Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Will didn’t expect to find a queer book in the Wheelers’ basement. He didn’t know how it ended up there, but he was almost grateful to have found it. It was a Sunday morning, and everybody was asleep. Jonathan was sleeping in Nancy’s room, so the basement was empty. He didn’t know how he woke up early, but he didn’t feel like sleeping anymore. Boredom was killing his sleeping schedule. It was also because he had another nightmare about monsters, and he couldn’t shake that cold feeling. The only thing that could keep his mind off his terrors was drawing, but when he reached out for his sketchbook, his hands could only find emptiness.

Weird, he thought. 

Usually, he slept with his sketchbook under his pillow, since it was faster to grab it after having a nightmare. Drawing things that scared him helped him feel like he wasn’t going crazy. And lately, he felt crazy enough. 

But his sketchbook wasn’t there, and not only was he scared, but he was also bored as hell. He searched everywhere for it, but he didn’t exactly find his sketchbook. He found a book. It wasn’t new, and it had its cover ripped out, almost like its possessor didn’t want to be seen reading it. The spine was broken, and probably the book was read multiple times. Will didn’t feel intrigued by this anonymous book, but he found it curious how a book could be perfectly hidden under a missing tile, which was covered by the couch he was sleeping on. Why hide a book? 

The first page was blank. But the second revealed the title: ‘Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin’. 

And since he was bored, he started reading it. 

‘I stand at the window of this great house in the south of France…’

Or he tried to. Because as soon as his eyes lit up in realisation, his hands burned like they touched something unholy. There. Twenty-seven words. Words that were supposed to be hidden in every lifetime. Ink that felt like it was screaming at him out of spite. 

His eyes widened.

‘This is the lie which I told to Giovanni, but never succeeded in making him believe, that I had never slept with a boy before. I had.’ 

Will closed the book with a loud thump. His heart was pounding, as if it wanted to escape his body. His body wanted to throw the book as far away from him as possible. His mind was empty of words; the only words that echoed were I had. I had. I had. I had. I had. I had. I had. 

I had never slept with a boy before. I had.

He stared at the book as if it could burn if he glared at it enough. How did such a book come into that house? Under his couch? Where did he sleep every night? It felt like a personal attack. And maybe he wasn’t ready to deal with it at 7 am. He needed to eat. Or to stop reading that thing. 

Breakfast with the Wheelers was uncomfortable, because all Will could think about was who exactly read in their free time a book about a gay man? There were only a few suspects. Ted Wheeler was definitely not a suspect, unless he read those kinds of books when he was younger. Right now, not only was he still at the hospital, but he also usually spent time reading the newspaper or watching TV. Holly was too little to read such a book. That only left Karen, Nancy, Mike, and Jonathan. 

His brother could definitely read this book, but it wasn’t annotated with his handwriting. Also, the hiding spot was something only an owner could know about. It was too secretive. 

He knew Mike like the back of his hand, and those annotations weren’t definitely in his handwriting. A small part of his heart hoped the book was his, not only because it showed some interest in his kind of love, but also because that could be a sign. But signs died after the end of his monstrous past. He accepted it, and he needed to get over his best friend. Hope was not something he wanted to mess with. Not anymore. 

Honestly, that morning, he often thought about Karen Wheeler reading that book, and he lied if he said that fantasy wasn’t appealing. That woman was a dilemma. Her whole appearance was a mask, and that only left questions within himself. Who was the real Karen? Was she only a daughter of God, or could she also hide such terrific sin? 

He didn’t cross out that option. 

Nancy was his first suspect. Not only was the handwriting feminine, but he also couldn’t remember what her handwriting was like. He didn’t know her like Jonathan or Mike. It made sense for her to read provocative literature and something that could be banned in Hawkins. She was almost perfect, but under her great cover, a rebel lived in her. 

The only problem was breakfast. How could he look straight at their faces and not blush at the thought of them reading something so similar to him? Even though he didn't keep reading the book, he stopped after realising that it was a queer book. He didn't even read the annotations, since his thoughts started running in his mind with questions and shock. 

He felt seen, even though nobody knew his identity, except for his family. He still remembered the fear he felt when he told his mother, his brother, and his sister about him, before killing Vecna. They were looking at him truly for the first time, without speaking in code or not knowing at all. They accepted him; his sister was mostly confused as to why loving could be wrong, yet this vulnerability accompanied him everywhere he felt their presence. That only made the situation more real, and he had a strange habit of dissociating from reality. Suddenly, he had to grasp the world around him.

What if Nancy or Karen read that book and thought of him? The queer of Hawkins. He could already envision Karen’s knowing glances and then telling him to stay away from her family, from her house, from her son. Nancy could break up with Jonathan, thinking that sinning was in their blood. After all, their father was rotten; would that really be impossible for Will to become like him? He couldn’t do that to Jonathan, even though he wouldn’t fault him for that. 

But other than fear, there was also curiosity that pressured his brain. Why were they reading that book? Could they be like him? It was too impossible to imagine, and he already felt bad for thinking that cruel possibility. No one was like him. Except Robin. But Robin wasn’t messed up like him. 

“Will, do you want some?” 

He almost jumped out of his chair when Nancy looked at him with a plate of bacon in her hands. She was gentle, and he was looking at her as if she could be queer. 

But before he could open his mouth to answer her, someone put a plate full of pancakes in front of him. He widened his eyes when he caught a familiar hand holding the plate. The hand had long fingers, dirty with black ink, almost as if the person had pressed his words with force on the white paper. He often dreamt of that hand holding his, ignoring how he stopped feeling the warmth of it after years of growing and leaving childhood behind. 

“I made this,” Mike told him, while still hovering behind his back. Then he moved to the sink to wash the dishes his mother had put there after eating breakfast. He didn’t mention how absurd that situation was, but just glanced at him once, almost to make sure that Will had noticed his pancakes. 

Nancy snorted, looking at her brother, puzzled. “You cooked?” 

“Yes, Nancy. Someone had to,” he replied with his know-it-all tone. 

“I literally prepared breakfast for all of us.”

“I know, I was there.” He shrugged, glancing back at Will for the second time. “But you know, Will prefers a sweet breakfast more.”

Will, in fact, preferred a sweet breakfast more. But why did Mike have to notice and cook for him? He still looked at his best friend as he grew three heads. And he tried not to feel warm at his words, but how could he when the smell of that gentle gesture was so appealing? He almost forgot the queer book. 

Nancy was staring at his plate, and suddenly her eyes widened like they knew something no one else knew. She stopped eating for two seconds, and Will feared she could sense his inability to hide his red cheeks. Then she continued eating her toast, as if nothing had happened. “Oh, okay.”

‘I had never slept with a boy before. I had.’ And there it was, that thought that wouldn’t leave his mind.

His suspicion returned, unfortunately. Did she know about his feelings? When Robin found out about his crush, he almost died at the thought of being caught in that atrocious act. But then she reassured him, saying that she just considered that option because they were the same, so she knew what signs to search for. But probably the others didn’t consider the option of him truly liking his best friend as more than a friend. Sometimes he felt like it wasn’t true, since he was called for what he truly was since he was a kid. But then he also knew that they just hated what was different from them. Or at least he tried to remind himself that, because falling down the spiral of self-hatred wasn’t sane. 

Yet, it made sense, Nancy knowing about him if she read those kinds of books. 

“Just that? Just okay? Don’t you have anything mean to say?”  

Will didn’t even notice Mike’s scowl, too busy picking up signs and everything that pointed at Nancy reading Giovanni’s Room. Maybe she wasn’t close-minded like her family, and she accepted queers too, just like his brother. That's probably why they were together. Also, she was friends with Robin, so that had to mean something. But just a second ago, he was opting for her homophobia; maybe he was already spiraling. 

“Maybe don’t try to poison Will, but I wouldn't consider that mean at all.” Then she picked up the newspaper that had arrived just that morning, and started reading while still enjoying breakfast. Will could feel her interest from there, so he couldn’t ignore that sign. She was a reader. 

“I swear to God-”

“Who made pancakes? I could smell them from upstairs.” Jonathan arrived in the kitchen, interrupting the siblings’ bickering. Before Nancy could answer, his brother sat near her and kissed her temple. 

Will stopped staring and remembered his breakfast. Maybe eating could stop his mind from wandering into forbidden thoughts. He slowly stabbed a piece of pancake with his knife, and looked at it like it was a fairy offering, so enchanting to forget about time's existence, and stop him from returning to his earthly body, aiming to be allured by Mike’s creation. 

He should stop reading fairytales with Holly. 

“Me.”

Jonathan cursed Mike and then tried to warn his brother. “Will, don’t eat it! It’s probably poisonous.”

But it was too late, Will was already chewing his breakfast. 

“Thank you, Jonathan!” Mike finished washing the dishes and then turned to glare at Will's brother. Then he shifted his attention to him and placed both of his hands on his hips while waiting for his reaction. He probably wanted to prove them wrong. 

As the sweet taste touched his tongue, he could already feel his human mortality slip away from him. Or it was his inability to look at Mike’s gestures without feeling like he was placing a spell on him. He sensed a strong taste of cinnamon, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing at Mike’s eyes, almost asking how he knew he loved it so much. But Mike’s eyes were already satisfied, because Will’s smile had appeared on his lips. He swallowed and then continued eating the rest of the food. 

Jonathan was also watching Will’s reaction. “I can’t believe it…”

“Why is that so hard to believe? Even though I prefer kissing a Demogorgon over seeing Nana, she really taught me how to cook.” Then rolled his eyes, “Nancy, you could learn from her, too.”

She scoffed. “As if.”

“No way you didn’t burn the whole kitchen,” his brother said while pushing himself from his seat to take a piece of pancake with his fork. “I have to try it.”

Will wanted to stop him from eating Mike’s breakfast, feeling like he needed to keep it to himself. But he couldn't.

Mike didn’t possess the same gentleness. “Wait-”

“For my brother’s sanity,” Jonathan swore with amusement, before taking in his mouth the fork. Even Nancy had stopped reading her newspaper to stare at them. He looked at her with a fake panicked look. “Fuck, Mike actually knows how to cook?”

Mike tried to stop his sister, too, but she was faster than him. And after eating his pancakes too, she frowned. “Why are they good?”

“I told you.”

Will snorted. 

Mike never stopped looking at him, but his stare intensified when Will continued eating. “So, you like it?”

Will didn’t want to embarrass himself by turning into a tomato, so he just nodded. 

“Good.”

He still couldn't believe Mike’s gesture. Their friendship has always been like this. When they were younger, they truly lived for each other. Mike saw him. Will saw him too. He always cared for him, it showed in his interest to make sure Will was okay after a nightmare, or that his arms weren't bruised after a fight with his dad. He couldn't imagine a day when he wasn't safe with Mike. 

But then everything changed. 

He didn't know exactly what happened between 1984 and 1985, or maybe he did know, but the truth always hurt more than lying to himself; Mike changed and stopped caring like he always had.  

Sleepless nights were endless, summer's days turned into cold months, and friendship started to look like dust. He let him face his nightmares alone. And maybe Will didn't fault him for that, Mike wasn't like him. He knew that. But why did the letters stop? Will always knew he was alone in this; he never expected Mike to see him for what he truly was. But they always talked; their friendship was always deeper than that. He didn't lose Mike as a lover; he never had him like that, but he lost him as a best friend. 

After California, things were different. Mike was present for him, right there where he needed him, but his mind was elsewhere, where Will couldn't reach it. He spent days wondering what had happened, what had changed. He never got an answer. Even though he waited for the avalanche. 

God, he was so stupid. 

He needed to get his shit together; he couldn't always wait for him like a madman. He cursed himself for waiting. Normal boys didn't wait because they knew to accept that the world wasn't built for them. He was the outsider. Robin was the outsider. She was lucky enough to find her outsider as well. 

But luck always spat on him. 

Yes, a monster died in him. But maybe it wasn't Vecna, the real monster. 

I had never slept with a boy before. I had.

Yet he thought of this last month. He could feel Mike's mind everywhere. They were suddenly existing at the same time, without erasing their past. They ate breakfast together, and they saw Max together. He still let himself wonder what had happened, what had changed?

But Will stopped hoping. 

“What’s ‘march fresh start’?” Nancy asked, while chewing her pen. She finished eating and was now looking at the last page of the newspaper with furrowed brows. “Oh, easy. Spring equinox”

Jonathan leaned towards her, squinting his eyes, probably thinking about some word. They always worked together on her crossword. “‘Epic adventure tale’? Ten words." 

They looked at him as if he would know the answer. He hated crosswords.

"It's definitely The Odyssey.”

 “Definitely,” Will mocked Mike. The boy in question threw him a napkin, but he moved away to avoid it, laughing. 

“Do you want to stay here and mock me, or do you think you should get ready?" 

Will rolled his eyes, but he got up. It was already late because he had lost time searching for his sketchbook. He didn't find it, and weirdly, he didn't lose his mind. It was caught elsewhere. 

"Can't believe today your brother is the late one,” Nancy commented to his brother. 

“Can't believe today your brother cooked breakfast." 

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

Every day, the Party met in front of Hawkins’ Hospital. 

They could finally move on from the Upside Down, but happiness soon wore off. They had to pick up the broken pieces that were left at their feet. Will always liked to imagine his life without monsters catching him, but he didn't expect to be faced with this suffering in silence. Max had to deal with the coma she had been in for months. Ted was on the verge of death. Karen couldn't talk, but she was at least out of the hospital. Jane didn't know if she could step outside the cabin. And there were so many scars to heal. Everything was a mess. 

But they had to start somewhere. So they visited Max and Ted every morning. Mostly Max. 

“Can you stop?" 

Will looked over his friends, where they were seated in the waiting room, only to find Lucas glaring at Mike. 

“It's 8 am." Lucas closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. “Please." 

Mike didn't stop bouncing his leg; instead, he stood up and began walking back and forth in front of them. He wasn't the late one that morning, but his curly black hair was a mess; he probably ran his hand through it multiple times. He was wearing a blue navy sweater, with black jeans, and his usual Converse. They were the same clothes as yesterday. 

"What's his problem?” Dustin whispered to Will. 

He really had no idea. In the morning, he was calm, almost happy after cooking, and now he was spiraling. He looked like Will's mind. But it was Will the one who woke up with a shocking surprise. 

"Why are you asking me?”

"I don't know, maybe because you live together?" 

His mother had finally started looking for a house to live in, but they were still trying to fix the Upside Down’s mess, so they kept living with the Wheelers. Jonathan didn't mind it. Will, on the other hand, craved for a room that wasn't intoxicated by Mike's perfume. He was supposed to get over his feelings, but it was impossible if they lived together. 

"I don't live in Mike's head.”

Lucas looked as if he were ready to argue. 

“I can hear you," Mike snapped. " You know that, right?”

"That's the point.”

Mike sat down and then started pacing again. It was a cycle that didn't stop until visiting hours finally started. He looked worse, though; he kept biting his lip torturously, and Will swore he saw a drop of blood on it. 

Had Mike and Max fought?

When they entered, they found Max sitting by the window, with a Walkman on her lap and her headphones around her red hair. She looked calm this morning. He really hoped his two friends wouldn't argue. 

Lucas was immediately at her side, and she paused her music. Will smiled when he saw that she was listening to The Cure. After waking up from her coma, she confided in him that Kate Bush was almost tormenting her with memories. He felt her words deep in his bones. He loved The Clash, but it was still hard to forget their haunting voices. So he offered some of his mixtapes, the ones his brother made for him. 

Soon they started talking like they always did, Dustin complained about Steve, and Lucas told her about Will's embarrassing fall down the stairs. 

“It still hurts!" He almost shouted, laughing at their friends' faces. " I'm not the dramatic one.”

Then Max looked at Mike. They all noticed his silence. “What's up with you, Wheeler?” 

Mike didn’t answer her; he looked lost in his thoughts. Will would pay to hear how his mind worked for once in his life. He spent too much time wondering about that. His legs kept bouncing, and his hands were fidgeting uncontrollably. His habits were showing, and Will didn’t know how to make him feel better. He had the urge to place his hand over his knee. That worked when they were little. 

Lucas and Dustin looked at each other. 

“Mike!”

He still didn’t open his mouth; instead, he glanced at the door, almost like he wanted to run away. 

Will was starting to be concerned. He didn’t look like that since before the end of their supernatural lives. He had to step in. “Mike?”

He finally looked up, his dark eyes met his, and Will felt uneasy being under his panicked glance. 

“Everything all right?”

At first, he kept eye contact, and he opened his mouth, as if he wanted to spill all his secrets. Mike’s cheeks flushed when he heard Dustin open the door, then he looked around and found the other four eyes staring at him. He probably remembered they weren’t the only people in the room.  “What?”

“Definitely not,” Max commented. 

Will thought of saying something, but then Mike stood up, and words were lost on him. He immediately understood his typical pacing; it meant Mike was anxious about something. What could have possibly happened? At first, he thought of his sister, but they seemed fine only last week. It had to do with Max, because he looked guilty. 

“Sorry,” he blurted out, his tone increasing in volume. “I- Sorry.”

“What are you on about?” Max arched an eyebrow. She didn’t look concerned like Will; instead, she smirked. He was confused. Their relationship was so weird. 

“Can we- Can we talk?” He didn’t look at his friends; he only kept his stare steady on Max. Then he went to pick her cane, not waiting for her answer. In a minute, they were already out of the room. 

Will and his friends stayed silent for some seconds. 

“What was that?” Dustin laughed nervously. So he wasn’t the only concerned one, Will noticed. 

Lucas didn’t share their surprise. He brought his leg close to his chest and rested his chin on top of his knee. He resembled a man who was accustomed to their strange behaviour. At first, he seemed as if he didn’t want to talk about it, but after glancing at the floor, he opened his mouth. “It’s their thing.”

Will’s confusion wasn’t fading away. “Their thing?”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah.”

“They have a thing?” Dustin asked. “Max and Mike? Our Max and Mike?”

Lucas’ eyes widened. Then he stifled a laugh. “No! Dustin, what the hell?”

“You said-”

“We’re literally dating!”

“Why are you acting like I’m stupid? You formed it wrong!”

“You’re slow, man.”

“Dude-”

Will rolled his eyes. “Guys.”

Finally, they stopped arguing like children. He knew Max and Lucas were dating, so he wasn’t concerned about that, but he still wanted to know why Mike was in a trance, and Max seemed to know about it. 

Lucas exchanged a glance with him, and he seemed to understand his perplexity. “They’re closer,” he explained, like that would dissolve all their confusion. After he and Dustin stayed in silence, he sighed. “After Max woke up… She wasn’t well, and she let me be her support, but Mike was the only one who seemed to get her. She opened up to him, or that’s what she said. She didn’t go into details, you know her.”

That made sense. He knew they were spending more time together. Usually, they stayed at the hospital all morning on the weekends, but after lunch, Mike always came back, right when Lucas decided to go home to rest. He never thought that much about it, since he tried to spend less time with him. 

“I don’t know much about it, but he makes her talk. I think that when you were in California,” Lucas looked at him, “they were really friends.”

Dustin moved closer with his chair, as if he wanted to share a secret. “Yeah, that’s true. Once I went to Mike’s, and she was in his basement.”

Will snorted. “You make it sound like he killed her.”

They laughed. The air was clearer, but still Will asked himself why Mike was so distressed.

“Maybe? No, but seriously,” Dustin's smile wore off. “Are they okay?”

Will's heart softened at Dustin's words. The Party was almost like a broken record; they could still hear lyrics and melodies, but their dynamics weren’t perfect anymore. Was growing up the cause of that? Or was it the Upside Down that found a way in their friendships and decided that it wasn’t a safe space anymore? So many things happened, and they didn’t have time to fix all their problems. But now they had time, and Will could see in Dustin's eyes that he was trying to be better for them. He never blamed him; grief looked heavy on him. But Mike often argued with him about it. About Eddie. But Will noticed how his friend didn’t let himself get attached to his other friends, and even Steve was lost. 

One day, he even came up to them to ask them about Dustin, but the boy didn’t talk to them either. 

That evening in Mike’s room, his best friend 9had complained about how Eddie was Mike’s friend too. He would understand better than anyone. But it was clear to Will that Dustin didn’t want to face his death. They waited for him to open up. He never did.

They didn’t need to run after monsters anymore; it was their feeling that were catching up to them. 

“Max will slap Mike, and maybe he will come to his senses,” Lucas smiled. He was so sure of it. 

“I'm surprised she hasn't killed him yet." 

" Maybe she was the one hiding his corpse in his basement,” Will added to his point. 

Lucas was right. 

Max looked smug when they came back, and Mike was relieved. He was okay, and Will was silently grateful to have spared his mind for only some minutes the freedom not to start thinking about the book again. He almost wanted to ask Mike some questions, but he didn’t want to risk losing himself in his eyes. He was really trying. 

“Do you have to go now?” Max whispered to Mike, and he nodded. 

“You’re going already?” Will found himself asking his friend. 

He didn’t look at him. “I have something to do.”

He didn’t wait for his answer; he said goodbye fast enough and then bolted out the door. 

Will was still confused. 

After some hours, Dustin too decided that he needed to work on a science project, so he left. Will decided to eat lunch with Max and Lucas, since Mike had disappeared, and he didn't want to go to his house alone. Max seemed better that day, her cheeks were flushed from laughter, and her hand never left Lucas’. 

Vecna's curse didn't leave her intact. Even though she started moving pretty fast, leaving the wheelchair behind, she couldn't say the same about the cane. It was two weeks ago when they told her she would never gain her sight again. Will could see the world crumbling over her shoulders in the way her smile dropped. Sometimes he feels like she will never be the same, Max. Or maybe she was never the same after Billy's death. 

He knew the feeling. Will Byers died that cold night in 1983, and he was never the same. But he saw how much she tried never to give up. He couldn't say the same. 

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

Jane was sitting on her bed when Will entered her room. She wasn’t actually sitting; her legs leaned against the wall, and her head hung from the bed, but when she saw him enter, she immediately sat like a normal person. They only saw each other the day before, but she still jumped from the bed to hug him. 

Still, she didn’t wait for formalities. “How was Max?”

“You would know it if you came,"  he said gently, while pressing a kiss to her hair. Even though he wasn't the taller of the party, he still hovered over her. 

"Can we not talk about this?” She slowly pulled away from him. For a minute, he questioned if she was angry at him for having said that, since she probably heard that comment all day, but then she smiled. "Just for today?”

How could he say no to her? 

"What do you want to do?”

She smirked. 

"Can we talk shit about boys?” She asked innocently.  Someone would think that after coming out to her sister, she would want to talk about how beautiful men are. Instead, she wanted to insult them. It was definitely Max’s conditioning. 

He rolled his eyes. 

She didn't wait for his answer and took his hand, dragging him over the bed. They fell on it together, and then she placed his head on her lap. 

"First of all, why do they always smell bad?” 

He opened his mouth to argue, but he was stopped by her ranting. 

“Max told me that sometimes they don't even clean themselves after peeing,” she gestured as she spoke. "Is that true?”

She didn't let him answer. 

"That's disgusting. But you know what's more disgusting? Them expecting me to do what they say! I love Hop, but seriously, why do I need to make him coffee? I don't even know how to make coffee!" 

She didn't stop talking until she was out of breath. She looked at him as if he would agree with her immediately, but he didn't even have the time, because she started talking again. 

"And you know what? They're also so stupid! Are they constipated or something? I hope it's the right word because I just learnt it the other day,” she explained, not remembering that he taught her that word. "Like, do you think they do it on purpose? They can't be that stupid! They don't even let themselves feel emotions. That's depressing." 

He wondered what exactly happened to make her explode like this. 

“I'm just confused all the time when they open their mouths. Are we really different species? Do boys feel threatened by girls?" 

This time, when she closed her glossy lips, she waited for his answer. She clearly wanted to hear his opinion. He was speechless. He heard this conversation multiple times with Max, but he didn't know what to actually think. 

"Probably?” 

" Why is that a question? You're a boy,” she said simply. 

“I don't feel threatened by girls," he started saying. “Wait, sometimes they scare me." 

She furrowed her brows. She was really listening to what he was saying. She always did. " Why?” 

He didn't know how to explain that every time he looked at something feminine he would remember everything he was and wasn't. What they could have, and what he couldn't. 

At some point, Will even felt jealous of his male best friends, who could have a normal life, living without sick needs, whispering sins in his head, loving girls, and finding devotion in the feminine. Women were pretty, they were almost divine, so sacred that he couldn’t love them. He was only a mortal atheist, and how could he even expect to worship their souls and their grace? 

Yet he tried. 

One day, he found himself looking at the most beautiful girl in the school. She reminded him of a knight, one he would read about in his favorite bedtime stories, with her sharp traits and her bold attitude. Her laugh was loud, fearless, and he could only admire her brave heart. She looked like a Bowie song, portraying masculine virility and feminine sparkle. He almost wanted her blonde shaggy haircut. 

But then he understood. Among all the beautiful girls he could find in the school, the prettiest really was the androgynous one? Yet Will stopped believing in coincidences at twelve years old. 

But he wasn't only jealous of normal boys. It was more than that. Girls could have what he had always dreamt. They could love drawing without being ashamed of colors. They could taste their tears without hearing screaming about how they weren't boy enough. They could picture themselves holding hands with boys, and exchanging vows and kisses. They could love boys. 

That narrator came back to bite him. 

‘I had never slept with a boy before. I had.’

He wasn't a girl. But he also wasn't a normal boy. 

“I think that sometimes, when you're a girl or a boy, people have expectations,” Will tried his best not to sound like he was on the verge of tears. He wasn't. "And that's scary, because you can't have an opinion on what you actually want to do.”

When he said that, she glanced at the Bowie poster he had gifted her. That's how he knew she could always understand what he felt. Even though she liked different kinds of music, she always welcomed his taste with open arms. 

"Sometimes this leads us on different planets,” he explained his thoughts while stroking her brown hair; it was wavy from braids. “Don't you think?" 

He always had male friends, but when he met Max and Jane, everything changed. Then he learnt to live with a sister for the first time. It didn't make the jealousy better, but he also started to understand that while he wanted to be like them, sometimes they wanted to be like him, too. 

Maybe the world wasn't meant for either of them.

“This relates to what Jonathan was saying the other day, right?" 

“What was he saying?" 

“About what's considered feminine and masculine." 

Of course, Jonathan would say that, he thought. 

“Yes." 

She took his hand, noticing how this subject was just as heavy for him. “It's stupid." 

“It is." 

He felt warmth at her words. He knew that she was often left confused at how society worked, and to be honest, sometimes when she spoke out loud, her puzzlement was contagious. She asked so many questions, and that made him think about how the world looked through her eyes. It didn’t make sense. 

Will’s mind imagined a world where they were connected by blood, where every time his dad screamed at him, he only needed to grasp his sister's hand and know that only because he hovered over him with big words and strong opinions, it didn’t make them true. Jonathan was his safe place, but Jane was different just like him. They only needed to believe in each other. 

“You can be masculine and feminine with me," she offered, placing her hands over his face, touching his skin like it was made of gold.  

He then nodded, feeling his wrongness slip away from him. 

After a moment where he analysed her words, a thought stuck with him. " Wait, so you talked about this with Jonathan?” Maybe the queer book was meant to haunt him all day.

“I already told you that.”

“Yes, but-”

But if Jonathan had that conversation with her, it could lead to Nancy. Maybe he inspired her to read Giovanni’s Room, or maybe it was his, and he let her read it, let her read a piece of him. But then why did Jonathan never talk about it with him? He always shared his interests. That’s also why it makes sense for Nancy to be inspired by him. Without Jonathan, Will probably wouldn’t see the world as he sees it. Jane was lucky to be part of their family. He knew that they were always judged by other conservative families, but his brother never cared. 

He was a freak. And he taught him how to be it too. 

It all started with music: the only illusion of salvation he could’ve found. Jonathan made him listen to his favourite bands, and he saw so many different worlds in them. At least someone was like him. It was the perfect illusion. And so many artists criticized the performed conformity requested to participate in their society. With their words, he could be himself, without hiding or pretending to be someone he wasn’t. 

And that was how his life changed. Yes, that was it: finding non-conformism in music. All thanks to Jonathan. 

“Nancy was there too.”

Will felt something like hope sparkling in him. “Nancy?”

“You know how they’re always together.”

“What did she say?”

Jane shrugged. “What she always says, how girls can be manly too, and that we’re all the same.”

She said that girls can be manly. That’s another sign. 

“Can you paint my nails now?” She asked, showing him her bad attempt at drawing stars over her purple nails. 

“Sure.”

They went to the kitchen, since it was empty, and the table was more comfortable. 

In the last year, his mother would often stay at the cabin with Hopper, but now that Karen had to heal properly, and Ted was still at the hospital, she felt the need to be there for them all. Mostly for Holly. So the cabin was always empty, because where Joyce went, Hopper followed. Also, he was trying to get his job back. Now he came back from the dead to fight for Jane and for himself, too. Will admired his strong sense of duty; it reminded him of everything Lonnie hated. 

A lot of months had passed since Hopper’s time in Russia, but they still hadn’t spent that much time together. Will was scared to know him. What if he hated him? Then her mother would break up with him because of it. She always put him first. She was guilty of their past, where sometimes Will fell behind her needs. She never forgives herself for that. 

He knew that Hopper wasn’t like his father. But he had a loud voice, and sometimes he and Jane screamed at each other in a way that made Will want to lock himself in the closet. 

But now he knew that it was only a matter of time before his mother would buy a house for his family and Hopper. He had to accept it. 

“Mike showed me some pictures a while ago,” she started talking, while waving at him to come closer. “You were dressed as a wizard.”

He blushed. Why did Mike show her his pictures? 

“I want my nails to look like you.”

Will bit his lips to stop himself from smiling. She really said that? “Well, you look like a wizard too.”

He started painting her nails purple, before that, removing her failing attempts. But he couldn’t shake the thoughts of Mike and his sister watching old pictures, and probably talking about him. What did Mike think of him? 

He was such a dilemma these days. 

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

His mother and Hopper came back right after dinner, at the same time he was riding his bike to go back to the Wheelers’. She made him stop just to kiss him goodbye. Then he went straight to that house. The moment had arrived; how could it not? He spent every minute that day thinking about that book, and he only read a few pages. But he needed to continue. Yes, it felt unholy, but who was he if not a guilty boy?

Will was finally able to open Giovanni’s Room again. So he ran to the basement, ignoring every sort of sound he heard from the kitchen. 

He locked himself in the bathroom and started reading from the first line, even though he had already read it. But those words haunted him all day. He was ready to consume every word, every annotation, and, maybe, even himself in the process. 

He soon felt engaged with the story, but as soon as he found words traced with a black pen, he felt eager to read them and comprehend them. Under ‘the most mechanical responsibility for them,’ was written:  It's been days since I picked this book. Maybe weeks. I saw a name on page, but my mind reads another. Is it too coincidental that I read my mind being written on paper by some writer in 1956? Is this the truth? Years I've been mechanical. But marriage isn't supposed to be this. Love isn't supposed to be forced. David looks at marriage as something mechanical that has to be done. 

Will’s hands were frozen on the pages. But he didn’t let himself hope, or think too much about his suspects. He promised himself that he would wait before thinking too much about it. 

He continued reading. His eyes were sleepy, but he wanted to at least finish the chapter. He wasn’t really a reader; he only ever read comics. But maybe for the first time, he felt engaged with a novel. A word stuck with him; he turned the page, thinking about how this book was written in 1956. He realised that people from years ago, maybe even centuries, had the same thoughts and feelings as him. That had to mean something. 

It was confirmed when he read: ‘For a while he was my best friend. Later, the idea that such a person could have been my best friend was proof of some horrifying taint in me.’ He thought about these kinds of words so many times. 

And not only him. 

Isn’t it how it all began?

It certainly began like that for both of them. Will didn’t know what to think of it. 

At a certain point, he read words that felt like maybe Vecna wasn’t dead after all. His words echoed in his mind, the many times he told him he was sick, and he was a monster, and no one would ever understand him. No one. 

'My own body suddenly seemed gross and crushing and the desire which was rising in me seemed monstrous. But, above all, I was suddenly afraid. It was borne in on me: But Joey is a boy. I saw suddenly the power in his thighs, in his arms, and in his loosely curled fists. The power, the promise, and the mystery of that body made me suddenly afraid. That body suddenly seemed the black opening of a cavern in which I would be tortured till madness came, in which I would lose my manhood. Precisely, I wanted to know that mystery, feel that power, and have that promise fulfilled through me. The sweat on my back grew cold. I was ashamed. The very bed, in its sweet disorder, testified to vileness.'

Wasn’t that what his father always told him? That he was not manly enough? He felt sick to his stomach. He never thought that someone else could feel the same hatred towards them. His brother always told him that he was normal. Robin tried to let him see that they weren’t supposed to be ashamed of their love. And he knew it. He accepted that he was like this. What Robin said that day in the tunnels still felt alive on his skin, how powerful he was with all these happy and lovely memories. But did it matter if it could all be destroyed by Vecna’s words? 

His family accepted him. But the world didn’t. He could go home and be happy and proud, but then he would go to school and stare at the words written on the bathroom’s wall: ‘Will Byers is a fag’. It wasn’t easy. He wanted to stop feeling this guilty for loving his best friend. But the nightmares still haunted him in the middle of the night. 

He needed to move on. He repeated these words a thousand times a day. 

Maybe I'm not sick if someone like me felt this way before. Or maybe we're all doomed. Maybe we were all born from this sickness, just to spread and continue to feel these evil feelings. Why can’t we stop? Why?

He wished to know who had read this book before him. It felt like they were reading his mind. 

When he finished reading the chapter, there were tears stains on the last page. Suddenly, there was proof that he had read this book. Will Byers read a queer book, and he didn’t die. He only felt like a dying corpse on the inside. But there was a spark within him that he couldn’t ignore after he read the last line and the annotation that stuck within it. 

'And we got on quite well, really, for the vision I gave my father of my life was exactly the vision in which I myself most desperately needed to believe.'

David needed desperately to love who he needed to love. He lied to himself and to others so many times. But it was always there. Always. Maybe now he can stop lying to himself, but I can’t. I can’t. Lies are too good to be turned into dust. 

Whoever this person was, they were exactly like him. And maybe he didn’t have to feel so alone all the time. 

Chapter Text

Mike didn’t expect to lose his queer book. But he certainly expected to lose his mind. 

He put it last night in the usual hiding spot, right when everybody was having dinner. He remembered his mother screaming at him that dinner was ready, yet he was still in the basement flipping through the pages. So he didn’t hesitate to hide it under the couch. 

The morning after, he was bored because Will was still sleeping, and he didn't find it reasonable to wake him just because he wanted to read. So, as he had nothing to do, he decided to cook. It helped to clear his mind a little bit. Lately, he had been doing it a lot, but only when he and Holly were in the house. 

Mike wasn’t really the guy to feel shy about things, but with the art of creating, he always wanted to hide himself; that’s why the stories he wrote were always hidden in his closet. Or when he was with Will, too. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it when he cooked for him. It wasn’t like he made pancakes only for his friend. Mike ate them too, right before he arrived in the kitchen. But everybody was looking at him like he was Vecna himself. If it was a big deal, it only needed to be that way to Mike. 

After watching Will eat his breakfast, he went downstairs while his friend was in the shower, and searched for his book since he needed to bring it to the hospital. 

But it was gone. 

Usually, he was a messy person. His room had clothes all over the floor, and he was certain that there was food on his desk, probably for days. But certain things didn't allow him to be like that. Letters, drawing, books. They all needed to be hidden away from prying eyes. Mike was always cautious with them. If someone found that part of him, he could be in real danger; he was sure of it. 

So, basically, that’s the story of how Mike Wheeler lost his mind. He was ready to pack his things and run away from home, and never saw other people again. 

Or, at least, he tried to. 

Right when he turned to run into his room, his sister called him to say that they needed to leave to go to the hospital. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. He was completely fucked. 

His mind was already racing, thinking of the millions of possibilities that someone had found his book. He imagined his mother cleaning at 2 am and looking at his book like it was trash and something to be ashamed of. It was probably worse than finding a porn magazine under his bed. But he was certain that everybody was sleeping at 2 am, since he was the only one awake, in his room, writing. Nancy was in her bedroom and never went into the basement; he never saw her there. And Holly was with him all evening. So that only left Will and Jonathan. 

He forced himself to stop thinking about it when his friend sat in the car right before him. He didn’t want to go into forbidden territory. And, also because he couldn’t concentrate when Will’s hand was so far away from his. He could only dream of being a kid again.

When they entered the hospital, his thoughts wandered again to the book. But this time, he kept thinking about Max and how she probably would scold him for being such a dumbass. He already knew it. And when he saw her face, he could already hear her voice full of judgment. Mike knew he had to find the book. Not only because of that, but also because it wasn’t technically his. 

And there, his mind was again lost in tragic endings. 

Then Will said his name. Every letter sounded perfect in his mouth. He wished that to be the only sound in existence. “Mike?”

When Mike looked at him, something in him came back to life; it tasted almost like hope, and he wished that maybe it was him who found the book. But he wasn’t lucky. He never was.  

“Everything all right?”

His hazel eyes were looking right at him, with a concerned gaze that only Will could master. He was right under the sun’s shadow, his cheeks were being kissed by it, or rather, burnt. Never in his life had he been envious of it. 

He opened his mouth to tell him that maybe they needed to go home together, because he wasn’t feeling very well. But as Dustin closed the door, he remembered his other friend's existence. “What?”

“Definitely not,” Max declared. 

He couldn’t do it. He had to talk to her. So Mike stood up and did the dumbest thing a person could ever do. “Sorry,” he blurted, looking at Max. But why was he talking in front of everyone else? “I- Sorry.”

“What are you on about?” 

He was so stupid. 

“Can we- Can we talk?” 

He didn’t wait for his answer, and soon they were out of the room together. 

As soon as they were in the hallway, it felt like breathing again. His walls could crumble again, with Max, he could be just a panicked guy, and not someone who needed to be stronger, better, and masculine. He didn’t need to talk to her; he just had to excuse himself for his error. An error that could cost him everything. 

“Tell me what your problem is,” Max didn't waste time confronting him. 

Mike and Max weren’t always close friends. When he first met her, he saw her as a threat, someone who could break the equilibrium he had slowly built in his life. The party was made up of four, then Will disappeared, and El helped them find him. She was like the missing part of the puzzle, not only because she was his dream come true, but also because without El, the Party didn’t have its sparkle. She was their magic. 

But then Max arrived, and El was gone, while Will was suffering. He never liked losing control; maybe he was too egocentric, but he was the leader once. The heart of the Party. And, right when Max had shown up, his Party lost its connection, after that he lost himself too, because he wasn’t Mike The Brave anymore. He could fantasize about holding swords and protecting his friends, but they were just children’s dreams. He had no heart on his shield. He just had to accept it, and maybe try to be normal. When El came back, he had his chance again. Mike felt alive again, shining, as if meeting stars wasn’t the same as burning. 

When Will and El left for Lenora, he was completely and utterly alone. The Party was at its lowest, and his life was meaningless. That year had probably been the worst of his life. Everything felt useless and like he didn’t know what he was doing at all. Talking with Max was like meeting her again for the first time, only without resentment. Mike didn’t know how, but they shared the same darkness, something that Lucas and Dustin couldn’t see. He saw it in her eyes, in her anger, and in her repression. It was like looking in the mirror; maybe that was why he hated her at first. She probably saw it too. 

Every friend of his had a different and unique value. Being friends with her required honesty, since she never accepted bullshit. Maybe that was the first time since the Upside Down that he was finally honest with himself. Only himself, though. 

That’s why he didn’t wait for his brain to invent some lie. He went straight to the point, and that was what he really needed. 

“I lost Giovanni’s Room.”

He half expected her to laugh at his stupidity. Maybe she would tell him that no one cared about a queer book, that he was an idiot just for being anxious about it. He needed to take a grip on his life and start cutting the bullshits. 

But maybe she heard the panic in his voice, and even Max couldn’t be mean to someone who could explode in tears if they were brave enough. “Are you sure you lost it?” 

Mike recognized her cautious tone, but it didn’t really help. “No, I think that someone else found it, actually.” He leaned over the closed door, and he almost could feel through the wall his friends’ curiosity. 

She waited for some seconds before talking again. “Mike.”

“You know what that means, right? That’s enough proof to incriminate someone like me, Max! My life will be over,” his voice incremented volume as he thought of his Dad’s judging stare, his Mom’s disgusted eyes. “I was dumb enough to believe that my house was a safe place to even try to hide something.”

She sighed. “Mike.”

Mike couldn’t look at her open arms because it would mean that he deserved to feel all these emotions. It was his fault, and he couldn’t let himself cry. 

But she didn’t wait for his acceptance, as she gripped his left arm, bringing him right in her arms with force, because neither of them knew how to love with softness. “You’re stupid most of the time-”

He froze. Although she continued before he could even process what she was saying. 

“But not with this. Not with this, Mike. You’re not dumb because you wanted to finally look at the world through someone else’s lenses.”

He felt her soothing voice as something that could’ve saved him from Vecna. She spoke as if she really believed what she was saying. 

“But stop being miserable when this situation can be fixed,” Max smacked him in the chest, or tried to, because she ended up pushing his arm. 

“How? By jumping from a cliff?" His voice, driving sarcasm, almost cracked at the remembering of his past. 

“Maybe then you would stop stealing my comics." 

Mike's face twisted into a grimace. “I don't steal your comics!”

"I literally saw my Wonder Woman comics in your basement, Wheeler." She crossed her arms, holding herself together to dare him to contradict her. 

He obviously couldn't. “You're literally blind." 

Max snorted, her mouth twitching anonymously, just to prove to him that she found it funny. It was something they did lately, joking about their conditions and trauma. "Lucas saw it.”

"Fucking snitch.”

She smacked him a second time, and this time she succeeded. "What I was trying to say,” she started again, her tone provocative. "Without you being suicidal like you always do, is that even if someone found your little guilty pleasure, nobody would really suspect you,” she concluded, being reasonable. “Unless you put your name on there.”

“No!" Mike almost screamed, indignant. He wasn't stupid enough to sign that book with his name. 

“And, also, if your parents happened to find it, you would already be dead." 

She wasn't totally wrong, but Mike preferred rolling his eyes without her seeing him to admitting she had a point. 

“And stop fucking rolling your eyes at me, Wheeler." Max's red lips pulled a smirk, showing him once again that she would always win. 

“How did you-" 

“You're so predictable." 

“Shut up." 

Mike strangely felt his panic decrease slightly. She was right. He didn't put his name on it, and his handwriting had slightly changed over the past month since he started writing again. It felt stupid to train his calligraphy, but it wasn’t like he had much to do in his boring classes. If he thought about it clearly, without being conditioned by his personal fear, he could see how nobody actually had proof that he was reading something considerably disgusting. 

Maybe they could even suspect Nancy. Or someone better. "Can you imagine if whoever found it thought of my Dad?” 

This time, she couldn't keep her laugh. " That would be too good to be true!”

“Maybe then my parents could finally divorce.”

“And you wouldn't have to run away from home.”

“Yeah.”

And as usual, their conversation ended in a safe space of sarcasm, laughter, and teasing.

He felt weirdly better. Mike still couldn't believe that it was Max sometimes that made him feel better. But now that he had grown from being a stupid thirteen-year-old boy, he could find in her red hair a strange comfort. She was really like fire. Her non-conformity reminded him too much of Eddie, with her "I don't care what your opinion" attitude, and her masculine wardrobe; she evoked in him a grief he still couldn't accept. The past eighteen months without her and Eddie were miserable. 

Since the start of his supernatural double life, Mike kept losing and losing again. He still felt like that. 

“About our reading time, we could stop-" 

“Hell no," he interrupted her. She had a strange expression on her face, as if she wanted to show him that she could do just fine without him. But Mike knew better. He could see in her posture how she was haunted by this hospital. He felt that too, differently, but he still knew what she needed, and she needed a distraction. Also, Mike guessed that Max missed reading. “I'm gonna ask Mr Perry for another book." 

She slowly nodded, not even thinking of trying to protest. They were both stubborn. “Are you sure he can give you other books?" 

“He basically invited me to his home." 

“And you still didn't go? Oh, right, you were too preoccupied with being a stupid avoidant boy." 

He rolled his eyes again. “Like you're not avoidant too." 

Max began tapping the floor with her foot, impatient to go back to her room. " Are we done? Or do you want to be miserable again?”

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

Mike wanted to finish reading Giovanni's Room to Max, but since he didn't have two copies, he had to find something else to read. 

It all started in the week after Vecna was defeated. 

Mike refused to stay at home, even for one hour. He knew he was being unfair to his sisters, mostly Holly, since she was scared and alone, but he simply couldn't. That house was the beginning of his hell, where he lost sight of his best friend five years ago, when he let a monster kidnap his little sister, when his mother and father were brutally assaulted there by a giant monster. He saw blood everywhere. 

He still had nightmares about 1983.

So he had spent most of his free time at school, in the most hidden part of the library.

Mike usually was there alone, and nobody bothered him. But one day, someone sat right in front of him, a book covering the person's face, with a title on its cover that he had seen somewhere he couldn't name yet, and with a posture he recognised very well. 

His literature teacher had sat at his table for at least a week without saying a word to him. 

Mr Perry was a beloved teacher. Everybody could feel his charisma and be mesmerised by it. His lessons weren't boring, even to students who weren't interested in the subject. He already had gray hair, even though he was still young. He often read Shakespeare's plays in his free time, as if he couldn't even be bored by them. He joked with his students and cared for them when they had issues. 

Mike didn't imagine himself being caught in his protective, caring stare. But he ended up knowing a side of his teacher that he didn't know existed. 

Maybe it all had started because Mike was listening to Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat loudly enough to be heard by people around him. It was a mixtape made by Eddie when he was still under his wing. 

It was a Monday. Before leaving his table, Mike had seen the book Mr Perry was reading right on the floor. He immediately picked it up, but the teacher wasn't around him anymore. 

Since Mike liked to waste time just to not go home, he decided to search for him. 

He got home pretty late, with the book in his hands, no teacher found, and nothing to do. Nancy and Holly were at the Hospital to see their parents, and the house was full of bricklayers, since the house needed to be adjusted somehow. Fortunately, his room was still intact, so he didn't waste time and went there to catch up with his homework. 

Sometimes he would look at the door, waiting for a specific person to knock, but his room always stayed in a state of eternal silence. He missed reading comics with him. 

But nobody came, and boredom was already killing him. The book was staring at Mike across the room, almost as if it was waiting for him to stop doing useless things just because he didn't want to talk.

His life definitely changed after reading the first chapter. His life had seemed to be stopping, too. 

At first, he stared at the book like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He couldn't lie and say that the writing style wasn't poetic in a way that he almost wanted to inject it in his veins. But also, it was intoxicating how he felt interested in it. 

He immediately thought of Will. Mike envisioned years of neglect, of words turned into weapons, of hearts beating, turning into shattering. He didn't want his thoughts to take that spot in his mind. But how could he not? The day Vecna died, everything changed. Mike's memories started chasing him, as a predator does to its prey, blood was gushing from the wounds, flesh was rotting from the inside. His scars weren't going to heal. 

That guilt was always there to catch him. Yet he could see something else, too; it was like when Will killed the three demogorgons. He started reading him as words turned into ink. 

After Mike read the first chapter again, just to be sure, he closed the book and pretended it didn't exist for another week. 

“Mr Perry!" He had exclaimed the following Monday, making his professor stop before letting him out. 

" Yes, Mike?”

When he had caught his teacher's stare, he didn't know how to react properly, so Mike had avoided his eyes. "I- Sorry, the other day you left this in the library.” He handed him the book, almost as if he didn't want to touch it. " This.”

Mr Perry waited a second, then took his own book. "Oh, thank you!” He continued, piercing him with his brown eyes. "I was going crazy searching for it at home.”

Mike really didn't want to think about why a professor like him was reading that in his free time.

"I'm sorry.” He didn't know if he was asking for his forgiveness because he waited a whole week, or because he read it. 

“For what? It's perfectly intact!" The man smiled, with his dimples and his kind eyes.

Mike had been confused. Why wasn't he hiding from him? He had found his dirty little secret. Why was he standing there, acting like it was all fine, as if there wasn't an indecent book between them? He had felt deeply judged by it. 

In that week, he had avoided the library like the plague, and whenever he saw his teacher, his mind was being corrupted by sinful words. 

He had nothing against queerness. But how was it possible that he ended up knowing three queer people in Hawkins? It felt all too coincidental. Almost like the universe was playing a sick game against him. The skeletons he buried in his mind, and not his closet, because it was too ironic, were emerging slowly from where he killed them when he was trying to be who he wanted to be. They needed to stay dead. Ghosts always scared him. 

But, standing in front of Mr Perry, he was curious. So he had looked up and had found his proud smile. He felt brave for once in his life. It was probably instincts that ordered him to speak, because it was the first time in his life where nobody was there to judge him. 

“I read it," he blurted out before his mind could process his words. Then, he widened his eyes. 

The man didn't really react; he just let out a quiet laugh. He put his hands in his pants pockets, sitting on his desk, hanging his leg with calmness. "Really? Did you like it?”

Mike still felt frozen on the spot, but slowly melted. “Huh," he started. “I didn't really finish it. I read only the first chapter." 

The teacher made a pitiful expression. “You still haven't experienced the art of his French life." 

He felt the need to justify himself, but he didn't know what to say. Words were always easy to say, yet right now Mike felt like they were choking him on purpose.

Yet, Mr Perry anticipated him. "Would you like it as a gift?”

Mike was too stunned not to stutter. “W-what? A gift?" 

The man just smiled wider. Suddenly, it made sense how his classroom was covered in paintings and full of children's literature. If Mike had to describe him, he would associate the professor with a tree. He was patient, he encouraged people to open up, and he continued to grow because perhaps humanity was just this. 

He felt so lost. He wondered how Will felt when he disappeared in the Upside Down. Mike didn't have a purpose anymore, and his thoughts had lost substance. His numbness was killing him, and his friends, too. His family, too. He was always the energetic member of the family. Now he just wanted to sit down and stare at the void. Mike was supposed to be happy that Vecna was gone. But he didn't expect the burden of the past years to fall on him as soon as it had the chance. They were free at last. But perhaps that meant also being free from constantly repressing everything. 

“Mike, I see in you a force that can only be encouraged by literature. Maybe I'm biased, but when you speak in class, you're always so opinionated. I'd be a fool not to pursue this spark within you.” He was gesturing as if he were explaining one of his lessons. "And also, I have more books like this at home," he explained, pronouncing with effervescence the words more and this, as if they meant something. 

Did they? Mike asked himself, looking for clues. He swore that he would never stop looking after them. 

When he read the book, he didn't want to look at it ever again, but Mr Perry talked about him as if Mike was special. He didn't feel special for a long time, so maybe that was why he nodded, thanking him. 

But he would have lied if he said he didn't take it for someone else, too. His friend’s face came to his mind again. And again. And again. He needed to be better. 

Mike never read the book at home, only in the library where he could feel Mr Perry's comforting presence. They didn't really talk, but words weren't always meant to be spoken. 

But now he had lost the book. Or it was stolen. It didn't really matter, because he had his empty hands again, where only the night before they were so full of meaning. 

He biked to Mr Perry's house after leaving his friends at the Hospital. Maybe he was being invasive, but it was he who told him he was welcomed in his house. So when Mike stopped in front of his house, he didn't let himself linger on the porch. 

He rang the bell. 

As soon as he met Mr Perry's surprised glance, he started questioning if he had the right to go to his house. Then, it morphed into a concerned expression, and Mike felt stupid for thinking that he gave him his address to read other books. Mr Perry had another reason, probably. 

“Mike?" Fortunately, he must have recognised Mike's hopeful stance, because any worry from his face disappeared. " Come in, it's cold outside.”

He hurried him inside the house, where the warm temperature was already corrupting him. As soon as he set foot in there, a strong smell of vanilla hit him. Was he baking a cake? Mike noted Mr Perry's sweater was covered in flour. 

He felt a feeling of guilt building up in his stomach. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you." 

"Disturb? It's always a pleasure seeing you, Mike,” the man said. He reached over to grab Mike's jacket and hang it on the coat rack. 

"It's Sunday,” Mike tried to complain, almost as if he wanted the teacher to see him as a burden. 

“Beautiful day, isn't it?" Instead, the man said. 

Mike was a lost cause, he already knew it. 

He nodded. 

He guided him to the living room. It was the brightest room he had ever entered. The walls were sage green, covered in paintings and pictures. In the center, there was a brown leather sofa, and next to it was a beautiful record player on display. Mike almost wanted to run and see what records he had. He didn't look at the photos that were on the furniture, because he didn't want to encounter something he wasn't ready to accept. 

Outside, the winter was whispering obscenities and stormy memories. But here in the room, illuminated by the yellow light of the lamp, he could feel his heart calming down, and his breathing coming back to life. 

Mr Clark was always his favourite teacher, but maybe his spot was being taken by Mr Perry. 

“You have to excuse me for my conditions," the man started. “I was baking muffins." 

At last, he brought him to the kitchen. 

“Please, take a seat," the man pointed to the wooden table, where there were six chairs, all different. 

Mike sat down, looking around and admiring the colorful kitchen. Books were all over the room, in a messy, organized way. 

"What brings you here?” Mr Perry asked, with a light note of curiosity. 

Mike blushed, remembering why he was there. He didn't want to admit it, but maybe sincerity could bring him good sometimes. "Since I already finished Giovanni's Room, I wanted to ask if you had other books I could read." He spoke the last words quickly, as he suddenly felt shy. 

Mr Perry parted his lips like he couldn't believe what he just heard. Mike couldn't blame him; he even shocked himself. “Sure! This is a wonderful surprise, I was thinking this morning if you had already finished the book." 

“Yeah, I did." 

“How did you find it?" 

Mike didn't want to start a rant about his thoughts and his complicated opinions. So he chose a word that described how he felt in the best way. "Revealing.” He worded it almost like a question. 

Mr Perry seemed satisfied. Mike didn't know why. "That's good. Literature should always reveal something to the reader.”

He agreed, nodding. 

"So, you really want another book? The ones we read in class aren't good enough?” He joked, looking at the boy with a twitch in his smile. He didn't let Mike answer him. "Lucky for you, I have a lot of copies of various books, and I think you would find them revealing too.”

Mike couldn't help but be curious. Perhaps what he was looking for was a book that could reveal things to him that were rarely heard in society. "Really?”

"Yes, they're classics,” he nodded while walking to the door. "Wait a moment here.”

While Mr Perry was out of the room, Mike let himself explore the kitchen. The muffins he was cooking were already in the oven, and he could smell their delicious perfume. 

Everything around him reminded him of Will. Maybe it was because he was cooking for him that morning, but he could imagine the boy in this atmosphere. It was so artistic and yellow. Maybe he should cook vanilla muffins for him too. He should ask for the receipt. 

Mike wandered, analyzing every detail of the room. 

Weirdly, it was like he always imagined Mr Perry's house. 

When he walked into the room again, he had a consumed book in hand and a new one. Mike narrowed his eyes when he read the title of the newer copy. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. 

Everybody knew that book. He felt a deep disappointment growing in him when he realized that this was not what he had hoped for. He didn't exactly say he wanted a book like Giovanni's Room, but he thought it was obvious. 

Mr Perry must've noted his expression, because his lips formed a smirk. 

Mike was so confused. 

Did his teacher just smirk at him? He had a knowing look on his face. “Is there a problem?" 

Mike was definitely blushing. He didn't want to say it, but at some point, words had to escape his mouth. "Well, I- I don't-” he stuttered. How do I say it? He thought helplessly. “I expect a book with, you know, two-" 

Mr Perry didn't intervene, as if he was enjoying the show. 

Did he really have to say it out loud? His lips were frozen, and every wanting he felt was hidden with the corpses he had killed years ago. Now he was sure they were waking up again, because they were whispering forbidden needs in his ear. He tried to suppress it. Mike envisioned his mother's eyes, but even her spiteful stare couldn't hold back the desire he was feeling. He couldn't hide it anymore, his closet was exploding. Mike knew from that moment that it was in his core, in his essence, in his bones, the need to know more. He needed to understand. 

He went to Hell already. Why couldn't he stay there for a little longer?

That's when he decided to be brave again. A memory came into his mind, a picture of a boy, with tears that brightened his face, and loved ones that were listening to every word he was expressing. That day, he saw a wise boy turning into a contagious paladin. Their souls were merged into one, and Mike knew that he could have a piece of him in his heart, too. He did it for him. 

“I wanted a book with two boys in a partnership." In love. 

Mr Perry raised a brown eyebrow. “Yes, I know." 

Mike was starting to get really confused. “But that's impossible! I know this isn't like Giovanni's Room,” he couldn't help but be annoyed. Some habits were hard to drown. 

“Oh, so you have read it?" The man asked innocently. 

“Yes, actually!" 

The Picture of Dorian Gray was what started Mike's interest in literature. Or it tried to. He read it when Will and El left for Lenora, it was a long year and he didn't know what to do with his time. He usually spent time kissing El before, or hanging out with Will, so he was alone for the first time in years. 

Dustin spent a lot of time with Steve, and Lucas had just started playing basketball. 

That's why he went to the library and just bought a book to pass the time. 

He didn't remember a lot, only the things he wrote there left to ignore them forever. 

“Do you want to know an interesting fact about Oscar Wilde?" Mr Perry demanded him, yet he didn't really expect an answer. He could read Mike's emotions perfectly. “Wilde was incarcerated for being a gay man." 

Hearing those words, Mike's heart started pounding again, too loud for his own taste, and his body froze, as if a dagger had just been stabbed into his stomach. 

There it was. That word. Again. 

Gay. 

His head unconsciously corrected the word with crueler ones. And Mike wondered why his inner voice sounded like Troy, or like his father. Even Lonnie's voice was present in his mind. 

He didn't know what to say. 

“Oh." 

He felt so stupid. 

“But, if you read this already, I'm gonna handle you this.” Mr Perry didn't wait for Mike to grab the book; he just put it in his hands, like it belonged there.

The title was Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu, and Mike had no idea this book existed until one minute ago. 

"Is this…?” He still didn't want to admit properly what he was searching for. 

The teacher nodded at him, chuckling. “It is a famous Gothic tale from 1872.”

Mike widened his eyes. "1872?” He asked, his brows drew together. 

Did homosexuality exist centuries ago?

His professor seemed to read his mind, as his chuckle turned into a loud laugh. “Mike, people like this existed from the beginning of time." 

Mike couldn't hold his shock anymore. “That long?!" He always believed that certain people were against nature, that it was rare to be like this. His body began shaking uncontrollably at these discoveries. 

The Picture of Dorian Gray was written by a queer man. He recalled how immersive that book was, and how many words he made flow on the pages with his pen. Words that he exiled from his mind. It was two years ago, and he really didn't want to pick up old desires and fears. Even though he knew perfectly that it had always been there. 

He was truly going insane today. 

On top of that, queer people always existed. And he didn't know. 

How could Mike call Will his best friend if he didn't even know this simple fact about history? His history. He had to be better. 

“They also exist in animals, even though people try to deny it." Mr Perry explained, going back to his counter, where he leaned against it. “Sometimes, the truth is not always the one you read on the news, or over the radio," he pressed his lips with a slight frown. Then he added, as if it were a tainted truth, “Or at family dinners." 

Mike's legs seemed to stop working altogether. He was probably looking like an imbecile. But he wasn't ready for that conversation, yet. He didn't know if he ever would be. He just wanted to go to his bed and scream into his pillow about the world, the nature of things, and Will. 

Last month was very relieving. He needed a pause. 

 "And remember, you just have to know how to look at things from a different perspective.”

Seconds, minutes, and hours could have passed, but Mike was still stuck there waiting. He didn't know what he was waiting for. Then, he asked, as if they weren't just talking about queerness, “Can I have the muffins’ recipe?" 

Mr Perry's smile came back on his face. 

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

At breakfast, he didn't cook. The thought of waking up earlier wasn't very appealing. This time, since he wasn't running late, Mike waited for Will to disappear in the bathroom. Thankfully, Jonathan was also barricaded in Nancy's room, so he walked into the basement and began searching for the book. 

He wanted to start reading Carmilla, but after waking up from a nightmare where his dad was not so happy with the hobby he was getting passionate about, he just wanted to find it and end his misery. 

Mike woke up at 6 am, so he had an hour to think about who could have found it. What if it was Holly? She would've already started asking questions, though. Maybe his mother wasn't cleaning at 2 am, but just before Mike had the time to walk into the basement, she could have found the book while sweeping the floor. It made perfect sense. 

Mike tried to apply Max's point of view, but it was useless, because she wasn't the one who could be in trouble. That book contained all his secrets. His desires, his nightmares, his dreams, his fears. Probably, even his tears. 

He even started questioning why he began that journey, while he looked under every cabinet. He often tried to blame it on the day he heard Will talking with his mother and brother. He wasn't supposed to listen; he felt very guilty about it, but he didn't do it on purpose. He just needed to talk to them, but as he almost walked into the room, he heard the words that made him miserable for one month straight. 

“They were right. I'm sorry, I tried to be normal. I tried so hard, Mom. But I'm not like that. I'm not like you. I- I like g- I-”

Mike was hidden behind the door, trying not to be seen by them. But he already heard, and his dark eyes widened. He couldn't move. Not until he heard that word. 

“I'm gay." 

Will Byers, his best friend, the boy who had gone through hell and came back to life, stronger than ever, was gay. 

He felt like shit. 

Mike didn't know it was possible, but everything, every possible thought, every feeling, every way his body could’ve reacted, happened all at once. His brain had become a stream of memories, letters, reactions, and dreams. He could imagine his heart as a painting, where Will had just forcefully brushed on the canvas, all its blues, its yellows, its purples. 

And, the worst thing was that he didn't even think of everything Will had been through. He was too self-absorbed, as he began to feel this huge fear in his bones. Someone had just opened the windows, where he was locked in the basement, trying to live his normal life. Mike just happened to look outside. 

He couldn't even describe what he felt. Was it only regret? Was it terror? Or did he also feel envious? Was he so sick to be jealous of Will’s brave act? 

Then, his brain began whispering question after question. Why? Why? Why? 

That's when Mike had run away.

Thankfully, they also defeated Vecna.

The problem was that he knew Will wasn't the cause of his sorrows. Mike knew that if Lucas had been in his place, he wouldn't have cried all his tears; he probably would've hugged his best friend. 

“You're the heart." Will had said. Mike just wanted to scream at him that he was a sick coward, instead. 

When he found the book, all his emotions were put on display, and he couldn't hide from them anymore. 

It had been a hell of a month. 

Mike needed to find the book. 

Yet, he didn't. Again. 

He missed breakfast, and Will had just gone to school without him, so he was left alone with Holly in her talkative state. 

"I don't understand why Mom keeps telling me that unicorns aren't real,” she opened her mouth as soon as they picked up their bikes. "She fought a monster, and it was very much real." 

December had stolen all the trees’ leaves and made them stand awkwardly with naked branches. Mike was so mentally deranged that he completely understood their feelings. 

He could already hear Max's voice. “You? Feelings?”

One could be surprised at how many emotions Mike was feeling.

“When I saw Mr Whatsit, nobody believed me, but he was also very real. Why do adults keep explaining things to me? I was there with Max when Vecna tried to kill me. I'm a grown-up just like you," Holly screamed over the windy presence. 

Unfortunately, his mind came back to Will's disappearance. He wasn't like Holly; Mile still couldn't understand what really happened to him. Will never explicitly explained to them how the Upside Down was when he was there alone. While Holly could talk about it like it was all a bedtime story. 

Mike was tired of hearing it. He still couldn't think about D&D without his brain bombarding monsters' images at him. 

"What if I saw a unicorn? Would you believe me?”

It sort of became a taboo in the Party. Just like Will's disappearance, where nobody talked about Mike or how it had been for them while he was gone. 

Mike was also sick of taboos. Why were there so many things he couldn't talk about? He could make a long list with things that he wanted to bring up in a conversation, but didn't because then he would meet blank stares. 

"Mike! Would you believe me or not?!” 

Holly was looking at him with an annoyed expression that reminded him too much of himself. 

"Yes, Holly!” he shouted, exasperated. 

Then, she smiled as she had just won the lottery. “Good." 

Finally, when he arrived at his school and said goodbye to his sister, his friends were there waiting for him. 

"Finally!” Dustin exclaimed, looking at his watch. 

Mike rolled his eyes. "I'm not even that late.”

"It's been five minutes, Michael.”

"Did you miss me that much?” 

When they entered the hallway, Mike could already feel the dread that high school made him feel. He just wanted to go home and mind his own business. 

Lucas and Dustin began bickering behind him, and the dark-haired boy couldn't help but search for Will's eyes. Their elbows bumped as Mike noticed that his friend wasn't looking at him. He was rather fond of his shoes as they walked. His hair was messy from sleep, his face was contorted in a drained expression, and he was also paler than usual. 

Loud voices were all around them, but all Mike could hear was his heart pounding in his body. He didn't want to lean over him, or look at him, since a certain book appeared in his mind, an old book written by a dead man he didn't know was gay. He couldn't glance at his face and pretend he wasn't too honest years ago. But his body had its mind when it came to Will. 

Will's posture was stiff, as if he were on high alert and needed to protect himself from whatever could happen. He had visible dark circles under his eyes, and his eyelids fluttered repeatedly, hiding his alluring hazel eyes. 

Usually, he was in this state after a nightmare. Mike wished his friend could have woken him up; maybe he could've helped. 

“Will," Mike said, leaning towards his shoulder, as if to gain his attention. His friend still didn't catch his eye, but was attentive. "Are you okay?”

His skin twitched under his clothes. His stomach was in turmoil. He wanted to stop time and get Will's attention so he could make sure he was okay. 

Will didn't turn towards him. “Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse, as if he had just woken up. “I just didn't sleep much." 

Mike thanked God that Will was telling the truth. Lately, he had been distant, as if he didn't want to see Mike anymore. He didn't understand what he had done, since Will was probably the only person Mike tried not to push away after the Upside Down blew up. He tried to do better. But Will's mind was always elsewhere when they were together, and his body always kept distance. 

Today he was weirdly inattentive, so that must've been why Will's arm was still pressed to his. 

“Another nightmare?" Mike asked. 

Will shook his head. “Strangely enough, no.”

Mike waited, hopeful that he would continue, but he didn't say anything else. “Was Jonathan snoring?" 

His friend's mouth twitched, and for a moment his eyes glanced at him. Mike could see the reflection of the sun that made them shine even more. He couldn't help but smile as he watched his friend look at him under the sunlight. 

“No," Will snorted. “Wait- Yes, he did, but thankfully I had my Walkman to save me." 

Mike laughed. “I bet you listened to music all night and forgot to sleep.”

His friend finally smiled. “Almost." 

"Was it the new The Cure album?" 

“Definitely." 

“Robin put some songs on the radio." 

“Yeah, I asked her." 

“Wait, really? Why? When I asked, she turned me down!” Mike complained. He wasn't even lying. It seemed as if she liked to annoy him on purpose. He didn't have a problem with her, but when Will stopped talking to him to befriend her, it was obvious that he couldn't stand her sight.

“Maybe because your taste is questionable,” Will suggested. For a moment, his body twitched, as if he wanted to do something. But then, his eyes stopped looking at him, and their bodies were far away again. His body jolted as if he woke up from sleep just now. 

“It's not!" Mike tried to keep the joke going on, just to keep Will’s spark for himself a little longer. "You spend too much time with Robin. Butthole Surfers is a great band.”

"Weren't you listening to Ritchie Cordell the other day?” 

"What? No, no,” he began to speak rapidly. “That was Holly. My sister Holly, you know her, right?" 

Will rolled his eyes, as if he couldn't contain himself. But the ghost of the smile was still there. “You mean Holly Wheeler? That Holly Wheeler? Are you sure you have a sister, Mike?" 

“How dare you accuse me of lying!” Mike put a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. “Friends don't lie, Will." 

As if Mike's spell had been broken, Will stiffened again, and his face became serious. "We know, Mike. You've repeated it at least a hundred times," he muttered, as if he didn't want Mike to hear him. 

Mike's smile dropped from his face, but Will wasn't looking at him anymore to notice anyway. 

The coldness returned, and the bell rang as if to remind him that his time with Will was limited. 

He mentally cursed school again as he walked to his locker. 

In Maths, he really tried to listen, but since Lucas was taking notes, he let himself drift away for only ten minutes. 

Will definitely didn't find his book. Or, maybe, he did, and that's why he was acting so weird. But then he remembered that his friend was acting like this even before his book disappeared. Will was smart enough to catch him, and he would've said more. But he didn't say anything to him, so he definitely wasn't the one. 

Nancy would've acted weird the day before if it were her. She couldn't keep her mouth closed for more than one minute. 

It was definitely Jonathan. Mike didn't even need to question it. He was a secretive guy, always on his own, but also very wary of the world around him. Mike swore he saw him looking at him strangely just yesterday. Or maybe it was every day. He really couldn't tell. That guy was acting weird with him since the Byers came back from Lenora. He definitely hated him for how he treated Will years ago. 

But he never insulted him or tried to punch him. Mike was a little scared after knowing what he had done to Steve. He deserved it more than Steve. 

He could already picture Jonathan sitting on the couch, while reading Mike's dirtiest secret. At first, he was scared. That subject was heavy. But he also remembered how he hugged his brother every day, knowing that he was queer. Yet, what if it was only with Will? That boy was an angel; nobody could hate him except the demons that were living here in Hawkins. Still, on Spring break, he overheard Jonathan and Nancy fighting because the boy accidentally snorted when, at dinner with Mike's grandparents, they brought up the AIDS epidemic. 

Mike was so conflicted. 

He was both scared and comforted at the thought of Jonathan reading his book. He definitely needed to talk to him. 

He closed his eyes and waited for the lesson to finish. 

“No." 

“Lucas! I did it when you were secluded in Max's room." 

“Yes, because my girlfriend was in a coma," Lucas retorted, looking him dead in the eyes. After the bell rang, they bolted towards the next class. "What's your excuse?”

Was feeling a wreck because the world hated homosexual people, a right answer?

“I didn't sleep tonight." 

“Why? Were you thinking again of cutting Nancy's hair to make a wig?" His friend, or Mike should say enemy, since he didn't want to share his notes, said, making fun of him. “I thought it was a phase." 

“First of all, it wasn't a phase!" He defended himself immediately. " Second of all, it was one time, Lucas. One time.”

“I don't believe you,” Lucas simply stated, while opening his backpack to take out his water bottle. 

“Dude-" 

“Please, Mike, it's too early for your bullshit,” he added, while drinking his water. 

Mike shoved him on the shoulders, almost making Lucas choke. “I had a nightmare, asshole." 

And, like a switch, Lucas' face morphed into a concerned expression. “You didn't tell me you had nightmares." 

Mike suddenly felt stupid for bringing that up. He promised himself never to mention it to his friends. It was hard enough hiding it from Nancy, who looked at him as if she wanted to fix what was bothering her brother.  He couldn't be fixed. 

Lucas must've noted his hesitation, because he put a hand over his shoulder. “You know I have them too, right?" 

Mike took Lucas's hand off his shoulder, rolling his eyes. He didn't notice the pained look his friend gave him, or he did, but it was easier pretending he wasn't a dickhead. "Yes, Erica usually makes fun of you when you are gone." 

“What- Wait, why are you hanging with my sister?" 

Shit. Erica will definitely kill him. 

"Answer!" 

“Only if you hand me your notes," Mike crossed his arms. At least it had distracted his attention from his nightmares. 

Lucas stared at him as if he wanted to slap him. Mike shared the feeling. "Fine.”

"She was too interested in how to build a bomb," he answered, shrugging, hoping his friend would drop it. 

Lucas didn't. “Tell me you didn't!” 

"Your sister is crazy! She threatened me with her pony!”

"And you believed her?”

"Are you kidding me? She almost killed me there," Mike pulled down his shirt to show him the scar his sister had left on his throat. “Sorry if I wanted to live!”

Lucas ran a hand over his eyes, as if he couldn't believe he'd ended up in that situation. “Unfortunately, I believe you." 

Mike's shoulders relaxed. “Did you drop her when she was little, or what?" 

“Man, she was the one who dropped me," Lucas said seriously. Mike could totally imagine Erica doing that. 

After that, they split up, and Mike's day continued as always. 

He skipped going to the library, because he had no book to read with him, and he also didn't want to look at Mr Perry's face. So, he thought that going home with Will would be a good idea. But, apparently, Will had other plans. 

"Sorry, but I'm going to Robin's,” he said with a sad smile on his face. “We can… We can watch a movie later?”

Always Robin fucking Buckley. 

When he went home, he heard no sounds in the house. Was he alone? He esulted when, after calling her mother’s name, he heard no answer. It’s not that he didn’t want company. Usually, before November, he would’ve invited Lucas and Dustin over. But the Party was changing, and Mike felt like he had no place in their free time anymore. They didn’t do anything wrong; it was he who was fucked in the head. Or, it was the world that was fucked up. He didn’t know which one was worse. 

At school was easy pretending everything was okay, but at home, every lie crumbled, and he only had his reflection to stare at, to figure out that he needed to keep going alone. It wasn’t only the book he was reading, or his identity that he was hiding, but he just felt so useless. His friends weren’t like him. The more he learnt about the world, the more he wanted to disappear. Monsters were defeated, and only now could Mike really look at the mess around him. 

This state of mind was the one he often found himself in before starting to read Giovanni’s Room. How was he supposed to live life if he didn’t like it anymore? With that book, he found a distraction. But now he didn’t have it, and he was too lazy to keep searching for it. Why was it easier to stare at the ceiling and pretend that everything wasn’t falling apart around him? 

Also, there was a book on his bookshelf that he couldn't ignore. But he tried to. He wasn't ready to face his feelings. How many truths did he have to uncover to be destroyed by his mind?

He knew this moment would come. At night, he usually hugged his knees and prayed that his thoughts would not become waves, because they usually destroyed everything that was on the shore. 

Was that how Will felt all these years? Alone in his own sickness? 

When they were fighting monsters, he had things to do that made sense. He had a place among his friends. But right now, there was nothing that was made for him. Only because the world decided that those who were different were venomous, but it wasn’t true. Because he still couldn’t die, fate decided that it wasn’t his time to leave, and even when he tried to put an end to his misery, someone always saved Mike. He didn’t want to live here anymore. His sun was gone, and was life really worth it? He missed him more than anything in the world. He missed how easy it was for them to hold each other, without someone shouting to them. 

Guilt was eating him alive. If only he could open his mouth, maybe he wouldn’t feel this lonely. But he wasn’t perfect like Will. He was ugly, disgusting, and a moster. His father thought so too. Why keep fighting what’s true? Will was magic in this ugly world, and he couldn’t ruin him. Not when he left him alone in the rain too many times.

Maybe the only cure was sleep; the nightmares gave him something to fight, and there his life wasn’t so depressing. Here Will continued ditching him, he was avoiding his friends, his family wasn’t perfect, and he was a fucking homosexual.