Chapter Text
Will was tired.
He was so tired of everything. He was tired of stupid Mike, and he was tired of El, but really, he couldn’t even be that mad at her; she was his sister after all. He was tired of the stupid movie he was watching alone. He was tired of being the third wheel. Most of all, he was tired of himself. What did he expect? That Mike and El would want to spend time with him when they could just be swapping spit with each other instead? He was so stupid. How could he have been so stupid? And worst of all, he couldn’t even blame them— he wouldn’t want to spend time with himself either.
He wondered if this day could get any worse.
He sighed and tried to rub the frustrated tears out of his eyes. He had thought that maybe today they could all have fun together. He had been so excited, too. He didn’t even really care what movie they were going to watch; he was just so happy to spend time with them, but in hindsight, he should have seen it coming.
As soon as Mike came, El rushed to him, and the couple started whispering to each other in hushed tones while Will tried his best not to let the hurt show on his face. It got worse when they sat down and put on the movie El had chosen. Mike and El kept exchanging glances; they probably thought they were being slick, excusing themselves and leaving silently as if Will wouldn’t notice that his sister and his best friend had just casually left to make out while he sat all alone.
It had been around ten minutes since they left and he was getting more miserable by the minute.
The back of his throat was starting to burn now. The lump of sadness he tried to swallow down made itself known. Logically, he knew he should feel happy for them, but all he felt was pain. Every fleeting glance they exchanged, every smile they shared, every word spoken in hushed tones to each other when they thought no one was watching. It all left him feeling sick. He felt horrified with himself because he knew this was wrong. The guilt couldn’t compare to the years he’d spent longing desperately for Mike to even think about him in a way that wasn’t platonic. He groaned in frustration and buried his face in his hands.
Even the popcorn was mocking him now. The bowl was too big for him to finish all alone.
That’s what he always was, wasn’t he? Alone. Back when they were younger, he had thought that Mike would always choose him, that they would be MikeandWill and WillandMike forever. Mike was always his first choice, and he thought that he was Mike’s. He was so young and so naïve; of course, Mike would choose a girl over him. He wasn’t like Will. He wasn’t abnormal. Of course, Mike would choose a girl over his best friend, because that was what he was supposed to do. It would be unnatural if he didn’t.
He could hear Mike’s voice ringing in his head; he could hear those words he dreaded so much.
“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”
And suddenly he was fourteen, and he was watching all his friends leave him because he wasn’t normal, because not liking girls wasn’t normal, being in love with his stupid best friend wasn’t normal. Mike was normal, and Will wasn’t. That’s when he realised Mike would never like him back. Because Mike was normal. Because he wasn’t a queer or a fag. He wasn’t like Will. No matter how much Will tried to convince himself that Mike would still care for him even if he knew what Will was, at least as a best friend. He knew, deep down, that if Mike ever found out, he would curl his lip in disgust, and his eyes would lose all their warmth, and he would sneer at Will,
“You don’t like me like that, do you?”
Will could hear his voice, filled with so much contempt and disgust. Just the thought of that happening filled him with so much dread. Mike could never find out about him. He doesn’t think he could handle losing his best friend like that. He would rather pine away forever, even as his heart aches and as his stomach twists itself into knots, watching as Mike and El dance around each other than lose his best friend and his sister all at once.
Will feels the burning in his throat worsen. Every breath he takes fills him with pain. Something tickles his throat, and then he coughs and wheezes, and he can’t breathe - and maybe this is it for him. He wouldn’t even be surprised if this was how he died. Choking on his feelings for his best friend. He could feel the thing in his throat dislodge with every cough, and then he spits it out on the floor. His throat feels rough and scratchy, and he starts panicking because the last time he had thrown up something, it was a slimy tentacle from the upside-down, and he was not ready to go through that again. Wait, did that mean Vecna was back? Had they not killed him? And now he was actually panicking because if Vecna was back, then they had failed and—
—Was that a petal? For a second, he thought he was seeing things. How had he managed to cough out a petal? To confirm whether he had gone crazy or not, he went closer to the petal, and there it was. A yellow petal covered in blood and spit and probably mucus and — ew, he couldn’t really believe what he was seeing because it didn’t really look like it was from the upside down. He couldn’t figure out if that made him feel better or worse.
Turns out his day could get worse.
He had to be hallucinating. Why did things like this keep happening to him? What crime had he committed in his past life that he was getting eternal punishment for it? He picked up the petal and glared at it. He hoped that maybe it would understand that it was not wanted and poof itself out of existence, but when had things ever gone his way?
Whatever. He rolled his eyes at his own dumb luck. He picked the petal up, walked to the dustbin and threw it away. He walked back to the couch, hoping that as he sat down, maybe the couch would swallow him and take him out of his misery.
He didn’t really have the energy to fully stress out over this, so he just shoved it to the back of his mind and ignored his lungs, even if it felt like they were collapsing on themselves. He had survived worse things before; he could deal with a few flowers stuck in his lungs.
His mind wandered off as he let the noise from the movie turn into static. He just wanted a break. He didn’t really know how much time had passed before Mike and El came out of the room. Mike’s cheeks were slightly flushed, and they both had matching smiles on their face. Will pretended to be unbothered as they slid back in their seats. Mike’s disgusted face flashed in his mind.
Will didn’t notice Mike looking at El for reassurance. He didn’t notice El’s eyes sparkling with mirth as a slow smile crossed her face. He didn’t notice Mike’s shaky exhale as he scooted closer to Will. He didn’t notice the flush on Mike’s face becoming darker when Will looked at him.
All Will noticed was the boy he loved sharing a smile with his sister, and he knew he could never compare to her. He knew he would never be able to make Mike smile at him like that. He had known that long ago.
The ache in his heart spread, and he was so tired.
God, he couldn’t wait for this day to be over.
“You okay?” Mike asked, voice soft with concern. His eyebrows were pinched, and his eyes had worry written all over them. Sometimes, Will appreciated the way Mike would just know that Will wasn’t feeling okay.
Now was not one of those times.
“Hmm? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay?” Will let confusion bleed into his voice and hoped to god that he pulled off the confused act successfully. He couldn’t really deal with Mike’s concern right now. Mike’s eyebrows pinched even tighter, if that was even possible. Fuck Mike Wheeler and his stupid intuition. Will internally sighed.
“It’s just, you just seem — off? And you know you can always-”
“I just didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’m okay. Let’s just enjoy the movie before you have to go home.” Will normally would have felt bad for the clipped tone he had used, but right now, all he cared about was Mike dropping the conversation.
Mike didn’t look convinced. He looked even more concerned now. Thankfully, he let it go and just looked at the screen. He probably realised Will wouldn’t give him answers no matter how hard he tried, and now Will was grateful for how well Mike could understand him. He almost let out a sigh of relief. And if Will ignored the worried glances Mike kept giving him, then that was no one’s business but his own.
He looked away from Mike, only to be met with El’s eyes staring right at him. It almost felt like she was staring right through him. Sometimes it felt like she knew his thoughts better than he did. There was a determined set to her jaw that said she would be asking him about what happened, and she wouldn’t drop it as easily as Mike had.
The air felt stifling; he couldn’t really tell when the air around them had gotten so suffocating. He felt like he was in a daze, like his body was on autopilot as the evening passed by. He didn’t even notice when the movie had ended. He barely felt himself say bye to Mike. He purposely ignored their shared looks of concern as he dragged himself to his room. He really needed sleep right now.
He heard a knock on his door as he lay on his bed, trying to force his headache go away. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to answer. After a minute of awkward silence, El calls out to him.
“Will?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I come in?” She sounds tentative, probably not wanting to overstep a boundary.
“I’m sorry, but I need to be alone right now.” He’s impressed at how stable his voice sounds.
He thinks she left, as the silence stretches on. He exhales shakily.
“Promise you’ll tell me later?” Oh. She was just figuring out what to say. He feels a feeble smile make its way to his face. He feels glad to have El; she really is the best sister he could have ever asked for.
“Of course.” His voice is disgustingly fond. He can feel the tears in his eyes. What is wrong with him today?
He hears her steps retreating as she makes her way to her own room. The tears fall freely now. Even though he promised her, what is he supposed to say? “ Hey, El, so the reason I’ve been acting so weird is actually that I’ve been madly in love with your boyfriend for a long while now, hope you don’t mind.” She’d probably feel so betrayed. He was so pathetic. How could he do this to her? How could he do this to Mike? Mike would be so disgusted if he knew. He probably wouldn’t even talk to Will ever again. The thought brings a fresh wave of panic. The tears keep on flowing. He curls up into a ball on his bed as he tries to keep his sobs quiet enough.
He doesn’t have to worry about anybody hearing him because he’s gotten stupidly good at crying silently, and he doesn’t really know what to feel about that. He has just finished wiping his tears away when he feels his breath seize up, and a violent cough breaks out. His throat burns. He can feel something trying to fight its way out of his throat. Tears spring to his eyes again as the pain takes over him. He manages to cover his mouth with his palm as his coughing gets worse. With one last splutter, it manages to escape, and there it is—
More yellow petals, it seems this disease that he has gets worse and the number of petals increase. If the circumstances were different, he would marvel at the beautiful color. The petals really are a striking yellow. The artist in him itches to replicate the color, but he feels light-headed. Throwing up flower petals probably isn’t good for his health. His lungs feel like they’re shriveling up again; he distantly thinks it’s because flowers are growing in them.
He sighs at his stupid, miserable life. He’s been doing that a lot recently. Sighing and dreading his life.
He looks down at the petals lying in his palm as he tries to figure out which God he pissed off in his past life.