
—————————————————————————
Mike stayed up all night, restless, thinking about Will. His mind raced from his voice, to the words he said at the roller rink.
Well, we used to be best friends!
Mike turned over again, groaning. Why did Will calling them best “friends” hurt more than anything Will ever said? Mike recalls back to that moment, remembering the way Will’s eyes glistened in the cheap disco lights, how much taller he had gotten since he last saw him. How beautiful he looked.
”What the fuck…” Mike whispered, sitting up and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.
Why is he thinking of his best friend in this way? He never thought about Lucas or Dustin this way. He never even thought about El this way, especially recently since he and El had broken up shortly after his and Will’s fight. Mike looked down at his hands, trembling slightly in the moonlight filtering through his window. The word beautiful echoed in his head, mocking him. You don't look at your best friend and feel your pulse in your throat. You don't break up with your girlfriend and find yourself entirely consumed by the way a boy bit his bottom lip and grazed his hand over his other arm.
Because this wasn’t any boy. This was Will Byers.
The truth didn't come to him like a gentle wave, it hit him like a physical blow. He wasn't mourning a friendship. He was falling apart because he was in love with him.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh god.
Mike Wheeler was in love with Will Byers. And he needed to talk to him. Now.
—————————————————————————
Will stood quietly as Mike spoke, his heart racing, along with his mind, terrified for what Mike was about to say.
”So… you know I’m not good with words and uh… this kind of stuff.” Mike said as he continued to pace, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact with Will.
Will sighed, “What do you have to say to me, Mike?”
Mike paused and stopped pacing, turning to face Will. He took a deep breath, “I wanted to apologize.”
“Okay.” Will said flatly, a little attitude behind his tone, crossing his arms. “Go.”
”Don’t do that,” Mike said, his voice suddenly sharp and fragile. “Don’t give me that look like you know exactly what I did wrong.”
Will’s jaw clenched, “You should know what you did, Mike! You.. How do you not know?!”
”Goddamnit, I can’t… I can’t read your mind Will! I wish I could, okay? Because ever since you got back, it’s like you’re daring me to mess up!”
Mike took a sharp step forward, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His voice was trembling, “You’ve been freezing me out for months, acting like I’m some kind of monster, and I am trying. But if you’re just going to blame me for every single thing that goes wrong in your life—”
”In my life?!” Will cut him off, a bitter laugh broke from his throat.
He took a step forward too, matching Mike’s energy, the gentle resentment he’d been harboring finally boiling over. “Are you kidding me, Mike? You think this is about me pushing you away? I was the one who was there! I was the one trying to keep in contact, but you ruined it all on your own! And now you're just moping around and avoiding me! It's not my fault you and El broke up!”
”Yes it is!” Mike yelled out, too quickly. He gasped softly, but stayed quiet.
“...What?” Will muttered.
”It’s your fault Will..” Mike forced out, looking down at his shoes.
Will opened his mouth in shock, clueless. “Oh so suddenly this is my fault now? Mike you’re not making any sense! You clearly didn’t care about me enough for this to be my fault I..”
Will’s volume lowers, his voice breaking.
”You didn’t even write to me.”
Mike’s jaw clenched. He stepped forward without even thinking, almost instinctively.
“I did, Will. I wrote you 365 letters. Everyday I wrote to you I just…”
He ran his hand through his hair; his breath hitched.
”I couldn’t bring myself to send them.”
Will grew frustrated. He had waited so long to hear from Mike, and to find out that Mike purposefully didn’t contact him made his chest ache.
He had to see these letters.
—————————————————————————
Mike saw the anger and confusion appear in Will’s demeanor. And he understood why. Mike was an asshole for not sending the letters, and he was fully aware of it.
Will took a deep breath before speaking.
”Show me the letters.”
Mike sighed and took a step back. He couldn’t even pretend like he hadn’t been storing them, as if he would magically build up the courage to mail them.
”Okay.”
Mike turned around, but not before glancing over Will’s face. He had seen this face before, almost emotionless. But Mike knew there was emotion behind there. He could see the sadness, confusion, and anger built up behind his deadpan face, seeming like he could burst any second.
Mike ran up the stairs to his room and opened up his door. He tediously walked over to his desk and opened up one of his drawers. He pulled out a folder, stacked with different types of notebook papers since Mike had used up multiple notebooks over the time Will was gone. He took a deep breath and shut the drawer before making his way back down the basement.
Mike threw the folder down on the table, right in front of where Will was sitting clutching his knees.
”There. All 365 of them.”
Will nodded and picked up the folder before hesitating,
”Could you maybe… leave while I read these?” He sheepishly laughs, “It’s just kinda awkward to have you right there.”
Mike brightens at Will’s laugh, seeing the smile he had longed to see since their fight.
”Y-yeah, yeah, of course… I’ll just be in my room.”
Mike stands there for a second before slowly exiting the room.
—————————————————————————
Will watched Mike leave, and once he heard the door shut he began to sift through the letters. He didn't wanna leave Mike alone for too long, so he decided to fixate on the most recent ones. However, he couldn’t help but read a couple sentences on the letters he flipped through.
Hawkins isn’t the same without you, Will.
I miss our sleepovers and staying up until midnight talking.
I wish you were here.
Eventually, Will comes across the most recent one dated March 29, 1986, 8:00am. The morning the Byers came back. Will began to read.
Dear Will,
You come back today. I guess it’s too late to mail the rest of the letters now, haha. Sorry, not funny. I don’t even know why I’m writing these letters now. It’s therapeutic in a way, talking to you. Even though I’m not even really talking to you. But it feels like it. I’m excited to see you. I wonder if you look any different. I mean, you probably do. I look about the same, kind of afraid to change up my look. But you’re probably all tall and strong now. I never doubted you wouldn’t be. I’ve missed you a lot, Will. It’s really not the same here without you. I wish you were here with me right now, sitting next to me. Reading comics together side by side under a blanket. I know it’s not gonna be the same as it was, but I hope we can still be friends. Even if it’s different. Well, I better be going now. I don’t know why I’m closing this out like you’d read it, but I am. Can’t wait to see you.
Love, Mike
A tear falls out of Will’s eye. He’d never seen Mike act that vulnerable before, especially towards him. Will set the letter down on the table, hands shaking. Without thinking, Will got up and hurriedly headed upstairs.
Right as he got to Mike’s door, he thought, What the hell am I gonna say?
Despite this thought, Will knocked, with no idea of what’s to come.
—————————————————————————
Mike heard a knock on his door, and shut his newest edition of X-Men. He yelled out, “Come in.”
Will opened the door and shuffled in, shutting the door behind him.
Mike’s eyes widened as he stood up and kicked a few clothes underneath his bed, like it did anything to conceal the huge mess covering his ground.
“W-what’s up?” He said, brushing his clothes off.
“I…” Will sighed and before he could overthink it, Will stepped into Mike’s space, his free hand gripping the front of Mike’s shirt to pull him in. The kiss was sudden, a little desperate, and entirely honest. Mike let out a soft gasp against Will’s mouth before melting into it, his grip on Will’s hand tightening as he kissed him back.
Will quickly pulled away, stepping back.
“Fuck, I.. I’m so sorry Mike I don’t know why I did that-“
Mike cut him off by pulling Will back, their lips meeting again. This time, there was nothing soft or gentle about the kiss. Mike’s lip urgently clashed against Will’s, he didn’t really know what he was doing but eventually they got into a rhythm that was comfortable enough for the both of them.
Mike pulled back slowly, leaving enough space for them to breath but still keeping their foreheads touching.
“I love you.” He whispered, slightly out of breath.
Will’s eyes fluttered open, looking at Mike with a warmth he always has. His eyes widened,
“You do…?”
Mike leaned back just enough to look Will in the eyes, his thumb stroking over Will’s cheekbone.
“I mean… it’s kind of obvious from my very sappy letter..” He chuckled, his muscles relaxing.
Will laughed softly, “I love you too, Mike, I always have.”
Mike pulled him in for a gentle embrace, and they stayed like that for a while. Just holding each other, like they were always meant to.