Chapter Text
For the past two years, Micheal Wheeler hasn't usually let himself feel things.
Obviously, he has feelings. He loves his friends, he likes El, he appreciates his family. But he’s been hiding that feeling for so long that he almost forgot it existed.
Almost.
Mike’s eyes dart from the nervous-but-determined demeanor of El over to Will Byers, who’s sitting next to his mother and bathed in red light from the truck they’ve been in for the past few minutes. He’s oddly quiet, and Mike can’t help but notice the way he pulls his sleeves down over his hands. He always does that when he’s nervous.
He did the same thing in the radio station before. That’s exactly what Mike doesn’t want to think about, but it’s too hard not to.
“And…I had this crush on someone…even though I know. I know they’re not like me…”
Does he, though? Does Will know? Does Mike even know? He can’t quite say he does. All that’s in his mind is the way Jonathan got up and embraced Will after he spoke the terrifying truth. Then Lucas, then Dustin. Mike remembers sitting there in silence for the longest time, waiting to see what the others would think. He knew it was a dick move, not immediately getting up supporting his friend—his friend—and instead sitting in silence like a damn idiot. But a small, selfish part of him ached to see what everyone would think. When a tearful Joyce hugged Will in a way that Mike could only dream and sit and stare and yearn and want not just Will but that love and acceptance that he’s been needing ever since—
The vehicle lurches to a sudden stop, and he realizes he’s been staring at Will this whole time. As everyone jostles from their arrival, Will’s eyes land on Mike, and they lock eyes for just a second too long—
Mike feels a delicate hand on his shoulder, and he turns to see El looking at him with that penetrating but gentle gaze. It’s terrifying, knowing someone who can easily go into your mind, especially when you’re Mike Wheeler.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly, and Mike’s about to lie before he realizes she already knows something is wrong. He wants to tell her everything. He wants to so bad. But that can wait for after they save the world.
Before he can reply, the door opens, and El, Kali, Hopper, and Murray leave the vehicle. Goodbyes are exchanged, and Mike tries not to stare too much when Will and El share a final hug. When El approaches Mike, Lucas mumbles some teasing remark that involves the word “lovebirds”.
El hugs him, though it’s loose and a bit awkward, reminiscent of the hug he gave Will at the airport last year. Even when hugging his ex-girlfriend, his mind is still on Will fucking Byers.
They broke up about six months ago, in private. Neither of them really gave the other a reason why, but they both knew it was best. El wanted to be independent, and Mike…Mike had just made up some lie about not wanting any regrets. But right now, that statement feels truer than ever.
The hug is so short that Mike barely even registers the warmth of her body against his before she pulls away and gives him a final, reassuring smile, though it’s clear she’s trying to reassure him more than herself. He tries to smile back, but all that he can muster is a guilty tug at the ends of his lips.
Once she leaves and the truck door shuts once more, he sits back down, eyes never leaving the metal floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world. His mind is somehow both racing and empty at once, but through the chaos, one question is burned into the forefront of his brain.
Who the hell is Tammy?
The only Tammy he can think of is Tammy Thompson, but what would that have to do with Will? More importantly, what would that have to do with Mike?
As much as Mike hated to admit it, he immediately realized that the "crush" Will had been talking about in the radio station was himself. He honestly hadn't even known that Will was...well, gay. Now he just has no clue as to why Will even likes him.
Mike realized there was something wrong with him on October 23rd, 1985, when the Byers moved away, when El kissed him right in front of Will's closet. What a cruel fucking twist of fate it was, when he realized he felt basically nothing. So he hid it. He hid it from El, from his friends, and from himself. He never really had the words for what his problem was, and didn't even know there were words for it until Will said them himself.
"I don't like girls."
God, why on Earth did he have to word it like that? It's like their argument in the rain all over again. It's like every kiss, every "From, Mike", every stolen glance at the boy who wasn't El are all coming back in a crushing force.
Along with many other things, that was also the moment he realized the truth about the painting. El never commissioned anything. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? God, how oblivious had he been that Will loved him?
Well...that Will loved him back?
He barely even moves when the van stops again, even though this time, they need to get out. As everyone heads out into the Upside Down, he's still trying to keep his thoughts from exploding out of him when he's startled by a voice he's known so well that he's grown to dread.
"Hey."
He looks up at Will's sculpted features. The slope of his hooked nose, the slight ruffle in his overgrown bowl cut, the moles scattered along his face, the hazel eyes he'd stared at constantly before his father told him that he wasn't supposed to look at boys like that. He remembers how Will looked the day before, massacring the demogorgon mere inches away from ending Mike's life. His eyes had gone solid white, his upper lip pulled in a quivering snarl. It's safe to say that Mike had definitely let his mask fall in the way he looked at his best friend that night.
"Hey," he forces out, keeping his voice cold. He's gotten good at pretending not to care. Mike has to pinch his thigh to ignore the way Will's eyes crease in worry.
"You worried about her?" Will asks, and two things hit Mike like a hammer to the chest: the sheer softness in his voice, and the fact that he cares so much about his and El's relationship, even though he likely can tell that they broke up. God, and the reminder of the painting just makes everything worse.
Right now, all Mike wants is to hear that soft voice that he hasn't heard since "Crazy together," but he's not allowed to want that. Not with Will. "No," he mumbles, avoiding Will's gaze as he stands and brushes the dust off himself. "I believe in her." A part of him wants to say “and you”, but instead, he hops off the van and doesn't offer his hand to help Will get down. "She's a superhero."
Will stumbles a little bit after the small jump, and immediately, Ms. Byers rushed to support him. It's adorable, but he pretends not to notice how Will sees Mike's eyes linger over him. He speedwalks towards the front of the group and ends up right between Jonathan and Dustin as they head towards the radio tower.
Climbing up is a physically taxing process, but to him, the worst parts are the resting spots in between, because that gives him enough peace to think. And the last thing Mike Wheeler wants right now is to think about anything.
Somehow, Robin Buckley ends up following him. Mike barely knows anything about her other than that she’s the host and announcer of the Squawk, and that she’s less than appreciative of his music taste. Back at the Radio Station, they argued for hours over what song to pick for the bomb, but eventually compromised on “Heroes” by David Bowie.
He grips the railing tightly when they arrive at a platform halfway up the tower, trying to catch his breath. He’s nowhere near made for this much activity. It’s clear that Robin isn’t either, but that doesn’t stop her from talking. There’s no argument about it: she was made to talk.
“What, you made of stone or something?” she teases. He can hear the smile in her voice, but doesn’t let his eyes go anywhere but the view in front of him. “Thought your girlfriend was a superhero, not Medusa.”
He winces at the word superhero. “You heard that?” he pants, trying to keep it in the simplest tone possible. Just an observation, no panicking, no overthinking.
“Hate to break it to you, Wheeler, but everyone did. Every Byers in the vicinity cringed the moment that word came out of your mouth. You don’t exactly have a way with words, do you?”
That, Robin’s right about. Communication has never been his strong suit. He’s always preferred writing, and though it used to be in the form of creating D&D campaigns for the party, now it shows itself in journaling. Mike started keeping a journal the day the Byers moved away, hiding the small, leather-bound notebook under his bed right beside his binder of Will’s drawings that’s been collecting dust. His entries were nowhere near consistent. Only a small part of it was actually writing about his day, but most of it was his pure, unfiltered thoughts. Those pages usually got torn out and thrown into the wastebasket. Sometimes, he wrote fiction. Scribbling down ideas for a possible future campaign, making characters for his friends, writing letters that he never sent. Letters of apology, of doubt, of something more than friendship. Mike can lead—God, can he lead. He can plan, he can inspire, he can encourage. But he just can’t fucking express himself.
Mike doesn’t answer. He grabs his water bottle from his backpack and takes a large sip, hoping that Robin will eventually get bored of his silence and move on. But if there’s one thing he’s learned about Robin Buckley in these past few days, it’s that she can always turn silence into an opportunity to talk.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that things with you and Wonder Woman aren’t going well?”
He almost spits out his water and chokes for a second. His face is red as he coughs the water out, both from embarrassment and lack of air. “No, no, we’re…we’re fine,” he insists. “We’re fine.”
“For some insane reason, I don’t believe that,” she replies. Mike can’t come up with a good enough comeback, so instead he glares at her as he puts away his water and climbs up the ladder without her.
He hears a faint scoff below him. “The world could be ending in minutes, Wheeler! You’re gonna have to get your act together at some point!”
He doesn’t reply.
When he reaches the top, he sees that Will’s already there. He extends a hand towards Mike to help him up, but he doesn’t take it. Mike forces himself up to his feet as he avoids looking at Will’s expression. Judging by the looks he’s getting from everyone, they’ve already noticed his sudden aversion.
Being this high up gives Mike a sickening memory from four years ago, when he was twelve and looking at the drop from the quarry beneath his feet. He remembers Dustin’s pleading voice from behind him, and Troy’s taunting words. He remembers taking a deep breath that he thought would be his last before stepping off and letting himself fall. Steve starts talking—probably about the plan—but Mike can barely hear him, and before he knows it, everything around him sounds muffled, like he’s underwater.
“Hey, Mike.”
Fear surges through every inch of his body, and his heart thumps like an angry rabbit. Just one mistake. Just one mistake and he’d fall to his death, and there’d be no El to save him.
“Mike?”
His grip on the railing tightens so much that the metal creaks. He doesn’t even notice he’s having trouble breathing until his head hurts and his face tingles, but for some damn reason he just can’t tear his gaze away from the ground below—
“Mike!”
“What?!” He snaps, turning around immediately when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He pauses when he sees Dustin standing there, his expression a mix of startled and worried. “Hey, man…are you okay?”
Everyone’s staring at him. He’s never felt so exposed in his life. The feeling in his face is coming back, and he can tell from the sudden warmth on his cheeks that he was crying. He frantically tries to wipe his tears, but his hands are shaking too much. "I'm fine," he reassures, hating the way his voice cracks. "I'm alright. Don't worry about me."
It takes a few moments for Dustin to believe him, but eventually, he does. “Okay. Just…be careful, yeah? Vecna messes with your mind. We gotta be strong.”
Mike nods, and his breathing finally calms down. Dustin’s hand falls from his shoulder, and he rejoins Steve to communicate with Hopper through the radio. They still have at least a few hours before the Abyss starts to descend, so it’s mainly just status reports and nothing interesting.
It’s strange. Everyone else seems calmer. Mike had seen the tension in Nancy and Jonathan’s relationship for weeks, but now everything’s okay between them. Dustin’s been more rational. Lucas has been happier—obviously, with Max waking up. Hell, even Steve seems content. And Will…Will seems okay. But Mike’s been cursed with the ability to know Will so well that it’s obvious when something’s wrong.
Don’t approach Will. Don’t even look at him.
That was what’s been racing through his mind all day, since that hug last night. Too much touch, too much Will, too much everything. But now…now he doesn’t even know what to think.
He sits against the pole at the center of the platform, trying to keep his gaze away from the edge as everyone starts to prepare. He isn't armed like everyone else, not to mention barely given any functional job. It's almost laughable.
What function would Mike even have anyway?