Work Text:
Home is where Mike Wheeler is meant to be.
The image of that perfectly normal, externally spotless two-story house with manicured lawns and a proud Reagan-Bush Sign nailed to the grassy ground quickly flashes in the said boy’s mind. Except, he is uncertain, whether he could still call that place home; Ted Wheeler and Karen Wheeler are in the hospital in the aftermath of a demogorgon attack, Holly is still missing and is probably kept in a world untouched by anything normal, Nancy has not set foot in that house for days, and Will…
Well, Will has not been in that house for longer.
‘Has Will ever considered Mike’s house his home?’
The thought is poorly-timed, but the steady stream of Will, Will, Will, Will, Will continues to echo in Mike’s head.
Did Will not like living with him? In those eighteen months, the boy would just… Wander off. Mike is aware that he has been a crappy best friend, which is why he had tried and continues to try pleasing Will.
Mike lets out a frustrated grunt, as he lunges at the demogorgon in front of him.
His mind does not even return to Will; it has never left Will.
Mike had asked, even begged, his mother to let Will stay with him. In his bedroom, even! In return, the boy had let out a half-hearted, “I would be okay with sharing.”.
Considering the doom, which had blanketed Hawkins, Mike had tried not to mind Will’s lukewarm disposition. He, instead, had taken the win; his father and mother had agreed to host The Byers. Without waiting, Mike had barreled down to the mostly unused basement to clean.
“Oh, Michael,” Karen had smiled, as she had watched Mike with a broom for possibly the first time in her life.
Gently, she had set down the plate of sandwiches on one of the wooden tables in the basement.
Mike had given her a confused, judging look. “What?”
His mother had shaken her head, her blonde hair barely swaying with all the hairspray locking the strands in place. “Nothing,” she had said.
Karen Wheeler had looked too happy for a mother living in Hawkins.
“I will be upstairs, if you need me.”
Over the sound of sweeping, Mike could hear his mother’s careful footsteps ascend the staircase. For the next six hours or so, Mike would be left with no company and no help.
And, he had not minded a single second.
The next morning, he had excitedly ushered Will to the basement. His mother would later chastise him for barely greeting Joyce and Jonathan.
Mike had arranged the mattress for Will, himself. He had washed the already clean sheets and carefully fluffed the pillows. The furniture had been rearranged; Mike had brought down his own books and bought new sketch pads, charcoal, pencils, and oil pastels to fill Will’s side of the basement. Even the television set had been dusted.
“Your favorite films are here in the basket,” Mike had shared. He had known which ones Will would not bother watching. Those had been relegated to the back of the television stand.
A flash of something - gratefulness, perhaps, had passed Will’s face. But, before Mike could be certain of what such had been, the look had passed.
Replacing the shine on his best friend’s eyes is a neutral, almost guilty stare.
“Cool,” Will had said.
He had muttered a quiet “Thank You” and had returned upstairs, never to glance at Mike for the remainder of the day.
The demogorgon in front of him lets out a roar, before swinging its left limb towards Mike. The dark-haired boy barely steps out of the creature’s reach.
Mike feels a faint sting on his right cheek, the skin breaking, as a few droplets of blood rush down his face.
Killing the demogorgon is taking longer, than Mike wants. His body almost moves instinctively.
Mostly, because his mind remains on Will.
Jonathan had looked more thankful, than Will, when he set his own bags down on the basement floor.
“We appreciate it,” he had assured Mike, as Will had busied himself with unpacking one of his suitcases.
On the first night of The Byers staying with them, Mike had hoped that him and Will would stay up together. Whether it be to watch films, to read whatever comic book, or to just talk, he would not have minded.
But, Will had quickly excused himself for a bath. When he had returned to the basement, the boy had looked at the expectant Mike with surprise.
“Oh!” He had set his towel on one of the new hooks along the wooden wall opposite from the staircase. “You must be exhausted. You should rest,” he had said with a small smile.
The next day, the next days, the next weeks, and the next months, Mike would not quit bothering Will. He would bring him food downstairs, he would ask him to stay upstairs with him, he would ask him to go out, and at one point, he had even asked him, if he would like to play Dungeons And Dragons.
Of course, Will had not wanted to.
Will’s refusals had greatly outnumbered his agreements. Even when the boy would say “Yes” to whatever Mike had requested, it had been as if Will had felt forced to do so.
Frustration had quickly creeped into Mike, but he had not wanted to be an even worse best friend by giving up.
Often, Will had asked Karen how he could help around the house. By what Mike’s mother could only assume to be a miracle, Mike would be there with Will.
Vacuuming the living room, wiping the banisters, polishing the floors, doing the laundry, washing the dishes… The only chore, which Karen had not allowed Will to perform is to mow the lawn.
“That is too taxing for you, Sweetie,” she had said. Karen Wheeler had placed a kiss on Will’s forehead in such a natural manner, that Mike had almost been freaked out.
Whatever strange cloud had descended on Mike had been quickly replaced by an unnameable, almost pleasant tug at his chest.
His mother had always been accommodating and caring towards Mike’s friends, but Will? Karen had obviously adored Will.
After all, Will had been Mike’s first friend.
Of course, in those eighteen months, Mike had loomed over Will like an eager, dark shadow. He would offer to do most of the work at home, he would constantly ask Will what he had needed and what he had wanted, he would do school work with Will, he would hang around uselessly down at the basement to be with Will, he would push Nancy out of the way to sit next to Will at the dinner table…
Yes, Mike has had some difficulties with his friendship with Will, but he had been trying.
Just as he is now trying to murder the demogorgon before him.
All things considered, Mike thinks that he has a fairly good grip at using the spear in his hands, when he had just nicked it from The Squawk’s storage unit - which, in turn, had been nicked by either Steve or Robin.
Robin.
Images of Will with Robin - talkative and infuriatingly bubbly in the presence of Will, race through Mike’s mind like an eight millimeter film reel. Will had been attached to Robin’s side for days, now.
Mike bludgeons the demogorgon with renewed strength, just as he had angrily prodded at the dirt and the cement beneath The Dick Washroom.
Dirt had fallen around them, like snow and in his periphery, Mike had seen Will hide shyly behind the girl, his best friend’s left hand on Robin’s left shoulder.
The sight is all Mike had needed to deliver the few remaining blows needed to clear the ground above them.
Who is Robin, anyway?
That used to be him. Will used to hide behind him, when he would startle at whatever horror flick, which they had been watching. Will used to let Mike wrap his arms around him for comfort, without complaint. Will used to not mind the feeling of Mike’s elbows brushing against his.
“Stop touching Will!” Lucas had screamed at Mike in annoyance on multiple occasions.
Before the first time Lucas had told him off, Mike had been unaware of his own habit.
In the past eighteen months, however, Will had actively tried to avoid Mike’s touch. Whenever Mike would sling an arm around his best friend’s shoulder, the other boy would flinch away - as if he had been scalded or hurt.
Mike supposes that Will had not noticed, but Will had always handed him whichever item with such care. Too much care. He would even hold the broomstick horizontally towards Mike, ensuring that Mike would have no choice, but to grab the wooden handle farthest from Will.
During meals, Mike would allow himself to sit comfortably enough for his right knee to touch Will’s left knee. Without fail, Will would adjust his chair to move closer to Joyce and away from Mike.
Mike rewinds the past months and weeks in his head. Robin and Will had never been close. Never.
What had Robin done to deserve Will’s touch, then?
Even worse, what had she done to deserve to touch Will, at all?
Yes, Mike had to be somewhere else for The Crawl and for their plan for The Turnbow Family, but what could Robin possibly have done for Will to allow her to pull her anywhere and to embrace him at the most unnecessary moments?
Their closeness borders on inappropriate, in Mike’s eyes. After all, Robin is too old for Will. She does not know Will.
Not like Mike does.
The realization that Mike - whether consciously or unconsciously, has designated himself as Will’s protector hits him, like a punch from Billy Hargrove.
He mentally makes excuses for himself, as he repeatedly bashes the demogorgon’s head with the spear - more out of sheer fury, than necessity.
Amidst the sound of thunder and the roars of the demogorgon, Mike could not recall why he had seen himself in such a light. Was seeing himself as Will’s knight some childish fantasy? Mike tries to convince himself that he is normal and sensible.
Well, who could Mike trust to keep Will safe?
Dustin? No.
Lucas? No.
Jonathan? Maybe.
Not that Mike wants to relegate the title to anyone.
Only he, apart from Joyce, had held the belief that Will had been alive, after he had went missing.
When Will had been possessed by The Mind Flayer, it had been Mike, who had stayed beside him.
He is the closest to Will and he is the only one, who knows how to care for Will.
An accusing voice suddenly replaces the noise in Mike’s pounding head.
‘Then, why does Will no longer seek your company?’
Robin Fucking Buckley appears to have taken Mike’s place beside Will. They walk together, eat together, confide in each other, mess around together, and giggle with each other with abandon - as if they had their own little world.
A world somewhere only they know and one, which is not ending.
The only time Mike had gotten really close enough to Will had been on one of the few nights, when Will had agreed to have a movie night. Jonathan had snuck up to Nancy’s bedroom and had left the basement for the two younger boys.
Halloween is supposed to be one of Will’s favorite films, but the tiredness must have caught up to him, that evening. Will had gone to visit Eleven in the morning. Once he got home, Will had done the laundry. After a quick lunch, he had gone back to Hopper’s to help set the supplies up for Eleven’s training.
In the afternoon, Mike had done enough pacing and had followed Will to visit Eleven.
Mike had shown up empty-handed, with only a hug to greet Eleven. Behind her, Mike had seen Will shake his head in judgement.
“You could not have brought El something?” Will had muttered to him in exasperation.
Perched atop a rotting car, Mike could see a half-eaten cupcake and an empty bottle of soda. Will, ever thoughtful, had brought gifts for his sister.
Will, apart from clearly loving Eleven, had wanted to be useful. He had repeatedly reset the course for her, arranging planks of wood and articles of scrap for her training. Whenever Eleven would allow herself to take a break, Will would be there with a bottle of water in hand and words to presumably comfort and encourage her.
Mike had realized, then, that he might be the problem. He is a terrible best friend and an even worse boyfriend.
That evening, Mike had tried even harder to be good to Will, for Will.
As Will completed whatever assignment he had at The Sinclairs’s with Lucas, Mike had gone out to buy a box of Hawaiian pizza, an immature amount of junk food, and five bottles of soda for a surprise movie night. He had rushed to the bathroom for a quick bath, set a comforter, two pillows, and a blanket in front of the television set in the basement, and popped and salted the popcorn, himself.
Nervously, he had repeatedly walked the length of the ground floor - enough to earn him a scream from his father, who had presumably already been in bed with his mother.
When Mike had heard the click of the front door’s lock, he had rushed to greet Will.
“Come on,” he had excitedly blurred out, as he had grabbed Will’s right hand and pulled him towards the basement.
Will had to remind him that he has not even locked the front door, yet. He had almost looked… Annoyed, when Mike had followed him dumbly back to the front door.
Mike had been quick to wrap his right arm around Will’s waist to drag him back to the basement. The other boy had eyed him suspiciously, dragging his steps down the staircase.
Finally, they had reached the basement. The makeshift fort had been enough to make Will break into a small smile.
“I know that you’re tired, so I figured that you might like to relax a bit,” Mike had explained. “You can pick whatever movie you want. You missed dinner, so I got some pizza.”
Will had walked carefully towards the spread of food and drinks, which had only made Mike feel absolutely moronic. What made him think that Will would want to eat junk to “relax”? In an attempt to salvage his juvenile plan, Mike had rambled on.
“There is still food upstairs, but I didn’t want you to eat leftovers. I learned to cook stuff.”
At such a confession, Will had whipped his head to look at Mike with raised eyebrows.
Mike had realized that he might have oversold himself. “Just simple stuff. Don’t expect much, but I could feed you.”
The words had sounded stupid to Mike’s ears, but Will, ever kind, had assured him that what Mike had gotten had been enough and that he had not been hungry, anyway.
A wave of relief had washed over Mike. Will would not be refusing him, that night.
Once Will had finished with his nightly routine, he had been visibly more tired. He had always been more careful with hygiene, never even allowing the clothes, which he had worn outside to touch his bed.
Will had clearly only agreed to spend time with Mike out of guilt. Michael Meyers had not even claimed his second victim, when Will had allowed sleep to claim him. His head had rested against one of the couch cushions and a pack of unopened Skittles had been left on his lap.
The position had looked uncomfortable, Mike had convinced himself. So, he had done what any sensible person would. He had carefully wrapped his arms around Will’s waist to pull him to his side. Gently, Mike had rested Will’s head on his shoulder.
Nothing wrong, nothing bad.
It had not been until the next morning, that Mike had sobered up enough to consider how they would have looked.
Mike had awoken to Lucas’s insistent shaking.
“Nancy wants everybody at The Squawk,” he had whispered.
See, Lucas not wanting to startle Will awake is the only reason, why he had not banged pots and pans to Mike’s ears.
Because, Will had been next to Mike - wrapped around Mike’s arms and still in peaceful slumber.
His best friend’s hair had almost been dark blonde under the small patch of sunlight peeking through the blinds. Mike had stared in awe; it had been so long, since he had been afforded a close view of Will’s face. A light rose dusted his full cheeks and long eyelashes curled over his eyelids, hiding Will’s hazel-colored irises. Moles peppered Will’s pale face, but Mike’s favorite is the beauty mark on the left side of Will’s face, just beside his nose. Spurned by greed, Mike allows his eyes to wander down his best friend’s face to the boy’s plump mouth. A sliver of his two, white front teeth peeks between his cola-stained lips.
Will is so beautiful.
‘How had that song gone?’ Mike had thought, then.
In quick succession, it had been as if time had rewound and Mike had landed on one quiet, normal afternoon at The Byers’s. Will had been sick and of course, Mike had rushed on his bike towards their home.
A distressed Joyce Byers had opened the chipped wooden front door of the crumbling house, her hair disheveled. Mike had been breathless from the effort, with which it had taken his twelve-year-old self to ride from his house to Will’s.
“Can I see Will, please?” He had been so rattled, that Mrs. Byers had asked him to repeat himself twice.
With a nod, she had swung the front door further open and had allowed Mike inside. Running straight towards Will’s bedroom, a canister of soup in hand. Mike had almost tripped on Jonathan’s feet.
The older Byers had been fixing the boombox in the living room.
A song had been playing, but Mike had not cared much. He had come to see Will.
Without knocking, Mike had burst through his best friend’s bedroom. Will had been ill; he had bags under his eyes and his mouth had been chapped. Upon seeing Mike, however, Will had sat up and removed the damp cloth on his forehead.
“Hello,” the smaller boy had said with a smile.
The effort had stretched his best friend’s lips enough for the skin to break. Dark red had bloomed on Will’s bottom lip.
Mike had quickly set the soup down on the old, oak bedside table. “Will, no,” he had fussed. As if automatically, Mike had grabbed the discarded cloth and held it up to Will’s bleeding lips.
Will’s large eyes had turned even larger. Then, he had laughed - groggily, yet melodious.
“Tastes gross,” Will had complained with a scrunch of his nose.
Oh.
“You’ve got a face with a view,” the song had crooned.
Back in the basement, Mike had tried not to look guilty, but even he knew that he had failed at the simple task. Lucas had raised an eyebrow and had shaken his head, before walking back up the staircase.
It had taken ten more minutes for Mike to accept that his time had been up and that he must wake Will up.
An ungodly number of weeks had passed, since then. Mike could count the number of times, when Will had been as close to him, once more.
None.
Instead, Robin gets a free pass to Will’s smiles, his time, his company, his worry, and his fucking skin.
Mike barely registers the sight of the demogorgon’s head falling with an unceremonious squelch on the concrete in front of him.
He allows himself a few breaths, before he continues his interrupted journey through The Upside Down.
Will is selfless, yes. But, he is also a fucking idiot.
“No one deviates from the plan, unless we must.”
Nancy had been clear.
Yet, what does Will do?
Had Mike not woken up from the sound of Will’s footsteps, no one would have known where the boy would have gone.
From a distance, Mike had watched Will open a gate to The Upside Down and go through the sinewy rift without looking back. None of them - not even Will, had understood the parameters of Will’s newly discovered abilities. The fact that he could cross to The Upside Down with minimal effort had come in handy for Will’s treachery.
The taller boy had tried to catch up, but the gate had closed, before he could even reach the woods. Before Mike could allow panic to take over, he had rushed to The Squawk. The storage room had looked more like an arsenal, than a cleaning closet. He had grabbed what could only be described as a makeshift spear, had quietly exited their sorry headquarters, and had made his way to the tunnels.
In the aftermath of Vecna’s attack, one could only describe the military’s response as giving up.
With barely any struggle, Mike had snuck through the perpetually open gate of the MAC-Z and into the decaying realm beyond.
This must be the place.
Mike had covered his nose and mouth with the large strip of blue fabric tied around his neck.
Utter darkness is what had greeted him. Every once in a while, a red strip of lightning would illuminate the gray wasteland mirroring Hawkins.
The air is heavy with the smell of metal and sulfur. Ash and strange matter swirl around the oppressive space. Despite the living vines enveloping what Mike could only deem as the netherworld, one could tell that the place is nothing, but rot and despair.
No threatening sight or creature could have stopped Mike on his quest or could have made him want to return “home”, however.
‘This must be the place,’ he had thought, once more.
Will had spent a week in this hellhole. Mike could not allow himself to imagine just what Will had been through, during those days.
Not as the demogorgon had relentlessly chased him and certainly not at the hands of Vecna.
Scared and alone, Will had strived to survive in a plane, which appears to only be fit for death.
Mike had not been there to protect him. He had sworn that such a day would never come, again, but much like many of Mike’s personal missions, he had failed at that.
Thunder booms overhead, as Mike trudges resolutely towards the direction of the church. Stuck with several pointless plans - which, in truth, had mostly been borne out of the desire to keep most of them safe, the group had finally settled on a single and generally insane resolution.
Most of them would pay a visit to The Upside Down, comb through the dimension in teams, and convene at a certain time back to the MAC-Z. If a group fails to show up, the rest would know where to start. Nancy had carefully mapped out each section for each party and had repeatedly explained the route for each.
Hopper and Eleven had made it back, which had meant that the group had now also known Kali.
Eleven’s sister had proved herself to be willing to partake in whatever suicide mission they had been itching to go on. By whatever grace from the universe, such had meant that three out of the five teams to descend to The Upside Down would have somebody with beyond natural abilities with them.
Will, Robin, and Lucas were to begin their crawl at the church, snaking around a section of the woods, and back to the military base.
“I think,” Will had nervously began. He had tilted his head to the side in thought. “I think I saw him seeing the church.”
A heated debate had broken on whether Will should be taking the assignment with the highest probability of leading to Vecna. The boy had been visibly frustrated at the continuous babying of the group.
To Mike’s dismay, it had been Robin’s words, which had assured Joyce and Hopper that Will would not be powerless in the face of the very same monster, who had orchestrated his disappearance.
Granted, their plan had not been exactly fool-proof or elegant, but a plan is a plan. Sticking to one reduces their chances of being caught off-guard or going through much worse.
But, Will… He had been willing to die, when he had thought that such would be the only way to “defeat” The Mind Flayer.
Ever self-sacrificing and cruelly oblivious to everybody’s love for him, Will had gone to The Upside Down on his own.
All alone, just like he had been at twelve years old.
Only this time, venturing towards that dark place had been his choice.
No other demogorgon had greeted Mike on his way to the white building at the west of town. Secretly, he mourns the lack of outlet for his frustration. His hands and arms itch with the desire to expel energy.
An innocent set of boxes set down on one of the sidewalks end up becoming the victim of Mike’s frustration. He kicks at the useless cardboard and repeatedly spears them, with no rational reason to do so. The aftermath is a mess, with Mike having had also speared through some of the living vines. His chest rises and lowers with deep, steady breaths.
Until, he remembers that with how close Will is to the hivemind, he might have also felt every stab of the spear.
Fucking great.
Mike comes to rescue Will, only to end up further hurting the boy. And for what? Some childish feeling of being left behind? An irrational anger at not being there to shield Will from a threat, which Mike honestly would not win over, anyway?
The pulsing vines crawling around the white, colonial structure of the church does little to scare Mike. He had never been religious, but much like Nancy, he would go to church every Sunday to please Ted Wheeler.
Just a normal, Midwestern family is who they are. Never mind that most of them do not truly believe in the sermons being said within those supposedly blessed walls.
Now, however, Mike eagerly ascends the steps towards the church.
The boy finally pulls the large, oak front doors of the building open. It does not take long for him to spot Will.
His back towards Mike, Will stands in front of the altar, like a bride waiting for her monstrous groom in a fucked up perversion of a wedding. The sight and the thought make Mike’s stomach curl in rage and disgust.
Vecna - that undead demon… He had long wanted something from Will and he still does. Will had never told any of them just what exactly Vecna had done to him.
But, Mike has his suspicions.
Just from Will’s sparing, vague words about his time in The Upside Down and his connection to Vecna, Mike could tell. None of them are good. He imagines the undead creature’s rotting hands reaching for Will, caressing his soft face. Vecna’s sickeningly chastising voice towards Will - almost sweet, still taunts Mike’s ears.
“WILL!”
The scream startles the other boy, who quickly turns around.
His eyes are still in the middle of rolling back down, which tells Mike that Will had been using his powers to look for Vecna.
Will’s large eyes grow even larger. He had been caught doing something, which he should not have.
Pretty, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Mike?” He tries to see behind Mike, as if expecting to see the rest of the party burst through the dark brown front doors.
It is Mike, then, who begins closing the distance between them.
“What are you doing here?” Will backs away, his lower back hitting the edge of the altar.
Mike’s frustration grows. “What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here? We had a plan, Will!”
Raising his voice towards Will in such a manner is something, which Mike had never done. The sudden act shakes Will, a flash of hurt reflecting in his eyes. It does not take long for them to begin to water.
Quickly, Mike regains his composure. He breathes out a shaky exhale and lowers his voice. “It’s not safe for you to be alone, Will,” he says in a kinder voice.
“You’re alone, too,” Will accuses. “Do the others even know that you’re here?”
No words come out of Mike’s mouth.
“See?” Will turns back around, a sharp inhale audible from where he stands. “Leave me alone, Mike.”
To say that the request had stung would be an understatement. Will had rarely, if he had ever, spoken to Mike with such dismissal.
Sweet, sweet, Will.
“No.”
Mike takes a step forward.
Before him, Will’s shoulders sag. He faces Mike, his annoyance now clear. “We do not have time for this, Mike.”
“Go on,” Mike urges him. He traces his steps back and closes the front doors of the church, locking the both of them inside. “Do what you must, but I will stay here.”
For the first time that evening, Will’s face softens. He pauses, considering his next words.
His own heartbeat rings in Mike’s ears. Why must Will dismiss him so? Does he not have a care for himself? Does he not have an ounce of care left for Mike?
“Vecna,” Will begins. He swallows, trains his gaze on Mike’s. “He’s strong.”
“I know that.”
A chuckle breaks out from Will. He nods. “Even with my abilities, there is no telling, whether we could best him. In truth, if beating him is all we need, it would be smarter to have El and Kali with me,” Will explains.
Mike lets out a frustrated groan. “Then, why did you go without them?”
“Because, it’s dangerous.”
The backpack slung over Mike’s left shoulder drops to the ground with a loud thud. He sets the spear against the side of one of the pews. “Let me get this straight,” he says, his voice getting louder, once more. “Your great plan is for Vecna to beat you, then take you, so that we would be down by one person. Is that it?” Unable to keep a more level mood, Mike throws his arms over his face with a groan.
Will shakes his head, as if Mike is a child - unwilling and unable to comprehend the great secrets of the universe.
It takes him about seven steps to reach the center of the altar, about seven steps to face Mike.
“Vecna wants me.”
A ten tonne weight drops upon Mike Wheeler. He is not surprised, truly. It would make sense for Will to have been specifically targeted all those years ago. Such fact, however, does not ease the pang of the confirmation.
What more could that monster want from Will?
Mike gazes up at Will, whose eyes now send him a silent apology. Vecna had taken so much from the boy. Will had been stuck in The Upside Down for a week, but it is as if he had never left this cursed realm. Even if one would discount the physical, emotional, and mental torment, which had plagued Will in his revival, something darker and sinister had chased him to their world and had caught him, once more.
The Mind Flayer, Vecna, Henry, 001… Whoever and whichever of them had violated Will and had still not been satisfied. They had to take his mind and his body, too.
‘If so,’ Mike wonders. ‘How much of Will is left of Will?’
The dark-haired boy fights the tears threatening the edges of his eyes.
No.
He will not make this about him. He will not rob Will of what is his to grieve.
“No,” Mike says with unshakeable resolution. “You cannot give yourself to him.”
Will tilts his head towards his right. He appears puzzled about Mike. “Do not think that I am giving up,” he assures Mike. “I just want to know more.”
“KNOW MORE?” Mike takes another step forward, then another. “What else is there to know, Will? There is nothing good for you with him!”
Mike becomes acutely aware of how strange his response had sounded.
Outside, the thunder continues to boom. The occasional strike of red lightning comes and briefly illuminates the interior of the church. Will looks beyond out of place in the gloomy violence of The Upside Down.
Will Byers does not belong here.
Mike Wheeler must take him home.
Without another thought, the taller of the two boys snatches the other’s left arm, dragging him down the altar and towards the front doors. Will is quick to shake Mike’s grip off.
“No, Mike,” he insists. “I must stay here. I need to find Henry. I need to know more about him, what he truly wants…”
The rest of his words get drowned out by the ringing in Mike’s ears.
Henry, Will had called the demon. As if, they had been merely close friends. An ugly twist makes itself known in Mike’s gut.
Will is pleading with him. “Only then, can we hopefully hypothesize how to defeat him.”
“Why must it be you?” Mike asks in a low voice.
The truth that Will might truly be the key to defeating Vecna finally dawns upon Mike. Whatever sick plan Vecna has, Will must be at its center.
Silence stretches between them, prompting Mike to repeat himself.
“I am who he wants,” Will says, his nose upturned.
“Why are you willing to indulge him?”
Will lets out a sigh. “We’re going in circles.”
Yet, Mike would not let up. He feels the tension rise in the air, secretly revels in it, and cruelly hopes that it is as oppressive to Will, as it is for him. “Why are you willing to indulge him?” Mike repeats.
“I am not indulging him. I am trying to find a way to get to him.”
“Which, as we all know, is dangerous. You are willingly putting yourself in imminent peril for an uncertain win.”
Outside, the thunder claps - as if in agreement. Its sound would have drowned Will’s voice out, had the boy not finally been ticked off by his best friend’s seeming idiocy. “Because, for all we know, this is our only chance of understanding him enough to end him! What? Do you think that El, Kali, and I could just raise our hands together and put an end to Henry?” Will exclaims.
“No.” Mike shakes his head. “I won’t allow it.”
Again, he grabs Will - this time, both of his arms wrap around the boy to drag him out of the church.
Will tries and fails to push him away, so he plants his feet to the ground and tries to bite one of Mike’s arms.
“Are you fucking insane?” Will is fuming, his face turning even redder, as a red flash of lightning disturbs the black sky. “Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?”
Yes, Will is right, but Mike had never been one to enjoy admitting that someone else has a better point, than he does.
He gently lets go of Will, backs away, and leans against one of the pews to Will’s right.
“Alright,” Mike tries, again. “You can think for yourself and you can decide your limits.”
The other boy rolls his eyes. “Thank you,” he says sarcastically.
“Will you, at the very least, let me stay?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Instead of giving another answer, Will settles for an exasperated sigh of Mike’s name.
Mike had been told a lot of times how annoying he can get. Will had never agreed, but Mike supposes that he is about to find out just how fucking insufferable Mike Wheeler can get. “Why,” he asks, once more.
“It is unnecessary and you would be able to do little to help much.”
Mike understands. He truly does.
Yet, he is simply not able to let Will do something so dangerous; he cannot leave Will.
He will not.
“Why do you always place yourself beneath everyone else?”
The question is loaded and it leaves Will mute for a few moments. “What?” Will softly mutters.
“You always do this,” Mike asserts. “It’s like you would happily be a doormat, if it meant that everybody else would be happy.”
His accusation is foul and cruel. Will is just so, Mike knows. But, Mike has had a history of letting his tongue deliver the blows, before his brain could catch up. He attempts to mutter an apology, but Will is already walking towards the front doors.
The next thing Mike hears is the heavy drag of the entryway being opened.
“Out,” Will simply says.
Will is mistaken, if he thinks that he could get rid of Mike that easily.
Mike stalks towards his companion, only to shut the door, which Will had been holding open.
Briefly, Mike’s fingers brush against Will’s. He ignores the shiver, which had seemingly sparked from where their fingers had met.
He wordlessly returns to the front of the church, now choosing to rest his weight on of the pews towards the front.
Will follows him. Only, he ends up retaking his original post by the altar.
“Tell me.” At this point, Mike is almost begging.
Will only shakes his head.
“You do this all the time, Will.”
Mike’s mind drifts to the painting.
Exactly how much time they are wasting with the pointless discussion, Will is uncertain. He is, however, certain that he needs an extended period away from Mike after all of this.
If there even is an after.
Will stares on, while Mike drones on. He almost cannot believe the words coming out of his best friend’s mouth. Does he truly see Will in such a way? One would think that Will had begged to be taken by the demogorgon at twelve years old, with Mike’s tone.
“Are you a masochist? Do you enjoy hurting yourself?” Mike walks closer towards Will. “You always find a way to help others, but somehow it always comes at your expense. You do not have to do this alone!”
“I do not need help,” Will insists. “I am not a baby.”
Mike swallows, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know that, Will. But, that does not mean that you do not have me or that you do not have us,” he says.
Will stares back at him, defiant.
“You do not have to shield us from anything, Will, nor do you need to take every blow for us. We can do this together. Why must you be here all alone?”
Now focused solely on Mike, Will begins biting his tongue.
“I could have gone with you! I have always wanted to be with you.” Mike realizes too late what such had entailed. Still, he soldiers on. “Vecna wants you and you are serving yourself up to him in a platter. We could be here to help you in any way. So what, if we get hurt?”
Before him, Will is shaking. Whether it be from the cold, from rage, or from something else, Mike does not know. He wants to wrap Will in a blanket, just wants to take him home - the same way he had done that Halloween night.
Mike imagines that normal house across The Sinclairs’s, then The Byers’s at the edge of the woods, then their basement, then The Squawk. In truth, he no longer knows where home would be for either of them. Taking Will home, then, becomes more of a question, than a quest.
He is raising his voice, he knows. Somehow, he could not stop; not even with the sight of Will’s glassy eyes.
“Why do you punish yourself?”
Will sharply interrupts him. “I don’t punish myself.”
“Then, why do you keep doing this? Why are you here alone? Why are putting yourself in danger for everyone else?”
Will has had enough. “Because, I’m the disposable one!”
The response successfully stops Mike from continuing his tirade. “What?” Now, it is Mike’s voice, which has turned weak.
“I am the one everyone can afford to lose,” Will says in a whisper, his bottom lip quivering.
“That’s not true.”
Will shakes his pretty head. “It is! I know so and I have long know,” he murmurs. “And I am okay with that. I’m grateful for everybody, because you saved me the first time. But, that was it. None of you can even pretend to like spending one summer with me.” Fat tears are now rolling down Will’s cheeks.
“Will…”
The other boy holds out his right hand, tells Mike to stop and that it is okay. “Mom has Hopper, Jonathan has Nancy, you all have each other. When Max wakes, I am certain that Lucas will be there to hold her, should she be saddened, if I am gone. And I’m…” Will’s voice breaks. “I am happy with that.”
A sniffle comes out of Will, who wipes his tears away with delicate, shaking hands.
“Sometimes, I wonder, if the reason why Hawkins continues to be cursed, is because I was really supposed to die that first time,” Will confesses.
Mike’s heart shatters and he hopes that Will would just shut up.
“Like… Maybe, Henry’s right. I do not belong—”
Will is cut off; Mike surges forward, his right hand grabbing Will by the side of his neck and his left arm reaching for Will’s waist.
Instead of finally feeling Will’s lips on his, however, Mike’s intended kiss lands on Will’s neck. The other boy had evaded his advance, just in time - tilting his head upwards. Mike could feel Will shaking in his arms and for a moment, he fears that he has truly ruined what they have.
Mike does not give up, as embarrassing as it may be.
He places both hands on Will’s neck. This time, his lips graze the side of Will’s mouth. Right then, Mike could swear that he almost felt, that they are, indeed, on hallowed ground. Mike’s heart is pounding too hard for him to register the weak protests from Will.
The atmosphere grows hot in the ensuing struggle. Will’s hands land on Mike’s chest and abdomen. Mike holds the hand on his abdomen in place, mindful of the rush of his blood through his veins. His brain appears to be blank, save for the continuous stream of Will, Will, Will, Will, Will.
He truly should be more alarmed at his desire to devour Will.
Another attempt at a kiss has Mike’s lips landing on the juncture of Will’s neck and jaw, just below his left ear. And, oh.
Will moans; he likes that.
Like any good man, Mike proceeds to pepper kisses across Will’s neck. He bites down at the skin where Will’s collarbones meet and Mike hears a sharp breath against his left ear.
“Wait,” Will finally manages to squeak.
Mike, ever greedy, pushes forward, until Will’s lower back hits the altar. He cages Will in place, tries kissing him on his bitten lips, once more.
A weak hand pushes against Mike’s chest, but it does little to deter him. He returns his attention to Will’s neck, as he slots his right leg between Will’s thighs. Beneath his tongue, Mike could taste the salt of Will’s tears.
“Mike!” Will finally interjects.
His best friend is crying, Mike realizes. And God… Had he just…
Will’s hands are now covering Mike’s lips, stopping him from attempting anything more and anything else. “Stop,” the shorter boy pleads. He shakes his head. “We can’t.”
Dejected, Mike takes Will’s hands with a single hand, his left hand remaining on the other boy’s waist. He lets his head fall onto Will’s left shoulder and as a consolation, lets his lips rest on the pulse of Will’s neck. He could feel Will’s whole body tense against his.
“Please,” he murmurs against Will’s warm skin.
One kiss, Mike thinks, could fix whatever is wrong with him.
Beneath his mouth, he could feel every breath and every shudder Will takes and still, Will does not yield.
“No.”
The air stills and whatever music had crescendoed in Mike’s head stops. Just as The Upside Down is stuck on the day that Will went missing, Mike is seemingly stuck in the moment, when Will had truly rejected him. He exhales, attempts to salvage whatever is left of the friendship, which he had just ruined.
Mike is prepared to grovel, to beg, to sink to his knees, and to kiss Will’s feet - anything, for all to be forgiven. He could even pretend to forget how much he loves Will.
But, Will… Ever obliging, smiles at him. Mike takes it as a permission. He rests his forehead against Will’s and closes his eyes in shame.
He might truly lose Will, this time. If not to Vecna, then by his own fault.
“I love you,” he says to worsen the situation. There are tears streaming down his own face, now.
Mike feels, more than hears Will’s chuckle. “I know,” the other boy murmurs.
Will briefly pulls away to look at Mike. His doe eyes are red-rimmed and his lips are bitten red. Mike has caused so much distress for Will, that he could no longer come up with a suitable punishment for himself.
“I think I always did,” Will says.
Mike gazes upon Will, his soft features out of place in The Upside Down.
The boy flashes a pained smile. “You must go.”
You must go.
Had the situation been any less threatening, Mike would have broken into a smile. Will speaks, as if he is the princess, whom Mike had always seen him to be.
Such makes Mike all the more terrible at his job as a knight. Knights do not force kisses unto their princesses.
It takes the reminder that it is Will, who he should be comforting for Mike not to break. He contents himself with what Will allows him to have and kisses Will’s forehead.
After what feels like an eternity, Will allows his head to fall and rest on Mike left shoulder. “I’m tired,” he croaks out.
Mike sniffs, unbecoming as ever. “Do you want to lie down?”
“Yes.”
Neither appears to mind the grime and the rot on every surface in The Upside Down. Knowing that they would not fit on the pews, both sink to the floor, where Mike pulls Will close against his chest.
Right then, he wonders. Perhaps, he is under Vecna’s curse. He considers how he could get away from such an awful nightmare.
A familiar tune makes itself known, but it must be in Mike’s head.
They stay in each other’s arms for seconds, minutes… Perhaps, even hours. Vecna does not arrive to further torment Mike or to take Will away.
He concludes that yes, he is awake and this wretched reality is genuine.
Mike is grateful; he is not certain, whether the more somber chords of the song and tune of The Talking Heads would be enough to pull him out of the clutches of a supernatural and inter-dimensional entity’s curse.
Because he can, Mike places another kiss on Will’s forehead, then on both of his eyes. Will’s eyelids flutter close. He looks at peace, like the subjects in those paintings, which Will loves studying so much.
Mike allows himself another indulgence; he kisses the mole above Will’s lips.
For what might be the first time, Mike prays. He begs whoever god may hear him to return Will to him in some way - unscathed, and safe, and ready to come home.
Home.
Fighting the urge to scream up at the heavens and to destroy every morsel of The Upside Down, Mike tightens his arms around Will.
Home.
With Will asleep, Mike could stare at him without much protest. He traces every detail of Will’s face with his gaze, commits them to memory.
Not that he has not memorized Will Byers’s face long ago.
Home.
Mike listens to Will’s steady breathing. It is familiar; it is the same lullaby, which Mike had fallen asleep to a million times before.
Home.
Mike breathes in, could smell the familiar scent of vanilla and cherry on Will’s hair. He uses the same shampoo he has always had, since his childhood.
Another testament to his undying brand of loyalty.
Home.
Allowing his selfish desire to take over, Mike kisses the tip of Will’s nose. When he licks his lips, he can taste all that he is permitted to of Will.
Home.
Mike knows the intimate shape of Will against him, revels in what he had been fortunate enough to have from Will, thus far. Surprisingly, it had still been possible to pull Will even closer.
Home.
Every image of every structure and every corner of Hawkins melt away in Mike’s mind. He is left with just Will and the knowledge that he is in love with Will Byers. This is the only place and only time, wherein Mike could name just what he has hidden from everyone and himself for as long as he could remember.
He focuses, instead, on Will - asleep and beautiful in his arms.
Ah.
The epiphany is welcome.
This must be the place.