Work Text:
Haven’t laughed this hard in a long time
I better stop now before I start crying
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White flickers over the gray painted flesh of the monstrous creature balanced in the centre of the table cluttered with figurines of monsters and characters all holding different roles for the party as a whole. The constant clicking of the light switch fell in time with the drumming of hands and fists on the wooden table. Everyone’s eyes locked on the clasped hands of Will, encapsulating the dice tightly shaking his closed hands left and right, eyes squeezed shut, the sounds of his friends cheering him on surrounding him. The echoes of support and nerves travelled further, reaching into the back of his mind, transporting his senses elsewhere–somewhere safer, some-time simpler. His body sat still as he continued to roll the dice in his hands, the scenery remained the same yet he felt liminal. As though he was fizzling between two periods in time–two memories he had once lived–five years prior. His chest felt lighter, finally recognising the familiarity of this exact position in Hawkins; the location he felt the most content, the most home. The basement held the same musty old grandma scent as before, the chair, although a little small for him now, still felt like his chair, the drumming on the table and the breathless feeling of anticipation. It was as though he was living out this scene twice.
Will may have changed, along with the scenery and his life, but this feeling of euphoria, utter weightlessness, the wholehearted belief that you are invincible. Never changed. Will had the same qualities as his past little self, but he had grown now, yet perhaps one doesn’t need to lose their childhood loves in order to grow–Will, however, wanted to believe he had to give up everything he once clutched close but perhaps things like euphoria and the simple joys of your friends basement never leave you, but instead follow you and settle within yourself.
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Go off to sleep in the sunshine
I don’t want to see the day when it’s dying
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All too quickly Will was plucked out of his dreamy daze, his hands still rocking back and forth, rebounding the dice until he finally let out the breath he had been holding and relaxed his fingers, immediately widening his eyes as everyone stood up and stared at the d20 pivot on the board, spinning until it came to a halt right before the Vecna figurine.
Mike lifted his hand up, everyone instantly leaning back leaving space for the dungeon master to examine the outcome for his players. His eyes flickered up, jumping from Dustin, passing Will to look at Lucas before closing his eyes and staring ominously towards Will, he breathes inwards, exhaling as he says,
“Fighters, it is with great disappointment that I inform you that while the demogorgon sprints towards Will the Wise and his fellow wounded companions, the sky morphs into a deeper red, mimicking the silhouette of Vecna’s spiralling corpse of a figure sauntering carelessly passed the havoc he has brought to the once bustling village of Hallowkins, charging directly to the group of heroic fools who believed they could outsmart, outplay, outbattle this otherworldly entity. His rotting arm lifts, his fingers elongating straight, the claws pointing sharply at The Sorcerers deathly hollow stare. Before the claws make contact the momentarily freeze, however Vecna’s expression does not. His eyes tear away from Will’s and to his limb, his other arm immediately latching on to its partner in attempts to untrap it from whatever is halting his plans. His head spins at an unnatural angle to face Will again, but he is not met with the weak, petrified stare he had expected, but instead he is face to face with creamy white eyes, blank of all expression but pure rage and infinite power. Will’s arm is outstretched towards the paralysed monster before him, his fist punches forwards into the air, sending Vecna flying backwards, his head hitting the concrete like a brick. The rest of the group run forwards, flames licking up his body, and the team rejoice together because Will rolled a 17.”
Dustin collides with Will, lifting him up into the air with a giant hug, cheers are heard from all angles, the group in disbelief.
“Victory !!!!! Take that asshole!” Lucas fist bumps the air.
“Suck my fat one!!!!” Laughs Will.
“Woohooo!!!!!!!” Dustin exclaims.
“Congratulations mighty ones, you have brought peace to this village once again, and to the people,” Mike’s gaze lands onto Will, “every one.”
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He’s a sight to see
He’s a good-to-me
And he knows everything
But I’m already somebody’s baby
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The group bouncily walk out the basement door, smiles still plastered onto their faces. Karen Wheeler comes from around the corner holding out a pizza box,
“Boys, don’t forget to take some with you, there is plenty left.”
Dustin beams at Karen, his eyes crinkling in admiration as he leans over to take a slice of pepperoni out of the cold box.
“Thanks Mrs Wheeler!!” Dustin smiles.
“Don’t mention it”
“That was a seriously good campaign Mike,” Will and Dustin nod their heads in clear agreement with Lucas.
“Ah thanks guys, glad we could finally conclude it,” Mike follows them to the door, a grin appearing on his face.
Once they were outside under the roof of the open garage, they all went to hop on their bikes when Mike stopped them, instead pulling them in for an unexpected group hug.
“Ahh Wheeler you good man?” Lucas questioned after being lunged by Dustin.
“Yeah, yeah I am. I just…I dunno, I just really missed this a lot more than I realised,”
Will lifted his head up to meet Mike’s solemn gaze.
“You guys just mean a lot to me, and I’ve just missed it. This.” Mike shrugs, face reddening a little. Will remained looking at him, smiling in understanding.
“Me too,” he whispered, almost so quietly and whilst staring so intimately at Mike.
“Okay guys enough sappy shit it’s not like the world is ending…anymore,” Lucas’ laugh was joined by his friends as they all walked back over to their respective bikes.
“Okay I gotta skedaddle, my mother might be filing a police report if I’m not back by midnight,” Dustin rolled his eyes.
“Dude what? You’re 18, you big baby.” Lucas replied, riding his bike passed Dustin’s.
“It isn’t my fault she still wants to pack my school lunch every morning!”
Will and Mike exchanged humorous looks as they both held in their laughs while the voices of Lucas and Dustin bickering trailed off down the street. Only when their bikes were over the hill did they let themselves burst out into laughter until they were sitting on the concrete floor clutching their stomachs still trying to calm down after laughing until it hurt; just because everything made it funnier.
Mike and Will sighed, both closing their eyes before Will sat up and went to walk over to his own bike. It was getting a lot later, and Joyce–although being less strict now–would be waiting for him until she knew he was safe in bed.
Mike felt a rush of air as Will sat up and walked away, he opened his eyes and watched as he took his bike off the wall and hit the stand back. His hands pressed onto the ground behind him as he leaned back, his eyes still focussed on Will fiddling with his backpack. He wasn’t entirely sure what made him unable to tear his eyes away but he didn’t really mind, he enjoyed watching his friend’s clumsy movements, cursing under his breath when he inevitably dropped something or hit his foot against something. Almost as if he could sense it, Will turned around and tilted his head in a state of confusion, “um, did I step in something? Gum again?” he asked, his lips curving into a downwards smile.
Mike looked down, shaking his head, chuckling, “no, no. It's just,” he stopped.
“What?” Will turned his head a little, his authentically ‘WIll-style grin’ paired with his slight chuckle making it hard not to cave in.
“I dunno, it’s just,” he sighed, “It feels like tonight isn’t tonight.” His voice went up in pitch as he realised how much weirder it sounded out loud. He looked back up at Will and expected him to be on the verge of laughter at his dumbass comment but his expression was void of any hint of mockery, but rather, it was flooded with an abundance of understanding.
“I know what you mean,” he nodded softly.
Startled by his response, MIke questioned, “really?”
Will scoffed in return, “no I was just messing with you. Yes of course I understand. You think that’s weird? You should try spending a week in my mind, then you’ll really know weird,” he joked.
“Hah, yeah I guess so,”
“I mean, I know why tonight feels weird for me, but, why are you all soft now?”
Mike’s gaze fell to the floor. But before he could answer Will quickly added, “oh, that’s foolish of me, of course you would be feeling weird right now, I’m sorry, I should have known straight away you were probably thinking about El. I mean, I was too, I am, but I guess it’s different for you…” he trailed off, embarrassed.
“What? No no no, it’s okay, it’s not that. I mean, yes, of course I’ve been thinking about her but she hasn’t been what’s making tonight feel different different. You know? I mean obviously she is always in the back of my mind, especially now but I don’t know, it doesn’t feel much different to before…that, in terms of even when she was here it always felt like she wasn’t ever here, like she never wanted to be here. As though she always knew it would end that way.” Mike let out an exasperated sigh, his breath catching up to him, the endless built up tension he hadn’t let out, finally being freed.
“I just wished she could have told us.”
“Mike…”
“I know, I know. We couldn’t have done anything.”
“It also would have been so much harder for her to go through with it if she saw the pain we would have gone through if we knew.”
“I know, but if we had known, maybe-”
“Mike.” Suddenly, Will’s hands were on Mike’s shoulders, stabilising him and halting him in his tracks. He hadn’t realised he had started pacing until then. Will’s gaze was steady against Mike’s, grounding him from his thoughts. “There was nothing we could do. Nothing you could do to stop her. She had made up her mind and she would be beating you up right now if she knew you were dwelling on this, on her. Don’t let her actions be for vain, she-she loved you, Mike. Now accept the life she has allowed you to continue living. And live it for yourself, find yourself. Okay?” Will locked eyes with Mike, and for once in his life, his gaze didn’t falter when he met Mike’s.
At a loss for words, Mike could only stand there awkwardly. His focus solely on Will’s hands gripping his shoulders still. He usually hated any contact like that, but then again he did initiate a group hug earlier, so maybe this isn’t so surprising. Yet, this felt different, it felt safe, comforting. He knew he had to talk to Will about everything. He knew he had to apologise, and for what? Well, Will would know. But for this brief moment in time, Mike allowed himself to remain still, feel at peace with himself, and feel solid and calm against Will’s comforting touch.
“Thank you, Will” he finally let out in the same way Will had agreed with Mike earlier. A wave of understanding washed over them, both nodding in solidarity.
“Don’t mention it you goddamn softy,” he shoved Mike playfully backwards.
“Oh shut up,” Mike scoffed, suppressing a smile.
Grinning to himself he watched Will roll his bike away from the wall. Mike walked Will to the edge of the roof, facing towards his friend as he climbed over his bike. Before pushing his bike out onto the road, Will looked over his left shoulder and softly spoke, “thanks for a great campaign Mike.”
“Until next time, Will the Wise.” he tipped his head down slightly.
“Until next time, Tayr.” he smiled back before he pushed himself away from the ground with his foot and began peddling down the road he had travelled hundreds of times before.
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You don’t deserve to be lonely
But those drugs won’t make you feel better
Pretty soon you’ll find it’s the only
Little part of your life you’re keeping together
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Mike lay in bed, mindlessly letting his thoughts drift and jump from one to the other, the only break in the cycle was when he would eventually check the time again, only to find that it had only been 7 minutes since the last time he checked, which was 12:05AM.
Every time he shut his eyes he couldn’t help but picture Will’s face staring at him during the group hug, or when he was talking about how tonight felt different, or when he was spiralling about El, which wasn’t even meant to be about El in the first place, but somehow it lead back to her. He never got to apologise to Will either, which bothered him more than he liked to admit. On top of this list, he couldn’t help but be reminded of Will’s hands on his shoulders and how reassuring it felt, how natural it felt, how natural it always felt whenever they were close. He couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the smallest of things that made him smile; the little mischievous grin that paints the rest of Will’s face with false innocence, the slight laugh he lets out whenever he doesn’t understand what someone has said but doesn’t want to ask them to repeat it for the third time, the tilt of his head when he knows something is wrong, or the way he can get Mike to open up and share how he truly feels–except for tonight. He didn’t get to tonight, it was too hard and Will probably wouldn’t have wanted to listen to his apology tonight. It had all been too much.
Mike promised himself that he would talk to Will about everything. He had to. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could spend nights lying awake staring at his ceiling and thinking about Will and thinking about how the conversation would go and all the numerous, countless ways it could go wrong, ways that he would mess up as he always does. He was at a loss of options. He found himself stuck at a crossroad of decisions he didn’t know how to make. But there was one thing he knew. One thing he knew for certain. He knew Will Byers better than Mike knew himself, or at least, he thought he did. But now he knew for certain. He had to talk to Will.
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I’m a nice-to-you
I could make it through
That you’re already somebody’s baby
I could make you smile
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The curtains rustled and brushed Will’s face while he lay in bed, his mind wandering off as he stared silently at the ceiling, the only sound present seemed to be the whisper of the wind through his open window and the faint snores from Jonathon’s side of the wall. It had been hours since he had returned home from the Wheeler’s but he somehow couldn’t manage to fall asleep without feeling concern for Mike. Yet each time his mind wandered to those soft brown doe eyes, he silently cussed himself. You can’t think like that, Will. He's fine. Yet each moment he spent trying to induce sleep was replaced by that Wheeler boy's sorrowful stare.
He couldn’t blame himself though, he sympathised with him, he missed Eleven too, how could he not? She was his unbiological sister, someone who he could always count on for support when they moved to California, and someone he always believed could get back up on her feet even when she had been knocked down time and time again by those bullies. He couldn’t admit to it in public then, but once he and El were back in their rooms alone, he made sure she knew that he backed her, and that it was one hell of a punch to Angela’s pale face. He smirked to himself in memory of the hidden satisfaction he felt for El. This momentary lapse in pitiful forlorn made the fall back into reality–his reality–gruelling. He didn’t realise it until he was alone at night, cold, and letting his mind wander that he finally let himself feel. Feel everything he hadn’t let himself feel in months, years. His eyes squeezed shut, his hands fisted over them before he rolled over and curled in on himself trying to stifle the sobs he could feel rising and brewing inside himself. He let himself hold his legs to his chest as he let the emotions flood out. Every night he tried to clutch each string of fraying emotions and tie them together in a knot in his chest, but tonight he didn’t have the strength to pull that knot together, and instead letting each thin strand slip through his fingers and with it the nights of pent up grief and desolation collapsed like an avalanche. He ached. And he ached. Everywhere. He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop his chest from pounding, he didn’t know how to freeze the tears in his eyes, stopping them from falling, he didn’t know how to stop shaking inside himself, he didn’t know how to stop wishing he was different, he didn’t know how to stop longing for a life he didn’t have–a life he would never, could never obtain. It was the silent nights like the one he found himself trapped in tonight, when the lights in the town flickered off street by street, the fireflies scattering Hawkins like stars reflecting from the night sky. The world was asleep, quiet, solemn, it was as though Will Byers was the only one conscious in these moments, and he despised feeling the cold loneliness that came with these hours. His conscience sent him back to the darker times, times when he lay with his legs clutched to his chest, his body shaking, himself pleading to wake up from the nightmare that engulfed him. No matter how many times he felt lost in these nightmare memories, he couldn’t escape the glacial intensity that blanketed him within his despondent mind. The light hiding behind the thickness of the black, turning into the shadows that haunted his mind. The warmth only came from the sun, but how was he supposed to be enlightened by the amicable glow of the sun when the reflecting white of the moon appeared enveloped in the cataclysmic night.
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If you stayed a while
But how long will you stay with me baby?
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Tap tap tap
Will shoved his head under his pillow and groaned. Why were the birds so much louder this morning?
Tap tap tap
He groaned again, only after he adjusted his pillow to cover both his ears did he question himself. That doesn’t sound like birds…
Lifting the pillow off his head, he sat up and leant over to his window, the tapping being inconsistent but still there. His eyebrows furrowed as he slipped out of bed, noticing the moonlit glow outlining his window. It was still dark out. This realisation solidified his thought that whatever this sound was, it was certainly not the 6am birds. He tip-toed over to his window and opened his blinds, revealing a very dishevelled Mike Wheeler awkwardly stood before his window, his finger inches away from the glass. Will hesitantly laughed, pleasantly bewildered at Mike in only his ‘chemistry is explosive’ pajamas he got gifted from Will the previous year for Christmas, and a thin coat that clearly wasn’t insulating him well enough considering his finger compulsively shook along with the rest of his whole body under the thin fabric. Not to mention the fact that it was the same coat he had worn for three years, very much prior to his alien growth spurt.
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Because your candle burns too bright
Well, I almost forgot it was twilight
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Despite the brisk night, Mike had rode all the way to wake Will up by tapping on his window in the middle of the night, causing alarm to rise within him,
Has something happened? Was Holly okay? Was Nancy okay? Was Mrs Wheeler alright? What if something was wrong with Mike and he came to tell Will in person? Maybe he came to tell him such terrible news that it couldn’t wait until morning when the sun had risen and the birds tapped along the Byer’s roof.
All these possibilities might have well been subtitled in Will’s eyes since Mike’s preliminary smile morphed into one of extreme apprehension, mirroring Will’s own expression.
Will decided it would be best to talk to Mike without a thick glass window between them instead of settling with weird and abnormal hand movements to communicate.
He pointed his finger up to the glass to signal Mike to wait there.
Will carefully opened his door and walked down the hallway to the front door, softly slid the door chain to the side, looking over his shoulder before slipping into the cold night. As much as he wanted to stay in the warmth of his house, he had to go outside so as not to wake his sleeping mother. She woke up to a pin dropping these days–not that Will could blame her.
The icy chill penetrated Will’s skin, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up instantly, and he couldn’t help but flinch a little at the familiar sensation. Shaking the cycle of thoughts from his immediate conscience, he strided around to the side of his house, finding a pacing Mike waiting for him outside his window. It was only now that Will noticed Mike clutching something in his hand: a long, rolled up canvas.
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Even if I think that you are right
Well, I’m tired of being down, I got no fight
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Before Mike could turn around to continue his pacing, he realised Will was standing there, staring at the canvas in his grip. He halted in his tracks, temporarily forgetting the whole planned speech he had conjured in his head on the way to his best friend’s house. He had been rehearsing it over and over again, trying to picture Will’s expression, his response, he tried to figure out the most likely direction the conversation would go. But none seemed to be particularly desirable to Mike, but he couldn’t cower now, not when he had been lying awake for countless nights picturing and preparing how this exact moment would play out. Yet, in none of the versions did Mike expect to be frozen still staring at Will shirtless in the dead of night, rain beginning to drip down lightly in warning. In none of the versions did Mike expect to be caught by surprise by his own conscience. He had seen Will shirtless before, countless times when they went to the pool during summer, road trips down to the beach with the rest of the group. But somehow this was unlike any of those times. He felt as though he had intruded, as though he was seeing something with fresh eyes. The way the moonlight shone through the clouds was brief, but omniscient and soft against Will’s skin.
It was only when Will looked at Mike fully, that he remembered he was shirtless. Not that this mattered, of course, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t gone swimming before.
Why didn’t I put a shirt on? Was I really that caught up in my worries?
Will silently berated himself for his lack of self awareness. Mike probably thought him weird and stupid for coming outside in the cool of the night without a shirt. Suddenly, Will became increasingly self-aware to make up for his lack of awareness moments before. His hands nervously rested on his arms, crossing over his exposed torso and chest.
Jesus it's cold out here.
Breaking the silence, Will exclaimed, “Mike? Is everything okay? Why are you here? Is Holly okay? Is something wrong with your Mum? Or Nancy?”
Startled by Will’s sudden emotiveness, Mike snapped back into his body, reacquainting himself with his surroundings and not just Will standing there nervously in front of him.
As though it had only just dawned on him that Will probably thought something disastrous had happened, Mike blurted out, “what? No! No! No! Nothing is wrong! Everyone is okay, nothing is wrong.”
Will let out an exasperated breath, relieved. But now he was even more confused. Lifting his gaze to meet his friend’s, he questioned,
“Thank goodness, but why are you here? Not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just that it’s a bit late to play dungeons and dragons don’t you think?” he joked.
Mike let out an awkward chuckle, “hah…yeah…but um, no, I actually needed to talk to you. Well, I need to talk to you.”
Will stiffened. Have I done something wrong? He wanted to voice.
Almost sensing his anxiety, Mike quickly reassured Will,
“you haven’t done anything wrong, don’t worry, it’s actually more about me, and what I’ve done, what I’ve been doing.” his gaze drifted down to the icy grass.
“What?” Will became even more clueless than he already was. And the chill was beginning to get to him. I really should have brought a coat out. But he couldn’t have known that Mike Wheeler was going to come knocking on his window in the earliest of early hours in the morning, it isn’t like he planned for this. He would usually wear a shirt to bed, but he felt himself overheating as a consequence of overthinking, so he let himself breathe a little easier by taking his shirt off and leaving it at the end of his bed. What great timing. He thought sarcastically.
“Um…well…” Mike stuttered, his arms attempting to communicate and remind him what it was he wanted to say as they kept flailing around as they did when he lost his train of thought, or when he had to think on the spot.
Will was reminded of the canvas in Mike’s hand and instead of waiting for Mike to gather his thoughts, he decided to ask directly.
“What is that?” he pointed to Mike’s hands.
Mike’s thoughts stopped. Oh, yes, that is what you wanted to talk about stupid. The thing you literally brought here with you so you would remember. Mike pictured himself slapping his forehead in annoyance at his own dishevelled mind. Why is this so much harder than I thought it would be?
He held the canvas with both hands as he looked down at it. Taking a deep breath, he unravelled it, and stared at it before turning it around to show the confused Will.
“what–Mike…?” Will hesitantly took a step forward, recognising the painting as his own. His thoughts flooded with memories of showing Mike the painting of them as their D&D characters a couple years ago in the mini van back in california. He stared at Mike’s character with his own, his thoughts becoming more and more puzzled the longer he stared at it. Why was he showing me this?
“Mike, why have you brought this? Is something wrong with it? I know you are…mourning Eleven but, she wanted you to have this…and so if you are asking me to take it back or to change it or something you have the wrong idea…” Will stepped back. He hated lying to his friend, his closest friend, but he couldn’t tell him the truth now. He couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t bear to share another truth about himself with Mike, not after what happened…”
Mike took a step forwards, holding Will’s shoulders as he had done to him earlier.
“Will. Stop”
Abruptly, Will felt himself becoming frustrated, he hated looking at the painting. It reminded him of everything he wanted to forget, everything he was before,
“Stop what? I don’t understand why you are here, Mike. I don’t understand why you brought this painting and expect me to know what you want from me.”
“What? I don’t expect anything from you!” Mike furrowed his eyebrows, unsure what to make of
Will’s sudden change in demeanor.
The cold was really getting to him now, and the rain grew heavier with each passing second. And with each passing second of Mike holding up the painting to Will became longer and more gruelling.
“Then what do you want?” Will averted his eyes from the canvas.
“I want to talk to you!”
“What’s stopping you? I’m right here! And you are right there! With that stupid painting shoved in my face!”
“You are! You’re stopping me!” Mike exclaimed.
“What?? How am I stopping you? How is this my fault?”
Mike flinched at his victimisation of himself, it wasn’t Will’s fault. It was his own.
“It isn’t your fault, I’m sorry. I just-”
“What?” Will dropped his hands from his arms, waiting impatiently for Mike to speak.
Mike breathed in slowly before saying to Will, “Stop lying to me.”
Bewildered, Will looked up at Mike, “excuse me? What do you mean ‘lying to you’??”
“This!” Mike gestured to the canvas he still held out towards Will.
His eyebrows raised, his eyes widened, he couldn’t know.
Opening his mouth, Will waited for something to say, anything, but all that he could muster was a scoff.
“Seriously? You aren’t going to say anything?” Mike silently scoffed to himself, this was not how this was supposed to go. What happened to cool, calm and collected Wheeler?
“Okay, I’m sorry, Will. Just, listen to me. I’m sorry for shouting, I didn’t mean for it to go this way.”
“For what to go this way?”
“Look, I know this painting isn’t from El, Will.” Mike stood still, carefully watching Will’s face change to understanding. “I always knew. I know I can be dumb but I’m not that dumb. You think I believed that El knew about our campaign’s lore?”
Still holding onto the faintest piece of breaking string, Will tried,
“I never said she did…she just asked me to paint something to do with it…”
“Will. come on. You expect me to believe that?”
Will looked down sheepishly, fuck.
“Okay, say it wasn’t from El, so what? Why are you bringing this up now? In the middle of the night while it's raining out and I’m shivering to death? Surely there had to be a better time.”
“There wasn’t. There was never a better time, never a perfect time.”
‘Never’? Had he been thinking about this for long? Why? It’s just a painting? But Will knew it wasn’t just a painting to him. It was so much more. Each brushstroke was like a knife carving into his flesh, knowing he could never tell Mike the truth, and now, looking back at his violently inflicted art just ached. It reminded him of everything from before. His foolishness. His wishful thinking, his naivety.
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You’re wonderful (wonderful)
And it’s beautiful (beautiful)
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“Will.” Mike softly spoke his name, grounding him back into the present. He could always tell whenever his thoughts were engulfing him.
“Mike…” he started.
“No, let me finish.” Will nodded, taking a breath and letting Mike do the same before letting him continue. Will waited for Mike to speak, but he just stood there, mouth slightly open as if he was waiting for the words to come to him. He shrugged at Mike, gesturing for him to let it out.
With a sigh, Mike gathered his scattered thoughts as best he could. His chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale before starting,
“I’m sorry,”
Will stepped backwards, shocked and confused at the words,
“Wha-”
Before Will could even begin to question, Mike interrupted,
“Just let me talk, okay? None of your smart mouth comments, reminding me I’m a fool for waking you up at this hour in the freezing cold just because I couldn’t wait anymore.”
Suddenly, Will’s icy chill subsided into a steady cool, blood rushed to his cheeks. He silently scolded himself for letting himself blush at Mike’s words. It never took much.
“I’m sorry for not knowing that the painting was from you. Actually, I’m sorry for not telling you that I knew the painting was from you, and instead pretending like I believed it was from her–Eleven.”
“It’s okay,” Will started, he felt as though it was his fault for this. He went to explain to Mike how he himself was sorry, but he wouldn’t let him.
“No, it isn’t. I was a shitty person and I didn’t handle anything well, any of it.” His voice gradually rose as his hands followed the rhythm of his tone as he let himself get lost in his explanation. “You were there for me through it all, Will. You were there for me in all your letters to me, even when half of them had a third of the page scribbled out, you were there for me when no one else was. You always believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.”
“What are you talking about?” Will questioned, his own thoughts becoming muddled in the maze of Mike’s.
“Everything!” he responded, slightly exasperated, “for not sending cards back, not returning phone calls, acting like a huge asshole who only cared about his girlfriend and not his best friend he had known since diapers. And even then, I was a shitty boyfriend! And I know that! I know that El deserved better, but so did you. So do you.”
Refusing to acknowledge any of the warmth bubbling inside his chest, Will furrowed his eyebrows, ashamed that he didn’t notice Mike’s despair and own shame sooner. He wanted to reach out and hold him, stop him from shaking and pacing when none of this was his fault. He was only a dumb boy, and so was Will. And both had moved on anyway, so much had happened,
“So why are you bringing this up now? When we have both moved on? You already apologised before…” flashbacks of the tower infiltrated his mind, memories he preferred to ignore.
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But I’m already somebody’s baby
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“I’m not done.” Something about the definitiveness in Mike’s voice demanded Will’s attention, and so he stopped thinking about his own shame for not picking up on Mike’s unhappiness and opened his mind to the possibility of accepting an apology he never knew he needed.
“It isn’t just about the painting. I mean, yes, the painting is a big part of it, but it isn’t the only thing I wanted to talk to you about. And before you say anything, no, none of this is your fault, you weren’t to know. It was my fault, is my fault. The way I treated you like my problems were bigger, as though you weren’t suffering silently when you were holding back tears next to me–”
Will’s mind betrayed him, bringing back the shadow of a memory of being in the back of Argyle’s van, right after he gave Mike the painting. The painting that he still clutched in his hand. Fighting against himself, he brought himself back to the present, back to being still in the rain pelting down on him as he stood face to face with Mike, who was also beginning to become drenched, yet neither of them seemed to care. All that mattered was this conversation, this argument, this apology. The pleading in Mike’s doe eyes convinced Will to nod his head for him to continue.
“Back in the Squak, when you brought us all together,”
Will flinched at the memory. The courage he mustered all fell to pieces when he spoke to Mike later that same night. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“I never got to say everything. I seem to have a habit of never finishing my thoughts…and I’m sorry for that.” He inhaled deeply, as though he was breathing in some form of courage to continue on. Will began fidgeting with his fingers, apprehensive for what words were going to leave Mike’s mouth.
“Mike, it’s fine, really. There wasn’t anything more to say, honest.” Will said, silently pleading for this reminder of such an embarrassing moment to dissipate, himself included.
“Will stop! It isn’t fine!” Mike’s arms began violently fidgeting with the air around him, he gestured to the space between him and Will as he continued, “this isn’t fine.”
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And if I went with you (went with you)
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Eyebrows furrowing, Will tilted his head slightly, trying to understand what he was saying.
Catching himself still waving his arms between the two, Mike froze for a moment before surrendering to his instinctive hand and arm gestures. He gathered his thoughts again, or at least, he attempted to, but his mind became scattered puzzle pieces lying on the ground at his feet, and the ones that were put together, were rapidly changing shape until they no longer fit perfectly, instead, they felt like jagged, as though they were broken parts separate puzzles.
“What I’m trying to say is that…” Mike’s voice trailed off, “shit! Why is this so hard?” His voice began to shake, he lifted his hands to his face to try and cover the tears forming and trickling down his cheeks. Will, observant as a hawk, hurried towards his shaking friend.
“Hey, Mike, I’m here.” Will reassured him, resting his hands on Mike’s shoulders, steadying him just as he had hours before. The rain continued to pour down on the both of them, but neither seemed to care, this was far too important.
Mike began to relax under Will’s touch, his hands strong on his shoulders, he felt an ease to his demeanor, and he allowed himself a deep sigh.
“Fuck, i wish El was here right now,” Mike let out. With Mike’s comment, a pang of disappointment washed through Will, he should have known. He relaxed his grip on Mike’s shoulders and stepped back slightly.
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I’d disappoint you too (disappoint you too)
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“Yeah…me too,” Will wasn’t lying, except his intentions behind the statement seemed plausibly different to Mike’s.
Or were they?
“No, you don’t understand-”
“Stop saying that,” Will interrupted, frustrated at his naivety fooling him over and over.
“Then stop cutting me off before I can explain!” Mike raised his voice, stepping back from Will’s touch, frustrated at his own outburst.
Will lifted his arms, the cold creeping up his back now, ice swimming inside his veins, but he was determined to hold his patience. Staring at Mike, he stood under the cold of the rain, his heart beating like thunder under the storm clouds high above.
“Go ahead.”
“I wish El was here,” Will rolled his eyes at Mike’s repetition, but stopped short as he continued, “because I want to tell her she was right. She was right all along. It was never about her and I, Will.” Mike’s gaze drifted up to Will’s expression, his eyes wide in curiosity, what does he mean?
“It was about you and I.”
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Well, I’m already somebody’s baby
Already somebody’s baby
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Mike finished, stepping closer to the now frozen, stunned Will.
“It was always you and I, Will. I was a fool to ignore it. The signs,” he gestured to the painting. “Eleven knew all along, but I was too blind to see it. And on the tower, I got scared. Which isn’t an excuse, I know–fuck–you waited years to be honest to us despite being terrified–not that you had any need to, of course we all still love you–and so for me to be scared to say something even after you had just put your whole self on the line–again, not that we wouldn’t still love you,”
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I just want to be your baby…
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Will’s expression softened as he listened to his closest friend lose himself in his overexplanations, stumbling over his words as he tries not to say something wrong, but instead rambles on and on about the same thing. Warmth again rose inside Will, adrenaline began sliding in his veins.
Everything Will had thought moments before came crashing down around him, his fallen hopes rising with each word Mike spoke. Tears fell with the rain falling down Mike’s pink cheeks, and Will felt his own cheeks wet with tears.
In an instant, he decided he didn’t want to think anymore, so he didn’t. With a single step forward, he pulled Mike’s face closer to his, until silence left Mike’s lips. With a soft smile, Will pressed his lips against Mike’s. He had imagined this but none of the possibilities even came close to how Will felt now. Mike was against him, his hands tangled in Will’s hair, pulling him closer so no atom could fit between the two.
All the looks, all the smiles, all the signs, all the nights spent being the last two awake with the group, all collided together until all he could feel was this moment, and the touch of Mike’s lips against his, the embrace of his body against his own, the body of the boy he had wanted for years. The lips of the boy he had yearned for for years. The hands, the hair, the smile, the eyes, the soul, all of the boy he had loved beyond any words could convey, was all that was alive in this moment.
Pulling away, Mike stared into Will’s chestnut eyes, and whispered, “it was always you, Will, and it was always us. I’m just sorry it took so long for me to realise.”
Understanding filled his senses, Will nodded softly, smiling and whispering back, “I’m sorry I kept interrupting you, best friend,” with a slight shove, Mike laughed, his body loose with happiness and relief, before pulling Will back to him, “and a bit more” he snickered.
Will chuckled too, as they both shared a smile before Mike tugged Will closer, kissing him deeply. Years of unsaid feelings fell to the floor and escaped through whispered apologies, forgiven by the touch of their lips colliding underneath the painted purple sunrise. Twilight.
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