Chapter Text
The sounds drifting up from the kitchen had woken Mike up a few minutes ago and still he can't bring himself to get up. The soft chatter and the clanking of kitchenware betray the fact that something is wrong. Something had been wrong for a long time now. For about a year, if he wants to be exact.
Groaning he reaches for his pillow and covers his face with it to stop thinking about it. If he could stay in his room permanently without having to pretend like everything was fine, he would. When his stomach growls, Mike resigns himself and sits up. Somehow his memory suppression techniques never seem to work quite as well as he would like them too. Quickly he grabs one of the shirts lying on his floor, throws it on before he could change his mind and leaves for the kitchen.
Maybe later he could continue reading the comic series he'd begun a few days ago. At least that would distract him for a while. Only he doesn’t remember where he'd put the current volume.
“Mom, have you seen -,” he begins, before he stops dead in his tracks in the doorway.
How had he not realized that the familiar chatter had long stopped. Now the only person sitting at the dining table was exactly the one he was trying not to think about. Staring at him expressionlessly. Will is hunched over his bowl, swirling its contents slowly.
“Oh. Hey.,” Mike manages to choke out.
“Morning,” Will mutters back and Mike can’t take it. Luckily he spots his backpack in the corner and crosses the room. Maybe he left his book in it yesterday. Unfazed, Will continues to jab at his cereal.
Mike grabs his backpack and goes to the kitchenette to pour himself some cereal too, all the while carefully watching Will. He still looks like him. Sure, he has grown over the last year. More gracefully than himself, Mike has to admit. Where he was awkwardly gangly, Wills proportions fit together perfectly. He still looks like him. Like his best friend. Like the one person he thought would have been with him for every step of his life. And yet, every bit of friendship they had, had somehow dwindled to whatever this was. An awkward greeting and a disinterested glance. And Mike knew it was his fault.
With his now full bowl in hand Mike hesitates. Which is enough for Will to look up. Almost questioningly. He glances at one of the empty chairs across from Will and back at him.
Their eyes meet.
The silence hangs thickly in the air and Will swallows and looks down at the table, clearly uncomfortable. His expression remains unchanged and Mike feels so stupid. Stupid for hoping, Will would ask him to sit with him. That he would want to talk to him. That maybe they would be able to patch up the sorry remains of their friendship. He still hadn’t managed to process the fact that Will simply didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.
“I’m, uh,” Mike says, still awkwardly holding his bowl in one hand and his backpack in the other. “I’m gonna eat in my room. I’m kinda obsessed with this new comic book series, so …”
He just can’t help it and lets the last word hang in the air on purpose, foolishly hoping that Will would show some interest.
“Cool,” he says casually.
They used to read together for hours when they were younger. Summarising chapters and discussing the characters. Sometimes Mike would just watch Will read, aching to brush the hair from his forehead. His expression would give away everything he felt, following the story as if magnetised by the words. Now his hair still looks the same, but his face is unreadable. And Mike realises that he has been standing there a tad too long. Like an idiot. So he just turns around and goes back into his room, trying to ignore the sting he feels in his chest.
But the creaking of the stairs reminds him of the many times they had run up and down until his mother shouted at them. His father giving some half-mumbled agreement. And them trying to remain quiet, not wanting to lose the privilege of regular sleepovers. There was a time when they would daydream about one of them being adopted by the other’s families. They would giggle uncontrollably, play games and whisper secrets to each other, that he wouldn’t have told the rest of the Party. Now, that they have literally been forced to live beneath the same roof for a year, Mike couldn’t feel more miserable about it.
Sighing he opens the door to his room and slumps down on his bed.
Not only had he lost his best friend, but everything seemed to be falling apart. Him and Will not talking, Lucas spending almost all his free time at the hospital and Dustin still having a hard time processing Eddie’s death, their party just wasn’t the same.
They still regularly spend time together, but it feels forced. In the beginning Lucas and Dustin had prodded him with questions frequently, but Mike couldn’t explain it. He still can’t. How he could let Will slip away from him like that. They never even really fought, they just stopped talking.
Nancy had been the first to confront him about the changes, but he had brushed her off. She had always had an eery sense for his feelings, even when he was trying to hide them. He has a nagging feeling, that she knows about him. Knows about how even now he can’t help but steal a glance at Will occasionally. Watching him help his mother with the chores like there was nothing else he would rather be doing. And then when he averts his gaze, her sister would be looking at him, and his cheeks would begin to burn.
And amidst of all these things there is the recurring memory of the painting. Mike still doesn’t know why Will gave it to him and lied about it being commissioned by El.
He still remembers their breakup clearly. Sure, Mike hadn’t exactly been putting his soul in their relationship, but after Will had given him that painting in the van, saying it was from El and telling him how much she loved him and explaining all the symbolism behind it; Well, he didn’t expect her to break up with him. He wasn’t sad about it. They both felt like they weren’t working anymore, if they ever were. And they’re still great friends, meeting up every other day to chat. But Mike misses this last sliver of normality he could hide behind for a long time.
He puts his bowl on the nightstand with a determined clank and reaches for his Walkman and his comic book. Anything to distract himself.
And the day passes by. So does the night. And Mike can’t sleep, haunted by cold eyes that used to be warm.
The next day starts off pleasantly enough. Mike manages to finish two volumes, one before and one after lunch. Then Holly comes up to his room and begs him to draw something with her. He pretends to be annoyed but follows her anyway as she leads him into the living room, holding his hand.
His father barely spares them a glance, before his eyes are glued back on the TV.
He had learned to avoid the common spaces in his house to avoid any unnecessary awkward situations he could get him and Will into. But his efforts seem futile, since Will leaves for Joyce’s and Hopper’s cabin every chance he gets. Or for wherever. Mike doesn’t know where he goes and its not as if he has asked Jonathan about it.
It doesn’t take long before both of his hands are coloured with acrylic paint and Holly squeals happily as he bops her on the nose, leaving behind a bright green stain. The painting turns out better than he expected and when Holly is satisfied with their work she jumps in his arms, surprising him. And with a devilish grin she smears the paint on her little fingers all over his face. Mike tickles her in return until his father complains about the noise.
Mike carries her up to the bathroom to wash and they pass Nancy and Jonathan in the hallway upstairs, who must have come home at some point without anyone noticing and for a good reason. They hear him approach and jump away from each other, mortified, only to find Holly giggling and covering her eyes and Mike smiling in her hair. Nancy glares at them, but he couldn’t care less. At least she’s happy with someone.
His parents still don’t know about her and Jonathans year long relationship. His father would have a heart attack if he knew that she has not only had a boyfriend for so long, but that said boyfriend also sneaks up to her room every night, leaving Will alone in the basement.
No, stop. He can’t think about him now. Not in this context. He groans as he closes the bathroom door behind him and lets Holly jump on the floor.
She looks up at him questioningly, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
Mike smiles at her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”
She smiles and looks at him conspiratorially. “Did you stay up all night?”, she whispers.
Mike wiggles his eyebrows. “Maybe”
Holly giggles again and Mike begins to wash their faces and hands. He grabs the towel to dry her face when the bathroom light flickers and suddenly goes out. Mike is up in an instant, sweeping Holly back in his arms and looking around, alarmed.
“Mike? Did you turn off the light?”, Holly asks strictly, completely oblivious to his panic. But there are no ash flakes floating from the ceiling, no growling Demogorgons and the temperature doesn’t seem to have changed.
“Mike?”
“No”, Mike answers. “No, I didn’t.”
He hesitates for a moment before he opens the door and looks around cautiously. The house is completely dark. He lets Holly down and takes her hand, careful not to let down his guard.
He can hear his family talking down in the living room and his shoulders relax a bit.
“Come on”, he looks down to his sister. “Let’s see what happened, yeah?”
Holly nods. “Do you think that was magic?”
Mike hums noncommittedly. Let’s hope not.
When they enter the living room everyone else had already gathered around the coffee table, exchanging confused looks, theorising about probable causes of the outage and lighting every candle they can find. Everyone except – stop!
Holly lets go of his hand and runs to their mother, who gives him a distracted smile. Mike joins Nancy and Jonathan standing on the side.
“Nancy, I thought -”
“I know”, she interrupts him. “Me too.” She smiles encouragingly, but he can see that she is shaken too.
“It has to be a normal power outage,” Jonathan says, “otherwise the power would have gone back on by now.”
Mike looks over to his father, who is turning the light switch on and off. The noise is driving him insane.
“Mike!”, his mother calls. “Can you bring down your walkie? Maybe we can find an information channel.”
By the time he’s back with the walkie his father has given up on the light switch and sits on one of the chairs, mumbling to himself.
Mike tries to ignore him. So does his mum.
After searching for a few minutes, they find an emergency information channel and his father takes over. Mike just sits beside him and tries to ignore his fathers petty complains until he finally hears the front door opening.
“Hello?” Wills voice seems unsure.
When he appears in the doorframe Jonathan is already on his feet. “Will, hey!”
His father’s head is blocking Mikes view, and he can’t see Wills face.
“Good you’re home. The powers out, were trying to reach-”
“Uh-huh.” His father voice is too loud for him to filter Jonathans voice out again. Or to hear Wills reply. If only he would just stop fiddling with the antenna.
“You’re telling me there’s nothing to be done?”
“Sorry, sir. It’s not just your house, whole grids down. We’re doing our best. Until then, please use candles and blankets to stay warm.”
Mike frowns, as his father clumsily pushes the antenna back and hands him his walkie.
The basement will be freezing. How is Will –
“No lights tonight?” Holly asks excitedly.
“No, honey. But it’s okay – we'll make it cozy with candles.” Their mother hands her some flashlights he didn’t even know they had. “Why don’t you go upstairs, and I’ll tuck you in in a minute? Be careful with the stairs!” The flashlight bounces in tact with her hair as she scurries off.
He watches Nancy for a few moments, rummaging through the drawers, and tries to ignore his father mumbling to himself on the couch, looking at the TV screen like it personally offended him.
“The heaters,” Will says.
And Mike looks up. The dim candlelight makes his face glow prettily. He looks away.
“Aren’t working,” Jonathan confirms. “But it’ll be alright. Weve got blankets.”
You don’t even sleep down there.
“You boys.” His mom looks between Jonathan and Will. “I know the basement gets cold even with the heating working. Jonathan, you can take the couch, and Will, maybe you could share with Mike -”
“No” Mikes gaze snaps back to Will. He knows they aren’t really friends anymore, but was the thought of sharing a room really that appalling to him? Mikes chest aches. Their eyes meet briefly, but Wills expression is unreadable. Mike looks away as he Will clears his throat. “Uh, no thank you. It’ll be fine.”
“But if it gets too cold -”
“We’ll let you know.”
Mike helps Nancy to light the fireplace. The power has been out for only about an hour, but the temperature inside has sunken rapidly. His father has found the battery radio and is flipping through the channels as if his life depended on it.
When the fire is burning like they wanted it to, Mike grabs one of the flashlights and hurries to leave the living room and his muttering father behind. Before he exits into the hallway, he casts a glance at Will and Jonathan talking on the carpet. Words inaudible.
The cold outside the living room hits him like a wall and still it feels as if his blood freezes the moment, he hears Lucas´ voice coming from his walkie.
“Anyone there? I need to talk” He sounds panicked.
Mike responds immediately. “Mike here. What happened?”
“Max, she – she’s fine, but -”
Oh shit
He sits down at the bottom of the stairs, tucking his flashlight between his knees and lets Lucas talk, interrupting now and then to calm him.
“They told me that the emergency power should last a few days, then the generator needs refueling.”
Mike notices Will standing in the hallway now and tries to ignore him.
“I know, Lucas,” he says as calming as he can. “It’s okay. She’s gonna be okay.”
Will is still standing there, not making a sound. Maybe he wants to talk to Lucas too. Mike looks up and Will straightens immediately, breaking eye contact. He walks past him without a word and disappears into the freezing basement.
After Lucas has calmed down, Mike goes up to his room and makes himself ready for bed. Its freezing even in his room. He can’t imagine what it’s like down there.
“Mike? Are you there?” El’s voice asks mechanically.
Mike grabs the walkie and lies down beneath the blanket on his bed before he responds.
“Hey, what’s up?”
They chat for a while and are about to say good night to each other, when El hesitates.
“Can I ask you to do something?”
“Sure”
“Promise you will not get mad?”
Jesus, what did she want him to do?
“I promise.” He hopes he won’t regret it.
“It is about Will.” Oh
“What about him?” Mike tries to sound casual.
“He is scared and it is too cold down there.” He frowns.
Why would he be scared?
“I thought that Jonathan was with him. But he is not. I looked for him in my mind.”
“Yeah, I know.” Mike says.
“You know?” she sounds reproachful.
“Um”
“You of all people should know how he is, Mike! He will not ask for help. He does not ask for anything, if he thinks he is inconveniencing people.” He doesn’t know how to feel about that. “Can you please check on him? Ask him to sleep in your room or something? It must be warmer there and you can keep him company.”
“El, we’re not-”
“Stop that, Mike. Your whole fight or whatever it is – it’s stupid.”
“Yeah, but he-”
“You promised, Mike!”
“Yeah – Yeah okay”
“Thank you.” She sounds pleased. He could hear her smile. “Good night!”
“Night.” Mike replies absentmindedly and puts the antenna back in.
Shit
It takes a few minutes for him to gather his courage, but then he gets up and makes his way down the stairs with a lantern in hand. With every step he takes he can feel the air getting colder. Mike braces himself for the conversation, before he raises his hand to knock on the door to the basement.
Nothing.
He knocks again, a bit louder and this time he hears soft shuffling.
Will opens the door, looking at him with sleepy eyes and tousled hair. He has a blanket slung over his shoulders, holding it together with his hands. It looks like he’s wearing a wizard’s cape. Mike has to remind himself to focus.
“Sorry,” he says. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” Wills voice is a bit raspy and it’s obvious that he’s lying. Why is he lying? He obviously doesn’t want him there.
“Um,” Mike says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to prevent the cold from seeping in through his slippers. “Mom asked me to check on you.” He could lie too.
“I’m fine,” he says, trying to suppress a shiver.
“It’s freezing down here.”
Will straightens up and looks back at him defiantly. “I’m okay, Mike. I’ll manage. You can go.”
Mike looks at him. There's a shadow beneath his eyes, as if he hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a long time. His jaw is clenched, as if he’s trying to stop his teeth from chattering. The flickering light of the lantern cast a golden glow in his eyes. And his lips are turning blue. El was right.
“I talked to El,” Mike says slowly, watching the changes in Will’s expression closely. “She says you’re … scared.”
“I’m not scared. I’m not a baby, Mike,” he says, annoyed. At his worry?
“No, I know,” Mike hurries to explain. “But she said Jonathan is sleeping down here to keep you company.”
“Yeah, well. He is.”
Mike rolls his eyes. The lies they are telling each other are getting more obvious by the second. “You know I have ears, right? I can hear him sneak into Nancy’s room every single night. I’m literally next door.”
“Can you just go? I’m okay.” Why would he rather freeze than admit he was miserable?
“I don’t believe you. You just don’t wanna cause any trouble, or whatever.”
“No, Mike. I want to be alone. I don’t wanna talk to you, okay?”
That felt like a punch to the stomach. He stares at him, trying to find some of the warmth that used to be between them. But this time Will seems to be telling the truth.
“Fine,” he says and looks at the wall behind Wills head. He can’t take the look on his face anymore. “You made it clear earlier that you don’t wanna sleep in my room. But I just wanted to come down here to say that you can, of course. It’s not exactly warm, but it’s better than this.” Pathetic. Mike clenches his jaw. I’m so pathetic.
“Thanks,” Wills says stiffly. “But no.”
Mike knows that should be his cue to leave, but somehow, he still hopes that Will might change his mind. Nothing. “Okay,” he says finally. Maybe he should ask him, if he wants to have more blankets or a cup of tea. He opens his mouth, but manages to stop himself from asking, before he can make more of a fool of himself. He clears his throat instead. “Good night, then.”
“Good night,” Will says, the blanket still draped around his shoulders.
Mike closes the door to the basement and mechanically walks back up to his room. He closes the door behind him, careful not to make a sound and lays down on his back, staring at the ceiling.
At least now he had some kind of closure. Before he had to guess whether Will didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Now he knows for sure. Strangely, that doesn’t make him feel any better at all.
A quiet knock interrupts his thoughts and he looks up, confused. Did he wake Nancy? But when he gets up and opens the door, Will is standing before him, looking unsure.
“I changed my mind,” he says. And Mike realises he’s carrying his pillow and blanket in his arms. And he doesn’t know what to think.
He needs a few moments to get a grip on himself and steps aside. Will walks into his room and closes the door behind him.
As the silence stretches out between them, Mike begins to panic. His room was a mess, books and clothes cluttered on the floor, his desk overflowing with randomly smeared on pieces of paper. And this must be the first time in months that Will has stepped inside. It feels different from all the other times. Mike fiddles with the drawstrings of his sweatpants, trying to think of something to say or do to alleviate the tension.
“Um.” Will breaks the silence first. “Do you still have that spare mattress? The one we used for sleepovers?”
Thank God
“Yeah, I’ll get it.” He tries to distract himself with the task at hand and pulls the mattress out from under his bed. But he can’t help but notice how Will is looking around the room, his gaze lingering on some of the drawings he had gifted Mike many years ago; and that he still hasn’t taken off the wall. Mike feels the embarrassment crawling into his cheeks as he covers the mattress with a sheet.
“This should work.”
Will looks at him. “Thanks.”
Mike sits on his bed and watches as Will crouches down to adjust his blanket and pillow on the mattress. He quickly follows suit when Will slips under the blanket and wishes for something to break the unnatural silence between them.
“Do you want the candle on or-”
“On, please,” Will interrupts him immediately.
Mike looks down to him. He looks almost scared.
“Okay,” he says and settles down under his blanket again. It takes a while for him to get into a comfortable position and when he does the silence is deafening.
“Well,” Mike says after a few minutes and turns around again. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Will answers softly. He almost can’t hear it.
Mike listens as Will’s breathing evens out slowly. He won’t be able to sleep tonight.