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Will was the wandering type.
From when he lived up the road to when he was in Lenora, he was out of the house more often than in it. That didn’t change now living with the Wheelers. Although he couldn’t deny the appeal of a never ending sleepover with his best friend- even if the teeny tiny fact that he was madly in love with him did get in the way sometimes- his love of the outdoors was relentless.
He enjoyed cheering El on from the sidelines of the junkyard when he didn’t have school, and biking across town just for the fun of it since Joyce lifted her ban. He visited the hospitals to talk with Lucas and the graveyard to comfort Dustin, he even snuck back to Castle Byers sometimes just for nostalgia. He’d made a lot of acquaintances in his drifting, including Robin who’d turned into one of his closest companions.
Robin gave him a new checkpoint on his walks and more reason to linger in the hospital even though the sterile air made his skin crawl. He didn’t get along quite right with Steve, though finding one without the other was a momentous task, so he had no choice in the matter.
He couldn’t lie, he was starting to see what Dustin found so charming and Lucas found so cool, even if their definitions of both were different.
Today, after a stressful Crawl week, he just wanted to stay in.
His plans were spoiled by a quick trip to the grocery store, per Joyces request, to help as much as they could around the house they were crashing. Mike was at the breakfast table when he left and gone when he returned.
The air was growing chilly as autumn crept around the corner, Will mischievously took the opportunity to snag Mikes jacket over his pajamas.
For the first month of living with the Wheelers he was hyper vigilant about his laundry and made damn sure he only wore the limited outfits he’d snagged from Lenora. It was Mike who’d slipped up first.
“He totally did it on purpose.” Robin had said when he slipped it into conversation.
Why she cared so much about what went on between them, he did not know, but she insisted he tell her everything. Who was Will to complain?
She never reacted when he’d slip up and say something a little too ‘gay’ and she never judged. That’s probably what made them click so well, the no judgment thing.
“No way..” Will flustered, picturing Mike in his shirt and feeling his heart embarrassingly speed up.
“You’re right he’s just stupid. Probably didn’t notice.”
“Mikes not stupid! Actually, he’s like the most observant in the whole party! I mean.. second maybe to Lucas.”
“So you admit theres a high likelihood it wasn’t accidental?”
Her smirk read like a big red X he’s just walked right on top of.
“….”
Very quickly their laundry became one basket and now it didn’t matter. Nobody owned anything it was just ‘theirs.’ He would have had a heart attack and died at the prospect a few months prior.
He let the earthly smell of Mike consume him while he examined the bookshelf.
Well.. bookshelf was a bit too broad. Mikes shelf was cluttered, sparsely occupied by books and dominated instead by miscellaneous objects. Will kneeled in front of it and cursed their combined laziness for never tidying. He might spend his whole day trying to find the stupid comic he wanted.
A pitch in the background chatter faltered his movements. Green eyes glancing at the door nervously. That could be anything, he had to remind himself to get the image of his sneering father out of his head.
There were two families sharing a space, it was bound to get loud.
Xmen. Focus on Xmen.
When the volume of the conversation stayed high he started tensing. Body bracing for the inevitable impact of a muted rage he knew all too well.
Childhood days of hiding under beds and praying that anger didn’t come storming in nagged at his limbs, tugging at him to start running.
“-no excuse-!”
Footsteps hit floorboards hard, each step reverberating and getting closer. Will remembered a time when he’d run to this room to hide from this very sound. He never thought it would follow him.
It didn’t sound juvenile and that made his blood cold.
He’d heard the way Nancy and Mike went at each other for petty reasons. Even if his body entered fight or flight each time, there was the tender reminder that it was all playful.
When the party would start bickering too aggressively, Mike would quietly check on Will with questioning glances and gentle smiles that said ‘you aren’t in trouble. This isn’t serious.’
This was not that.
“-You’re selfish- brat-“
“-dn’t do anything!”
When the steps began to sound like a pounding drum Will realized the people involved were closing in on the top of the stairs.
The door opened on Mike who slammed it closed so hard everything shook with it, hand falling to the lock immediately.
The wood rattled, a palm banging from the outside.
“Michael! Get your ass out here! We are not done!”
His dark eyes were flicking rapidly in tune with the hyperventilating rise and fall of his chest. Yet, his expression remained blank. Whatever he was feeling, he was forcing it down within a glass jar. Cracks were already showing.
“Michael!”
The knob rattled.
His haunted gaze burned holes in the wallpaper.
Will watched like he was watching a car crash.
Each pound spiked his heart rate, stabbing at his thoughts with dozens of recollections of moments when he’d been locking the door.
But… it was Mike.
Mike whose chest heaved, whole body seizing with the effort of staying unresponsive. Mike who drew his hands up to cover his ears.
“If you hadn’t made this all about you-“ Mrs Wheeler’s voice beyond the wall turned away.
“You’re the one who dragged me into this!” Will hadn’t realized Mr Wheeler had been involved at all. He should’ve known better.
“I shouldn’t have to drag you in to our child’s life!”
Mike continued to stand there motionless, covering his ears. Blocking both the world and his emotions out.
Will was frozen in place.
“Is it my turn to get yelled at it now?”
A lone tear slipped down Mikes cheek and he made no move to wipe it away or acknowledge its presence.
The way he’d become a mannequin on command made Will dizzy with concern. Had this always been happening? Had Mike always been locking this door?
Joyce had found it remarkable how mature Mike had been for his age. She praised him frequently for how responsibly he handled Wills trauma. Had he always known what it was like?
“Don’t do that! You make me feel crazy when you do that!”
The shouting persisted long after Mike locked the argument out. Will couldn’t be bothered to listen any farther when all his attention was on his best friend’s porcelain mask.
It was surreal.
Will truly was an invader in this moment, the closest he’s ever been to a fly on the wall. It was cruel to bear witness too, it felt deeply wrong in a way that made his skin crawl.
When Mikes bottom lip began to tremble thats when his body reanimated. Persona crumbling with eyebrows drawing together and the first fragile sob hiccuping out of him. His body curled like a wilted flower in on itself.
”Walk away! Yeah, walk away! Just like you always do!”
Will watched him timidly step away from the door, practically limping to his bed like a solider post battle. When he reached the mattress he turned towards the wall. Figure slowly pulling itself into the fetal position.
When they were young and Lonnie drank more than he should’ve, Mike used to help Will through the window. He would drag him by the wrist into the woods and into the fortress of sticks and towels. Whisking him away from danger effortlessly.
He’d start talking about disgusting ogres that ate children and about the heroic sorcerers that could kill them with ease. His stories were passionate and assured, like Mike really did believe they could take on that monster if they wanted. He made Will feel brave. He made him feel like he was the one in control, and that Lonnie couldn’t actually hurt him.
Will didn’t know what to do when it was Mike in the bedroom crying instead. He never thought he’d have to find out.
It twisted his insides to see him so distraught. It hurt how much he wanted to make that ache, that all too familiar ache, disappear. The sadness was matched in ferocity by a jagged outrage. How could they do this to Mike? How could they not hear him crying? How could they care more about the argument than their child?
His instincts decided while his thoughts struggled to keep up, picking him off the floor and taking a daring step towards him.
“Mike..?”
He launched upright, locking red-rimmed eyes for just a split second of realization before they were blocked by a blur of furious sleeves wiping. “Will. Oh- oh shit. Uhm- I- I didn’t know you were in here.”
“Yeah I…figured.” He stood awkwardly.
The wetness contrasted against Mikes dark eyes, making the tears stand out. Will hated knowing what Mikes looked like with a wobbly lip and wet cheeks.
Tentatively, he sat down on the edge of the bed and hoped it was the right thing to do. “Are you okay?”
Someone banged something downstairs. Mike flinched.
“Yeah.” He took a gulp of air, eyes slipping closed, and Will was astonished to see his crying slow considerably. Mike rubbed his face raw in removing the access.
Will felt sick.
The movement was too practiced. Too perfected.
“Music used to help.” He felt so stupid. So utterly out of place. All he wanted to do was help, he’d take the agony twice over if it meant Mike would never feel this way again.
Mike nodded. His body language read the same tense unsureness Will felt. At least they were mildly uncomfortable in unison.
Appreciating the task to do, he went back towards the shelf. Each soft inhale behind him, audibly shaking, jabbed the knife deeper in his gut. Desperate to get the sound out of his head as quickly as possible he grabbed the first tape he found- a Queen record- and slipped it into the radio.
Mike kept his head downturned so Will couldn’t see his face anymore. His hand raised and held over his mouth like a muzzle. Will’s heart clenched while his hand twisted the dial until the volume overpowered anything else.
The task was complete. Mike was still crying. His parents were still fighting. Will was still intruding.
Fingertips itched to reach out and pull him close. Tongue twisted to stop from spilling reassurances.
“Do you… want me to leave?”
The question floated in the air aimlessly, finding no answer to latch on to.
He worried for a moment that Mike couldn’t hear him until he registered a quiet “No.”
That complicated things. His desperation to console him fought his fear. He wanted to leave and pretend he’d seen nothing but all the same he knew he could never bring himself to abandon Mike in this state.
So he sat down and felt the vibrations of Mikes instability. Mike had his knees drawn up against his chest, Will crossed his, tipping one knee to bump against his ankle. Anything to be close.
He didn’t say anything. He waited fruitlessly for Mike to start. Instead his stomach churned and Mike tried to recuperate. Each trial and error marked with uneven gasps and shaking sobs that didn’t cease no matter how much he willed them too.
“Talk to me.” The words drifted like a breeze off his lips, hardly audible. Let me help you.
The first song came to its close. Nobody was listening to it until it was silence. The tension in its wake was like the drawing back of a bow. They were both waiting for the inevitable strike when somebody would yell again.
It never came.
Mike wiped his face and his inhale was sharper than it should be “I just- I hate this fucking house.”
The words echoed from hundreds of Mikes saying the same sentiment, all emerging at once like this was the first time he’d ever dared speak it aloud. He was far older than he was, exhausted, and simultaneously too young to be put through this.
“My mom hates my dad so she takes it out on me.”
Mr Wheeler was less than desirable, even when they were little and unaware, nobody in the party liked him. It used to be a dare just to talk to him. Knowing that Mrs Wheeler shared the same sentiment made each game sour. A miserable truth now accompanying childhood innocence.
Thats probably how Mike’s felt his whole life.
“She likes Nance. Loves her. And- and Holly. But she- she hates me.” His expression wobbled again with a fresh sob pushing past his lips. He was quick to catch it with his palm and muffle the noise. Talking through the cracks in his fingers “And I fuck everything up anyway so- so she isn’t wrong either.“
“No Mike, god no! Just because she’s mad doesn’t mean she hates you-“
Mike shook his head. His silence daunting and uncharted. Will stumbled through it for something to hold on to, some modicum of assurance that he was saying the right things.
He felt frantic at the prospect of Mike feeling insignificant. The concept hitting him like a brick wall.
Mike was the warmth against Will’s skin, each moment with him recontextualized the meaning of loving. His kindness was unique and tender, his affection strong and billowing. How could the boy that gave love definition see himself as anything but?
“You don’t see how she looks at me!” it was his lack of bitterness that cut the deepest. There was no ill-will for his parents that failed him, only anguished defeat like this was a fate he had long since accepted. “How everybody looks at me!”
An overwhelming upset rose from Wills gut into his throat, lodging it with thick emotion. It felt life or death how desperately he needed Mike to understand his importance.
“Like I’m a failure! And everything I do is wrong and useless and- and that I’d be better off anywhere but here! And they’re right, they’re all right-“
“I love you!”
Will was stupid with outrage. Emphasizing each syllable with confidence taken straight from his most passionate depths.
“Mom does too! And Jonathan and El! Lucas, Dustin, Max, Hopper! You can’t think like that because it’s not true and if your family makes you feel that way then fuck. Them.”
Mike gaped at him. His mouth opened and shut a few times, visibly buffering. Will hadn’t realized he’d taken a light hold on his shoulder until the dust settled and the pressure registered. He didn’t let go even if his heart was pounding so hard it was becoming a medical concern.
Don’t think about the fact that you just said I love you. Don’t think about the fact that you just said I love you. Don’t think about the fact that you just said I love you. Don’t think about the fact that you just said I love you.
Mike was everything. If it took all Will had to make him see that, he’d lay all his cards down. Mike was worth the risk.
Mike’s own body heaved with panting. His legs slowly unfurled, falling off the side of the bed. “Will…”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Mike was looking at him with something unreadable. A delicate swirling of hope and awe into something impossibly disbelieving, almost dreamlike in quality. Something dangerous. Will couldn’t look at it.
He slipped his other hand on Mikes other shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. Their hearts overlapping and matching a panicked melody.
Mikes face was cold and wet against Wills shoulder, sinking into the borrowed jacket. Black hair tickling Wills jaw. His crying had mellowed out, shaking slowing into obscurity, but he didn’t let go. Will didn’t push him away.
He felt Mike melt against him, thawing from the manic tension he’d been succumbing to. Almost instinctively, they found themselves even closer.
The air felt lighter once they let themselves sit in the moment and just breathe.
The hug transformed into something both refused to name. Mike stayed leaning against Will but shifted his body so the back of his head was in the crook of Wills neck and the rest of him stayed turned against Wills chest. Will kept an arm around his back. If Will didn’t know better he’d say they were practically cuddling.
“I’m…I’m glad you were here.” Mike admitted softly.
“Even if I’m not, you can always come to me.” Please come to me. Please don’t ever feel alone.
“I know.” Mike pulled away shyly. Maybe it was Will’s imagination but he could’ve sworn Mike looked almost upset about the loss of connection. “I’m sorry you had to..see that.”
“I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
Mike cracked a weak smile and Will counted that in his book of successes.
He looked to the door and the smile dissipated. Wills stomach churned.
“I was gonna re-read Xmen but I couldn’t find book one.”
The distraction worked. Mikes intensity faded into a more thoughtful, mindless content. The kind you got when engaging in idle chitchat “Oh, Dustin borrowed that one. He hasn’t given it back yet.”
“Oh my god are you serious?”
They eased back into standard conversation.
The radio sang on.
The door stayed locked.