Chapter Text
It was hard driving back to Hawkins for breaks. The drive was long, it felt weird being back in the town that stole his childhood, and not to mention the culture shock of leaving the accepting and diverse hub of Manhattan. At least those were the reasons he told his mom every time she asked if he’d be visiting. So after the first winter break in freshman year, Will just stopped coming back. Going to school in New York was a dream come true, and being able to be so close to his brother, Robin, Max, and Lucas was an added bonus. It was expensive, sure, but so, so worth it. The first two years Will stayed in his dorm, Robin had offered to share her apartment with him, but he couldn’t help but feel like a burden, and as much as he loved Robin, she could only afford a one-bedroom apartment, so he reluctantly stayed in student housing. Trudging through sharing his personal space with strangers and dealing with whatever messes they left behind.
But despite that, Will did love college. Hawkins had left him with a warped worldview, and that’s not even including the monsters, superpowers, or government control. No, Hawkins left him believing that there was no place for him to fit in, that his fight for belonging would be a lifelong one. But New York thoroughly impressed him and showed him that Hawkins was always the problem, not him.
Will also kept in contact with his friends as much as possible. He and Dustin had at least one phone call a week where they could update each other on their lives, and Dustin could brag about his time at MIT. Lucas was going to Columbia while Max worked to keep them afloat, so Will was able to see them consistently for movie and wine nights that Robin would sometimes attend if she was free. But Will never heard about Mike's life directly, it was always from Lucas or Dustin or Max, hell even sometimes Johnathan (whom Will assumes heard from Nancy), and it was always small snippets like “Mike hates his creative writing professor” or "Mike's roommate snores really loud.” Will had tried to reach out, but when all of his calls and letters went unanswered for the first semester of freshman year, Will got the hint. Mike didn’t want to hear from him. So Will stopped trying, and only heard about Mike through his friends for the next two years.
Then, in his sophomore year, he met Carlton. He was handsome, Will had decided when he chose to sit next to him in his art history class. But maybe that decision was just founded on the fact that he reminded Will of someone. Dark hair that haloed his face in curls, dark eyes that felt simultaneously like being pinned to a board like a bug on display and being wrapped in the warmest hug of your life. Will dove into the relationship headfirst. He had spent the entirety of his freshman year pining for someone almost 700 miles away, someone who decidedly didn’t feel the same, if the lack of calls or letters was any indication, so he was ready to get on with his life. Or so he hoped.
Will had hoped things could go back to the way they were with Mike after their discussion on the tower, but after El… Mike shut himself away. Will could sympathize; obviously, Mike had just lost the love of his life, but he lost a sister, Hopper lost another daughter, and everyone else they loved lost a friend. They all found solace in each other, grieving together, but for 18 months, Mike just refused to.
Then they graduated, and they finished their campaign in Mike’s basement. The old person's smell still somehow clinging to the carpet. And Mike told them where their “mage” had ended up. It was a beautiful thing to be able to sit with his friends and believe that his sister was still out there, that maybe she could even be listening. Catching Mike’s eyes across the table, filled with tears and hope, reignited the spark in Will’s chest. The burning ember that never seems to fully extinguish.
Something shifted after that night. They spent the summer together. The days they didn’t spend with the entire party were days when just the two of them would hang out. Spending nights sitting on the basement couch watching their favorite movies, one blanket draped over their laps, thighs brushing, and conversations that lasted long after the credits started to roll, and Karen would have to open the door and shout for them to be quiet. And even then, the talks would continue in hushed tones and giggles as they set up the mattress on the floor that they would both eventually fall asleep on. Will felt like a kid again in the best way possible. Being with Mike again like that somehow made him forget how much time the Upside Down, Vecna, and the Mindflayer stole from him. Those moments fanned the flames in Will's chest, threatening to overpower him every time Mike’s eyes bore into his, or every time Mike would leave his hand on his shoulder, knee, or thigh for a beat too long.
At first, Will felt guilty, storing these little affections that Mike saved just for him away in his mind. But as time went by, it was hard to ignore the fact that Mike was the one initiating the touches, the looks, the conversations. He had finally gotten his Mike back, the Mike he remembered falling for in the first place.
On one of these many nights, in early August, Will could begin to feel the beginnings of sleep creep into the edges of his vision, his eyes growing heavy, and his cheeks sore from a day full of laughing. Will laid on his back, his head turned towards Mike, who was lying on his side, facing him, his arm tucked under his head. Their giggles and quiet banter had slowly trickled away, and they were left with the silence and their gazes. Will watched as something shifted under Mike's soft expression, a sadness that wasn’t there a moment ago. It was barely noticeable, but it was Mike, so of course Will noticed.
“Mike?”
“Mm?”
“Are you ok?”
“Oh! Yes! I mean, yeah. I’m good.” Mike stumbled over his words, probably caught off guard that Will noticed his change in demeanor. Will turned onto his side to better face him.
“Mike, it’s just me,” Mike tore his gaze from Will, suddenly becoming enamored with the shade of yellow of the sheets. “Mike, come on, talk to me.” Will moved his head down to catch Mike's eyes once again. Mike still refused to meet him.
“The day on the MAC-Z, the day El died,” Will felt stunned. He didn’t think this was where the conversation was going, and the party had never referred to El as dead since the day of their graduation. It wasn't something they still considered a possibility. “You know we talked in her mind.” Will nodded his head, afraid that if he spoke aloud, Mike would retreat. “I keep thinking, maybe if I had told her what she needed to hear, she wouldn’t have done it. Maybe she’d still be here if I-I could just, I don’t know, man up, I guess.” Will could feel the heartbroken expression fall across his face.
“Mike, it was never your fault. Never. I doubt anything could have convinced her. El was the most selfless person I’ve ever known, and she thought staying around would be putting us in danger. You know she would have never been ok with that. And you said it yourself, Mike, she can’t be dead if she pulled you into her mind. I believe she’s out there, Mike. Nothing is your fault.” Will’s voice grew louder the longer he spoke, a desperate need for Mike to understand, overcoming any worry that Mike's parents could hear. But despite Will’s words, Mike’s eyes wouldn’t leave the sheets. His voice wobbled as he said,
“She told me she loved me, and I couldn’t say it back.” Mike rolled onto his back, hands covering his face as he sat up and began to cry. “I couldn’t even say it back.”
“Mike, Mike, hey, it’s ok, it’s ok,” Will sat up to match Mike’s position and placed a hand on his back, rubbing small circles as Mike sobbed into his hands. “El knew you loved her, it’s ok.” Mike’s sobs increased. Will wound his arms around Mike's shoulders to hug him. Mike’s trembling frame immediately softened under his touch and finally peeled his damp hands away from his face, only to turn and tuck his face against Will's neck. Will rubbed his back and whispered small comforts as Mike clung to him, I’ve got you, it’s ok, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, I’ve got you, Mike. Sometime after Mike’s sobs turned into sniffles, Will heard him mumble into his shirt.
“Hmm?” Mike pulled away, red and puffy eyes finally meeting Will's.
“I don’t think she knew,” He began hesitantly, “I don’t think she knew I loved her.”
“Mike of cour-”
“No, I- Will, she knew I cared about her, but she didn’t know I loved her. You know?” Will did not know, and the confusion must have shown on his face because Mike shook his head and began again. “I showed her that I cared about her, but I never did enough to show her I loved her, at least not like that. Because- ugh. Because the truth is,” Mike’s hands began to grip Will’s shoulders, obviously frustrated with himself that the words seemingly couldn’t get past his lips. “The truth is, I don’t think I did.”
“What?” Will stared at Mike, bewildered.
“I don’t think I loved her,” Mike exhaled the confession like air leaving a popped tire, fast and painfully. “Or I loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her.”
“How do you know?” Will had hoped his tone wasn’t too hopeful; this was his maybe-dead sister he was talking about.
“Seeing Max and Lucas after everything, an-and being with- around you, kinda put things into perspective, I guess. It looks so easy for them, but it was never like that with me and El. We were both trying so hard to be normal, or at least I was. I was so focused on what a boyfriend should be that I never actually felt like myself when we were together. Not like how I’m myself with you.” His eyes were so intense, and Will began to feel like a deer in headlights, caught under his stare. “And the rest of the party, of course.” Will nods like that was obvious. Because it is. Mike’s dark eyes, the deep black pools they become while shrouded in the darkness, flicked across Will's face, searching for understanding. Will thinks he understands; he hopes he does.
“Mike, I’m so sorry, I wish I’d have known I-”
“No no no, it’s- I’m ok, I just sometimes I wish I had the chance to be her friend, and I wish I could have just put things together sooner so I-” Mike cut himself off before he could begin to ramble, but Will never minded, he loved hearing what was happening inside Mike’s brain.
“So you..?” It was hard to make out in the dark, but Will could swear he saw Mike's face redden, probably out of embarrassment for being called out, Will reasoned.
“I-I don’t know I-” Mike’s gaze suddenly shifted to the spot on Will’s neck and shirt where his face had once hidden, “aw yuck, sorry.” Will’s hand moved to his shoulder and felt the slick skin and damp shirt where Mike's tears, saliva, and snot were drying. Will, in spite of the serious conversation, began to laugh, and soon so did Mike. The rest of whatever Mike was going to say drifted into the night, forgotten, as Will changed into a different shirt and the two entered a debate over whether they should go to the theaters to watch “Weekend At Bernie’s” or if they should just wait until it was in video stores. The last thing Will remembers about that night is lying down on his side, feeling Mike’s tentative fingers brush away a strand of hair that had grown to cover his eyebrow and in that soft voice reserved just for him, “Thank you.”
There were times like the night of Mike’s confession during this summer that Will found himself wanting to tell Mike how he felt, that he was wrong before, Mike wasn’t his Tammy, he was something much much more, and because sometimes the heat and affection in Mike’s stares and the weight of his words and the softness of his voice left Will thinking, he must feel this too. But the fear of losing him, of misreading everything, kept his tongue heavy and throat clogged each time the flame from inside threatened to roar from his mouth. But summer didn’t last forever, and as Mike helped Will pack all of his things into his car, bound for New York, they cried together. Mike held him, then pulled back, his hands moving to grip Will's cheeks and wipe his tears as he promised to call.
He never did. Will sent letter after letter to Mike at Indiana State, but he never got a response. He tried calling, but it always went to voicemail. And when he came back for winter break, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mike, Karen regretted informing him that Mike just couldn’t make the two-hour drive to Hawkins. Never mind the fact that Will’s drive had been 10. Will never go back to Hawkins for another break. That isn’t to say he never saw his mom or Hop, every Christmas they would make the drive and come see Will and Johnathan, and the four of them would celebrate Christmas in Jonathan's 700 square foot apartment. But the summer breaks he spent on Robin's couch, taking up her space and her time, just to avoid the hurt of a Mike-less Hawkins. Mike’s words would echo through his mind, It’s Hawkins, it’s not the same without you, and wonder if Mike still felt that way.
The flame in his chest was thoroughly doused and Will was left longing for a time before he left for school, before he came out, before California, before that awful summer filled with puberty and jealousy, dammit even before he was taken on November 6th. But it was proven time and time again that Mike never really cared about him, not like how he wanted to be cared for. And these three years away at college years had been no different.
So when Carlton entered his life, he was perfect for filling the hole that Mike had left. Will moved into Carlton’s apartment in junior year. They would take the subway together to get to classes and they would go out every weekend to a bar off-campus. They would come home late, stumbling to their bedroom, where in the dark light, and with Carlton’s face buried in his neck, Will could pretend the dark curls he was gripping and the warm body above him was Mike. His Mike. Then Will would wake up with a headache and a crippling guilt.
So Will decided he couldn’t keep using Carlton the way he was. Because Carlton was great, he was kind, thoughtful, and he cuddled Will after every time they found themselves tangled up in the sheets together, but Will still couldn’t find it in himself to love him, and he deserved more than what Will could give him. So he ended things with the first person to ever see him as someone worth wanting, and a weight left his shoulders as soon as the words “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this” left his mouth.
But that only left one problem: Will had been planning on living with Carlton for the summer, but now he didn’t have a place to live, he couldn’t stay in New York for summer break now. He had asked Robin if her offer still applied, but she regrettably informed him that Nancy was actually spending the summer in New York for an internship and her apartment could barely fit the two of them, let alone squeeze Will in. Will asked Max and Lucas, to which they both gave him pitied looks and hesitantly told him that they were going to Florida with the Sinclairs for the majority of the summer.
Thus, Will was left asking if he could catch a ride back with Johnathan to Hawkins. Jonathan had been planning to help their Mom and Hopper finish moving the rest of their stuff over to Montauk for the last couple of months, with the hope that they could officially move by the end of the summer. Obviously, Johnathan agreed, so Will hesitantly called up his mom to ask if he could stay at the cabin.
“Honey, you know I always want to see you, and we could use the extra help. Hop hates to admit it, but I think trying to move the fridge into the truck last week hurt his back. And your room at the cabin is always open.” And that was exactly who his mom was, never pushing for answers as to what could have happened to him and Carlton, just simply welcoming him back home with the promise of four familiar walls.
“Thanks, mom.”
“Will, baby, you know you can always talk to me.” Scratch that, maybe his mom was a little nosy. But who could blame her?
“Yeah, I know.”
“Oh, baby, before you go I forgot to mention that I spoke to Karen and Claudia last week, and they said Mike and Dustin are coming back for the summer too. Sue told me that their family is going to Florida, but you probably already knew that. But it will be sweet to see most of you boys together again. Maybe you could convince them to help move the couch?” Will knew his mom said more, but all he heard was a ringing after the name Mike hit his ears.
“Mike’s going to be in Hawkins?” Will whispered, voice small and fragile as his knuckles grew white gripping the phone. There it was, that ember that can never seem to fully go out, burning his insides, the feeling that always creeps up, despite his better judgment, the feeling of hope, of longing to see Mike again, no matter how many times Mike pushes him away. But this time, there is something else burning alongside it, a determination, an anger. Will deserves answers, and Mike was going to finally give him some.