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It’s 2:27 AM, once more, Will Byers’s telephone is ringing. In the last three months, he’s living in New York, he trusted so hard on his soul that moving away from everything would give him a chance to live a normal life and to find out who he is.
He kinda did. in some ways.
He still keeps contact with the party, but it’s not the same. He made new friends, in bars and the campus, friends that should understand him, friends that make his life feel easier, but unfortunately, they don’t.
Will doesn’t spend time thinking about it, how sometimes missing the chaos in his life may be pathological or even worse. He doesn’t care if his head makes him feel crazy as fuck.
Before moving from Hawkins, he went to the Wheeler’s. Karen, Nancy, Holly, they were all very emotional and sad about him — or any member from the party — being able to stop being freaks from the basement, even though he knew he would always be.
Mike was upstairs. When he got to his room, he knocked gently, like approaching a wounded dog.
“…Yeah?” His voice sounded weak, sick. “It’s me, Will” He didn’t know why he was so anxious.
Mike was so fucking lost, why can’t I just be supportive instead of stupid? — he thought.
The door was unlocked, and the black haired boy was curled up on his bed, he definitely spent the whole day crying or just spacing out. Mike was getting better, he was really doing better, after some episodes, of course, but, he was supposed to be better now, right?
They had the intimacy to don’t greet each other when they meet, so when the other boy entered the room, he just exhaled and closed his eyes a bit.
Will was sitting on his side now, staring and brushing his hand on Mike’s shoulder.
“You alright?” He whispered. Mike felt like glass — this was all too much, he was being too seen, too sensible, too pathetic, stupid.
His arms were hugging himself to pretend that he wasn’t trembling. Will saw it. “I don’t know, really.” He answered, tired.
“I’m going to New York in twenty minutes, thought I should come to see how you’re doing.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. Doing shitty though.” He grinned.
“Mike.”
“What?” He turned his face to see Will not finding funny, not even cute, he was worried. “C’mon, is just- just a joke, alright? I’m doing fine, I’ll be fine, actually.”
“You better be serious, Wheeler.” Okay? Now he laughed? “I know you’re going through a lot, and growing up it is very scary, guess now you know what I’ve been always saying.” Shit. Stop it. Don’t. Cry. — Mike thought.
“…But, the storyteller deserves to be a first-person narrator. You deserve to participate in our stories, Mike. Don’t let your bad thoughts tell you how to live your life.” There’s tears rolling down his cheeks, as he try to wipe them away.
“I know. I just- just…” He sobs. “I just can’t do it. I don’t want my whole life to change.” Mike looks devastaded, like a little kid.
“That’s okay. C’mere.” Will grabs his elbows calmly, pulling him closer and making him sit on the bed.
He hugs him, one arm on his waist, the other holding his head while he lays it on his shoulder. Mike holds him, hiding his face on the other one’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer.
That night, Michael spent all those 20 minutes Will had to go — crying.
Will gave him his new phone number, said that he could always call, and when he feel bad, or crazy, he would always be there. Crazy togheter.
All the Wheelers, even Mike, went to the door to say goodbye, and Nancy held him from the side when the car started running.
He would be fine. Mike can do it.
⋆˚꩜｡
In the first three weeks, Max and Lucas called almost everyday, Max told him she was planning to cut her hair again, Lucas was trying a new style.
Dustin called him every weekend, telling that he finally made Steve read and enjoy The Lord of The Rings.
Mike didn’t call.
He sent some letters, — or at least tried to — but they weren’t well written and were always confusing, what’s uncommon due to his ability of writing. He would always start saying:
Hey, Will! Are you doing okay?
I’m getting better, writing some short stories for tabloids. Your drawings still inspire me, wish you could send some of your new artwork.
And then:
I miss the days when we could create campaigns together and pretend that I did all alone so the party would think you didn’t heard of the story before. I miss the sleepovers. I miss watching scary movies with you.
I feel very alone sometimes and I wish we were still kids because everything seemed more true accepting. easier.
I feel so i don’t know how to
I know I seem emotional, you know that’s uncommon for me but, I’m spending a lot of time alone, thinking.
I’m sorry for being messy. Miss u.
Love,
From,
Mike.
So, the usual was starting by saying he’s better, alright, feeling fine, and just writing everything wrong and blurred. Will once received a letter with thin paper, his tears were in it.
That’s why he wouldn’t call, his voice would break.
In the two months Will was in college, Mike started to call. The first time, to say that his parents found a flat for him in New York, and that he was going to take a course at a writing school.
Will was happy for him, he obviously was, but he didn’t feel like Mike were in a state to live independently.
And he was right.
He only called two times on acceptable hours of the day, he seemed relaxed in a worrying way, Will started to feel scared that Mike was planning to do something bad to himself.
He asked his address even on the voice mail, to meetup with him, someday. But he needed the address for emergency, and it was hard to contact Karen or even Nancy.
Mike stopped calling.
And the thing is, no one is fucking worried? Seriously? — He started to take his classes without paying attention, the drawings seemed off. Everything was wrong, quietly turbulent.
He started leaving voice messages everyday. “Mike, call me back”, “[…] Call me back when you can, okay?”, “Just call me, please”, “Mike. Fucking- PICK UP!”
Mike started calling almost everyday, between 01:00 AM and 04:00 AM. He was just calling because he was drunk. Mike was drinking and doing whatever he was doing and calling Will.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Michael?” Will said on the telephone on the fifth time that this happened. “You can’t be serious, that’s rude, Mike, rude.” Mike have been calling him but not to have normal conversations, he was always laughing and yapping noisily about doing big projects that he probably buried in the morning.
“What? I’m just… I just miss talking to you, you told me to call you more often.” Will was so pissed off. Everyone, literally everyone in the group were having a hard time, leaving Hawkins or just accepting it as a memory, not a trauma, but Mike? Mike needs to grow the fuck up.
“You can’t disappear for weeks and then start to destroy my sleep routine. And you really believe that I can’t tell that you are drunk? Fuck. Mike that’s-“ Always stupid. He always forgives him. “Look I’m- I’m worried about you, of course. But you need to let it go. You need to grow up, Mike. Everyone is moving on, you need to think about your life.” That’s harsh enough for a drunk and whiny Michael Wheeler.
Silent. “[…] Well, fuck you man. You’re full of shit. J- Just.. full of shit.” He hung up the telephone before Will could say he’s sorry.
⋆˚꩜｡
It’s 2:27 AM, once more, Will Byers’s telephone is ringing. But now, for the first time in three weeks. It’s december, snowing and it terrifies him how much cold his room in college can be. He just woke up from a nightmare forming on his head, he woke up because—
Shit. The telephone is ringing.
Will picks up immediately, sitting on the bed and rubbing his arms against his own neck to stop the bothering and freezing feeling the cold breeze was bringing him.
“Hello? Mike? Is that you? Look I need to-“
“Will.” That sounded off. Something was wrong, too wrong.
“Yeah, yeah that’s me, are you alright? Mike I need you to talk to me. Please tell me what the fuck it’s going on, please-“
“Shit, I- I-“ His breathing was heavy, desperate. “I need- I think I need help, Will. Are you- are you there? I just- I did something stupid, I’m so sorry, Will. Please come over, please.” He was crying, his voice was trembling and it was lazy, slow.
Will never changed his clothes so fast, he stayed with Mike on the phone and he finally told him his address. He got the first taxi he could and tried to prepare himself to whatever help Michael needed.
He arrives. The door is unlocked, as usual. It’s not a big flat, his family probably hasn’t been visiting him, Mike probably doesn’t let them. There is some bottles of whiskey and wine on different corners of the floor and the center table. The ceiling has a cigarette smell.
Michael wheeler is on the floor.
“Mike? M-“ Will approaches him, his back on the couch while he lays on the floor with his head tilted back. “Michael. M- Mike, please! What happened?” He comes closer and — he could throw up right now.
He’s bleeding from both wrists, there is a bottle of pills displayed on his side, a bottle of wine pairing it. Mike is pale. Way more pale than Will ever saw.
His eyes are still open, Thank God. — Will thought.
“Hey, hey Mike, I’m here, okay? You’re gonna be fine, I’m here. J- Just- talk to me.” He is taking off his jacket, pressing it against his wrists.
“Will?”
“H- Hey, It’s me.” Mike looks like a disaster, he was sloppy doing whatever that was and— William didn’t want to think about Mike’s goals and objectives right now.
“You came. Hey. You look- nice, Will. You’re here.” His voice was breaking, he looks helplessly in love.
“I just– I need you to tell me what happened, Mike. C’mon- don’t- don’t lay on the floor.” Will was trying hard not to sob.
“Huh? Oh. I– I know I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry. Everything was– God. Everything was blurred, you know? I just– I wanted to make things clear to my mind. I was alone for a sec and– I just- saw those pills and–“ Pills. Shit.
“What? Mike– What did you take? Huh? Michael–“ Mike started caressing Will’s face and hair. “HEY. Stop it. What did you take?”
“I don’t know. I don’t— Fuck. I’m tired. I’m so tired, Will.” Mike wasn’t sobbing, but his face was still wet, tears rolling down to his chin, he was pouting.
“God. F- Fuck. Okay, Mike, I need you to trust me, alright?” Shit. Shit. Shit. Sh— “I’ll help you, C’mon let’s get you up.”
Will have to swallow his own bile that started to crawl on his throat. No one, except his mom, Jonathan and sometimes Mike, has seen Will at his lowest. There was some winters where he skipped school like crazy, saying that he got the flu. Well, actually, the cold freaked him out so bad that the Mindflayer could talk to him between signals, clicks and whispers.
His head was violated for weeks, he spent a lot of his days on the bed, just letting them fill up his head with some gross bullshit.
But there were some days, some days where Will couldn’t even form a thought for himself, they were distorting it. And then—
Blood, slugs on the sink, convulsing, crying, sobbing, screaming, pain, so much— so much of it– and the voices were– just—
Michael.
Will is trying so hard not to puke and Michael just look like he’s ready to die. He drags Mike’s body to the bathroom because he refuses to walk.
“Will– No. Don’t– do that– Please. Just… just let me be here. Hold me or.. whatever but– let me… go.” The last word comes in a lowest voice, he’s genuinely trying so hard to end up with everything, fast as he can.
“Stop it. That’s— enough of your bullshit, alright? Let’s– okay.” He could cry just having to treat Mike like that.
Mike’s knees are now positioned on the floor, in front of the toilet, Will holding his left arm while he pushes the toilet lid up. He kneels behind Mike, one hand positioned on his right shoulder, the other near his neck, now stopping on his jaw to turn his face close to yours.
“Hey.. you’re gonna be fine. Promise.” His face between Will’s fingers is heartbreaking, a pout he used to do when they were kids and Karen said that he couldn’t sleep in the Byers’s everyday.
Mike turns his face, pressing his forehead on the cold porcelain, Will tilts his head up and start to open his mouth with two fingers. “Wh— What– no. Don’t– mhphn—“ He had to spit all of this shit out.
Mike gagged while his breathing was still heavy and wretched. Will pushed his fingers away from his mouth as soon as he started to spit everything out. His face was terrible. The smell was terrible. His teary eyes were heartbreaking.
Will had to remember all those winter nights in ‘87. Almost three years. Three years since Nancy would call him almost everyday, begging for help because she couldn’t get Mike out of his bedroom.
Oh, and when she could? Mike would vanish in the bathroom for hours.
And obviously, I’m crying again. – Will thought.
As he dismiss his memories away, Mike can’t stop throwing up, he raises his left arm and tries to grab Will’s. Trembling, but he tries.
“Yea— You’re doing fine. I’m here, okay? Don’t worry I– almost done, I promise, I’ll stay here. Don’t forget that.” Will guaranteed.
Will had experience in this, the 90s were not being kind to the boys from the art college. But that was Michael Wheeler. That was his Paladin. That was the boy he met on the swing set at the kindergarten school. The boy who used to kiss his booboos away. The boy who he screamed his name when he felt his whole body aching from being burned alive.
He woke up from his thoughts— again. And Mike was staring the cold porcelain while nodding with his head — a big, empty, guilty, burdened no.
He didn’t take many pills, but Will wouldn’t say that to him. Mike would cook this thought in his head for months, thinking that he wasn’t even brave enough to end his life rightly.
Mike was static and Will just stared at him with his palm still on his shoulder. Then, the sobs started.
“Shh. C’mere.” He slid his hand down his arm, stopping softly now to hold his waist with both arms, bringing him closer, now with his back positioned on the top of his chest. “That’s fine. Let it go– Just— yeah, let it go. I’m here.” Don’t panic.
“No— Why’d you do— Oh god.” He couldn’t breathe and speak at the same time. He was fucking miserable, his hair stuck to his face with sweat and his nose was so runny it prevented him from breathing properly. And even though he was almost fainting, if it weren't Will there, holding him, stroking his hair and rocking him like a baby, he would do anything to get up and hide, shame would consume him for letting someone see him in such an ugly, so, so ugly way and—
Will couldn’t stay in the present while Mike kept repressing his care and attention, but he had to do it anyway, so he just let him say stupid shit on his ears when he was wrapping bandages on his wrists, after tooking proper care, taking advantage of the time when Mike’s pressure dropped and he lied on his lap with a pale face and a dark vision.
“Will— Will I’m— so sorry. Sorry. Sorry, Sorry I—“ There’s the guilt.
“Shh— Don’t worry, look, I’m already done with your wounds, huh.” Will offered when lifting him from his lap and sitting him on his side on the couch. He touched Mike’s face with his palm still wet from antiseptics and water. “Gosh. You’re freezing.” He says. “Let’s get you a clean sweater, okay?”
Mike looks at him with a face of disbelief, he fellowly doesn’t believe — right now — that Will Byers, his best friend, his beloved Will byers — is real.
They walk side–by–side to his bedroom.
For Mike, just another room, just another terrible casual affirmation that he shouldn’t have repressed this sadness, frustration and anger for seventeen years, just to explode when everyone was starting a new life, not in custody of that gross obscured world anymore.
For Will, it was like having to deal with a death sentence. Having to deal with a dad saying to you everyday, that you can’t be happy, you can’t get better.
It’s like entering a display of memories showing that him and Michael, were both cursed in ‘83. That him and Michael, while kids, were chosen to be cursed by an invisible string which could never break, but never set them free either.
It’s just hell, and hell, hell and back, and fucking hell again.
⋆˚꩜｡
Will made Mike sit on the bed after being changed and, now, finally warmer. He brought his knees close to his chest, while Will took the right to sit next to him. He refused to lie down, at least for about twenty minutes, and stared at the wall in front of him, without answering any questions addressed to him.
His lips were already swollen and peeling from being pulled so much by Mike’s crooked, hungry and unstable bite, his gaze was blurred, lost.
His eyes were really wide, guilty and sorry when he finally turned his head to meet Will’s gaze, already resting on his.
And still without fully trusting that he was safe, he decided to get closer and hide in Will’s arms.
“Tell me. What happened, hm?” Will whispered. “Was it.. Was it El? You can talk to me.”
Now, the two were completely lying down, Will held him gently, while Mike’s grip was a little aggressive, afraid of Will escaping through his fingers once again. Will didn’t feel afraid. He never did.
And then he hides his face in his chest, completely cutting off any eye contact.
Mike wanted to talk, Mike needed a listener, he always needed it, but he doesn’t want to be seen.
“It’s not about El, it’s everything, it’s all I went through and didn’t react because of a stupid emotional block.” His grip became more and more tense, Will reassured him by tracking circles on his back, making room for him to speak.
“The world was ending, I didn’t have time to suffer, but I could have cried a little, complained, felt fear, and I just disappeared, I pretended that nothing was happening, and at night before going to sleep I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. It was easy, it was easy, for a while, because I welcomed her, so she loved me, it was easy.” He keeps trying to take deep breaths, even if they tremble.
“And she didn’t know much about the evil of people who weren’t explicitly bad, so I could come back to her whenever I wanted, hoping that one day I would be good, one day I would be brave. I just felt-“ Will’s shirt was already soaking wet because of Mike’s tears.
“Shh, shh. I’m listening, you’re doing great, let it out.”
“I– I felt that when she– saved the world, this world would change enough to make me believe that I was once, someday, a relevant person.”
That’s miserable.
“I think I spent my whole life wishing to be
different, or at least pretending that I already was.”
He stopped talking for forty seconds. forty-one, forty-two, forty—
“I wanted to be loved easily, but I don’t like myself either, I can’t stand myself, Will. And over time, I realized that she would see this, and every time I looked at her, I saw a mirror—“
His voice sounded deep now.
“I saw my reflection saying to end that soon, because I didn’t deserve her, and she deserved to know the world without being for someone who remained blind for more than ten years.”
“Mike— That’s not true. El loved you, she loved all of us, and— we– we did what we could to show her that she deserved to be happy and—“
“I went blind. And then she– she– she died, Will. She died. It was as if they had cut my dreams in half, taking away children’s candy.”
“What it is, being ‘good’ to you?” Will asked, calmly.
“Brave. Conformed. Man enough. pacifist. without having deep, negative thoughts, or simply not spoiling the group’s energy, and my own, maybe.” He turned his head to hear Will’s heartbeat.
“She was starting a new life, thought I should try. Apparently I couldn’t, right?” He gagged on a sad laugh.
It was to say anything, Will felt like he could have a heart attack just experiencing this avalanche of memories. Remembering Mike crying in his room all winter, Mike leaving the dinner table at the Byers’s because he couldn’t eat without getting sick.
Mike disappearing. Mike slipping away from his fingers. Karen, Hopper, His mom, everyone calling for Will because no one knew where Mike was.
That time he went to the quarry, and if Will didn’t found him in time he—
“Do I make you feel sick, Will?”
“What? Mike, no—“
“I make myself sick. To be honest, this apartment, you know? It’s disgusting.” Mike wasn’t sobbing anymore, his grip was still shaking while pushing Will closer by his shirt. Michael was tired.
“Life seems so slimy, heavy to me, as if it were pushing me down all the time… I’ll be honest, in these last weeks, I’ve been with some girls. and some... some boys, yes.”
Was it sex helping, Mike?
“I needed to get drunk to put up with any of those girls asking me why all my friends were from gay bars.” He was telling the truth, he started being a hundred percent more avoidant than ever, we could say that vodka helped a bit.
“I needed to get even more drunk to be honest with the boys, and I had to black out before I could end up calling them by your name unintentionally.”
“Wh— slow down. Hey—“ Will tries to make him stop, he seems like he wants to embarrass himself.
“The girls told me ‘good luck’ and the boys took me home, I think? I mean, I woke up on my couch with blankets and clean clothes, usually a big bottle of water, and so I realized that I had done a lot of shit.”
“Okay so– you didn’t— shit..” Will took a deep breath when caressing Mike’s hair slowly. “You didn’t— do anything, right? I— I mean–“
“You want to know if I fucked someone, right?”
“Hey— what’s that–“
“No. I didn’t.”
Thank god. Will wasn’t jealous or anything at this point, Mike was clearly fucking up his life, begging for someone to make him feel something. But if Mike blacked out and
something happened to him—
Thats irreversible, Will knows that. And he could get hurt, sick, or lost. Will didn’t wanted the little boy he met when they were five, to live like that.
“You can’t lean on people you don’t know, people who don’t know your story just to feel something. Just because you lost her and—“
“No. Are you seriously listening?” Mike lift his head to look at Will’s disbelieving eyes. “Sorry, It’s just–“ he lays on Will again.
“It’s not about just El. It’s about you.”
This can’t be fucking happening. Are you kidding me right now, Michael? After more than ten years–
“It’s about everything I did to her. Everything I tried to make her be, just so she could look like you.”
Snowballs exist, avalanches exist, total romantic chaos exists, but that? Okay then.
“You’re not in a full sane state to talk about these feelings right now, we should–“
“It’s about everytime I wanted to kiss you. Everytime that I was so, so scared of it that I pushed you away.”
He hides his face again in Will’s chest again. Suddenly, they’re both thirteen years old again. And Mike is spending the night in the Byers’s house for the fifth time in the week after he was rescued from the Upside down.
“Mike, I–“ He needs to play it dumb. It’s time to Michael explode for the first time and take a weight out of his shoulders.
“I don’t wanna be the person… you– lean on, just because you cannot have Jane any more.”
Mike knew he was not focusing on reading between the lines. He wanted Mike to sit and explain to him, every single feeling. And honestly? Will deserves that.
Mike took a deep breath and left Will’s arms, dragging his own body to sit on his side, Will made him company on that.
“Do you remember that night on your house? On– Hopper’s cabin.” Mike began, looking at the wall in front of him, not catching Will’s eyes lying gently on his face. “The night you were packing your bags to college.”
“Of course, yeah, I– I do, Mike.”
⋆˚꩜｡
It was a hot summer night in ‘89 — Mike was still permanently wearing long sleeves — when Jonathan called Nancy telling that he was already packing up his bags to go to New York, and thanking her for everything, every advice and company, and the little party their group did the day before, to say goodbye.
And then, he mentioned, that Will— yes, William Byers — changed his mind, and that he was going to college with him, the day after.
“But– hey, don’t– I don’t think you should tell Mike. Will said he would talk to him about that in a letter. Easier, I guess.” He heard from the kitchen’s telephone.
He drops the telephone, grabbing tufts of hair from the back of his neck. “Shit— no.” He couldn’t breathe again, that was the third time in the week.
“Mike? Honey– Hey, what- what happened?” His mom showed up, stroking his back. “Michael?”
“Sorry mom, I— I need to go.”
Mike got his bike, and went to Will’s place without hesitation. Just– a pinch of sadness, a very insistent one.
He blinked and Joyce was already standing in front of him.
“Hey darling, how you’re doing? Come in– How’s it going, hm?” Mike couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t think well and he still couldn’t breathe, the breeze from pedaling didn’t work.
“Hum– I’m sorry.. I just.. Is Will here?”
“Yes, honey. Of course, I– He’s.. on his room.”
He saw a reflection of Hopper leaving the kitchen and asking Joyce what’s wrong.
He knocked because he was scared that he was so fucked up, and dependent, and gross, and depressed that Will didn’t wanted to see his face anymore.
“It’s open!”
Mike pressed the door handle down and waited for the click, opening and letting the yellow and cozy light of Will’s room reflect on his face, already wet.
He steps into the room.
“You said you would wait for me.”
Shit. Will thought.
“You said that– that our plans were still up and– that we would go to college together, Will. I– I know I’m a chaos right now I just– I can’t. Don’t do this.”
Mike looked like a little kid, every time he panicked, he looked exactly like Mike “the frog face” Wheeler.
“You know just how to get to me, hm?” Will answered, leaving a pair of shorts folded on top of the pile of clothes occupying your bed.
“C’mere, sit here, let’s talk.”
Mike couldn’t let Will explain himself in the first thirty minutes, he was saying without thinking, and crying, just– fucking everything up.
“But Will– Will, I’m serious, I know– I know I’m screwing everything up okay? I know! But please– you said you would wait.” He said between sobs, tears and a tight grip on Will’s shirt.
“And I’ve waited, Mike. I have been, my entire life, waiting for you.” Mike shouldn’t be afraid of a little heart-to-heart talk anymore.
Will would never, in his life or in his heart, abandon Mike Wheeler. But they need to run after each other, they want to let themselves fall in the trap of the first separation. They have to be curious about it.
Mike didn’t say anything back, he just took his hands to his own face, wiping his own tears and coming across Will taking his hands and putting them together on his lap.
“Do you remember when we were kids and… and my mom and Lonnie used to fight a lot? About me and… their relationship?”
Mike nodded a yes.
“We were babies, Mike. We were five and– I didn’t even use my own voice at that time. You were the only one who understood me.” Will sees his eyes filling with tears.
“You used to drag me to my room, put some of Jonathan’s songs on, and you just– you just talked to me. For hours.”
And it was true, Mike needed support too, he needed happiness and love, and he was still a kid. But in that time, to will, Mike was the bravest person he’s ever known.
“You talked shit about my father, actually.” They giggle together.
“But.. after that, you used to tell me some– some kind of story that you… had, for me.”
The Paladin and the Cleric. The brave wise story.
“You used to say, that– I had a… a very brave Wise inside of me. And that, because I was a kid, he was waiting for the right time to appear and demand for his freedom and respect.” Will smiles longingly at him. Looking at him with gratitude.
“You said that, the Wise, one day would have to explore new places, for him to find out that he deserves to be loved. That he needs to be loved.” Will caress Mike’s hand with his thumb when he starts looking down and crying, realizing what Will is saying to him.
“But then, after you said that, to comfort me… I said that—“ He takes a deep breath. “I said that I would always long, remember, and wait for the Paladin to find his time to free himself too, Mike.”
Mike looks at him, his head tipped to the side.
“I— I can’t, I can’t, Will, It’s not–“ He whispers.
“You do.” He whispers back. “I believe that you do. Because.. because– the Paladin, waited and repressed himself for years, just like the Wise. And, now, even if you try to face the strong and cold wind with fear, at least you’ll be facing it. And–“ Will’s breath fails a bit.
“And– and.. as much as the Wise loves– the Paladin.. He needs to face the cold breeze alone, now.” Mike looks at him with a face of asking for mercy.
Will sobs. “But that doesn’t mean they need to never find each other back. They’ll face new obstacles, to bring new stories to each other. To bring new stories to home.”
Mike lets go of Will’s hands, and stares at him as if he were proposing an end to everything. He trembles and wipes his nose with the back of his hand, as if he was trying to prove that it couldn’t affect him that much. But anyway, he appeals to his puppy eyes, like a grumpy child. Will tilts his head to the side, asking him to understand.
And then Mike surrenders to his arms, Will caresses his hair as if it were the last time. But it was one of the first times after a lot of insecurity in high school.
“That means– that I’ll still be waiting for you, Mike. The world is not ending. Our world is not ending, cause I wouldn’t let them happen to us. I would never do that to the Sorcerer and the Paladin. Never.” He breathes the comforting smell of Mike’s hair.
He holds Mike’s chin with his fingers, sliding them now to cup his whole face, making him look directly at Will.
“So– when you…” Will takes a deep breath to not choke on his crying.
“When you feel ready, meet me in New york.”
Mike nodded sadly, and spend one whole hour preparing himself on Will’s warm hug.
⋆˚꩜｡
“I felt like the world was, in fact, ending, Will.”
Mike starts saying, bringing Will back from his own memories. A specific memory, that they both share. Fortunately, just one of the many memories that they share.
“Wh– What?” Will answers.
“I thought you were going to leave me just because you wanted to.” Mike looks at him for a sec. “I had a nightmare about that one time. When you were missing.”
Will rests his palm on his shoulder, asking for him to keep going. He knew that Mike went through a tough time when he was missing, but he didn’t know that he still believes in the possibility of Will wanting to leave him at his worst, or at any time, ever.
“And uh–“ He looked scared. “I know that… you wanted me to see that I was locked in that place, that– life.” He looks hopeful, but tired of trying. “And, I– I see it, I see it now, I promise. Just– I didn’t know what to do.”
He runs his fingers through his chest trying to calm himself. “I needed you, in that time, to figure everything out. And– I’m sorry, I am so sorry, that I– that I couldn’t be just as brave as you.” He hides his face on his knees, pulling them closer to his chest.
“I just– I don’t– I don’t want you to think that I… that I’m using you. I want you to know that– my feeling, that the world was ending… it passed as soon as you held me in your arms.” Will feel his own face wet again, he never loved someone more than he loved this boy. He loves Mike Wheeler since he knows how to ride a bicycle. He learned what it its — to love someone romantically — by loving Mike Wheeler. Michael’s love and passion was all he had for years. What was he held gently on his memory palace when he felt everything cold around him once more.
“I’ve always wanted you. I– I just… I didn’t know I wanted you that bad, because… because I’ve always had you with me, Will.”
Will don’t think about anything, he’s not forming any thought, he doesn’t realize what he’s doing, until he’s holding Mike’s face between his careful hands, kissing the lips of the boy he’s always loved.
Mike sighs between his lips, and then comes out of his cavernous position and holds Will’s ribs firmly, pulling him extremely close. The two don’t know what they’re doing, and wet each other’s faces with constant tears. They sop and caress each other with sadness, passion and a pang of fear that unrank as their lips fit perfectly.
Will did not contain himself in his desire to show the boy that he was in fact, very, extremely, always, without exception, loved. And after their noses meet parallel again, Will seals Mike’s lips with several affectionate and tearful kisses.
Their heartbeats were loud enough to hear without effort. When Will opens his eyes, still holding Mike’s face, he finds a pair of eyes staring at him, surprised, maybe feeling a little overwhelmed, but finally, satisfied and loved.
He moves away slightly, leading them to lean against the head of the bed, still unable to stop looking at each other.
“It’s not the right time for that, I’m sorry. I don’t want to confuse you now.” Will begins, now stroking his cheek and checking if he’s okay.
“But I need you to know, Mike, that you’re loved. Regardless of anything, you’ve always been and always will be. People care about you, Mike Wheeler.” He smiles at him. He finally smiles back.
“I care about you, Will Byers.”
They were still them. Mike was still there. They were just about to get back all their bucket lists for college and mark every single goal. They were still Mike and Will, who don’t stop giggling at Mr. Clarke’s class. The Paladin and The Cleric, who were devoted to each other in every mission. The Sorcerer and his Lover, who gave him strength to stop being so goddamn scared. They were still there.
“A big part of our life ended in 1987, even last year, at graduation. But– our life is not over. Don’t lock yourself up, there is still time. Now, more than ever, there is time, a lot of it.”
Mike smiles at him, giggling a little, he is remembering something. Something nice.
“You always gave me that impression. Do you know that? Always clearing the road for me.” He doesn’t even know if he’s laughing or crying anymore. “You’re not hard to love, Will, but I’m a difficult person if I let myself realize that I love you.”
“I’ll keep clarifying, if you let me. And you don’t need to imprison yourself in the past. Let’s just– create new memories, resignify songs and have new inspirations. Some heroes too. Okay?”
“I’m okay with that.”