Chapter Text
“I want more butter on this.”
The man slammed the popcorn on the counter with so much force some of the kernels flew out, falling onto the floor. His hands were gripping the bucket so intensely his knuckles turned white. He was old, somewhere in the fifties, at least judging by the amount of grey and white streaks in his hair. Whatever was left of his hair, anyway. He had a lot of frustration in his eyes, quite an excessive amount just for how much butter is on your popcorn. Will just stood there, staring him into his eyes.
“Sir, I’ve already given you extra butter three times-”
“I said I want more butter,” he said loudly. Will swore he saw spit particles land on the counter as he spoke. The man narrowed his eyes, shoving the bucket further his way until it was practically pushed into Will’s chest.
Will bit his tongue. He cursed him out in every way he could in his head, then grabbed the bucket and turned around without acknowledging the man again.
If a fifty year old wanted to have a tantrum about the butter on his popcorn, then sure, more butter he will get. It wasn’t like he was paying for the butter refills anyway. His manager might comment on the two-extra-servings rule later, but he’ll just pretend to have forgotten. He wasn’t getting paid enough to argue back and forth with grown men who wanted their popcorn to drown in a pool of butter.
It was a Friday evening, and the entirety of Hawkins had decided to spend it at the movie theatre. All of their showings of Eddie Murphy’s Coming to America were still fully booked every evening, even after four weeks, and Will was surprised there were still people left in Hawkins who hadn’t seen it based on the amount of tickets they’d sold. Then there were new movies, like Die Hard, which were just as popular and seemed to be liked by every age group, and by every single one of his friends. Will wouldn’t know though; hadn’t seen it yet, because Sean had been making him work every single evening since it came out earlier that week. Which Will supposed was somewhat his own fault, since he kept accepting each shift thrown his way, but he was here to earn money after all. New York wouldn’t pay for itself.
There was nothing wrong with busy Fridays, if Will wasn’t the only person working the counter. But Lucas had left twenty minutes ago to go pee, so Will was left stranded with a line of people wanting to get popcorn and sodas and a fifty year old butter-addict.
Will let the butter machine run until the butter was about the flow over the edges of the bucket, then turned back to hand it to the man.
“There you go,” he said flatly. “Enjoy your movie.”
He made sure there was no emotion in his voice, his only way to protest the man’s attitude, even though he knew he wouldn’t care.
He peeked his head past the man, trying to find the next customer, when his eyes spotted the same dark red as his own uniform on the other side of the mall.
It wasn’t nearly as busy at Scoops Ahoy as it was at the Starcourt cinema. Will could see Max swinging her scooper around, talking animatedly to Lucas as he leaned over the ice cream cooler. He had that stance he always had when he was trying to flirt with her, way too over confident and try-hard. Will really wondered how that ever worked, especially on someone who was so perpetually unimpressed as Max Mayfield, but Max was leaning forward as well, turned his way, her head tilted in a way that was definitely not dismissive of whatever cheesy line Lucas was reciting.
Will would’ve been really happy for his dear friend and coworker if he wasn’t being borderline terrorized by impatient customers.
His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It was fifteen till ten, which meant Scoops Ahoy was supposed to close in fifteen minutes. And, if Max and Mike were working, they’d be closed ten minutes before that. Max always said it taught customers they’d have to come earlier next time, and that ‘nothing in this life is promised, not even our opening times’. She said she was training them and teaching them important life lessons. They all knew she just wanted to go home, and every minute she could get away with getting paid without working she would gladly take, but their manager didn’t seem to care. Or he didn’t know. Will barely saw him, anyway.
Will pulled the soda lever and watched the sprite fill up an extra large cup. It spilled over the edges slightly, leaving the rim sticky. The woman he handed it to mumbled something about how the line took too long, and then she waved her hand in annoyance when she grabbed the sprite-stained cup, but she had the sour look on her face Will had learned meant he could just ignore whatever they said. They were just grumpy, and ten minutes into the movie they would have completely forgotten whatever they were upset about. Ultimately, not worth his time.
Especially not when Lucas was still busy flirting with Max and the line of customers kept getting longer.
Will held up his hand and motioned towards the line for the next person to come forward.
A boy his age stepped toward. He had a grin on his face that Will usually hated seeing on customers, because it meant they were way too excited about whatever movie they were seeing. If there was anything Will couldn’t do in the middle of this hell-sent Friday close, it was to match whatever energy this boy had.
Then he told Will his order.
“Seriously?” Will asked. His brow furrowed deeply, and in turn, the boy grinned wider.
“Yes,” he said. “Half sprite, half coke,” he repeated, then promptly added: “Please.”
Will tried his best to suppress a sigh. “You want it mixed?”
“I do,” the boy said, nodding.
Will shook his head. “We don’t do that,” he said. “Just… normal drinks.”
“This is a normal drink.”
The boy was smiling fully now, and proudly too, as if Will currently had the patience to keep up with any of this.
“Whatever,” Will decided, holding his hands up in the air. He tried to ignore the pleased look on the boy’s face, because he really wasn’t fond of letting infuriating customers have their way, but he was even less fond of wasting his time. He turned around, grabbing a large cup.
He filled half of it with sprite, and half with coke, and winced slightly at the offputting color it had. He placed the lid on and walked back to hand it to the boy, who was already watching Will so closely Will felt slightly uncomfortable.
“Thank you,” he said, reaching forward to grab the cup before Will even got to the counter.
He didn’t leave.
Most customers barely looked at Will a second time before they were out, running towards their seats. Sometimes, if they were really pissed off, some glares or remarks were added, but that was about it. They didn’t even thank him. But this boy did, and he didn’t seem in half the hurry other customers were. He stood there at the counter, somewhat smug, and reached up to grab a straw. He stuck it through the lid and stirred.
“Alright,” Will said. “Uhm- enjoy the movie.”
The boy made no effort to move out of the way. The line behind him grew longer, and Will was starting to get quite annoyed. Even more than he had been, before.
“Hold on,” he said slowly, bringing the straw up to his mouth. “I just need to taste it, in case it needs to be altered.”
“It’s a soda,” Will said between gritted teeth. “I’m not altering your soda.”
He looked up from his cup, his eyes focussed on Will. “Isn’t the customer always right?”
“It’s fuck-” Will pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. “It’s soda.”
Will was going to quit his job. Genuinely. There was a ringing in his ear, as he stared at the boy for a second and bit his tongue. Behind him some man was complaining about it taking too long, motioning his hands in the air. Will narrowed his eyes, and the boy’s lips flexed into a small smile as he took a sip.
“Well?” Will asked impatiently.
The boy tilted his head and smiled wider. “Give me a second,” he said. He took another sip. He closed his eyes, then after a couple of seconds, nodded deeply.
He looked straight at Will, his eyes focussed. “It’s great,” he said seriosuly, and Will swore he saw him lick his bottom lip. “Thank you-” He looked down, his eyes finding Will’s name badge. “Will.”
Will frowned. “Uhm… sure,” he mumbled. “You’re welcome. Can you get out of the line now?”
The boy looked behind him innocently, as if he hadn’t noticed the amount of other people he was holding up. “Oh Shit,” he mused, turning back to look at Will. “Good luck,” he decided. “See you around, Will.”
Then he left.
Will watched him walk towards the screening rooms as the next customer started telling him their order. He walked slowly, and with confidence, as if he owned the place. As if that was a normal, average day interaction for him.
Will didn't get to see what movie he went into, because someone behind him cleared their throat and two hands slapped him on the shoulders. “Focus, Byers!”
Lucas was already turning to grab a popcorn bucket for the next person in line. Will leaned back and watched him.
“Did you get lost in the fucking bathroom?” He asked, crossing his arms. “Actually, I have an idea: next time just clock in and immediately lock yourself in one of the stalls.”
“I was gone for like, five minutes,” Lucas replied as he scooped popcorn into the bucket.
Will narrowed his eyes and leaned his hip against the counter. “Twenty-five,” he corrected. “And you know I can see you at Scoops from here, right?”
“She has to leave early tonight,” Lucas replied, as if that made it reasonable. “I was just saying bye.”
Which Will couldn’t really argue against, because it wasn’t his fault Lucas was head over heels with Max Mayfield to the point he ignored his other responsibilities, and Will was enough of a hopeless romantic to accept that.
If Lucas got his way, he’d been working at Scoops Ahoy with her, but they all knew that would never happen. They had both gotten summer jobs at the mall at the same time, but Max had been incredibly adamant about not wanting them to work at the same place. She thought Lucas would annoy her too much, and she also said she hated it when couples worked together, and she would not become one of those couples. She got hired at Scoops first, and there was no real reason for Lucas to get a job as well. Max and Will were both trying to save up and get out of Hawkins as fast as possible, but that wasn’t the case for him. Still, when Will mentioned having an interview for a job at the cinema, Lucas jumped on the opportunity and followed him.
Will supposed it was cute. In some teeth-rotting, nauseating way.
They walked to work together and left together every day, and in their breaks Lucas dragged Will over to Scoops Ahoy. Which was the absolute worst choice of lunch food that they could find in the mall, something Will had told him multiple times, but Lucas always defended himself by saying he simply liked ice cream. Which they both knew was bullshit.
But the Starcourt cinema closed at midnight. Apparently they were so incredibly low on employees that Will and Lucas were scheduled to close pretty much every night, much to Lucas’ annoyance. When they first started closing, Max told him multiple times there was no way in hell she would wait two hours for him, and once the clock hit ten and Scoops Ahoy closed its doors, she’d be gone.
At midnight she was waiting in the empty mall for Lucas to come out of the cinema. She told them she waited for Will instead, which was also bullshit.
Mike complained about it every single night, but for some reason he also waited, and then continuously talked about how tired he was as they were leaving. It had become their ritual, of sorts. A ritual that, apparently, wasn’t happening tonight.
“Next time,” Will said as he filled up a cup with lemonade. “Say goodbye in five minutes. I almost crumbled here.”
“Sure,” Lucas smirked. “You seemed very stressed, staring at that guy.”
Will flinched and turned around. “I was not-”
Lucas moved behind him, stretching his arm out to grab a tiny bag of M&M’s. “Oh, thank you so much Will for mixing my soda for me,” he mimicked, wiggling his brows.
Will buried his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he groaned, drawing out the vowels.
Lucas just laughed loudly, turning to help the next customer.
“I bet that was really difficult, having to deal with a cute guy flirting with you,” he mused without looking back. “When are you introducing him to us?”
“I don’t even know him, Lucas,” Will said. He was trying to pour a cherry slushy, but as always the lever got stuck and half of the drink spilled over his hands. They really had to get that fixed.
“But I’m sure you want to,” Lucas sang with a teasing smile.
Will shook some of the red slushed liquid from his hands, waving them in the air to dry. “I am ending this conversation now,” he said.
Lucas didn’t seem satisfied with that answer, and he held up his hand to say something, but it was too busy for him to be able to say anything else. Some twenty-something year old douchebag was snapping his fingers at both of them, trying to shout his order over the counter. Will shot a quick glance at Lucas, who just rolled his eyes before turning around.
It wasn’t not true, because Will had noticed that the guy was cute. But he had learned not to get his hopes up about things like these.
He didn’t have the best track record to begin with, falling for people who were straight, and if manning the food counter of the Starcourt Cinema in the middle of summer had taught him one thing it was that teenage boys could be insanely flirty.
Not on purpose. Never on purpose, actually. They usually thought they were being funny, and it was some kind of power trip. Making jokes, having stupid food requests. They were just trying to be cool. But at seventeen, half of them didn’t have the confidence to actually sound intimidating, and it sounded like some kind of weird, uncharming joke instead. It just confused Will.
But he knew better to think that any of these people were actually hitting on him. This was Hawkins, after all, and if it wasn’t for his brief year in Lenora most of them would still recognize him as ‘zombie boy’. Barely anyone in this town had ever been kind to him. And besides, it was Hawkins. Will wouldn’t be surprised if he was pretty much the only gay guy in the town.
So he wasn’t going to let one small interaction mean anything to him, no matter what Lucas said.
Which, he didn’t say anything more, because they spent the rest of their evening running behind the counter, interacting only by eye rolls and shouting out various orders. By the time midnight approached, Will’s hands were freezing and covered in cherry slushie, the soles of his shoes were plastered with crushed popcorn kettles and Lucas was laying on the counter’s surface, groaning out empty complaints. Will tried his best to wipe the surface besides his head.
“One day, I’m just going to scream at them,” Lucas creaked into his arms. “They scream at me, I scream at them.”
“Sure,” Will said flatly. He brushed some nacho crumbs onto the floor and pushed them under the counter with his feet.
“They’re all adults too!” Lucas exclaimed. “Like, what are you doing getting so mad at teenagers? At your grown age. We are just boys, Will.”
“Can you take out the trash?”
Lucas let out another groan. “Can I take out the trash?” He repeated, mumbling something incoherent flat against the counter afterwards. But he still lifted his head up and made his way to the trashcans, hauling the bag out and dragging it behind him as he walked to the back door.
Their last screening started ten minutes ago, which meant they were officially allowed to close the food counter. Usually, they both tried to get out of the cinema as fast as possible, mostly because Max and Mike were waiting for them, but Max didn’t stay behind tonight and Will doubted Mike waited two hours for them by himself. So he took his time. He didn’t slam the popcorn machine with his usual force and impatience. He didn’t blow the popcorn kettles off the counter, but he actually wiped them onto his palm to throw away. He should be paid more for this additional effort. Employee of the month: Will Byers, who will therefore be granted ten thousand US dollars.
Oh well, a boy could dream.
Lucas had seemed to have gotten all of his complaining out of his system by the time he came back, and they cleaned the rest of the counter in silence.
Lucas had enough energy back when they finished up to launch into some monologue about how terrible the shifts he had gotten for next week were. Will wasn’t listening. Not when he noticed a figure in the middle of the mall.
Mike was sitting cross-legged on the floor. His back was leaning against the Starcourt fountain and he had his head prompted up in his hands. When he spotted Will and Lucas, he threw his hands up.
“Fucking finally,” he groaned, scrambling up. “It’s twenty past twelve, man.”
“Dude, why are you still here?” Lucas frowned, a laugh slipping out. “Do not tell me you’ve been waiting for two hours-”
“Can we just go?” Mike asked. He waved his hands towards the exit. “I’m exhausted.” He turned around, barely granting either of the other two boys another look, then walked towards the door so fast Will had to sprint somewhat to keep up.
Lucas rolled his eyes, but he still followed after him. “Me too,” he agreed.
“Same,” Will parroted.
He felt slightly bad now for taking his time to clean up the place. In his defense, he had no idea Mike had been waiting for them.
He barely understood why Mike and Max waited on normal evenings to begin with, because he was sure they had better things to do that weren’t waiting outside the Starcourt cinema for two hours.
It was nice, though, he wouldn’t deny that.
Max stayed over at Lucas’ often. Lucas didn’t live far, but if it wasn’t for Mike tagging along, Will would still have to walk alone for a good five minutes. He could, if he had to, but whenever he did he did with a pit in his stomach. There was always a part of him that got uneasy when it was dark, and he was by himself. Some unshakable feeling that everything that had happened, and everything that had gone wrong, could all happen again so easily. He didn’t even have to see it coming. A lot could happen in five minutes.
When he first got hired at the cinema, he wasn’t planning on accepting the job. It sounded stupid anytime he tried to explain it to anybody else. It felt so childish, and he hated that he felt like that, but he couldn’t walk back home in the middle of the night by himself for weeks on end. It didn’t matter how well the job paid, or how easy and flexible it was. He couldn’t walk back home alone.
But then Mike got a job at Scoops.
Three months ago the Byers, complete with Eleven and Hopper, had moved into a house two streets behind Mike’s house. It was the best they could find in such a time crunch, but Will and Jonathan had clearly overstayed their time at the Wheelers, and Hopper’s old place was beginning to feel cramped for him, Joyce and Eleven.
His mom had spent weeks calling real estate agencies for hours on end, trying to find something that was both within their price range and also wouldn’t drive them all insane. But half of Hawkins was still being rebuilt, and the other half was too expensive for them. It was one night when Will was sleeping over at the cabin when he overheard Hopper mention they might have to think about places outside of Hawkins.
Two days later they found a house. Will almost cried.
Their new place was too small, and had strange holes in the wall of the living room, and probably a bunch of mice hiding in the walls. But they didn’t care. They hung up pictures to cover the holes, and Eleven, Jonathan and Will didn’t mind their small bedrooms. It was nice, actually, having a place with all of them. It felt right.
Mike walked him to his door every night. It wasn’t necessary, and Will told him that every time, but Mike just shrugged it off. It was no more than five minutes for him, anyway, and he said he liked taking a longer route. He was never as excited to go back home as Will was.
Will would probably never tell him, but he appreciated it more than Mike knew. Or cared for.
It was still hot when they stepped outside, the kind of heat that stayed floating in the air. Will ran a hand through his hair to brush some of it from his forehead, then he fell into place next to Lucas.
“It’s like, each kid wants that unicorn ice cream,” Mike said, clearly annoyed. “And I know those parents know that. So why are you mad at me that we’re out? Maybe come earlier? You’re here every single day and every single day at this time we have no fucking unicorn ice cream left,” he let his head tip back, staring up at the sky. “I swear, there’s no pattern recognition,” he kicked a small stone from the side of the road and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants.
Lucas clicked his tongue. “They don’t care if they’re irrational, man,” he replied. “That’s like, the first thing you learn in customer service. The customer is always stupid, and wrong, and just pissed at whoever happens to be there,” he brought a finger to his chin, tapping as if he was thinking. “Which… oh, that’s you!” He said, pointing towards Mike.
Mike held up a middle finger, and Lucas slapped his palm flat against his chest over his heart, pretending to be hurt.
“Don’t kill the messenger, Wheeler,” he said, shaking his head deeply. “I don’t make the rules.”
“Whatever,” Mike said. “I’m quitting tomorrow.”
They all knew that wasn’t true. Mike said that every evening, and he still came into work the next morning.
Will wasn’t really sure why Mike even applied to work at Scoops Ahoy to begin with. If there was anyone who didn’t have to worry about saving for college, it were the Wheeler kids. So why Mike would willingly wear that slightly embarrassing Scoops Ahoy uniform and sling an ice cream scooper around for spoiled kids and stressed out parents was a mystery to him.
Will had tried to ask him a couple of times, but he always brushed it off. Started talking about something else, or pretended not to hear at all. Will stopped asking at some point.
“Also,” Lucas said then. “I think you’re being too much of a pessimist.”
Mike glared at him. “Would you like to experience Scoops Ahoy on a Friday evening, Lucas? Would you enjoy snotty children and their idiot parents?”
Lucas rolled his eyes dramatically, making a puppet with his hand to mock Mike as he spoke. Mike pushed it away.
“Not all customers are that bad,” Lucas held strong.
“True,” Mike replied. “Some are worse.”
Lucas shook his head “There’s nice ones too, somewhere out there,” he argued. Then he turned his head to look at Will on his other side. “Like the soda guy.”
Will frowned. “He was not nice,” he argued. “He was actually incredibly rude and irritating.”
A grin crept up on Lucas’ face. “No, William, he was pretending to be rude and irritating because he wants to-” then he pouted his lips towards Will and wiggled his brows.
Will opened his mouth to say something, but his brain started buffering. On Lucas’ other side, Mike’s head popped out to look at Will.
“Who’s soda guy?” He asked.
Will shook his head, trying to brush it off. “Nobody,” he said. He waved his hands in the air dismissively. “Just some guy who got a weird soda order.”
“Who was completely flirting with him,” Lucas added excitedly, bumping his shoulder against Will’s with a wide grin.
Mike frowned. “What?” He said.
“He wasn’t,” Will said. “He was being annoying. And Lucas barely even saw him.”
Lucas held up his hands. “Listen, as the only dude here who is actually getting some-“
“Never say that again,” Will winced.
“I know when someone is flirting,” Lucas decided. “And that soda guy was flirting.”
“Is that even allowed?” Mike sounded before Will could defend himself against Lucas’ claims. His voice was flat and cold, and Will’s brain couldn’t help but linger on it. But he forced himself not to, because he knew better. Kind of. Theoretically speaking.
“What?” Lucas asked, half through a laugh.
“Isn’t that like… inappropriate?” Mike shrugged. “Flirting with someone at their work. It’s creepy.”
Lucas considered it for a second, then shook his head. “No, dude,” he decided, “I don’t think it works like that if the other person likes them back.”
Mike stopped straight in his tracks, as if someone pulled him back by the collar of his Scoops Ahoy shirt. His eyes flicked towards Will in a single second.
“You like this guy?” He said bewildered. “What- Will, you don’t even know who he is. He could be some creep or weirdo who-“
“Jesus Christ, Mike,” Lucas cut in, now fully laughing. “Let the man get some. I think this is great, actually. A summer romance-”
“He’s exaggerating,” Will said quickly, turning towards Mike. “He was not flirting with me-”
“Good,” Mike decided.
“Oh Will, your sodas are amazing,” Lucas continued loudly, his voice high-pitched and drawing out the a’s in amazing. “Could you stir me up next time?” He grinned up at Will, reaching out to grab his shoulders.
Mike tensed. “He knows your name?”
Will dodged Lucas’ hands, trying to push him away. “I have a name-tag,” he said, trying to catch Lucas’ hands by his wrist.
“Which he took the time to read,” Lucas prompted, settling for ruffling Will’s hair instead. “Because he was flirting.”
Will rolled his eyes.
Maybe Lucas was right, and maybe the boy had been flirting with him, but Will didn’t really care anymore.
The boy was cute, and he had let himself linger on the what-if of it all for a bit. What if he really was flirting? What if he came back, asked Will out? What if he was actually very sweet and funny and Will actually liked him?
But then Mike Wheeler crept into all those fantasies.
It was unfortunate, really, because Will had put himself in this situation.
He had somewhat known that it wasn’t true, that one afternoon at the Squawk when he, for some reason he wasn’t even sure of himself, decided that he had to put an end to whatever he had been doing. Mike Wheeler was his best friend, and it would always stay like that. He would never leave him, but he would never be anything more to him either. Will knew that. So, for his own sanity, he had to let any remaining sliver of hope go. He had to move on with his life and stop being in love with Mike.
He figured, or hoped, that announcing to all of his friends that he was over whatever crush he had had would help him believe it himself. He was just stuck in one version of how he felt, and he had to remind himself that it could change. That he could change.
For a bit, he might’ve believed it, and it might’ve worked. As if he was putting on some very elaborate play for everyone, that he got so into he started to believe it was real life. But it didn’t last long, because Mike was still Mike, and Will was still Will, and that had always been enough for him to fall. He kept living with the Wheelers, kept seeing Mike at the breakfast table and brushing his teeth in their bathroom late at night. They still shared comics and clothes and looks that he didn’t quite understand.
So Will was still stuck having a crush on his best friend. It was so cliche and predictable Will almost got mad at himself for it.
It hadn’t been as bad as it was before. At least Mike knew now that Will liked him at some point. Sure, he thought Will was over his silly crush, and that they were just friends, but it was something. At least he hadn’t been so weirded out that he stopped talking to him. Next to that, Eleven had broken up with Mike a couple months after everything went down, so Will wasn’t stuck liking someone who was also his sister’s boyfriend anymore either.
Besides, this was nothing new to him. Will was good at pretending he wasn’t in love with Mike Wheeler. He had a lot of practice.
For a while, Will figured everything could be okay. He could learn to live with his crush, and he could learn to live with the fact that it would only ever stay that: an unrequited crush.
But it didn’t stay that simple.
Will didn’t know if he was going crazy, or if Mike was genuinely acting different, but something had changed. Not in a big way, and not in a way that anyone else seemed to notice. Actually, all the changes were so small and slight they made Will feel as if he was losing his mind and seeing things that weren’t really there.
As if he was imagining the way Mike’s voice would turn softer, just slightly, when he asked Will if he wanted to stay a bit longer after the party hung out at his house. As if it was completely normal that he never asked anyone else. As if he was seeing things during movie nights, when he swore Mike spent half the time watching Will instead of the television screen.
As if it was all in his head now, when Mike seemed pissed off by the mere idea of someone asking Will out. He wasn’t sure if he should take it as a compliment or an insult, so he did what always seemed the easiest and safest option and he stayed silent until Lucas started talking about something else. Some movie that would start screenings next week, and something Dustin had said about it. Mike seemed grateful for the change in topic too and launched onto it immediately.
They passed Lucas’ street first. He stopped for a few seconds, finishing the story he was telling Mike.
“Okay,” he said then. “See you, losers,” then he turned Will’s way. “Don’t be late tomorrow.”
Will quirked an eyebrow up. “Tell yourself that.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. He brought two fingers up to his temple and raised them as some kind of salute, then he turned around.
As Lucas ran onto his own street, towards his house, silence settled over the two of them left.
Will felt like he should say something. He wanted to say something, but nothing he thought of sounded right.
Besides, it wasn’t like Mike was saying anything. If anything, he was doing quite the opposite; his head kept down, staring adamantly at the gravel below his shoes. Will wasn’t sure what had happened. Ten minutes ago things were fine. They were normal.
“So,” he said to break the silence. He looked up, watching Mike. “Busy at Scoops today?”
Mike kicked another stone. He shrugged. “Kind of.”
Will nodded, then pressed his lips together.
Whatever, fine, he thought. Don’t speak to me. Be childish about whatever this is, that’s completely fine and absolutely not annoying.
They fell into a rhythm, Mike’s steps slightly slower. Will walked faster on purpose, so they weren’t fully next to each other, because he had to let Mike know that if Mike was being moody and upset, Will could do the exact same.
Will didn’t live far from Lucas’. It barely took them five minutes, and that was usually when they were talking and pausing in their steps. Now, without conversation, Will saw the edge of his house after less than four minutes. He slowed his speed, turning to Mike, who was still staring at the tips of his shoes.
“Uhm- Okay,” Will said. “Goodnight.”
Mike stopped in his tracks and looked up. Will couldn’t see his face properly. It was too dark on the street, and he was a bit too far away. But whatever, Will didn't want to see him, anyway. He was being weird, and annoying, and difficult for no reason. He shifted his weight on his heels, getting ready to turn around, when Mike spoke.
“You’re not coming back?” He asked, genuine enough that it made Will tense up. His hands fell flat along his sides.
Will had never slept well to begin with. He hadn’t when he was twelve and he lay awake at night, his eyes wide open because each time he closed them he was back in the upside down. He hadn’t in Lenora, where his bedroom always ran too hot and the clear sky made his stomach feel weird. He hadn’t when he came back to Hawkins after California, and he still didn’t. Not even when he had seen Vecna’s head roll onto the ground in front of his feet.
If anything, his sleep had gotten worse. Especially now that he worked till midnight most days. He didn’t get nightmares anymore like when he was younger, but he just couldn’t sleep. His mind was too restless, and it didn’t matter how much his bones ached for sleep, his thoughts kept spinning around. He tried his best to tire himself to the point of exhaustion, in the hopes it would finally let his body fall asleep. He had spent entire nights painting, or reading comics, or watching movies. He drank different teas Nancy had given to Jonathan that lay untouched in the cupboard. One night, when it was really bad, he had stolen Jonathan’s weed from a stash he kept in his socks drawer, that they all pretended wasn’t there because he had told Nancy and their mom that he’d quit. It didn’t even help, and then he felt bad for stealing it.
The bags under his eyes grew darker each day and Will was fucking exhausted, but he still couldn’t sleep.
Until he ended up in Mike’s basement.
He didn’t like to admit it, because it was too predictable. Of course he could sleep in Mike’s basement, where it was arguably too hot to relax, and the sofa was definitely not comfortable, especially when sharing it. But none of that seemed to matter to Will, because he still managed to fall asleep on it.
He ascribed it to the mere presence of another person. Usually Mike fell asleep first, and maybe something about someone else sleeping in the same conditions Will found himself in showed him that he could fall asleep, too. That’s what he tried to convince himself of, anyway.
He wasn’t sure anymore how it had started. Sometime in the beginning of summer, after one of the first times Mike had walked him home. Mike had just stood there, in front of Will’s house. Then he said something about how he wasn’t really tired yet, and Will said he wasn’t either.
Ted and Karen were out of the town for the weekend, so Mike had suggested that if they couldn’t fall asleep anyway, they might as well make use of their night and go back to his house to watch a movie they’d been talking about. Will knew he wasn’t going to fall asleep anyway, so he agreed.
Fifteen minutes later they were in Mike’s basement with an overflowing bowl of microwaved popcorn and the television volume turned up all the way, because Holly and Nancy were heavy sleepers anyway. They watched half of the movie before Mike fell asleep with his head tipped back against the sofa. For some reason, Will’s body decided that, for once in his life, this was an acceptable place to fall asleep as well.
It had become somewhat of an extension to their ritual.
Mike and Max would wait. Max would go home with Lucas, and Will would trail along after Mike. He knew it wasn’t the best decision he could make, but he was also tired, and until he found a different way to make himself fall asleep, Mike’s basement was his only option.
There was one night where he told Mike he slept better there than in his own bed. It only happened once, and he wasn’t even sure if Mike understood how much he had meant it when he said it. He told some half-lie about how his house was cramped, and busy, and his mom and Hopper stayed up late. The walls were thin enough that he could hear them talk in the living room, and that was enough to keep him up at night. Mike didn’t ask him why the noise from the movie didn’t seem to bother him.
Whatever. It was a survival mechanism. Will just wanted to sleep.
And it didn’t happen each night, because Will wasn’t completely out of his mind.
Not to mention he wasn’t going to just go back to Mike’s now, when he’d been a sulky loser for the past ten minutes. Will had some self-respect.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said, because he couldn’t simply say no.
Mike didn’t respond, which made everything even worse, and Will wasn’t sure if he felt annoyed or guilty anymore.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked to salvage something.
Mike opened his mouth, but it took a few seconds before he spoke. “Yeah,” he mumbled, somewhat distracted by something Will couldn't quite grasp.
Will nodded. “Twelve to six,” he said.
“Me too,” Mike replied.
“Okay.”
Mike didn’t move, which meant Will had to. He held up a weak hand and moved in a way that was supposed to be a wave. He didn’t let himself see Mike’s reply; he turned around and made his way up towards his door before he could.
He didn’t think about how Mike had looked when Lucas brought up the stupid soda dude. He didn’t think about how quiet Mike had been after. He didn’t think about the fact that he could, if he was fast, still run back outside and tell Mike he changed his mind.
For a whole of two minutes. Then he collapsed onto his bed and screamed in his pillow.