Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

<< 1988 >>

It took a while before Hawkins returned to its original state. News reporters flooding their town as soon as the government had removed any suspicious traces of the truth. Will couldn't believe how desperate people were for an simple explanation and how quickly this made them accept anything thrown at them from the higher-ups. An earthquake combined with some extreme collateral damage in factories had become the cover-up story. At least their connections to the real cause of everything resulted in getting exempted from doing stupid interviews with curious outsiders, which was for the better. 

By the summer of '88 Hawkins had reopened as good as new. Right at this moment everyone had been expected to pick up their lives again where they left it off before the 'earthquake'. And besides those that had lived the same fate as Will Byers, everyone else in the whole town had gone back to the way it had once been before. Before Will's disappearance, before all the odd deaths, before Hawkins split in the middle. Will still wondered how barely anyone in Hawkins questioned those weird events. Sure, their town had always had this ominous presence, but there was no way everyone was just okay with it all. However, the few people who did question things got ostracized as conspiracy freaks, discouraging anyone else to do the same.

But despite it being difficult, Will and the other members of the party had no choice but to pick up their own lives as well. Intense summer school programs put into place for Hawkins High's Seniors, at least for those wishing to graduate next spring. Which Will definitely wanted. He desperately needed a change of scenery. 

He would forever be grateful for his friends here in Hawkins. But he'd been desperately gasping for a breath of fresh air. With everyone in Hawkins knowing him, and his friends knowing even more, every day felt like he was walking around with a target on his back. In a way it brought him a sense of relief that his closest friends now knew his biggest secret, but it still felt like he was sitting behind a glass door watching everyone figure themselves out in a world where he wasn't allowed to. He couldn't get up and go explore that part of himself. Some days he still felt bile rise up in his throat when he heard boys around him talk about girls, knowing his interests rested elsewhere. On good days he accepted who he was, the same way he'd done back in the MAC-Z where he'd saved his friends from the Demogorgons. But there were days where he wanted to crawl out of his skin and scream. Ask some nonexistent entity why he couldn't have been born 'normal'.

Will was glad Robin stayed in touch after she moved away for college. She was the only one who truly understood his emotions and also didn't take it personal when he cursed his own sexuality. She never held it against him when he cried on the phone, begging to wake up 'normal' the next morning. She just listened, to his ragged breathing, to the sobs. But she also listened on the days where he talked about how grateful he was to have met someone like her. How he adored her relationship with Vicky and how he could only wish to find the same. Whichever emotion she would find him in at the other end of the telephone line, she'd be there in her own way.

Hawkins High had officially reopened its doors to its former students in September. Classes returned to normal and the other seniors started their final year in high school as if there'd never been a break. In a way it felt nice to be able to focus on something other than grief and rebuilding their normal lives. Classes, useless assignments and inevitable tests needing at least a part of his attention. But every time his eyes fell on the dandelion colored pen in his pencil case, he was reminded of how much Jane had wanted to experience this. High School. An ugly pencil case with mismatched pens and pencils. Lucas had asked him once why he didn't leave the pen at home, but this was the only way he could get her to share this moment with him. Even when 'this moment' would only mean filling in an AP exam.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The first time Will found a note wedged into the grooves of his locker, he'd simply sighed. At a certain point writing him threatening notes had become old news. In crooked and ugly handwriting it said "Welcome back ZOMBIE BOY. Third time's the charm?" He didn't show anyone as it served no purpose. It wasn't as if his secret hater had added a return address on the note anyway. So after reading it once he quickly discarded it in the nearest bin.

The second note was thrown at his head during an art class that he didn't share with any of his friends. He left it on the ground until the end of class, picking it up after the bell rang. Instead of calling him a stupid name, someone had blamed him for everything that Hawkins had gone through. Saying that they wished the earthquake had taken him instead of their younger brother.

Will didn't cry, he wanted to but the tears never arrived. He felt hollow, a part of him agreeing with the half truth in the note. Maybe if he hadn't been so weak, Henry would never have chosen him. Maybe his weak replacement wouldn't have a group of friends that was willing to fight evil and the Mindflayer would've won, then Hawkins would've disappeared along with the hurtful notes.

He still didn't tell anyone. It wasn't a big deal, just stupid words on discardable pieces of paper. He knew everyone whispered more awful things behind his back, his friends often standing up for him when the whispers weren't actually whispered.

But hiding hadn't been an option when they crossed the parking lots to their bikes after last period and it happened again, verbally this time. A young kid from Hawkins Elementary biked past, throwing a piece of gum directly at Will, missing him by just an inch.

"You should've stayed dead, Freak Show! My sister said queers like you don't belong in Hawkins!" The boy cackled, quickly racing off before any of them had the chance to reply. For a second everyone seemed frozen in place until every single one of his friends moved at once.

Dustin and Max were yelling something after the kid but Will wasn't listening, his head throbbing from the event. Lucas' bag on the floor as if he was contemplating going after him, his face twisted into the angriest Will'd ever seen him. Mike was quiet, not saying anything but his expression was terrifying. His jaw tight, hands curled into fists at his side. Will was pretty sure he heard him breathing through his nose, hard.

"Guys." Will spoke up, more tired sounding than angry or hurt. "Let it go. He's what? Twelve? It's fine."

"It's not fine? Why the hell are you pretending this is no big deal?" Mike frowned, turning to face Will. The others nodded alongside him, sharing his opinion.

"Do you want me to go and cry about every single thing they yell at me. I've heard worse. I'm fine." Will clipped, rolling his eyes as everyone went quiet. The bike ride was quiet, with only a couple of goodbyes exchanged where they parted ways.

It was a lie to say he'd become completely desensitised to the content of the notes or the venom in people's voices when they talked about him. Sometimes when he sat outside the cabin on his own late at night, he'd cover his mouth to silence the sobs. A tiny voice in his head, that sounded awfully like Henry's, claiming everyone was right. He should've died a long time ago, instead he'd escaped his fate multiple times and look where that got him.

His bike jingled as he dropped the old thing against the side of the cabin, beelining for the front door without a single look back once he arrived. The tears spilling over his cheeks as soon as the door clicked in its lock. He sank to his knees, rocking himself back and forth for a little while. But it didn't last long before he sucked in a deep breath and stood back up as if nothing had happened. The clock ticked away the last dozen of minutes before his mother would arrive and she could not see him this way, so he sucked up the hurt that burned in his chest and started working on the assignment due tomorrow.

Mike had called him later that evening to ask if he was okay. Will said simply yes.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

A small crumpled up piece of paper, seemingly falling from the sky onto his desk, pulled Will from his thoughts. He looked around with furrowed brows until his eyes met Mike's. Will hid a fond smile behind his hand as he held the other's intense gaze, knowing why he'd been looking. A stern 'you okay?' written out in the wrinkles on his forehead. He nodded, three times to be exact, only then convincing enough to get Mike off his back.

"You sure you're alright? You were all- I don't know... Staring into nothingness." Mike ended up asking again after class, his hands flailing around at the word 'nothingness', making something out of that nothing.

"Mike, I am. Me zoning out does not equal me being possessed again or anything." Will chuckled, giving Mike a playful nudge with his shoulder as they walked towards the school's exit side by side. A new habit. Mike had gotten into this one, the one where he orbited around Will whenever he was given the opportunity, a couple days after the elementary school kid had verbally assaulted him.

He rode his bike with Will all the way to the cabin before biking the last part to the Wheeler residence on his own, instead of driving down the long straight in between his own house and their high school. They still owned the high-quality walkies from their crawls, distributed across the party for check-ins, but Mike's mostly remained on the frequency he used to talk to Will, Channel 7.

"It's almost, uh, yeah-" Mike muttered, fixated on unlocking his bike. And Will immediately knew what he was referring to with barely a coherent sentence. The new version of Hawkins wasn't just finishing their senior year. It also meant they had to learn how to navigate a version of Hawkins where Jane Hopper was 'one of the victims of the disaster'. The colorful leaves slowly dropping from their branches signalling the nearing of a certain date in November.

"Yeah." Will responded. They didn't need to exchange anything else, the unspoken hanging between them heavily.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Will chewed on the inside of his cheek as his fingers traced Jane's name. You should've been here with me, he thought. Her name added a couple of weeks after the stone memorial got its permanent residency on their town square. It looked a little off center, the font differing slightly from the others. Clear she'd been added in a hurry to cover up that she hadn't actually died on the night Hawkins had split open. 

He could barely remember the rage that had rushed through his body when the headline appeared on the daily news. "HAWKINS EARTHQUAKE CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM: remains identified almost two years later as local teen." Jonathan had held him back in his arms as he sobbed, trying to attack their television, as if that would've solved anything. They'd been informed by various government instances about all the cover-up stories they had to strictly run by, receiving large sums of hush money as a form of compensation for everything they'd suffered from over the past years. Will was pretty sure it mattered more to them that this could all stay a government secret rather than them wanting the victims to live peacefully.

"Glad I'm not the only one here." Max's voice made Will jump from his thoughts. He spun around on his heel, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. She gave him her usual grin, one of her eyes fogged white, the vision behind it long gone. Her other eye still clearly showing the confident glint it always carried. 

He held out his elbow for her to take so she could use him as support to make their way over to the bench. Max folded up her cane and sank back against the wooden backrest. "Are you okay?"

Will shrugged, making sure his shoulder brushed against hers so she was aware of his movement. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. He was glad everything was over now. He hadn't felt the weird sensation in the back of his neck since their final battle. No more looking through the eyes of interdimensional creatures. No more fighting for his life. But he'd lost more than he could've imagined. 

For years they'd managed to survive, Will had even survived his own stay in the upside down. Yet on the verge of everyone making it out alive, Jane had sacrificed herself. At first he'd almost driven himself insane, searching for any sort of explanation why she'd done it. He'd emptied all her drawers, looked under her bed and even rummaged through the boxes where she kept Mike's letters. Will had been a mess when Hopper found him, sobbing on her bedroom floor. It hadn't been easy for Hopper to come clean, to explain the reasoning behind it. How he'd tried to stop her on multiple occasions, only to lose her out of his sight right at the most crucial moment. Will had weakly punched him in the chest at first, over and over again until he sagged into his arms. He didn't blame Hopper at all, guilt lacing every word the man had said, he wasn't going to make that worse. If she'd really wanted to go through with her plan, she would've found a way. Jane was smarter than anyone ever gave her credit for.

"I guess I'm happy this day isn't associated with my disappearance anymore. Was getting sick of being reminded of that." He offered, resting his head against Max's after she'd put hers to rest on his shoulder. He had tried to keep it together but failed as his voice broke on the next phrase. "Not that this makes it any lighter."

"A dramatic exit though, exactly her style." Max joked, leaving a little space after her phrase to make sure she hadn't accidentally overstepped a line.

"I dump your ass." It didn't take more than a quick nudge for them to simultaneously say one of their favorite Jane Hopper quotes. They both let out a laugh that came from way deep, knowing she wouldn't have wanted them to forget about all the positive memories they had of her. Time passed by quicker than expected as they reminisced about the different memories they had of Jane. Both of them knowing her in similar and completely different ways. Their personal experiences with her curating a beautiful summary of who Jane had been. 

Will was glad Jane had properly introduced him to Max back in '85 the first time she broke up with Mike. He had never hated Max for joining the party, he'd been mostly annoyed at everyone getting into relationships. But she quickly proved to be a lot cooler than just Lucas' Girlfriend or Jane's best friend. Slowly he'd become an unannounced third member of their little group whenever Max visited Jane or when she called Jane in Lenora, asking how Will was as well. He could've never predicted that Jane making them meet would become the most important brick she placed for them to find their footing again during their grief.

Lucas had joined them a little later, knowing this was where he'd find Max if she hadn't shown up on his doorstep yet by five. He greeted her with a soft kiss to the top of her head, making sure to ask if she was feeling alright before he joined in on their walk down the memory lane. Will smiled at the couple before him, wishing that one day he could experience the same type of adoration he saw between his two friends.

Will waved the pair goodbye after Lucas dropped him off at the cabin. He smiled to himself at the sound of leaves crunching beneath his sneakers, leaving behind a trail of crushed leaf fragments. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The wind growing colder and colder as the evening progressed. It was a short walk to the cabin, the woods becoming less scary with every passing day. There wasn't any evil entity out to get him anymore. This was the first time since 1983 where he could start a normal life. One that Jane had deserved as well. One that he'd be living for the both of them until his own end. 

When he finally arrived at the front door, he found his mom and Hopper outside on the rickety outdoor steps. He scrunched up his nose at the cigarette loosely hanging between his mother's index and middle finger, knowing well enough he couldn't deny her this one. Will didn't stay outside for long, he'd already talked with his mom earlier that morning. She still hugged him tightly every sixth of November, apologizing that she'd allowed him to go missing. And every sixth of November Will asked her to stop apologizing, she never listened. And right now, on the small front porch of Hopper's cabin, Will knew Hopper needed his mom more than he needed either of them. So he bid them goodnight and made his way inside. It wasn't much warmer inside the cabin but at least warm enough to take off his jacket. He instantly felt lighter as if the thing had absorbed the heaviness of today's events. It was the first November six without Jane of many more to come, and right now all he wanted was to curl up in her bedroom and sleep the heartache away.

Everyone grieved Jane's death differently as the days passed by. Will cried often, but he rarely did so alone. Hopper's cabin was still his current home and it wasn't an easy living arrangement, two adults and their teenage son. Hopper hadn't hesitated a second to offer Will his bed, buying a foldable couch for him and Joyce to sleep on. It left all of them with zero privacy but it was the only way they could leave Jane's room untouched to preserve it as long as possible. This however meant it'd get noticed if one of them couldn't hold back their tears. The second Will started sniffling into his cushion, his mom would stumble over in the dark before settling down at his feet. 

On Hopper's hard days, whoever was home would walk over and hug him. He'd always stay quiet, not daring to dirty any words on his emotions, but he would hug back as if his life depended on it. His mom didn't care if people saw her cry, she'd waltz over with bloodshot eyes and talk. Sometimes angry about how the universe had first stolen her youngest son and then her only daughter on the same date, years apart. Sometimes heartbroken about how she felt like she hadn't done enough for either of them. Sometimes crying fond tears alongside talks of memories. The town of Hawkins had already labeled her some sort of freak for her behavior when Will went missing and it had never quite left, even when she'd proven everyone wrong and Will turned up again. So she no longer felt any shame for expressing her emotions. 

Jonathan had felt guilty for leaving so soon after everything that had happened to pursue his college education but his mom had practically driven him to New York himself. According to her, she had everything under control, that he had been there enough for this family already at times where that shouldn't have been his responsibility. This time it was his turn to just go and live his life the way he wanted to. The government money they'd received covering his studies with ease. He called often though, sniffling on the phone as they reminisced about their Californian adventures and navigating a homelife with a new sibling.

At home they kept her memory alive in any possible way, leaving traces of her existence around the house. Her room practically untouched besides the disappearance of stolen flannels Will had reclaimed. Some of her favorite snacks still in the kitchen cabinets past their due date. Sometimes he found Hopper sitting on the edge of her bed, clutching one of her favorite plaid blankets she'd once gotten for Christmas. "She was such a good kid."

"The best." Will agreed. He wasn't one to believe in ghosts or the afterlife, even though one would begin to question everything after the things they'd experienced in Hawkins. But he could hear her in the silence when a romantic movie played on tv and her laughter didn't join theirs during the funny montages. A faint chill running over his spine whenever Will's fingers lingered on the scrunchie that she'd put around her doorknob. No one had the strength to remove it as there wasn't any need to anyway. Wherever she was, her presence lingered in the air around them and she would always be a part of this family.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

A couple days after the actual date, the whole party had come together for a memorial picnic. At the picnic table they unofficially baptised as their designated meeting spot last year. It was more neutral than meeting at the cabin and Mike had repeatedly brushed off the offer to meet in his basement, saying Holly occupied it most of the time.

Dustin had let his tears run freely the second they all arrived at the clearing in the woods.  His crying setting a domino effect in motion within the party. From a singular stream of tears rolling down their cheeks to full blown sobbing into each others' arms. With each other there was no need to pretend they were fine, having gone through the most traumatic life event any teenager could've gone through.

"She would've loved this." Max remarked, waving a hand at the disarray of snacks and drinks on the table. She would've, Will thought. They definitely hadn't gotten enough time together as a friend group. Most of their time spent thinking about how they'd defeat the remnants of what once had been Henry Creel. Jane had spent her last year alive training intensely. In hindsight they should've taken more breaks for her to simply live, something they hadn't done as no one even slightly considered she'd be the one not making it back. It was all too late now and Will wished he could turn back time.

Mike was the most quiet one of them all, but they allowed him to be just that. They understood his grief differed from theirs, giving him the space and time he needed to cope with it. He'd held a sobbing Dustin for minutes on end during their meet-up, his eyes rimmed red but never quite reaching the same amount of devastation as Dustin on the outside. He'd even quietly helped Max set the table where she struggled due to both her diminished vision and her tears. 

"You're handling this all quite well, Wheeler." It was supposed to be a typical Max jab, but everyone heard the concern in her tone. Mike had shrugged it off with a small smile, not giving them any satisfying reply.

Mike sat down next to Will once everyone had settled down and conversations turned from Jane's absence to the dread of going back to Hawkins High on Monday. Somewhere in between the grief and resetting their life, Will had become Mike's closest source of support again and vice versa. His best friend asking him if he was okay multiple times that day, offering him a tissue whenever he thought Will needed one. 

There'd been times they sat together in Mike's bedroom, both of them flipping through a graphic novel before Will broke down again. Mike never hesitated to pull him in, just like he'd taken care of him when the Mindflayer took over his mind and body. Never in public, though. There the embraces were replaced by shoulder nudges and concerned looks, taking him aside somewhere more private if necessary. Will's version of supporting Mike more subtle as his best friend didn't quite ask for anything. He simply was around and seemingly, that was all Mike needed.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

It was a random Wednesday between Christmas and New Year's. Will hadn't even registered the sound coming from the radio yet before he noticed Mike's lack of movement as they sat on the couch in the Wheeler basement. He'd stopped flipping through the pages of Will's sketchbook and at first Will thought Mike'd seen something not meant for his eyes. Maybe one of those pages dedicated solely to Mike. The pages that were decorated with case studies of Mike's eyes, his lashes, the shape of his nose and sometimes the curve of his lips. Will's heartrate picked up. He usually checked the sketchbooks before he handed them over to Mike, not wanting his dirty little secret to come out, so what could he possibly have missed.

"Mike?" he tried, gently nudging Mike's foot with his own.

He didn't answer right away, his eyes seemingly glued to the page in front of him. Will felt like he was going to throw up. But when Mike lifted his head, with eyes glassy, Will knew this had nothing to do with his drawings. All of a sudden the song coming from the radio sounded a lot clearer, one of those pop songs Jane would mindlessly hum as she busied herself in her room. And for the first time since her death, Will saw Mike's mask slipping.

"I keep thinking I'm doing something wrong." Mike said, almost sounding angry at himself. He gently closed the sketchbook in his hands, fingers tracing the hardcover. His gaze fixed on something on the opposite side of the room. "Everyone keeps telling me I'm handling it so well, but they're doing it with this... This tone. As if I'm not sad enough."

Will watched him furrow his brows. This clearly had been on his mind for a lot longer than he made it seem. It almost felt like he was pleading Will to give him the explanation he needed. As if there was one to begin with. So he didn't immediately say something. He just made sure to shift his weight so their knees touched, a reassuring pressure. Will had been just as guilty as their other friends, concerned by how well Mike had handled her death. There had even been a moment where he felt a form of anger towards his friend. Not understanding how he could continue as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just lost his girlfriend. 

But as time passed and he got the privilege to see Mike in more intimate settings other than group get-togethers, he realized Mike Wheeler grieved differently. His grief was quiet, his eyes dark and empty. Words of hurt written into stories rather than said out loud. What he wrote on that old typewriter of his wasn't something for the public eye, it wasn't meant for his friends either. Not even Will.

"I'm sorry we're making you feel that way. I guess we're just worried, you don't talk much, you know?" Will said, making sure his voice stayed gentle instead of accusatory. Mike did not owe them any words or explanations. If he thought working through his grief alone and in silence worked, he'd never take that comfort from him. "Just know you're not alone in this."

Mike turned his head in Will's direction. Sharply. And it knocked the breath out of Will's lungs. The air around them had shifted ever since Mike's eyes met his, not giving the impression he was going to look away anytime soon. Mike's eyes in real life never quite matched the ones he drew in his sketchbooks. They never reached the intensity with which Mike looked at him. An emotion behind them that he couldn't catch with charcoal and that he couldn't name inside his head. 

But before his thoughts went any further he stopped himself and looked away first. Will had practiced this exact exercise over a thousand times by now and nearly perfected it. Catching his thoughts and shooing them away. Not allowing himself to indulge in whatever direction his mind would go whenever the part of his brain that was dedicated solely to his emotions for Mike got triggered. He ignored the way his chest warmed up comfortably. A familiar warmth, something that made him feel lighter.

Will closed his eyes, his head turned away from Mike's as he tried to breathe through his nose. In for four. Hold it for two. Out for five. But it never really helped when his mind had already gone a certain place. When he was reminded of his love for Mike, while simultaneously remembering Jane had loved him first. She had loved him and Will knew that for sure from all the talks they'd shared in the cabin and in Lenora. She had been the one allowed to love him publicly and shamelessly. And Mike had loved her back. 

Yet here Will sat, his knee pushed up against Mike's, wanting to have his own taste of what loving and being loved by Mike would feel like. But that wasn't something he was allowed to have. Liking boys was something he could do. Not here in Hawkins where people knew him, but somewhere in private would be okay. Liking his childhood best friend was something he couldn't. When he looked into Mike's eyes for a second too long, he felt his stomach churn from disgust at his own feelings. A sinner, first. A thief, second.

"Will?" Mike started, his voice careful as if he'd noticed Will's mind had gone elsewhere. Then all of a sudden a hand rested on top of his own. Will's chest tightened on impact. The smallest 'yeah?' barely making it past his lips.

"Thank you. For staying." Mike said.

"Always."
 

<< 1989 >> 

The party had gotten closer than ever during their final year, making sure everyone was always checked up on and doing alright. No one expected perfection, no one blamed anyone for sudden breakdowns or panic attacks. Mike and Will had become joined at the hip again, spending most of their free time together when the other members of their friend group had their own plans. 

Lucas was actually doing amazing on the basketball team. Max often pretending she hated the whole jock thing but she never missed any of his games. Every once in a while Dustin, Will and Mike ended up on the bleachers, shouting words of encouragement at Lucas until he gave them a look that clearly meant 'shut up'. Dustin usually stood upright and waved some flag or foam finger around with his toothy grin. Mike and Will always sat close enough so their shoulders brushed as they laughed at Lucas' annoyance. There was no reason to sit that close together, plenty of space left around them. Will liked to think Mike sat close on purpose, the same way he'd bike home with him every single day. As if he needed a constant reminder that Will was there. 

He didn't actually mind the closeness. Not when Mike absentmindedly offered his forearm for Will to fidget with the hem of his sleeve as Lucas dribbled the ball towards a scoring opportunity. What he did mind was the staring. 

Not in a way where he was genuinely bothered by Mike eyeing him wherever he went like a hawk. But it became a problem when he looked up to his best friend only to find him already staring. Mike didn't awkwardly look away either. He usually just seemed surprised to have his gaze reciprocated and held it a little longer before breaking their eye-contact. Will did look away immediately when it was the other way around and Mike's eyes met his instead. 

He often wondered if Mike was aware how often Will caught him looking. Back in 1986 when Will moved in with the Wheelers together with Jonathan, Mike had picked up that habit. Not that he hadn't caught him looking plenty of times before that, Mike was someone who could stare intensely. Whether he was aware of it or not, remained a mystery. It set some part of his soul aflame when Mike held eye-contact while they talked about something serious, as if the floor would open up and separate them forever if he looked away. Mike'd done that before, but it had gotten worse since the battle. Since Jane.

To a certain extent, Will understood. He knew how possessive and protective Mike could get. But some of it wasn't just that. Some of it was Mike's eyes dropping to his mouth and flickering back up like he hadn't meant to do that. Will knew better than to get his hopes up. Mike had clearly stated what they were, over a year ago, on that tower. A phrase that still played on loop in Will's mind whenever he caught himself looking at his best friend for a beat too long. The staring was a Mike thing. Not an interest-thing. It was Mike Wheeler afraid of losing another person he cared about if he dared to look away. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Mike's protectiveness had reached another level when he positioned himself in front of Will, closer than necessary, turning into Will's personal shield during dodgeball. Will knew he was an easy target, not only because he didn't care enough to perform well in front of his classmates, but also because he was Will Byers.

"How 'bout you start playing like a real man instead of protecting your boyfriend, Wheeler!" James Dante called out from the other side of the court, holding the reputation of Troy Walsh's replacement high above his head. And Will stilled where he stood closely behind Mike, who'd mimicked his own reaction. A couple laughs spread across the gym, snickering mostly. Like they agreed with James' statement but didn't dare to laugh too loud to stay out of trouble.

"Mind repeating yourself?" Mike asked calmly. But it was a 'calm before the storm' kind of calm. His cold attitude making Will's stomach turn.

However the question only acted as a catalysator for James, who walked over and poked Mike in the chest with a wide shit-eating grin. Something about his hovering, about his 'sinful eyes' and some other more distasteful comments that Will wanted to scrub from his mind. Every word that rolled of James' tongue feeling less like an insult and more like an accusation.

Will didn't have any time to fully process what was unfolding in front of him before Mike crossed the last gap between him and James, shoving him hard enough to send him stumbling back. The other hissing in pain after landing on his wrist with his full weight. If it hadn't been for the teacher's whistle, Will wasn't sure where Mike would've taken this. He watched as his friend got hauled off to, presumably, the principals office. His dark curls in front of his eyes, fists balled up at his sides. Anger. Not fear.

He watched him leave the gym and for the first time looked at Dustin, who stood on the sidelines, as equally dumbfounded as Will himself. The other just shrugged. Something in Will's chest had started to twist and turn uncomfortably as it sank at how Mike hadn't denied any of James' accusations. He'd just sprained or broken James' wrist for saying it out loud.

Will waited outside of the principal's office, awkwardly waving at Mrs. Wheeler who came to pick up her son. His heart was hammering in his chest as he waited for his best friend's mop of hair to pop out from the principal's door, not knowing why he actually sat there waiting. He could've talked to him tomorrow. But it had been quite a while since Will himself had been the victim of comments thrown at his head and James' attack made him think that maybe Mike had been the reason. That somewhere during the past weeks Mike Wheeler had gone and threatened some people out of bullying Will even if it put a target on his own head. It made his face burn from a feeling Will didn't feel like naming. 

Karen quietly interrogated Will about the events, shaking her head with a sigh as she found out he'd done it out of self-defense. She huffed, pushing herself out of the chair as they heard some rustling inside of the office. "Did they really make me come over here over something that wasn't even his fault?"

Mike's eyes met his first, his eyebrows raising in surprise before his face twitched into annoyance as he noticed his mother. Karen flicked her son's ear for his expression and collected her belongings as she rambled on about this being a waste of her time. Will rushed over to join them on their way out, bumping their shoulders together as a little sign of support. When Karen asked if Will wanted to come over for dinner it was Mike who said yes before he could process the offer, sheepishly turning to him afterwards. "You want to, right?"

Will only nodded with a small smile and rosy cheeks.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The quiet clinking of cutlery against plates, sometimes resulting in a scrape, sent shivers down Will's spine. The atmosphere in the Wheeler dining room nothing like the one in the car on the drive back from Hawkins High School. Where Karen had joked about Mike's fight, some indirect and subtle praising of her son, Ted just carefully analysed them from the other end of the table. His stupid glasses stood out right above the rim of his glass, the wrinkles above them becoming Will's focal point whenever Ted's eyes met his.

Ted hadn't actually addressed anything specific, yet. He just talked around it, voice steady and almost dogmatic, until he finally set his fork down. "I did warn you this would happen, didn't I?"

It was the way silence fell around the table for a split second. Karen slowed down mid-cut, more focused on what was about to follow than the piece of roast she was supposed to give Holly. Will held his breath, eyes flickering between Mike and Ted Wheeler.

Mike frowned and set his utensils down in a similar way to his father. "Warn me about?"

Ted gestured vaguely in their direction, not once directly looking at Will since he'd initiated a conversation. "You getting yourself worked up over others. Fighting battles that aren't yours to fight. Leaving us with a call personal call from the principal, talking about a kid with a broken wrist. Perpetrator? My son."

"Dad, he was taunting me, saying all this nasty fucking shit-"

"Language." Ted cut him off. He didn't even look slightly interested in what Mike had said, instead he picked up his cutlery again to take another bite. Almost to prove that this conversation was below him. "Boys your age say all kind of stuff, that's beside the point."

Will's stomach churned as he watched Ted chew on his food, which took too long. He wasn't sure if Mike's father was leaving these unbearable pauses in between his words on purpose or if he simply was an insufferable person. He quietly settled on the latter.

"My point is you can't keep doing this, Michael. College is just around the corner and people notice things like this. They'll notice who you hang around with- No offense to you personally, Will, you're a great kid." Ted turned briefly to Will, pointing at him with his fork. It should've sounded reassuring but it wasn't. Will knew exactly what he meant. Will was a great kid, he just had a reputation preceding him and he knew it wasn't the zombie part Ted was hinting at.

His face burned, a faint buzzing in his ears rendered him dizzy and his hands trembled in his lap. There was an ache deep in Will's chest, taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tightly. According to Mike's father, Will could pretty much be described as Mike's downfall. He'd hold his son back, simply for existing outside of 'nature's norms'.

"I just don't think you want this kind of reputation before you've even gotten the chance to get out there and make a name for yourself. You've got to be careful who you're seen with and how your relationship could be interpreted. That's all I'm saying."

At first nobody said anything. Will's heart was hammering in his chest, eyes darting from Mike to Karen to every possible way out. His best friend sat there silently. Mike's mouth had opened and closed immediately after, not finding the right words to reply. Will couldn't read the expression that decorated Mike's features. If anything he looked lost, maybe with a tinge of betrayal, like he hadn't expected his father to take this route.

"Do you have absolutely nothing to say?" The question felt like death by a thousand cuts, he was testing his own son, hoping for a suitable reply. There was a possibility Ted had hoped for some sort of rebuttal from Mike, that he'd gotten it all wrong. That maybe Mike hadn't been fighting Will's battles, that he hadn't been called homophobic slurs in their high school gym simply for his connection to Will. 

"Ted." Karen warned, her voice was low but not as clear as Ted's. There was a small quiver, hesitation below the surface, like she was afraid where her husband was taking this. "Can you stop this. Right now."

"I'm giving him fatherly advice, Karen. Do you want our son turning-"

"I said stop." Her chair screeched against the floor as she pushed herself up and loomed over the table with a dark expression. But before she had the chance to defend either of them, Will was already standing. He nearly tripped over his own feet on the way to the hallway, mumbling something about the bathroom. No one was going to believe that. His body burned up from shame, the urge to rip off all his layers of clothing becoming bigger with every step he took towards front door. Maybe if he was quick enough he could run home before dark.

The voice behind him made him stop dead in his tracks. "Will, please."

"I want to go home." Will said, not daring to face Mike just yet. He'd already put his jacket on halfway by the time his sight turned hazy from tears that weren't allowed to fall. "Mike, can you please tell your mom I want to go home?"

He slowly looked up from his zipper and allowed his gaze to finally land on Mike, who'd moved in front of him, blocking his way out. He looked pale, almost sickly. Mike's hands trembled as they carefully reached out to take hold of a minimal amount of fabric from Will's jacket. "I don't- I didn't know he would-"

Will could barely hold himself together as he listened to Mike's shaky voice and the way his best friend looked completely wrecked. "I know, Mike. It's got nothing to do with you. I just really need to go home."

"He's wrong. About all of it. You being- It doesn't change anything to me. I'm not- I won't allow him to decide what I can and can't do. I don't care about my reputation. You're my best friend. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. Can you just get your mom, please?" Will pleaded, not feeling like spending a second more in the same house where he was both almost family and unwanted.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Dinner with the Wheelers had left a small cut in Will's self-esteem. It had only been a couple days since the encounter so the wound was still fresh, Ted's words often finding their way back into Will's mind when the room around him went quiet. But despite the constant hum of stress beneath his skin, today felt normal. Classes were boring. James kept his distance. Mike didn't bring up how Will had managed to avoid him all weekend. 

For two whole days Will's walkie had been conveniently turned off. He'd asked his mom to go shopping for some new paint brushes, making sure their trip lasted way longer than necessary, stopping at a diner for lunch. Just in case someone would bring the cabin an impromptu visit. Mike had called only once on Saturday evening, quietly asking how Will was. Tired. A simple excuse but enough to get Mike off his back. They didn't need to say much to understand one another and his best friend quickly got the hint.

The ride to school had been only slightly awkward with Joyce intermittently glancing at them through the rear view mirror. It wasn't the most ideal scenario with their bikes still at school, but they managed. As soon as they stepped out of the car and waved Will's mom goodbye, the uncomfortable air started fading away. A small lighthearted joke from Mike about Nancy's latest call enough for them to get back into the swing of things.

 Mike had said it didn't matter that he was something different, Will could only guess what word the other had refused to say out loud. For just a second, Will felt comfortable again in his own skin. It didn't matter to Mike. He wasn't actually the liability Ted Wheeler made him out to be. He was living in a timeline where Mike didn't denounce him for his sexuality. But the comfort didn't last as long as he hoped it would've when the air shifted during lunch.

Dustin had been creating some sort of architectural structure with utensils in the cafeteria, rambling on about Hellfire to Will, who had missed that whole era. But then he laughed, pointing a fork in Mike's direction, "Because Eddie was hot, right Mike?"

Will's eyes widened as silence fell around the table, not like a blanket but more like the intense ringing after an explosion. Dustin blinked, his grin fading off his face as he became aware of the atmosphere he'd created. His utensil tower clattered into separate pieces while he tried to scramble words together to save himself? Or maybe save Mike who had his eyes cast down at his tray. Dustin had said it with such a nonchalance, not knowing he had just thrown a loaded grenade at their cafeteria table. Will held his breath, unsure of Mike's possible reaction. Was he going to deny it? Will had seen pictures of Eddie, he was definitely attractive so saying no would sound like a lie. It was the tone Dustin had used in his question that made Will feel like he was missing a vital piece of information.

"Sure? Not really something I paid attention to." Mike answered flatly, pushing the food around on his plate. It wasn't as if Will had interpreted the question as Dustin teasing Mike with a crush. It felt like this was a topic they could talk about freely if Will hadn't been around. He'd caught Mike's shoulders going stiff once the words had left Dustin's mouth. Maybe he was scared of making things weird around Will? That him admitting another man being attractive would give Will the wrong idea? He felt guilty. If Mike had never known, maybe he'd be more comfortable. Lucas and Dustin never shying away from saying some actor or singer was a good-looking man, but they also didn't share the same intimacy in their friendship with Will like Mike did.

"Mike was too busy trying to look like Eddie to seduce Jane." Max pointed out with a smirk as she received a confused look from Will and a scowl from Mike.

"Oh- you haven't actually seen Hellfire Mike Wheeler, have you?" She taunted.  

"Max." Mike gritted through his teeth.

"She's right though" Lucas interrupted, Dustin nodding along in agreement. Will felt lost as his eyes scanned every member of the party, ending on Mike who sat there frowning. "Do you still have the shirt? You should show Will, your hair's getting longer again anyway."

The whole time Mike had avoided looking at Will and it honestly made him feel ill. But then their gazes met, Will's heart skipping a beat. He wasn't sure if it was fear or the serious look in Mike's eyes making him dizzy. "Sure, I can show you sometime if you'd like that?" 

Will ignored the evil twinkle in Max's eyes. Sometimes it felt like his friends, excluding Mike, were all plotting something against him.

"I didn't mean to-" Dustin had tried in a failed whisper after they'd cleared their trays and got ready for their next classes. Mike shot him a hard look that clearly said 'let it be' before taking his place again on Will's side without saying anything. Will wasn't sure what it could've meant. Did Mike think Eddie was hot? Was Dustin just joking and did it make Mike uncomfortable? Was he uncomfortable with the whole 'liking boys' idea? It made Will's stomach churn awfully. They'd all accepted him blindly but maybe that was just because it was Will, because he was their friend and they didn't want to hurt him. Maybe them accepting him had something to do with the looming threat of the world potentially ending. Maybe they didn't approve of it but just kept quiet to keep the peace. Thoughts were racing through his head, each lap creating bigger and bigger worst case scenarios. His thoughts, however, got harshly interrupted by the firm placement of a hand on his back. "You alright? You look like you're going to pass out..."

The worry that laced Mike's voice was going to be the actual trigger causing him to pass out. 

"I'm okay, don't worry." He offered meekly, smiling up at Mike. It had always been the two of them until it wasn't anymore, but lately things had felt like they had gone back to normal. Mike dropping everything to make sure Will was alright. Them riding their bikes to and back from school almost every single day. The only difference with then and now being Max's presence and the small gap they left in group circles where Jane was supposed to stand. But him and Mike, something had shifted in the past months. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one hand he was happy to have his friend back, on the other hand he feared he was never going to get over his feelings this way.

"Alright... Come over after school? I'll show you the shirt."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"It's from years ago so I hope it still fits." Mike laughed as he rummaged through his shirt drawer, trying to find this so-called 'Hellfire Club Shirt'. Will had heard about the club, Dustin often telling stories about Eddie when they seemed relevant to the conversation. The party had also joined him a couple times to visit his grave, sometimes still needing to clean graffiti off of it. Will sat back on Mike's bed, taking in all the tiny changes in his bedroom. His eyes got stuck on a rolled up piece of art, which he assumed was the painting. He wasn't sure if Mike ever found out Jane hadn't commissioned it. Maybe Mike had connected the dots on him having a crush but not yet on his love confession, framed as Jane's, in the back of a Surfer Boy Pizza van. Maybe he had never talked to Jane about the painting so his lie stayed perfectly uncovered. 

"Tadaa!" Will could hear the fake excitement dripping from Mike's voice as he finally looked up from where the painting rested and looked over at Mike instead. His best friend had grown a tiny bit more, so a sliver of skin peeked out from the hem of his shirt, which also sat a little tighter around his shoulders and upper arms. Will was panicking internally. Mike looked good in it, he looked cool if anything. Less lame, even though it was a nerd club shirt. "Earth to Will?"

"Yeah sorry-" his eyes darted over Mike's face, trying to see if his best friend knew he was checking him out. "It's quite a cool shirt, but a bit too tight, is it not?" 

Will laughed awkwardly, hands clasped together in his lap as he tried to fidget the uneasy air away. He quickly realised the awkward feeling was one-sided as Mike pulled the shirt back over his head in a swift movement. It wasn't as if he'd never seen Mike shirtless before but never when it was just the two of them in his bedroom, in a timeline where Mike knew about him.

"You can have it," Mike shrugged as he flipped it back the right way before throwing it into Will's lap. "It's too small for me and if you find it cool, why not? Wouldn't wear it to school, I mean you know why, so like just to hang out at home. You could also leave it here if you ever need a change of clothes when you- when everyone stays over for movie nights or something."

Will nodded, neatly folding the shirt so it could go back into Mike's drawer, where it would not remain neatly folded. "I'll leave it here then, in case of emergency." He smiled, trying to ignore the way his heart had decided to start hammering in his chest at the still shirtless Mike in front of him. He was only a teenager like any other, he had interests and his biggest interest was standing only an arms length away, smiling down at him without a shirt. Mike was still bony and all limbs, there was no other way to describe it. His collarbones sticking out in exactly the right amount that you could put a small coin in the crevice and it would stay in place. Besides Lucas none of them actually did any sports so it was normal for them to not be muscular, playing board games didn't exactly create muscles. However years of hauling equipment through Hawkins and simply growing into his limbs had left Mike with a body that was impossible not to look at. 

Will let his eyes drift over Mike as soon as the other turned to face his closet again. It felt like he was doing something illegal, taking in the view before him. It felt calculated, the way Mike searched for another shirt, taking his time. As if he wanted Will to look. Mike's waist looked narrower than he remembered, sharp lines disappearing into the waistband of his underwear that peeked out of his jeans. He wanted to look away but he couldn't yet, not sure if he'd ever be allowed to look again after this. 

Slowly Mike looked over his shoulder, he must've asked Will something but he had no idea what. So he nodded, like an idiot, as Mike smiled. There was no reason a man should have long lashes the way Mike did, it made his chest feel tight as his best friend looked at him with a level of fondness that would kill Max in an instant if she'd be there to witness it. Will could feel his body burning from both embarrassment and interest. Each and every time he thought he had a chance at getting over Mike, something like this happened. Something that made him want to take his foot of the brakes and take what he deserved. A chance. He wanted to investigate every elegant line that formed Mike Wheeler. He already knew Mike like no one else did, but he wanted to know more.  

Mike Wheeler was going to be the end of him. And he wasn't entirely sure if he minded. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Dear William

I just received your latest letter and honestly, I have no clue how to help you in this. You are on your own. I had to read it twice. Once for the content, once for entertainment purposes. How are you coping with his behavior? Are you okay? Like are you alright in that mind of yours? Can I make a Mindflayer joke or is that too soon? You're right about being past the point of dignity. 

I made Vicky read that whole circus as well and seriously, what's wrong with him? I actually cannot believe you never told me this last year. Sure we were saving the world blablabla but THIS is what he'd been doing to make you question everything back in '87? Wasn't he still dating Jane back then? And you're telling me he's doing it still? I'm glad you two are closer again but I hope you understand my concerns.

I can't actually GENUINELY believe you're saying Michael Wheeler has been catching your eye across the room and holding eye contact like some romantic comedy slop protagonist? FOR OVER A YEAR. What heterosexual explanation does he have for that? I don't stare Steve down lovingly because he's my best friend. I also don't try to permanently keep at least one point of contact with my platonic friends. I'm not saying there's actually something going on or at least nothing he's aware of. Maybe that's just Mike like you said. I don't know him like you do. Also in your last letter you said you were getting over him, weren't you guys all "friends don't lie" propagandists or am I not considered your friend? I'm genuinely offended.

I mean I get it, I told you about the whole signals thing and now you're reading into every movement he makes. So my sincere apologies if this ends up driving you crazy and I'll have to visit you in Pennhurst. Did you at least take a good look when he was shirtless in front of you? I'm just saying, when life gives you lemons? 

Vicky found you awfully poetic, loved the "he's acting like there's no line he's supposed to be careful about crossing" part. She almost cried at how beautiful this gay love story is. Again, are you okay?

The thing that confuses me the most is him continuing whatever he's been doing after finding out about your homosexual feelings towards him. I personally don't feel like Mike Wheeler is capable of emotional awareness. Sometimes you get rejected. Sometimes people reciprocate. But he somehow managed to invent a secret third option called 'Being Will Byers' Best Friend'. You'd think he'd be a little more ?? cautious ?? if he doesn't feel the same. AGAIN IM NOT SAYING HE IS FEELING THE SAME before you actually go insane. Maybe he really doesn't think, like AT ALL.

So to answer your "Robin, what do I do?" question? I don't actually know. Maybe give him a little less ambiguous signal back? Maybe take off YOUR shirt next time, see if he also stops breathing. I, however, do not want to be an accomplice in the death of Michael Wheeler caused by homosexual exposure.

Vic suggested we secretly observe him at the next get together. Write back after your next Mike incident, please.

Yours truly
Robin

P.S. If Mike does anything unambiguously romantic or just gay, I expect to be the first to hear about it. You better call me.

P.P.S. Prolonged eye contact does not count at all!

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

There was something about always finding their way back to the clearing in the woods, no matter how long ago the last time had been. It held so many memories by now, Mike could probably write a children's novel on it. The last two years, this spot had slowly morphed into theirs with initials carved into the old picnic table, certain scratches in the wood having their own personal stories.

The sun stood at its highest point and Will was genuinely thankful for the trees offering enough shade. The sweat forming below his fringe already annoying him enough. Their summer break was slowly coming to an end and it was both equally as relieving as it was terrifying. All of them ready to face their futures but not quite ready to say goodbye to one another.

Will doubted that they would drift apart, after everything they'd been through it only seemed rational that they wouldn't just vanish the second he left Hawkins. He didn't need daily calls or monthly meetups. Simply knowing they were somewhere across the country and he could call them up to talk when needed, was a comforting idea he didn't want to let go off.  

Lucas laid flat on his back on a big blanket, cap covering his face while Max had her head in his lap. They looked at ease listening to Dustin explaining the engineering program he was getting into, in full detail. The excitement that raged through his body showing up in everything he did, from the way he spoke to the way he drummed his fingers on the wooden table. Max still had to survive one year at Hawkins High on her own but Lucas would always be near, dropping her off and picking her up while he spent the rest of his time working part-time jobs and coaching a little basketball league. "I don't need a big degree to pursue my dreams." He'd lulled, gently patting Max's head to point out exactly what his dream was. 

And Will understood. In another life he would've chosen a degree that would give him financial stability instead of going to Hunter's in New York to become the artist he'd always wanted to be. But after everything, he just wanted to live his life and get a fair chance at a normal and peaceful one.

Mike's plans weren't as clear, his absence from the conversation catching Will's attention more than he'd wanted it to. He kept finding himself looking over, checking his best friend's expressions and reactions as if he was solving a riddle. But he just sat there, his head propped up on his knees, back against the big oak tree behind him. He spoke when spoken to, laughed when laughing seemed like the right thing to do, even if his came a beat too late and Will noticed.

It made sense for him to stay quiet on a topic that didn't involve him. Dustin spoke up eventually, with a sigh as he dropped his head down onto the table top. "Man, this is so weird? Can you even believe we made it?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Dustin hadn't meant for it to land the way it did. Suddenly it felt like the ghost of every single one of those that hadn't made it stood around them, watching them from the woods surrounding their clearing. Lucas lifted the cap of his eyes and Max stopped fidgeting with her foldable cane.

Will watched Mike's jaw tighten, saw how red lines formed in the skin of his forearms where he picked at it. He didn't look up when he flatly replied, "Yeah."

Something had shifted somewhere around graduation, not towards Will or the others specifically but the air around Mike felt heavy. His hair combed in this odd side part, collars buttoned up all the way even when Hawkins was pestered by the kind of weather that asked for water gun fights and pool visits. His head somewhere else when they came together for movie nights he'd invited them to during the first half of the summer. This whole change happening since he'd frozen in place during graduation for a couple seconds when the speakers buzzed from interference. Will had tried to ask on multiple occasions if he wanted to talk about it but Mike only deflected it with a confused look as if he didn't know what Will was talking about.

Will didn't push, he didn't pry. He only wondered who was going to look after Mike once everyone else started living their separate lives and no longer needed Mike to take care of them. Clearly, he'd done everything in his power to get all five of them together as much as possible this summer but nothing could change the outcome that followed in a fortnight.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The clock that hung in the kitchen in Hopper's cabin slowly counted down until the next hour, every little ticking sound echoing in Will's head, who was on the verge of going insane. His bags were packed for his trip tomorrow. The plans were simple, leave around one in the afternoon, drive to Mansfield where he'd book a motel and continue the rest of his trip to New York in the morning.

But his plans for tonight had looked a little different in his mind. He'd gone out for lunch with his mom and Hopper, not that bothered to have a dramatic goodbye as they were moving to Montauk in just a couple weeks. Jonathan called first thing in the morning, making sure to wish him a safe trip before he'd forget to call with his overpacked schedule. Dustin was already settled in at Oglethorpe and the other duo had come over the night before for a game night at the cabin.

Which left Mike. Mike Wheeler who hadn't answered his phone all day. They hadn't actually planned anything but Will thought it had been one of those unspoken agreements the last time they saw each other. Maybe Mike had planned to just visit him tomorrow and say goodbye before Will would drive off? It frustrated him down to his core. Will groaned as he pushed his chair backwards with a painful screech and stood up from the dinner table, looking at the clock once more. Eight PM. 

"Going to see Mike?" His mom asked from the sofa, shooting him a quick glance over her shoulder.

He gave her some affirmative noise as a respond, his frustrations clear enough as she gave him an understanding nod. Will kissed the top of her head, quickly shuffled into his shoes and grabbed his keys of its hook. When Will finally arrived at Mike's and rung the bell, it was Holly who answered the door. She'd greeted him with a smile that said everything he needed to know.

"He's out isn't he?" Will asked with a sigh, scratching the back of his neck. Holly nodded, the single ponytail on top of her head swinging along with the movement. Before he had the chance to turn back to his bike and leave, she reached out to grab the hem of his shirt.

"He's been out a lot lately." Holly said. Nothing else followed, no hints for Will, no information that actually served any purpose to Will right now. But the worry in her tone both undid certain knots in his stomach and created some new ones at the same time. It meant Mike wasn't avoiding him specifically. He wasn't ignoring Will. He was going through something on his own again.

Will wrapped his arms around Mike's younger sister, squeezing her tightly against his chest. "I'll find him, okay?"

He walked his bike down the street, his mind jumping from one place to another as he tried to figure out where Mike could be. There was a split second where he considered going home, maybe Mike didn't want to be found. But then he thought about the look in Holly's eyes and he pushed his bike further down the street. Hawkins had a long list of places people could go if they didn't want to be found but Will settled on a specific spot instead. A hidden in plain sight kind of location.

The small playground down the street of Hawkins Church was empty besides one figure on the swings. The streetlamps around it sprung on the second Will locked his bike and made his way over, flickering as if this place wasn't worth the energy. Mike sat there, staring at his sneakers which had created a groove in the wood chips beneath his feet. Will didn't announce himself, just walked over until Mike heard his footsteps and shot him an apologetic half-smile.

"Knew I'd find you here." Will spoke up before Mike had the chance to say something, dropping into the swing next to him. He pushed himself off lightly, the chains creaking from the movement. A nice piece of background noise to take away from the thick silence until Mike would respond.

Mike cleared his throat, his fingers flexing before they curled around the metal chains again. "Sorry for not calling you back."

"It's fine, we're here now."

The silence dragged on a little longer. It wasn't necessarily awkward, Will never minded if he was in the right company, which Mike often was. But it did feel loaded. As if electricity buzzed in the air and gave Will tiny shocks if he leaned in too close. 

It didn't feel like Mike was planning on talking anytime soon. So Will did his best to fill the silence after a while. He talked about his dread for the long drives tomorrow and the day after. How he was scared about the motel he'd find himself in tomorrow night, sheepishly joking about not wanting to get killed now that he finally survived Hawkins. Will talked about his apartment in Astoria, even when Mike had already heard all about it and seen photos Jonathan had taken during their moving-in weekend. He explained how his roommate seemed like an alright guy, laidback, not a party animal, nice but in a distant way. Will had already forgotten his name.

"You seem pretty excited about it." Mike said, not a question but a simple statement from someone who didn't sound like he shared his excitement. Will didn't take it personally. He knew somewhere deep down Mike was rooting for him, for his art to get the acknowledgement it deserved, for Will to finally get a fresh start. But he also knew Mike would be left behind in a town that held the worst memories without the safety net, the party, around him. 

"I am. I'm nervous too but- you know, the good kind of nervous." Will admitted, giving himself a little more momentum to swing a bit higher. The cool evening wind grazing his cheeks every time he swung back and forth. He continued the movement a little while, Mike silent at his side, until he put his foot down and slowly came to a stop. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Mike huffed out a small laugh that held no humor in it. "I'm always okay."

"This is a whole new thing though."

He heard Mike suck in an uncomfortable breath as if he'd been holding it subconsciously for the past seconds. His hair was slowly coming undone, the effects of the wax he used to comb it back lately, wearing off until a couple strands fell in front of his eyes. Will allowed the silence to return in between them, not pushing Mike to talk to him. He'd never been the most open of the group. You could read every emotion on his face, his body language spoke volumes, he didn't try to mask anything, but talking about those emotions was something else.

Mike was digging a small hole into the dirt beneath him with the heel of his sneaker, head hanging low to match the rest of his dejected posture. The sun was slowly setting, casting a nice glow on the playground around them and it gave the whole moment an eerily intimate atmosphere. Will stood up from the swing and moved in front of Mike with his hand stretched out. "How do you feel about visiting my amazing castle?"

"Your- Will, why? We'll barely fit with the both of us." Mike replied with a sad smile once he looked up from Will's hand up to his face. 

"Just one more time, before I go. For old time's sake?" Will shook his hand in front of Mike's face, beckoning him to take it. "Pretty please?"

Mike complied by taking Will's hand and letting Will pull him up. For just a second, Mike held on. Allowed Will's hand to give him that little bit of strength that he might've needed tonight. Will noticed how the other's fingers twitched against his, aware of their touch. But he filed away how it made his chest fluttered and pulled Mike over to the bike rack. He was immediately aware of the loss of warmth when Mike's hand left his to grab his bike instead.

It took them a little while to reach Castle Byers by bike but it still looked exactly the same as it had done the last time Will had visited it. Which had only been right before graduation with Jonathan. Even though it had barely been a couple of months since its last touch-up, weeds and vines were slowly trying to reclaim the old wood yet again. The inside was dusty, filled with dying leaves that the wind had blown in, spiders nestled into their webs in every corner and crevice. They both had to duck lower than they remembered to get in, their bodies colliding in every possible way in the small space.

Will dropped down onto the makeshift bed, a flurry of dust blowing out of the mattress on impact. Mike followed suit, their bodies pressed flushed against one another from shoulder all the way down to their knees. Neither of them moved to add an extra inch of space. Mike reached out to one of the drawings that hung up, a couple pieces of tape patching it back together where Will had ripped it in half in '85. His fingers traced the seam delicately before he handed it over to Will.

Intimate. That was the only word Will could think of when Mike's fingers brushed his during the exchange. They existed in the silence, neither of them bothering to break it. The sun had fully gone in hiding, leaving them side by side in the dark as the rustling of the woods and the sound of crickets grew louder. Will was aware, to a painful extent, of every inch where their bodies touched. This fort was meant for a singular preteen boy to find refuge not for two eighteen-year-olds with too many limbs in not enough space.

"I'm scared," Mike started quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"About your future?"

Mike didn't reply at first and in the dark Will couldn't quite make out his expressions. All he heard was the faint smack of Mike's mouth which seemed to work around words he hadn't quite figured out how to say yet. Will didn't know what to do, so instead he pushed his pinky against Mike's where their hands rested in between them. Mike's head immediately twisted in his direction, his eyes looking glossy in the moonlight that crept in between the branches.

Will's heartrate spiked at the sudden eye contact, afraid that he'd made a mistake until Mike's fingers closed around his almost immediately after. His best friend squeezing his hand tight beneath it as if he'd been waiting for something to hold on to, for something to ground him. It didn't ground Will, his head had gone up flying unable to understand the complex mix of emotions that rushed through his body.

This wasn't the time to think about his feelings. It wasn't the time to memorize how Mike's hand felt around his. He should catch his breath and forget how beautiful Mike's eyes had looked, glossed over with what Will assumed were tears.

"It's not- I mean I don't-" Mike tried and Will squeezed his hand every single time Mike's voice quivered. "I don't care where I end up. I just-"

Mike stopped again. Will wasn't used to him struggling with his words the way he did tonight. Sure, Mike didn't often talk about his feelings, leaving him with little points of comparison. But he had never seen Mike like this, unable to find the right words or form coherent phrases.

"Since graduation, I keep having this dream. It's always the same thing. I'm back at the MAC-Z, just watching- I couldn't save her, Will. And then it switches and it's you." Will's breath got caught in his throat as if all the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere and left Will there to choke. Mike's voice broke on his words and it hollowed out Will's chest. He felt glued to the spot he was sitting in, his hand on top of Mike's, knees pressed together without the option to flee. Not that he wanted to remove himself from the situation, quite the opposite.

"I'm not scared of you leaving, it's- I know how good it'll do you to leave this place." Mike said, picking up the pace of his phrases as if there was a chance he'd run out of time. Or maybe there was a time limit on his courage to speak up, Will thought. 

"I'm just so fucking terrified of something happening to you while I'm not there. As if he's lurking somewhere waiting for the moment I lower my guard and then- I can't lose you too. I can barely live with the fact that I failed to save her, Will. What am I supposed to do with you three states over. What if I fail again- I can't lose you again. I genuinely can't. I, fuck-"

Mike didn't finish his rant, cut off by a deep ragged breath, emotions bubbling over without anything to hold them back anymore. It really felt as if Will had seen a dam break in real life, hearing Mike cry before he really registered it. Will wasn't sure if this even qualified as 'crying' anymore. His friend curled in onto himself, hugging himself as he fought for air in between sobs.

Clearly, this had been building up for god knows how long. The sounds of Mike's desperate gulps for air so raw it almost hurt more than the sight before him. Will didn't think about it, he just moved. He shifted his weight to turn around in the cramped space, both arms finding their way around Mike and tugging until Mike's face landed against his shoulder. "Hey, I'm right here. I got you. Nothing's coming to get me."

Mike grabbed fistfuls of Will's shirt, tears staining the fabric around the crook of Will's neck. Will who didn't need Mike to talk or explain anything further. He needed Mike to let go of everything he'd been holding in whether it was grief surrounding his sister Jane or fear of a hypothetical threat to Will's safety.

This was only the second time Will had been around to see Mike fall apart in the way he did right now. The only other time being when Jane had stepped into the gate for her final sacrifice. However, this time there was no shouting, no guards holding anyone back, no audience to see Mike's breakdown. Only Will. Mike's sniffling the only sound against the chirping of the crickets outside of Castle Byers.

"Three states away is just that, you know. I'll call and write, visit when I can. I won't disappear on you, Mike. Okay?" Will offered quietly, rubbing Mike's back slowly until he felt the shaking of his shoulders fade away. It took a little while before his normal breathing rhythm returned, taking even longer for Mike to pull back from the embrace. His eyes not meeting Will's, seemingly not ready yet for that confrontation, so instead he linked their pinkies on the mattress. "Okay."

Will noticed the warmth Mike gave off in such close proximity. He noticed how the other didn't move further away, just that tiny bit too close to blame it on the surface area of his fort. How Mike had hooked his pinky around Will's first. Somewhere in his head alarm bells went off, ringing in his ears. But Will ignored them, let whatever this was happen for a moment before it could slip through his fingers. It was a just moment between the two of them. Nothing that needed to be named. Not yet.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Their bike ride to the cabin, Mike insisted to drop him off, had been quiet. No words left to be said beside the soft 'Goodnight, Will' Mike had offered him with a gentle wave. A warm feeling spread through his chest as he waved back until Mike was out of sight, smiling to himself before turning on his heel. The grin on his face vanished just as quickly when he walked headfirst into Hopper and stumbled back with a pained noise. He looked up at his stepdad who looked right back at him with narrowed eyes, studying the scene in front of him.

"It's past midnight, kid. Pretty late for someone who's got a long drive tomorrow."

Will shook his head with a chuckle, patting Hopper on his chest with a flat hand before trying to pass by him. "Didn't know going to college meant you were going to start giving me curfews."

Hopper was blabbering something about a good night's rest and how important that was when it came to driving. Will rolled his eyes at that while he pulled open the screen door with a little creak. Unsure what Hopper's deal was but it was obvious that he was spouting nonsense to fill the silence. "Sure."

Hopper lazily followed him inside and stopped to lean against the doorframe while he watched Will untie his shoes. "Your mom told me you pretty much stormed out at eight to meet a friend, only to return way past midnight, dropped off by said friend, grinning from ear to ear. Quite a turn of events."

"The 'friend' was Mike. Mike Wheeler? Does that ring a bell, pretty sure you know him." Will replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He wasn't sure what this whole ordeal was about. Hopper was technically his stepdad and he certainly took care of Will like he'd take care of any kid but this was new. Not often caught in a scenario where Hopper went out of his way to corner Will into having a talk. Let alone imply anything about his love life. He wanted to scurry out of the room like a rat, Hopper's eyes burning in the back of his head.

Will glanced over his shoulder, not missing the way his stepdad's mouth twitched at the corners in an attempt to fight the grin off his face. He failed. "Mhmm, that does sound familiar. Can't blame a man for worrying when you come home late, your basic depth perception seemingly not working anymore."

"I didn't expect you there!"

"Joyce, I was just minding my own business when your son walked straight into me, all distracted and dazed. Which you still are by the way. Pretty sure I'm seeing sparkles in your eyes." Hopper gestured at Will's eyes before he joined Joyce back on the pull out couch, who gave him a little shoulder bump with a laugh. 

Will spluttered, his hands coming up in defense. "I wasn't dazed!"

"Leave my poor son alone, Hop." His mom laughed, her face soft as she gave Will a little wink. "Whatever happened between you two tonight, you don't have to explain it to either of us." 

"Nothing happened!" Will groaned, absolutely mortified at his parents teaming up against him. His face felt ridiculously hot. He was grateful that the low light in the living room probably hid how red it was. "You two are ridiculous, I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

He didn't mean to slam the door the way he did, he wasn't even angry, just embarrassed. His heart pounding in his chest as he heard Hopper's muffled. "Did he have to also choose a Wheeler?"

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Will tapped his fingers rhythmically against the sun-warmed metal of his car, squinting as he internally repeated every item he was supposed to take to New York, continuously feeling like he was forgetting something even though he'd already quadruple-checked.

"You can't sneak me into your apartment, can you?" Mike spoke up behind him and Will was pretty sure his soul left his body in that moment, not expecting any company. Will put a hand over his heart, huffing out a little airless chuckle.

"They sadly don't allow dogs, no." Will retorted, trying desperately to bite back his grin at his own joke. A laugh escaping his throat as Mike's shoulders dropped, actually looking like a sad dog that just got denied a treat.

"Rude." Mike mumbled but Will could see the way the corners of his mouth slightly curled up. Will smiled back once his shoulders stopped shaking from laughter, taking a moment to simply look back at the other. Mike still looked tired but in more of a gentle way rather than exhausted and emotionally drained. His hair not put up in the ugly side part for once, disobeying mop of curls softening his sharp features slightly.

It felt ridiculous how the mere sight of his best friend made something bloom in his chest that was both annoyingly confronting and comfortingly warm. He sighed to himself and closed the trunk with a loud thud. Will stretched his arms above his head, loosening up the muscles that had screamed at him in discontent from hauling all his luggage to the car.

"I, uh- I got you a little something." Mike spoke up.

Will furrowed his brow, his eyes sliding from Mike's eyes down to his hands, only to notice him hiding them behind his back. But before Will had a chance to reply in grateful protest, Mike had already continued talking. "It's nothing crazy, like it's actually kind of stupid. And if you don't like it just be honest? No maybe don't- I just wanted to give you something."

It was hard to keep himself from laughing again as Mike shook his head in frustration at his own lacking conversational skills. So Will took a step closer and held his hands out with his eyes closed. "I'm sure I'll like whatever it is."

He forced himself to keep his eyes closed just a little longer when his hands dipped down under the slight weight of the cold object placed in his hands. Upon opening his eyes, he only needed a split second to recognize his own walkie talkie. Will tilted his head to the side in confusion, looking up at Mike for an answer to why he was presenting something he already owned as a gift. But Mike's flushed face and averted gaze immediately turned his confusion into curiosity.

"Holly got that thing. It's adjustable." He gestured vaguely at the blue rope bracelet tied around the base of the walkie talkie before fidgeting with the yellow one around his wrist. "I have one as well- But you don't have to wear it! Unless you want to..."

Mike coughed into his fist, as if he was unsure how to continue, and flipped over the device in Will's hand to reveal its back. A small piece of paper fully taped onto it.

this only has a 4 mile range, so you'll have to visit -M 

"I'm holding you to that." He muttered bashfully, looking like he was about to get ill from the sentimental display he'd created himself. Will couldn't help but beam at the gift in his palms, his eyes stinging only lightly from the emotions that welled up.

"Oh I'll be visiting, whether you like it or not." He gently shoved Mike's shoulder, sending him straight back to 1987 when he'd done the same outside The Squawk and Mike had walked it off. It sent a couple shivers down his spine, suddenly feeling embarrassed of repeating the motion. Will looked at his watch, taking a deep breath once they both realised he should better get going.

The atmosphere around them turned a little heavier and Will wondered if a summer storm was on its way over to Hawkins. Electricity prickling his skin or maybe it was just the way Mike was standing in front of him, eyes focused and determined but he wasn't moving. Until he was.

For just a split second, Will had closed his eyes, prepared for something else entirely. Mike wrapped his arms around Will, who now had his chin nicely tucked into Mike's neck, getting a whiff of his shampoo. He didn't know how to react with one hand awkwardly dangling to the side, the other holding the walkie talkie in between their bodies.

"Promise you'll stay in touch?" Mike whispered against his hair as Will's arms found their way around the other in return.

"I promise, Mike."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

They in fact, did stay in touch. After graduation they had to move on with their lives, that was a given. During their first semester the whole party really did their best to check-in on each other, calling more often than not for updates. It wasn't always easy to find the right moment to call with their lives and routines changing, but they made it work. 

Will had taken it upon himself to start anew, he couldn't stay in the place that had changed his life forever and not in the good way. So going to college ten hours away from Hawkins had been a good call. However, he was glad to have his mom and Hopper somewhat near in Montauk. Whenever he had a little time off he made sure to bring them a visit. 

Ever since he left, he hadn't gone back to Hawkins. To Mike. Mike who hadn't figured out yet where his life was going to go professionally. Lucas and Max had promised to visit Will soon during one of Max's high school breaks. They wanted to travel, so what was better than crashing at Will's apartment for free. The ideal way to see more than just Hawkins when the doctors couldn't predict if her 'good eye' would stay stable or deteriorate, so they had no time to lose.

Dustin was living his best life in Georgia. He wrote often, mostly on postcards inside an envelope with pictures of his adventures. They stayed in touch as much as they could, telling all about their new lives. But Mike only consistently wrote to Will. He called Lucas and Dustin when their schedules aligned but the conversations were often short-lived. So instead they called Will for updates on Mike's life after a certain point. Max's "Is Wheeler still alive?" becoming the first and infamous question whenever she called.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

October 15, 1989

Dear Mike

So I'm officially an art student now, I can still barely believe it. Having classes where I'm just allowed to create (sometimes the prompts are stupid sure but still!!)
I have this one teacher for still life and she actually makes it fun when we have to sketch the same stupid object over an over again. She's the kind of person who really really looks at what you've got going on and gives genuine tips instead of just tearing it apart. She kind of looks like Nancy which immediately reminds me of you again so I guess you're also kind of here. 

My roommate is a ghost, I think. I haven't seen much of him besides bumping into him two times at three in the morning when I got up to pee and I don't know where he came from. His room? Somewhere else? I'll update you when I figured out this mystery. When we met before classes started he did tell me he had a girlfriend who lived nearby so maybe he just stays there? Doesn't matter, means I have the apartment to myself while paying only half the rent! Sounds like a win to me. 

You should visit sometime, New York is really nice. I'm a little homesick and I mean Hawkins had its charm but this is so much different. It's so much bigger and brighter and louder and I've already seen so many new things? I'll explain it on the phone, not sure how I'll find the words for what I've seen.

How are things over there? Lucas told me you got a job at Family Video?

Write back when you can!

From Will

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

October 20, 1991

Will, 

I'm really glad you like it there. Glad you have a teacher defying the stereotype that all of them suck and hate kids (not you Mr. Clarke). You deserve a teacher who sees the cool shit you can draw. Send me something sometime, I'd love to see it. Or bring it while you visit.

Things here are the same. Holly's back in school, Dad's back at work, Mom's nagged me into getting a job at Family Video as you've heard. It's a shitty job, I have to admit. I thought renting out movies would be easy as shit and a no-brainer. Turns out people are shit and have no brains. People are really renting out the worst movies of all time and when I recommend something better they look at me like I'm dirt on the bottom of their shoe. I'm not even talking bad romcoms or shitty horror movies but actual TRASH.

There was this creepy bald guy that came in one day and tried to ask for porn but without saying the actual word. Worst fifteen minutes of my life actually. Other than that I'm managing. I'm trying to write another novel. The premise is still kind of vague, I'm working on it.

Say hi to your ghost roommate for me

- Mike

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

December 14, 1989

Hi Will

I'm sorry I haven't sent a letter in a while. And also sorry for not picking up your calls. Things have been a lot lately. I don't know why. The phone kept ringing and I just couldn't get myself to answer. Then I wanted to call back but something inside me told me I was bothering you because you're busy with assignments and all.

I guess it all kind of went downhill when that date started approaching, you know. It felt so fucking lonely this time, but I don't really want to write about it in a stupid letter. Ever since that day I keep thinking about her again. Then I feel fine and out of nowhere it hits me like a fucking truck all over again, every single day.

Mom keeps forcing me to go outside and do things but I'm so tired, Will. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't even write. Work is a dread, I called in sick the last three times so Keith will probably fire me soon enough and I couldn't care less. 

I keep seeing him in my nightmares again as well, sometimes I wake up feeling like I can't breathe. I'm so tired of everything. Kind of wish you were here. I'm really grateful you said yes to being friends so long ago. I truly wish you nothing but happiness there in NYC. Hope classes are going well, knowing you you're probably acing them. Keep up the good work.

- Mike

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

Will held the letter in his hands, repeatedly going over the lines again and again until he could almost recite the letter by heart. His actual heart hammered in his chest. There was something about his handwriting, which had always been messy, but this time it was smaller. Almost as if Mike was trying not to take up any more space than necessary. Some words or full phrases scratched out badly enough that Will couldn't make out the words beneath the scribbles anymore.

As soon as he'd read the letter for the fifth time, in an attempt to find something he'd missed the first four times, he called. It rang for a while before going over in the Wheeler voicemail. He tried calling again before he went to bed with the same result. Will bumped into his roommate a couple hours later, the clocking announcing midnight had passed, unable to sleep.

For over a month, Will had patiently waited for a letter or some kind of sign of life from his best friend, playing it off as Mike being busy. Last time he'd called, Mike had mentioned something about checking out colleges with his parents. That had been around Halloween. Last time Will tried calling about a week ago, Holly answered. He was 'out again' was what she said, the same concern lacing her voice the way it had before Will left for college. 

Lucas and Max had both sounded equally as confused when he asked them about Mike, something about him always saying he was too busy figuring out college things. His friends both apologizing to Will that they hadn't checked up on him sooner once they realized how worried Will was. He told them it wasn't their fault, how were they supposed to know Mike wasn't being honest to them either.

After a couple more futile attempts of calling him, Will gave up. Maybe he wanted to be left alone? Maybe he met someone? Will immediately shook that thought off.

"You're already heading home?" His roommate frowned as he quietly watched Will, who frantically packed a bag, from their shared kitchen. They both finished their final exam of the semester only yesterday so leaving wasn't entirely weird but the time of day probably was.

"I think my friend needs me." Will replied mindlessly, feeling all over the place with all possible scenarios in his mind. He couldn't be dead, that was a given at least. Someone from the Wheeler family would've told him that, right? He wondered how long the letter had been lost before it ended up in his mailbox. How long ago had Mike sent him this exact letter, the first and only sign he was struggling.

The ten-hour drive to Hawkins was nerve-wracking. Will felt grateful for the existence of highways and the lack of other drivers on the road in the middle of the night on a Wednesday in December. He only stopped once for gas and a strong coffee that tasted like absolute garbage but he'd rather not have an accident on the way over to Mike due to him falling asleep behind the wheel.

His ears rang when he turned off the radio, which had been on a volume too loud to be healthy, finally allowing his thoughts to return. The Hawkins sign in his rear view became smaller and smaller as he drove into his hometown, the winter sun feeling warm through his window.

Mike is fine. He kept on repeating like a mantra in his head, once in a while saying it out loud as if asking the universe to listen to his pleas. When he pulled up in front of the Wheeler garage, Will noticed all lights were off. The sun was shining but it surely didn't suffice to illuminate a whole floor in a house like the Wheeler's had.

Will anxiously bounced on his legs after pressing the doorbell, his sweaty hands never actually dry despite wiping them on his pants every couple seconds. The door slowly creaked open, revealing no one other than the person he almost started printing missing-posters for. He wasn't looking fine, Will remarked first. He'd shuffled himself inside past Mike before any door could get thrown shut in his face.

Mike looked thinner than Will remembered from their last encounter during the summer, dark circles under his eyes, clothes slouched around his body as if they didn't belong to him. But at least he was alive, his worst case scenario could finally leave his mind. "Did you drive here?"

It was almost ridiculous how Mike could stand there after silently pushing the front door to a close, looking like he could pass out from exhaustion at any possible moment. All that left his mouth was a stupid question. Of course Will had driven there.

"Have you eaten anything?" Will offered instead, already making his way over to the kitchen despite the mumbled declinations following behind him. "Did I wake you up?"

Mike stilled at the counter, giving him a small shrug, followed by a sigh. "I'm not really sleeping a lot, honestly."

At least he was being honest about it, Will thought with a small shake of his head. He didn't ask anything else for the time being and instead focused on scrambling together something that could be called a meal. As he put the plate down in front of Mike, just a simple toasted sandwich with ham and cheese, the other stilled when Will's chest touched his shoulder. The reaction wasn't much but enough for Will to notice.

"Eat up, you can go back to sleep after." Will said, putting a hand on Mike's shoulder to give it a little squeeze that said 'I'm here for you'. Mike offered him a faint smile, mumbling some words of gratitude for the toast before taking a bite.

Will wasn't sure if he was thinking anything at all, nothing reasonably or well thought out at least. He'd cleaned up after Mike, who thankfully ate the whole toasted sandwich without any complaints or signs that he felt forced to eat. He'd gotten him a fresh set of clothes and ushered him into the shower, barely able to stop himself from offering to wash his hair for him. That would've probably been too much.

So Will sat there, on the edge of Mike's bed, waiting for the other to come back, unsure of what to do once he returned. Mike shuffled back in, looking a little fresher than before but still dragging his body along as if it was too heavy for him to carry. "D'you still need some sleep?"

The lack of verbal responses was slightly starting to bother Will. The shrugs, sighs, barely visible nods and eye rubbing almost making him turn to Mike and shake him out of frustration, screaming 'Why won't you just talk to me about it?' But he knew not to push. All he could do was be there for him and wait until he wanted to share what was on his mind, on his own terms.

So Will did just that. He threw open the duvets, patted the mattress and waited for Mike to crawl beneath the covers. It felt like taking care of a kid with a fever, barely responsive and annoyed. "I can take care of myself, Will." 

Will didn't hold back the huff that left his chest, frowning down at his best friend while he tucked Mike in. Based on the empty fridge, his messy room and the lack of both natural and synthetic light in his house, Mike had disproven his own statement before he'd even said it. "Then why haven't you?"

He didn't immediately respond, averting his eyes instead. "I'm tired."

It was a simple statement, maybe with some avoidant undertone in it. One phrase to shoo Will out of his room as he turned on his side, facing the wall. And again, Will didn't push. He'd preferred an honest answer, a proper explanation for the state he found Mike in but he wasn't going anywhere for now so he could wait.

"Alright," His hand twitched only inches away from Mike's hair, desperately wanting to push it back in a comforting manner, but he settled on squeezing his shoulder again instead. Not wanting to cross any unspoken boundaries when he was already uncertain of what territory he'd found himself in. "Get some rest."

Will didn't see Mike again for the rest of the day, quietly spending it on his own. So he did whatever he could do to lighten the load Mike was carrying by shopping for groceries, doing some laundry, prepping some food he could warm up. At a certain point he started to tidy up the basement, little by little, until his eyes fell upon the small desk pushed into a corner. Clearly a designated writing space for Mike.

He settled down in the chair, immediately feeling overwhelmed by the mess. Stacks of pages filled with writing, empty cups, crumpled up pieces of paper scattered around the small space. The bin beneath the desk overflowing with thrown away ideas. He didn't need to actually read anything as his mind immediately filtered out the words that mattered as if they got highlighted in front of him. Jane. Eleven. El.

Mike had been writing uncountable pages about her. About her actual fate. About conspiracy theories. About what could have been if it all never happened. It made Will's chest hurt. On the day of her death anniversary, he'd gone out bowling with his mom and Hopper. They'd spend the evening reminiscing about her, talking about how frustrated she'd get whenever her bowling ball ended up in the gutter. Talking about her was bittersweet but they all knew they couldn't lose themselves in their grief. She wouldn't want that.

The pages in front of Will proving that Mike didn't know that. He didn't hesitate before he picked up all the stacks of paper and put them away in boxes, pushing them somewhere in the back of the basement before continuing his clean up session. He wasn't going to sleep in the pigsty that the basement had become. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"What did you do?" Mike snapped at him the following morning. His hands balled up at his side in anger as the stood in the kitchen doorway.

"You'll have to be more speci-"

"You can't just come here and touch my fucking stuff. I can take care of myself. Nobody asked you to play my babysitter." Mike spat out before he could finish his reply. A part of Will wanted to yell back but he knew better. Instead he stayed cool, refusing to let Mike's words land the way he clearly wanted them to. An attempt to push him away, leave him alone.

"You're right, nobody asked. I'm here because I, personally, wanted to be. If you're mad at me for caring about you, go ahead." Will replied from where he stood in the kitchen, posture not faltering beneath Mike's heavy gaze. He simply continued to juice the oranges he bought yesterday. He knew Mike better than anyone, knew that beneath the anger something else was hiding.

"This isn't your problem to fix." Mike grumbled, clearly not sure what to do with the lack of a response that met his level of emotional intensity.

"I never said I was here to fix anything. I came here to see if my best friend was still alive and breathing." Will stated.

"I wrote." Mike said as if it was the most obvious answer. As if the singular letter he'd received after a month of radio silence was enough to undo all the worry Will had gone through on the drive over. As if any other friend would've turned a blind eye to the way Mike repeatedly mentioned he was tired. As if Mike Wheeler hadn't once shown a lack of hesitation to jump to save someone else. Why would he hesitate to jump now, Will wondered, if no one was there to hold him back.

Will only let out a faint snort at Mike's words, shaking his head in disbelief. Mike was genuinely agitating him with his closed off attitude. "You really think your letter eased my mind in any way? For all I know you'd already thrown yourself into the quarry by the time it arrived in New York."

When no answer came Will looked up from beneath his lashes to watch Mike who lingered around the kitchen island on the opposite side of where Will stood, his fingers restlessly picking at the edge of the counter. Will quietly pushed a glass of fresh orange juice over to Mike, not feeling like any further words had to be exchanged in that exact moment. Mike accepting the glass and taking a sip was enough conversation in itself. Quiet resignation.

Even after quietly cleaning up the kitchen and unloading the dishwasher, Mike still stood exactly where he'd stopped about fifteen minutes ago. Every once in a while Will felt Mike's eyes burning in the back of his head, but he never spoke up and quickly averted his gaze again before their eyes had a chance to meet.

"When are you going back?" Mike asked quietly.

"I'm in no hurry. When's everyone coming back?" Will said, leaning against the counter behind him with his arms crossed over his chest.

Mike shrugged, looking over at the calendar on the wall. "In a couple days."

Mike pushed himself away from the kitchen island, dusting non-existent crumbs off his clothes as he mumbled something about new friends of his parents having this lake house somewhere in North Carolina, how they felt the need to get out of Hawkins during the cold and dark winter. They'd invited him as well but he didn't want to spend his time with a bunch of stuck-up suburban families around a lake where he'd be forced to socialize with their children.

If anything Will was glad Mike was talking after his little outburst, even when it had nothing to do with how he was actually feeling. So he listened intently to Mike's rambles about his parents new friends, a couple who'd moved to Hawkins a couple weeks after Will left for college. He complained about their daughter who'd looked at Mike like she'd catch some infectious disease from being in his proximity and called him weird behind his back. And something about their oldest son, a Harvard graduate. Holly also didn't like them but Mike assumed she didn't want to spend over a week with him alone in Hawkins either, sounding guilty as he admitted that.

It didn't take long for them to roll into some more natural conversation. Hours passing by faster than expected when the air around them didn't weigh them down. Mike showed Will some of the movies he'd discovered while working at Family Video as he simultaneously complained about how the place had drained him. Will talked about his classes, the people he met in New York and about how he'd bumped into his roommate almost twenty-four hours ago for the first time in weeks.

"Maybe he learned your schedules by heart to purposely avoid you." Mike commented, pointing his spoon in Will's direction as they sat on the floor in the living room, some old board game long forgotten in between their knees. 

It was nice seeing Mike do something as simple as eating ice cream, not knowing exactly when his parents had left town. For all Will knew, Mike had been eating nothing or only absolute crap for the past week or maybe it had been only two days.

Will stretched his arms above his head trying to get the stiff feeling out of his back with a yawn. "I think I'm going to call it a night, if that's okay?"

Mike looked surprised at first before he glanced at the clock and let out an airless chuckle. "Didn't know it was that late already. But yes sure- uh goodnight, Will."

Will didn't immediately leave, helping Mike clean up their mess in the living room first before he headed over to the basement. Mike trailed after him towards the staircase, just watching Will's every move before Will spun around on his heel, leaving Mike to stumble into his chest.

"Mike, use your words instead of stalking me in silence." Will sighed, half-fond, half-confused.

"I-" Mike took a step back, giving Will some space in the process. "Thank you for checking up on me." 

A shiver ran down Will's spine, but he wasn't sure if it was due to the cold or the way Mike's words of gratitude seemed to linger in between them. It was one thing for Mike to drop his cold mask earlier, expressing actual appreciation was something else entirely. Not that Mike never said thank you just not this raw.

So Will smiled in return, giving Mike a playful shove. "You followed me here like a creep to say thanks? You're an odd one, Mike."

He waited a beat, watching Mike's mouth curl upward in a small smile before Will spoke up again. "Don't you ever dare forget again that I'm here whenever you need me, okay? Stop carrying everything on your own."

After a nod and a couple exchanges of goodnights and sleep tights, Will made his way into the basement. Something in his chest had loosened at the evening they'd spent together, as if it had been tight ever since he'd first read Mike's letter. Mike had been lonely and instead of reaching out, he'd built up these walls where no one could reach him, leaving him even more fragile and alone. Will was going to break them down again, brick by brick until Mike finally stopped pushing him away emotionally. Even if it would take him years.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Will practically jumped out of his skin at the loud crash somewhere around him. His vision still swimming from sleep as he hurried up the stairs, bruising his knee on a couple of steps as he scrambled towards Mike. The adrenaline in his veins had completely woken him up, as if someone had drenched him with a bucket of ice water by the time he arrived at Mike's bedroom.

"Watch out." Mike spoke up somewhere in the dark, his voice tired from exhaustion. Will frowned in confusion, fingers sliding over the wall in search of the light switch. They both flinched like vampires when the bright ceiling light turned on, revealing the scene in front of him. Mike sat on the edge of his bed, the lamp knocked off his bedside table, glass shards spread out across the floor. 

"Nightmare?" Will asked quietly as they tried to clean up all the shards with a dustpan and brush, both too tired to get the vacuum cleaner for the smallest pieces. Mike only nodded in response, looking like he'd seen a ghost. "Him again?"

Another nod. Will carefully moved over, making sure to avoid the floor directly around Mike's broken lamp. Mike froze where he sat cross-legged on his bed, his curls damply clinging to his forehead.

At this point, Will had slightly given up on watching the unnamed lines that defined their friendship. He quietly shifted the pillows around in Mike's bed, ensuring it was possible for both of them to sleep there. He didn't wait for Mike's permission as he slipped beneath the covers.

Mike looked at him with wide eyes, disbelief written all over his face. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sleeping here." Will replied, pretending it wasn't eating him alive from the inside out as well.

"I uh, yeah, I can see that. But why?" Mike's voice barely above a whisper at the end.

"Can you stop making it weirder than it is and just come here?" Will groaned, almost whined, both out of annoyance and embarrassment. But Mike got the message, leaning over to turn off the lights before he carefully felt for the empty side of the bed in the dark.

They laid there in silence for quite a while, Will fighting his own fatigue as long as he didn't hear Mike's breathing even out. It never quite did. If anything, Mike's breathing sounded uncomfortable. Too aware of every in- and exhale. So time ticked on, the digital clock on Mike's nightstand casting a soft red glow that emphasized every minute that passed.

Will's fingers twitched in hesitation before he reached out and found Mike's somewhere in between them. He was being too bold but he had nothing to lose. Not when his friend was turning into an insomniac, tortured by nightmares about a guy they defeated 2 years ago.

Regret washed over him for only a split second when Mike sharply inhaled at the contact. Will almost let go but Mike accepted the gesture and quietly laced their fingers together beneath the duvet. Will's body acted completely on autopilot when he heard the soft and repressed sniffles coming from the other side of the bed.

He pulled Mike into his chest, holding him tightly in a similar way he'd done when he left for college. Only now it felt way more intimate than sitting in Castle Byers, scared about their future. Mike's face was pushed into the crook of his neck, his hands clutching the front of Will's shirt. 

"Shit." Mike mumbled into Will's shoulder, trying to control his breathing and failing. Will just shushed him, repeatedly telling him he was going to be okay like some sort of mantra until it worked. 

Mike felt small curled up in his arms despite being the taller one out of the two. He felt more fragile than Will had ever experienced him before.

Will gently rubbed circles onto Mike's back, shifting their weight until Mike curled into his side. It didn't take much longer after that for Mike's breathing to even out. Finally asleep. And Will gave in to the exhaustion shortly after, ignoring the way the side of his body burned beneath the touch.

Will woke up the next morning to an empty bed, Mike already busying himself downstairs. At first he'd expected him to act awkward but nothing was further from the truth. Mike acted like nothing had happened, asked him if he slept well and continued their day the way they had the evening before.

It wasn't entirely clear if he was unbothered by what happened or actually pretending it hadn't taken place. Will didn't dare to ask so he went along with however Mike acted towards him, reciprocating the energy.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

When Will moved towards the basement that evening, Mike's hand had immediately found his wrist. The other's gaze cast downward at the floor in between their feet as he mumbled a quiet. "Please stay. With me."

And that's exactly how Will ended up spending all the remaining evenings of his stay in Hawkins, falling asleep with Mike's mop of curls tucked beneath his chin, an arm loosely draped over his chest. It drove him crazy in more ways than he could count, but it was easier to shrug off his romantic feelings when he knew Mike needed this to sleep. They never spoke about their nightly ritual once the sun rose, only the small lingering touches scattered throughout the day counting as evidence of their newfound closeness.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Will asked out the window of his car, watching Mike stand right beside it with Will's college hoodie over his slim frame. He looked cute, arms crossed over his chest to fight off the bitter winter cold. 

Mike offered him a small nod, cheeks flushed. He pinched the fabric at the front of Will's hoodie, showing off the thickness of it. "This will do."

Will smiled as they exchanged their goodbyes, mentally slapping himself for visualizing the idea of Mike leaning down to peck his lips through the open window as a farewell. He waved his friend goodbye in the rear view mirror, his heart thumping against his ribcage. He did not know how he was going to explain the situation he'd gotten himself in to Max or Robin.  

<< 1990 >>

Will called one week later, exactly as he promised. Their call quickly turning from a quick ten-minute check-in into an hour-long complaining session about spending the holidays with their families.

"You sound better." Will remarked after Mike had freely laughed at something he said, his chest feeling fuzzy at the sound.

The line stayed quiet for a beat too long, the warm feeling in his chest bubbling over into worry that he'd done something wrong by saying it. "Yeah, I'm doing better. Not always but a lot better than I was. Thank you for driving out all the way here..."

Will curled the phone cord around his finger, a sigh of relief passing his lips. "I wasn't going to just sit here not knowing if you were okay. I care about you."

Neither of them said anything else that truly mattered after that, only more complaints and stories filling up another half hour before Holly yelled at Mike to get off the phone. And when Mike hung up, Will sat there with the receiver beeping in his hand for a while, simply feeling relieved that Mike was alright. That they were.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

March 19, 1990

Hi Will

I'm not sure when this letter will arrive with our shitty postal system but I hope it's either before or on your actual birthday. I tried to time my last letters to figure it out but it was extremely inconsistent. 

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Nineteen years old, can you believe that? It feels ridiculous to write it out, actually. Anything older than eighteen feels like a crime. I'm following shortly and it actually grosses me out. I can still picture us dressed up as ghostbusters and me fighting over who could be Venkman with Lucas. I totally had the right to be Venkman.

I was really excited starting this letter but now I'm actually regretting not just sending you a birthday card. 'You could also just throw out the letter instead of continuing and send that card' is what you're probably thinking. But I feel like that defies the whole brave characteristic you always pin to me. Enough about me, more about you.

Will Byers, you've graced the earth with your existence for nearly two decades now and I'm really grateful for that. You went from quiet almost non-verbal kid to someone who rolled their eyes and sighed loud enough for me to hear as a teenager to an adult who uses his driver's license and expensive gas to drive ten hours to the house of his unstable childhood best friend. And I wouldn't have you any other way. I'm grateful you allowed me to be your friend and experience all these versions of you.

I truly don't know what I would've done if you hadn't shown up at my porch back in December. So happy birthday, Will. I really hope this year is good to you. I hope that your teachers keep praising you and your art in the way you deserve. And I hope we'll get to see each other soon.

Miss you.

Don't tell anyone (read: MAX) I wrote something sappy. I have a reputation to uphold.

- Mike

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

Will pushed the letter into Robin's hands the second she slid into the chair in front of him at a tiny café where they met up for his birthday. The café was small and French, looked more expensive than it actually was and Robin swore by their coffee. He was glad she'd left Massachusetts and moved to New York, joining him and Jonathan on their big city shenanigans.

His brother and Robin were an odd pairing but they both loved Will so he guessed that was the only reason they hung out as often as they did. But she'd appointed herself Will's unofficial New York Guardian, the second she arrived in the city.

"I have a feeling you only wanted to meet me on your birthday to analyze this letter." She stated, mindlessly stuffing her mouth with fries as she used her finger to meticulously read every phrase in Mike's letter. Her slow reading made Will want to pull his own hair out, fingers impatiently drumming on the table top. He watched every micro-expression on her face, flinching when she looked up straight into his soul.

"You've graced the earth with your existence. And I wouldn't have you any other way." She deadpanned.

Will buried his face in his hands, the tips of his ears burning from embarrassment. Ever since he received the letter he'd been racking his brain about it. He knew Mike, he knew how he could randomly say the most life crushing phrases as if it was the only natural thing to say but that didn't make it any better. "I don't know, Robin. It's still just Mike. He's said sappy things in the past to save lives, maybe this is just him expressing gratitude."

"Sure. This is obviously just a very grateful friend who misses you." She carefully folded the letter, sliding it back over the table to Will, who immediately put it back in its original envelope, handling it with excessive care. Robin leaned back in her chair, refraining from balancing on it its hindlegs when an elderly lady scolded her a couple tables over.

The fries in between them got wholeheartedly devoured by Robin as Will didn't even make an attempt at stealing one for himself, too in his head about the letter to work up an appetite. His stomach tied in knots from Mike's words. 

"Do you have any idea if he's like, you know, open to it? Dating guys, I mean." Robin asked, making sure to lower her voice slightly. She carried her sexuality with pride around her friends but one still didn't want to put a target on their own back or have any less tolerant stranger starting an argument in public.

There sadly hadn't been any improvement in his quiet mission of finding out what was going on in Mike's head. This didn't only include how he was feeling emotionally but also how he felt towards men and maybe even towards Will specifically. Everything Mike did was ambiguous to Will. Robin often disagreed that friends didn't usually act the way Mike did, thus giving Will some hope.

"I genuinely don't know anything. He dated my sister. That's literally the entire data set I have to work with. He never talks about anyone, he never mentions any celebrities. He's dated one person, who just so happened to get adopted into my own family. I'm trying to ignore that fact most of the time."

Robin hummed thoughtfully, lacing her own fingers together so she could lean her chin on top of her hands. "For what it's worth, dating one girl doesn't say anything about his sexuality. Look at Vicky. Some people only find out way later."

The idea of having to wait for Mike to hypothetically figure himself out and hypothetically realize he's been in love with Will this whole time was nauseating. Will groaned, dropping his head on the table with a thud, not caring if his forehead would be bruised red. "I feel like a loser."

"And maybe you are, a little bit, but let's not focus on that on your birthday!" She exclaimed, nicely timed with the waitress bringing over a small cupcake with a candle in it. Robin hummed happy birthday as Will blew out the candle. "I wonder what you wished for."

Will almost threw the cupcake straight at her face.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The moon crept in through Will's flimsy blinds, casting a nice glow into his living room as Will settled into his couch with a cup of hot chocolate and some Reese's. At first he had been scared to celebrate his birthday almost alone, not wanting a repetition of his birthday in Lenora. But this time around, Will felt comfortable in his own presence, not actually feeling lonely at all. After lunch with Robin, he'd gone home and started his new painting project. A series of small paintings that captured the essence of every one of his friends. Something he could give them on their respective birthdays.

But as the evening dragged on and his fingers cramped up from painting, Will decided a movie and a hot drink would be a nice way to wrap up his birthday. His evening plans rudely interrupted by the ringing of his landline in the hallway.

"Happy Birthday!" It sounded before Will had a chance to ask who it was. It was Mike, no doubt. His exact tone engrained in Will's memory no matter how old they got. "You didn't think I wasn't going to call, did you?"

"You almost missed it by-" Will looked at the clock on the wall. "two hours? So I didn't expect anything. Plus you already wrote the letter, which was very nice..."

The other side of the line stayed quiet for a beat too long and Will really had to do his best not to read into it too much. The letter had already made him delusional enough. When Mike finally replied, Will's heart sunk into his stomach. "That's what friends do, right?"

"Right." Will nodded, the smile that had decorated his face at the beginning of the call slowly slipping away. He really felt like a loser.

"Are you okay?" Mike asked.

"Yea, just really tired. Was a long day." Will mumbled back at him, chest heavy and head hurting.

"Oh- Want me to let you sleep?"

"Maybe yeah, should probably head to bed."

"Okay. I hope you had a nice day, Will. Happy birthday and uh, goodnight?"

"Night, Mike."

Will didn't have the energy to really be sad about it. His day had been nice up until the painful reminder that he was just Mike's best friend. His lunch date conversation with Robin suddenly feeling meaningless and a waste of time. He didn't know why he kept on trying to figure Mike out when there was nothing to figure out.

He poured his hot chocolate down the drain, turned off his movie that hadn't gotten past the VHS intro and went to bed. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Max called on a Tuesday in early May, on one of Will's free afternoons and before he realized it he'd mentioned his run in with some guy name Carlton who also went to Hunter's. He regretted it immediately.

"Wait, you're saying this guy broke your pencils, immediately offered to buy you new ones and helped you carry your stuff to class after?" Max summarised Will's story, he could hear her grinning through the phone.

"Yeah so wha-"

"Will, please. That's not just being nice. He's clearly into you." Max pushed, somewhere in the background Lucas was yelling something in agreement.

In the span of the next fifteen minutes, Max spent her time interrogating Will on everything and anything that concerned Carlton. From the way he looked to the way he talked and all the possible details Will knew from the couple times they'd hung out.

He had to hold back his laughter as he listened to Max shoo Lucas out of the room, saying the next things were none of his business. All he heard was a defeated and frustrated 'fine' from her boyfriend and a door falling into its lock. 

"So what are you gonna do about it, or are you going to brush off yet another perfectly nice guy?"

Will snorted. "You're saying that as if I have a whole queue of nice guys lining up to date me."

"Oh don't deflect, Byers. You know what I'm talking about. You turn a blind eye to every guy who's done a double take at you. You've laughed off guys flirting with you. When will you realize you deserve someone who's actually available, Will? Someone who isn't-" She held herself back, the energy of the conversation immediately shifting into something more uncomfortable.

Will sighed and slid down against the wall of his hallway, taking the landline down with him. "Someone who isn't Mike, you can say it."

Max let out a similar sigh as if she'd been holding her breath until Will spoke, now relieved of the fear of the possible damage she might've done. He heard her shifting on her end of the line, probably getting in a different and better position to deliver her next message.

"You know my relationship with Mike is a little rocky, we're not the best of friends but I also know he's not a bad guy. I'm just so tired of watching him lead you on without even meaning to, and you simply letting him." The more she said, the more her voice grew agitated, with the kind of frustration someone had when their friend kept repeating the same mistakes over and over again while ignoring all possible advice. That was probably what Will had been doing in her eyes.

"Has either one of you ever addressed how you two aren't friends with each other the way you two are with anyone else? And don't you dare pull the Best Friend card."

"But he is, my best friend, that is." Will simply retorted.

"Exactly, but will he ever be capable of becoming more than that? You really gotta ask yourself that, Will." Max sighed. If anything it sounded like she was pitying him.

They didn't exchange much more about Mike after that question. Will didn't feel brave enough to actually let himself ruminate about the possible answers. Already knowing what the most plausible one was. Instead Max turned the conversation back into its original direction to try and lighten the mood, even when the mention of Carlton currently made Will want to bend over a toilet and hurl.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to give Carlton an actual shot. Say yes when he asks you out for dinner again. Allow yourself to test these waters." Max said it in a way that was almost a plea while it simultaneously sounded like an order.

Will smiled, but only at Max's desperation, not the actual idea. "Do I get a say in this?"

She chuckled, almost wickedly, before she revealed her masterplan. "No. This is officially Operation 'Get Over Your Childhood Best Friend, You've Suffered Enough.' I'm still workshopping the name."

The laugh that bubbled up from his chest completely rendered his Mike Wheeler-related stomach ache nonexistent, chasing away all the anxious thoughts that slowly settled down in the back of his mind in the past minutes.

"I just want you happy, Will. That's the whole plan. Now go call Carlton and let him take you somewhere nice!"

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

May 3, 1990

Hi Will

It's been a while since our last letters but I mean, we've called at least twice a month so I can't really complain. I officially quit Family Video, not sure how Keith let me stay long enough for me to resign on my own terms. Maybe he was desperate.

So with all this new free time as a jobless individual, I've been writing A LOT. I think this new novel idea of mine is actually working out quite well. I can't wait to show you in person. About the whole seeing each other thing. Mom, Dad and Holly are joining the Fletchers again in their North Carolina cottage. I passed. Mom was worried at first but I made it very clear that I'm doing better than I was last winter. I just don't really feel like family-bonding with another family present. Think I might actually throw myself off a cliff if I have to spend any time with their shit stain of a daughter. (That was pretty rude, she deserves it)

Sooooo if you're free from august 10 to 17 and wanted to come stay for a while. I wouldn't say no. I mean I'm actually asking, so I hope you say yes. 

No pressure. Just know you're welcome.

- Mike

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

August 1990

Max,

I'm writing this letter instead of calling because I'm actually terrified of you and your cane as I kind of sabotaged Operation whatever-it-was-called.

Carlton asked me to go on a short road trip with him this summer. Just the two of us, somewhere sunny, he'd drive, plan the whole thing. I said no. 

Before you start screaming, hear me out. The dates he offered were identical to Mike's. And I had already made up my mind when Mike asked me to come stay with him this summer (his family's out so he's alone, so we'd be alone, so I couldn't say no). 

And sure okay maybe I could've asked Carlton for other dates but I didn't want to. I have no other reason. Carlton was fine about it or he acted like he was. I don't know. I didn't ask. Please don't make me feel worse than I already feel. Even though I know you will.

Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well and you don't find me anytime soon.

Just let me have this. Maybe this is the moment where everything changes for better or for worse. I'll write to you later.

Yours truly
Will

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

Will had been buzzing with excitement during his drive back to Hawkins. There had been something about the way Mike had written him in May, the tone, the enthusiasm before he went off the grid again. Will asked Jonathan, who called Nancy, about Mike's sudden disappearance and she hadn't really given a clear reason either. Just something about being busy with everything college-related. They never really talked about Mike's college application journey so Will's pulse quickened slightly at the thought that maybe Mike got rejected.

However, all traces of excitement had seeped out of his bones and into the Hawkins grounds when Mike opened the front door with a surprised look.

"Oh- you're actually here? You didn't have to come all this way, you know." Mike motioned as he stepped aside to open the door fully. 

"You have such a way to make your guest feel welcome, Mike." Will had rolled his eyes with a little laugh as he stepped in and toed off his shoes. Not sure what to make of his behavior when he'd been the one to invite Will in the first place.

The house felt cold even in the middle of summer as if having good air-conditioning meant you should have it on full blast to recreate the Antarctic. But the house wasn't the only thing feeling cold, Mike stood there with stiff shoulders and his hair put in the same godawful side part as the one from their graduation. 

It had been over a year since they graduated, since Mike had sat in his basement, telling his hypothetical story about how Jane was out there somewhere. He knew Mike used it to cope but it left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth the longer he let the memory simmer in his mind. 

Jane was gone and she had sacrificed the thing she dreamt of the most, a normal life, just so they could live one. And most of them did. Yet today Mike sat on Ted's old La-Z-Boy with some dusty old clothes he'd probably grabbed from that exact man's closet. He looked stupid.

"Not sure what's up with you. But you really should get out more," Will said, looking around the all too familiar living room, "At least get some fresh air or something-"

"I get plenty of fresh air, thank you very much." Mike interrupted with a frown, his arms crossed over his chest. Will had to bite back a laugh, over the span of half a year Mike Wheeler had somehow morphed into his father. 

Ted Wheeler who had taken his lovely wife Karen and youngest daughter to some summer cottage again for a family outing with some friends. Their marriage had been rocky with Ted being both a useless father figure and a lazy husband but it seemed that being attacked by a Demogorgon changed a person. But to think Ted Wheeler had more of a life than his nineteen-year-old son was a little disturbing. 

Will watched as Mike fidgeted with the strap of his watch, his eyes fixated on some vague point in the far distance. The enthusiasm from the letter where Mike had proudly announced that he was going to have the house to himself this summer seemed nowhere to be found. 

He'd expected Mike to dress like a sloppy college kid in a pair of joggings and a worn-out shirt, forgotten mugs and plates scattered around, maybe a couple of graphic novels on the coffee table? 

Instead he sat in that stupid recliner, hair combed back, ugly polo tucked into his pants, glasses propped onto his nose. The house felt squeaky clean, but in a way that said 'I'm not sure if he ever gets out of that recliner' and not indicating Mike had become a clean freak. A passerby could guess this was a forty-year-old man living on his own and Will would not blame them. 

"Mike." "Will?"

"Michael." "Yes, William?"

Will walked over with a sigh, crouching down next to the recliner. "When's the last time you saw someone these past months? Or like...ever?"

"Lucas visited a couple weeks ago-" 

"Really?" Will interrupted with an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"He brought some leftovers his mom made for a family gathering." He shrugged again, looking down at Will who had his chin propped on the armrest. Will sighed again, this time a little more exaggerated as he pushed himself back onto his feet. "When did you last hang out with someone?" 

Which was met with yet another shrug. It felt like a less severe repetition of his visit during Winter Break.

"You look different from last time." Will offered as he walked into the kitchen to get the both of them something to drink. Mike was still an awful host, never offering his guests any refreshments.

"Yeah, dad scolded me for not taking care of myself enough, being the next man of the house and all..." He shot Will something that could barely be classified as a smile, running a hand through his clean haircut, messing it up a little in the process.

Will's jaw tensed for a split second when he processed Mike's words. His whole outfit making more sense if he added Ted's influence into the equation. Maybe a Demogorgon attack wasn't quite enough to change a man's morals. So he hummed, a little sound of acknowledgement to encourage Mike to go on about his situation. 

He brought over the glasses of water, making sure not to make too much eye contact in case it would cause him to freeze up like a deer in headlights. He whispered a small thank you for the drink, leaving it untouched as his fingers found their way back to the watch strap.

"He was mad, you know? I mean- I don't blame them... I was- well you know what I was like last winter. And I know I'm doing better, I feel a bit better. But I'm not quite there yet. And I just know he looks down on me because of it. But I can't just shake it off or get over it. Whenever I go outside and visit that memorial, it all comes rushing back in. I can't breathe, my head starts pounding," Mike closed his fists, nails digging into his own palms. 

"My ears start ringing again as if those stupid speakers are back. You weren't there, Will... In that void, when she said goodbye. I-" Mike's breathing hitched, not able to finish his phrase.

Will could see him trembling, his eyes cast down towards his hands where his knuckles were turning white from the tension. He wasn't sure if reaching out was allowed. Did they still hug or was that a thing from the past? Before he knew it he was walking over, about to drop onto his knees in front of the La-Z-Boy where Mike sat on the very edge but he stopped dead in his tracks as soon as the words hit his ears. "I couldn't tell her I loved her back."

It was something about the way he said it. Mike didn't often have a quiver in his voice, but this time Mike's voice was laced with guilt that had been eating him alive ever since that dark day. His fists slowly uncurled, hands finding their way into his hair fully bringing an end to the hairdo he'd meticulously put together before Will arrived. He slid them down across his forehead until he could dig the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was crying.

"She asked me so many times, Will. Did she tell you that? We had a fight in Lenora," he let out a bitter laugh followed by a sniffle. 

"From Mike. I always wrote from Mike and it hurt her over and over again. But even after she told me I couldn't write it down. I told her back there at the pizza place but that was because you looked at me. You looked at me and gave me that little 'go ahead' nod and I just told her what I thought she wanted or needed to hear. God knows." He took a shaky breath, eyes still hidden by both his fringe and the heels of his hands.

"Of course I loved her, she was so amazing but getting the words out of my stupid mouth? I just couldn't. And I don't know why... It's been years already and I still can't figure out why I am the way I am and why it feels like I was spouting a lie when saying those words to her. It feels like I've been saying them because she expected them. But then again, I loved her, didn't I?"

Will felt pinned in place, like he'd forgotten how to move when Mike looked up from his hands, eyes bloodshot red and glossy. The last time he saw Mike cry like this was the night before he left for college. Other than that Mike didn't cry often at all, at least not with this intensity or around people. 

He remembered the tear Mike'd shed after recalling the memory of their first meeting. How he told Will it was "the best thing he'd ever done" without any shame, without any hesitation. Will had taken that conversation and tucked it away in a nice wooden box somewhere in the back of his mind. Always there to open when he needed it. But termites got to it the evening he made an end to Castle Byers, leaving the wood of his imaginary brain box to rot in the back of his head. 

He completely threw the rotten box out when Mike had proclaimed his love for Jane and how his life had started the day he found her in the woods. The day Will had disappeared was the day Mike's life had begun. It still stung after years, heartburn was probably a more accurate description. As if all the acid from his stomach was making its way up his esophagus to try and get him to choke on it. 

"Didn't I?" It was a plea, Mike Wheeler was begging for confirmation on a subject Will had nothing to say about. 

"She loved you, Mike. I'm sure she did until the very end, no matter what."

"That's not an answer."

"Mike, I don't kn-"

"She's dead now and I couldn't even tell her I loved her. El died-"

"Jane." Will interrupted sternly.

"What?"

"Her name is Jane. Maybe you could've properly loved her if you'd only seen her for who she actually was instead of never separating her from that god-awful number."

Mike looked taken aback by Will's little outburst. He wasn't sure where it came from either, but it set his skin aflame whenever he heard someone call her that. Will had told everyone honestly how he felt about that and they immediately respected his request to call her Jane instead of that. But it seemed that Mike had forgotten the memo. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to snap at you." 

"I deserved that, actually. So it's fine, yeah, I'm sorry." Mike took a shaky breath as he motioned to the sofa for Will to take a seat as his eyes slid from his face to the way Will's hands were balled up into fists next to his sides. They both sat there in silence for a little while. They didn't have to worry about someone walking in on them, Mike didn't have to worry about someone seeing him vulnerable for the first time in god knows how long. 

Mike diverted the conversation for a little while, talking about how crazy it was that they were almost twenty now. He asked about Will's art classes, if he was still drawing in his free time. Something shifted in the air when Mike rolled his shoulders back as if he was mentally bracing himself for something. Will could feel the tension that had appeared, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He impatiently bounced his right knee as he stared back at Mike who seemed to contemplate whether or not he should speak. 

"Max mentioned you met some- met some guy in New York?" The anxiety melted out of Will's nervous system once Mike gathered his nerve to ask about his love life. A small chuckle passed his lips as he scratched the back of his head. "Of course she told you that. I guess I kind of did? It's nothing serious though or not yet, I don't know."

"I'm happy for you, Will. So who's the lucky guy?" Maybe it was Will's imagination but his voice seemed strained. 

Will explained how he hadn't exactly met 'some guy' over the past year. He'd bumped into Carlton once as he hurried to his next class. Will had to admit his first impression had been god he's handsome, wet curls sticking to his forehead, droplets of sweat running down it. He'd been on a run, caught up in whatever song he'd been listening to in the moment. His distraction combined with Will trying to balance all his sketching material in his arms was a perfect recipe for disaster. His newly bought pencils scattered all over the pavement, the sound of pencil points breaking still echoed into his soul. 

At first Will had been prepared to yell, but the boy, who had hurriedly introduced himself as Carlton, quickly tried to gather all the fallen supplies. His infinite train of sorry's immediately easing Will's annoyance into a certain level of fondness. Carlton offered to buy him new materials without any hesitation, an exchange of phone numbers and addresses inevitable in that case.

Will hadn't actually expected anything out of it but Max had excitedly feigned disgust at their 'romcom-esque meeting.' Which eventually led to the infamous "Get Over Your Childhood Best Friend, You've Suffered Enough"-plan led wholly and solely by Max Mayfield.

It was a complete disaster in the end and honestly, Will himself was to blame. Carlton was sweet, he took care of Will in New York. Always making sure he got to his classes and his part-time job on time, becoming his personal chauffeur. They still ate dinner together every Tuesday, movie nights whenever something new came out, he'd even come along on a trip to Montauk to meet his mom, Hopper and Jonathan who'd come to visit. 

But Will wasn't fully in it, his heart wasn't. Carlton's hair had grown over the past year, somewhat resembling the hair his childhood best friend sported for years on end. He'd attempted to draw him a couple times but the features always ended up looking too sharp. Somewhere inside, all roads continued to lead to Mike Wheeler. And with said best friend around him, he didn't want to try to get over him just yet even if he stood no chance.

Will had only said a simple "I have to go back to Hawkins." And Carlton understood or pretended to at least. Neither of them had ever made a move beyond 'close friends'. But according to Max, friends didn't spoil each other the way Carlton got him new material every so often 'to make up for what he broke', even though that damage had already been repaid threefold. Friends didn't just offer their hoodie to make sure Will wasn't cold despite it leaving Carlton shivering. And Will knew, if he gave Carlton green light? They would've kissed by now. They almost had on multiple occasions but Will always pulled back before the other could close the gap.

"Max told Lucas, who told me that she could hear the wedding bells already." Mike laughed once Will finished explaining their first meeting and how it had evolved into something unspoken and unclear. 

"She's exaggerating. I don't know- or I'm not sure if I want him in that way..." Will shrugged, it felt a little uncomfortable talking to Mike about his love life. Not because he felt judged or scrutinized, but solely due to the bane of his existence sitting right in front of him with curious eyes. 

"Then what do you want?"

There was a gleam in Mike's eyes, Will noticed but ignored it for the sake of his own sanity. If he was a character in one of Jane's romantic movies, he should've stood up and strode right over. The idea of grabbing Mike by the collar of his ugly polo and dragging him in for a kiss made his head swim. But he stayed seated and scrunched his nose to get the thought out of his system. 

It was stupid, he thought to himself. Carlton was fun and outgoing but still down-to-earth and very comforting. He'd been there through Will's darker episodes when memories resurfaced and nightmares returned. He was handsome, more muscular than Mike and even a bit taller. He had no actual good reason for rejecting the New Yorker, no other reason besides Mike. 

Will took note of the way Mike was looking at him. Despite the silly glasses and the hair, that was looking slightly more untamed after his breakdown earlier, it was still Mike. He still had his defined cheekbones, faint freckles dusting across them and his stupid nose that screamed Mike Wheeler. It felt like a joke when Will thought about the fact that he could recognize Mike's nose in a sea of all the noses in the world, but it was probably the truth. He wondered if answering Mike's question was a thing he should do, how could he begin to explain that Mike was the one Will wanted without actually exposing himself. So instead he stood up, drying his sweaty palms on his jeans before looking at the non-existent watch on his wrist. 

"Would you look at the time! It's been very nice seeing you again, Mike. I really need to get going though, I haven't booked a room yet at the motel and I can't exactly go sleep in the cabin unless I want to get eaten alive by whatever wildlife took over." Will laughed awkwardly despite knowing Mike had invited him to stay there. He felt like some prey animal looking for an escape route. He wondered if that made Mike a predatory animal and if so, which one. He looked like the Oriental Shorthair he once saw during a cat show on the television at home. Did that make him a mouse? Will shook his head, panic made his head feel fuzzy.

"What are you talking about? I invited you, Will. We have a guest room or the basement for old times' sake but maybe that's not the most ergonomic." Mike frowned also moving to stand up, almost as if he was trying to block Will's exit route. He should be able to jump through the open window in the kitchen, Will considered. 

"I might not be the best host, but I wouldn't invite you over and expect you to find another place to sleep." Mike continued, adjusting the glasses on his face. Will was pretty sure he only needed them to read and write but had gotten so accustomed to them that he forgot to take them off whenever they weren't necessary. Should I stay or should I go suddenly made more sense as his favorite song when he was facing the dilemma of spending a part of his summer in the Wheeler residence vs. escaping to a shabby Hawkins Motel. 

"Fine I'll stay, but I have to run some errands and get my stuff from the car so give me a minute- or like an hour maybe?" He said before scurrying out like the mouse he had deemed himself. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"Oh yes, I received your letter." Max groaned as Will called her from a phone booth on Hawkins town square. He could hear the disappointed tone in her voice, or maybe it was disbelief, or maybe even pity. 

"You're never getting over him at this rate, Byers." She sighed. Max truly had become one of his best friends, never holding back her opinion on his behavior. Sometimes Will wondered if maybe he shouldn't have confided in her concerning his feelings for Mike. 

They had spent hours on the phone analyzing his letters and whatever their sleepover was last winter. A futile piece of research according to Max because even if there was a possibility of Mike liking Will back, he'd never be brave enough to admit it. She even went as far as to say she wasn't sure if he'd be able to treat Will right. 

But Will had no dignity when it came to Mike Wheeler and clung onto any sprinkle of possibility year after year. So she had at least forbidden him from making a first move as 'he should be the one to show how much he wants you'. 

"You can't keep running back to him like a stray dog, Will. You've got to live a little. I understand you feel the need to be there for him as a friend, but you're hooked. Fallen into the trap of Straw- Strass, no Strauss? Whatever it was." 

"Strahd..." He corrected, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I will never live down that I called that whole vampire thing... something..." 

"Obviously not, that was the worst thing I've ever seen and I can't even see that clearly. Time to join your friends, sorcerer." She mocked, bursting out in laughter on the other side of the line. Will couldn't help but laugh along, a large part of the heavy weight on his chest melting away at once. 

"Just don't get hurt again, Will. I'll never judge you for- no okay scratch that, I will obviously judge you because it's Mike but I will never tell you to give up on love. It got me out of Henry's mindscape thing after all..." 

"I know, thanks Max. It's only for a week, and simply staying instead of sleeping at a hotel saves me the hassle and money on accommodations and gas."

"If you find comfort in thinking those are your genuine reasons, go ahead." Max deadpanned.

"I'm hanging up, you're awful."

"Love you too, Byers. Take care of yourself, please? Tell Mike Lucas says hi and that his mom wants her Tupperware back, it's a family piece!"

Will laughed to himself as she hung up, placing the receiver back onto its hook. He wasn't sure what he had gotten himself into but he was going to find out. On the way back to Mike's, it felt as if he was falling ill. His pulse quickened, his palms secreting more sweat than they had during the heatwave a couple weeks back. They just had to share a home for seven days? That was doable, right? Seven days, six nights. Will grabbed his duffel bag from the boot of his car, staring at the driver's seat and contemplating the option of getting back in and driving back to New York. He was acting ridiculous. It was just Mike, right? Right.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

"Oh you're back!" Mike exclaimed, rendering Will speechless as he noticed the costume change he had undergone. Jeans replaced with simple but cozy pajama pants, still dad-like but at least the ugly polo had vanished and a simple white shirt took its place instead. The glasses neatly put on the mantel of their fireplace, proving his point that Mike could see perfectly without them. His curls had fought against the last bits of gel, falling back into place where they belonged. 

Will internally cursed and cried at the sight. Not only did he look more like his Mike again unlike empty Christmas ghost Mike or Ted Wheeler Mike from an hour ago, he looked good. The shirt was old based on the couple of holes and stains it supported but it also hugged Mike's biceps in a way that made Will want to do a U-turn towards his car. Don't get him wrong, Mike was still lanky. It was impossible for him to become un-lanky as his limbs-body ratio was simply off. But he'd gotten a bit more muscular, not Carlton muscular but enough to drive Will insane. This was a bad idea.

The days passed by smoother than Will had expected them to, living alongside each other as if that was what they were meant to do. Mike couldn't cook for shit so they either ate takeout or Will made something simple with groceries paid by Mike. They fell into old habits of reading hours into the night and sleeping in until noon. But as much as Will enjoyed Mike's presence, it would've been concerning if Will survived the week without a couple internal crises. 

The first one happened when he bumped into freshly showered Mike Wheeler, curls sticking to his face and neck, still dripping onto his shirt. It pissed him off, because who let their hair drip all over the place like that after a shower. But it also made him want to push Mike onto a chair and dry his hair for him, nothing more than that, just dry his hair like a tired wife. He had to call Max again after that thought and got scolded.

The second crisis happened in the basement. They hadn't meant to fall asleep on the couch but the movie they put on was long and boring and Will was pretty sure they'd already seen it plenty of times as teens. Mike had fallen asleep against Will's shoulder, leaving Will stuck in an awkward upright position where he had to refrain from screaming when Mike's hand fell into his lap after he shifted more into Will's side. This was fine. He ignored the way blood pooled in his face from the unfamiliar weight on top of his crotch. He was grateful that his racing thoughts weren't stronger than his exhaustion from their busy day as sleep quickly grabbed a hold of him, his panicking thoughts working as a lullaby. 

Mike had woken up first and immediately detangled himself from the cozy scene, not even making the slightest attempt to not wake Will up. However, Will pretended to only stir in his sleep and curl the other way, not wanting to face Mike right now. His topnotch acting skills had resulted in Mike gently moving him into a more comfortable position so he could drape a thin blanket over him before leaving him behind in the basement. 

As soon as the door clicked into its lock, Will's eyes sprung open before he buried his flushed face into the pillow beneath his neck. This was both the worst and best experience of his life, worth the crick in his neck from the awful sleeping position.

Crisis number three, and also the final one, was probably the worst of all. Will sat in Mike's room, repacking his duffel bag as Mike rambled on about a new story idea he'd come up with. Probably the first one that wasn't a retelling of Jane's adventures. He nodded along, taking in all the small details he'd mentioned. 

"I have this whole outline planned out, the worldbuilding is done but the characters are still a bit vague. Will?" He looked up from the Tetris game going on inside of his bag on his left as Mike knelt down in front of him with a facial expression that he couldn't quite read. Mike sat back on his feet, hands on top of his knees fidgeting with a loose thread on his pajama pants. 

"A paladin and a sorcerer," he contemplated his next words as if he regretted saying the former ones aloud, "A fantasy story about a paladin and a sorcerer, best friends fighting the unjust system in their world." Will wanted the ground to swallow him whole as he felt his cheeks burn underneath Mike's gaze. It was intense, the way he stared and waited for Will's blessing. There was something intimate about the way Mike sat before him on his knees as if he was ready to beg for something. The thought of Mike begging set his skin aflame, he really had to call Max again. One more night, that's all he had to endure before he would return to New York City and get some alone time to ease his mind.

"That seems like a really nice idea-" Before he could finish his phrase, Mike had leaned forward wrapping his arms around Will's shoulders the same way he had done when he'd siphoned Vecna's powers for the first time. 

"Mike..." he breathed out with a tinge of fondness. The unholy thoughts he'd entertained a mere minute ago vanishing completely as Mike held him a little tighter, grabbing fistfuls of Will's shirt. "Hey, you alright?"

"I'm so sorry, you know. I don't even know where to begin..." Mike said against Will's shoulder, refusing to let go as Will tried to get some space in between them. "It's oka-"

"It's not, actually? It's not. I'm glad we're able to do this now but I know we haven't been able to do so because of me. I never meant to abandon our friendship the way I did when you moved to California. It was unfair of me to push you away. And the letters- I don't even have an excuse why I didn't write. I received all your letters, by the way. But whenever I sat down to reply, nothing came out. El- Jane would pass on the basic updates that I mentioned to her anyway. I'm also sorry for the things I said all those years ago the uh- you know... The night Castle Byers fell." 

Will wiggled himself out of Mike's grip, suddenly feeling like it had gotten harder to breathe. "Did you fix it up?" Mike nodded, trying to evade Will's piercing look. Will wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. It felt nice, finally getting the long overdue apologies he deserved. It was supposed to make things feel lighter. But this conversation felt like a wound was being reopened and it stung. "You say you never meant to abandon our friendship but why did you..?"

Maybe he looked desperate, pupils blown from his emotions welling up. But he was, in fact, feeling desperate. He needed answers. His hands trembled as he kept Mike at a distance, a hand flat on his friend's chest, afraid he would melt into him and break if Mike embraced him again. He couldn't give in for now, not before Mike told him the truth.

"I don't kno-"

"You don't know why you didn't try harder to get me on the phone? You don't know why you never wrote?" 

"I just- after saying goodbye to you... I knew something was wrong?"

"With me?"

"With everything, Will." Mike sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked tired. Will wondered if he should've just accepted Mike's apologies instead of questioning things from the past but he couldn't let it go. "Things just changed when you left..."

Will scoffed at that phrase, failing to keep a supportive composure around Mike's vulnerability. "Things changed? What exactly changed for you? You had Jane. You called her, wrote to her. I had to hear all of that from her constantly and what did I get? You were here in Hawkins with everyone else. I had to start over, build a new life in California where I knew no one. My best friend was pretending like I didn't exist and you're saying things changed for you? Then you came over for that stupid visit and you could barely even look me in the eyes."

"Because everything felt weird!" Mike interrupted, the loud tone of his voice seemingly lingering in the room as everything turned silent. Will blinked, his heartrate speeding up. He felt sick, dropping his hand from Mike's chest before he spoke up. "What felt weird?"

Silence. Mike had opened his mouth a couple of times but nothing ever came out. There was a certain tension that had infiltrated the room, it felt like the walls were closing in on them and Will was desperate to find a way out before it swallowed him up and voided the world of his existence. They were too close, knees awkwardly touching as they laid their emotions bare.

"I wrote to El- Jane. I wrote to Jane. At first it felt like the logical thing to do and so I did. I wrote all these stupid letters because that's what a boyfriend does, right? But I couldn't even say it. Right before you guys left she told me she loved me too because she overheard me saying I loved her. But I never told her that directly. I wanted to say it- God I tried? She deserved to hear it. And I couldn't and she pointed it out to me when I came to California, as if I wasn't aware. But I couldn't and I- She confronted me and I just pretended that I was capable of saying it? But I fucking couldn't because something was just wrong."

"What does that have to do with me?" Will questioned quietly once Mike had finished. His eyes burning as he listened to Mike ramble on about his sister. He knew all of this already. Mike had talked to him about it earlier this week and Jane had cried over it on multiple occasions in the past. He was over it by now. He'd gotten nothing that even answered a single fraction of the question he just asked.

A part of him wanted to support his best friend through these emotions but at the same time he had already done so much. He had crossed his own lines multiple times to make sure they got out of everything together and stronger, completely neglecting his own wellbeing. That stupid painting, pretending his own feelings were those of his sister, even encouraging Mike to tell her how he felt.  

"After that fight we had, things changed. You moved away, everything got weird. Whenever I started writing to you, I stopped because something wasn't right. I couldn't even properly talk to her anymore either. I couldn't tell her I loved her. I-"

"Don't make that about me."

"Then why did everything go wrong between us when you moved away?!" The words had left Mike's throat before the sender had the chance to think before he spoke. His face painted with guilt but he said nothing to undo them.

Dead silence. It was cruel, there was no other way to describe it. Will's veins ran cold as he bore his eyes into Mike's, who simply stared back at him. He was looking at him with an expression that looked almost pleading. As if he was begging Will to give him an explanation, one he couldn't offer. 

Mike sat there, looking him straight in the eyes with some kind of implication that Will had been the reason he failed to be a good boyfriend to Jane. He couldn't believe how the conversation had turned, how apologies faded into subtle accusations. It was unfair to feel this way after being the one to help Mike with Jane, after burying his own feelings deep down to never be discovered, after losing his sister.

Mike hadn't said it out loud but his words only rang as one simple conclusion in Will's mind: Maybe if you hadn't been there, if you hadn't loved me, I could have loved her properly.

Because at some point he figured Mike knew. His love had gone from the greatest kept secret to a weakness laid bare on the table the second Vecna had threatened him in 1987. Mike was his Achilles heel and he was sure everyone knew by now. Mike had probably been aware all along that he was the crush Will had talked about at the broadcasting station, that he was his Tammy. And somehow it felt, in some way, that Mike had taken that information and used it against Will now, a couple years later. 

"Do you actually mean that?" Will laughed bitterly.

"Will..." Mike leaned into his space, lanky fingers reaching for him in a way that would steady himself rather than comfort Will. 

"No don't- Don't do that." But Mike was already there, his hands settled on each of Will's upper arms. Just there, not gripping or shaking but a solid touch that pushed him over the edge. The air between them thick and laced with uncertainties. 

"Mike." he warned, not ready to look up into his eyes. He couldn't breathe not because of the gravity of the conversation but because of Mike's proximity. Mike didn't move away, he didn't retreat. Instead Mike's right hand twitched against Will's bicep. Not intentional, just a small muscle contraction. 

The second Will looked up, he regretted it as his eyes met Mike's and his own breath hitched. For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. In that moment it seemed as if the world had decided this was a good time to stop turning, to pause everything so they could suffocate in the tension they'd created.

Mike's eyes flicked down to his mouth, Will wondered if the speed of light could top that movement. Too fast to be voluntarily but too slow to be fully innocent. Their gazes met again.  Mike looked like he had realized he'd done something he couldn't undo.

"Don't look at me like that," Will murmured, as if it took years of his life every time he spoke. Inside of him something was breaking. He didn't know where this was going nor did he dare to put any expectations in his head. 

Mike's grip tightened on Will's arms, as if he was trying to anchor himself. Distance didn't return, if anything Mike leaned in a fraction more. Breathing had become something terrifying over the last seconds. Will was afraid that one puff of air would break the boy in front of him into a billion pieces. 

Will should've pulled back, but he couldn't. He didn't move an inch, leaving all future decisions in the hands of his childhood best friend.

Another flicker of his eyes, down and back up again. There was barely any distance left for them to cross but it felt like they were still miles away from one another. Will's breathing uneven, matching Mike's that he felt on his own lips. The tension between them thinned out into this glass-like and fragile panel neither of them dared to touch. Mike's pupils blown as if he was fighting an internal war behind his eyes. 

And then the glass shattered, the way it was supposed to all along. Mike's grip loosening on his arms before falling away completely as their eye contact broke. "I can't- I can't do this." 

Will didn't move away, still leaning into the space that had been occupied by both of them up until a second ago. He hadn't quite processed the meaning of Mike's words yet. His chest tightened simultaneously with Mike's grip, who had his fist balled into the fabric of his own shirt right above his heart. Mike leaned back onto his heels, creating more distance between the two of them. He was still within reach but far enough to formalize what had happened. Establishing that "almost" had turned into a "never supposed to happen".

"I'm sorry," Mike started quietly, barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to. I mean I can't and... I shouldn't." 

Will nodded, slowly collecting himself as he zipped his bag closed. "Right."

"Will?"

"Forget it, Mike." Will muttered, pushing himself upright with knuckles white from the iron grip on his bag. His head hurt, tears threatening to spill at any second but he wasn't going to let that happen here. 'Don't get hurt again, Byers' echoed through his head as he flinched away from Mike reaching out towards his ankle. His best friend looked as miserable as he felt. Still on the floor, eyes rimmed red, his hair tangled in all spots where he had gripped his locks to ground himself. 

Before he could get sucked into this mess once more, Will turned on his heel. No longer able to bear the sight of a disheveled Mike crying as he sat on the floor on his knees, arms stretched out towards Will in a weak attempt to get him back. 

"I shouldn't have come here." Will muttered underneath his breath as he fled towards his car on autopilot, knowing the layout of the Wheeler house as if it was his own. He didn't even buckle up his seatbelt as he left the driveway without a single glance at whatever could've played out behind him.

This whole time Will had felt that he couldn't make a move because Mike's feelings mattered more. Yet when the moment presented itself to Mike, it turned out that neither could he. For all reasons unknown to Will. Leaving him out on a road just outside of Hawkins, unable to do anything but cry about it.

One simple conclusion: when it came to loving Will Byers, Mike Wheeler simply couldn't.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

[August 15, 1990 - 11:47 PM]

"Hey Will, it's Mike- I mean obviously, you'd know that. I, uh, I know it's late but I couldn't sleep, you're probably sleeping anyway. But uh I guess I hoped- I just needed- I wondered if we're okay? Did you get home safe today?"

A long stretch of silence.

"Call me back?"

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

[August 17, 1990 - 8:34 PM]

"Hey... You haven't called me back yet. Maybe you're busy? It's okay if you are. I, uh, I am too. Very. Sometimes I'm scared I'm calling the wrong number but it's still your voicemail. Thank god. I'm sorry for calling so often, wouldn't have to if you picked up." Mike laughed, not a trace of actual humor in his voice.

"I don't actually know why I'm leaving this message. I suppose you'll call me back when you feel like it... Think I hear my parents driving up- So uh, call me? Bye Will."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

August 22, 1990

Hi Will

I hope you're doing alright. You haven't answered any of my calls yet and it's starting to worry me. I called Lucas a couple days ago, I think Max yelled something like "Piss off, Wheeler" in the background but I feel like I shouldn't listen to her. I know you two have become quite close but you were my best friend first.

Writing letters is not my favorite pastime, it's nothing like stories. I can't just make something up and send it to you. And it also sucks that I have no idea if you're reading this at all and if you are, if you'll ever answer.

I'm sorry. For everything really. It's killing me that I've hurt my best friend yet again. I just wish everything could go back to how it was before. In some other universe you wouldn't have gone missing in 1983. We would've just grown up next to each other, playing d&d, pulling pranks on Nancy with Dustin. Maybe we could've been normal then.

But I guess it serves no purpose telling you that. I'm sure I don't have the right to complain about what happened, you had it way worse than me. I don't think we've ever really talked about all of that. I would like to, you know.

Will you please pick up my calls?

From Mike

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

September 1, 1990

Hi Will

You've either heard it on your answering machine or you haven't, but Bard College accepted my application. I just wanted to make sure you knew, in case you're not receiving my voicemails. Maybe you're not receiving these letters either, can't know for sure. I was going to tell you I actually got my acceptance letter back in April but it never felt like the right time. So I'm sorry I said didn't say anything. I guess I was overwhelmed and unsure if this was actually a good idea and telling all of you "Hey guys, going to Bard in September" kind of defeated the purpose of my back-up escape plan where I'd drop out before the semester even started...

However, this means I'll finally be able to give my opinion on the whole 'college experience' you and Dustin always talk about. Dad paid for a single room, so no roommates. Mom and dad told me they thought it would be better for me to focus on writing. I'm pretty sure it's because dad does not want anyone asking questions about his freakish son's nightmares. I still have them quite a lot but not as much as over the winter. Bard is quite close to your college if you compare it to the drive to Hawkins. Maybe we could meet up sometime? Dustin sent me a "ultimate packing list for freshmen" with his last postcard. Nancy came over last weekend, she asked how you were doing. I said okay even though I don't know. How are you doing?

By the time you get this letter, I'll probably already be settled in there. I wrote my new address on the envelope, unless you want my dad to read your letters.

Hope we'll see each other soon.

From Mike

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

[October 11, 1990, 9:06 PM]

"It's me, Mike. You probably won't recognize this number. But uh, Dustin came over and I gave him a Bard-tour. He called it 'summer camp for pretentious people', I hope this refers to the other students and not me. I don't feel like I'm pretentious. Or does that make me pretentious? It was fun though, seeing him. You'd love the scenery here. Maybe you could also visit sometime? It's not that far from Hunter's, right? It'd be nice to see you- I mean, like how it's nice for a friend to come visit. Yeah that just sounded weird. I didn't mean to make it weird. Anyway... Let me know if you'd like to come over, I'd treat you like the guest of honor. That's a promise. So yeah, let me know? Bye Will."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

December 14, 1990

Hi Will

The first semester passed by quite quickly and it's been pretty overwhelming honestly. Sorry I haven't written before this, it was really busy. I've made some friends, I guess. Some of them also play d&d but it's not quite the same. Sometimes I feel like I should've grown out of playing it by now but it takes my mind off of things. The more technical classes really made me realize how shit my first novels were, so I'm upgrading them. I'll send copies if you'd like to read the newer versions.

I hope you're doing okay. I also hope you haven't moved or I'll kind of look like a pathetic fool to whoever receives these letters. I think Lucas or Dustin would've told me if something had changed.  I'm sorry my letters are so short and stupid. I don't really know what to write.

Christmas is coming up soon, I'll be back at Hawkins over the break.

Just ring me up if you'd like to grab lunch sometime in NYC once I'm back. 

From Mike

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · 

[December 24, 1990, 6:32 PM]

"Hey. I'm home for break right now. I thought you'd be around, stupid right? Completely forgot your mom and Hopper moved to Montauk. You have nothing left here. I only realised when I biked all the way to the cabin and there was no sign of life. Except for a couple birds. I uh, wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. So yeah, Merry Christmas, Will."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

[January 1, 1991, 12:17 AM]

"Uhm, hey Will. It's me. Again. I wasn't entirely sure if you'd want to hear my voice going into the new year since you kind of finished this year without me. I've just never not wished you Happy New Years, so I have to keep the tradition going. Happy New Year's, Will. I hope this year treats us better. I just- I wanted to say- Damnit."

There was some cursing in the back, the movements Mike made resulting in some rustling through the phone. "I just, yeah, I miss you. And I'm sorry."