Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was nearly like the world was, sort of normal again. Well, if you exclude the fact that Hawkins had become the boundary between the deepest depths of hell from the arms of an inter-dimensional plane led by a psycho magician man turned freaky mutant monster intent on wiping out the human race and the serene plains and rolling hills of the Midwest. 

But in Mike’s somewhat childish mind attached to the memories of nostalgia, it was sort of normal again. The party was fully reunited after his best friend had left him for nearly a year and even in the midst of the end of the world, they had to worry about the workload that came with being in their junior year of high school. 

Pretty much a year from college if they were still alive – hopefully. He was intent on majoring in English and becoming a writer – however, he worried that his family wouldn’t be supportive. He had a gut feeling his father would say something along the lines of but son, you’re a man, You need a reputable job in finance or accounting. He could almost hear his indifferent voice drawling in his head.

“Young man, you are holding up the line!” A bellowing voice broke through Mike’s recollection of events in his mind. “Huh?” His eyebrows had furrowed and mouth had curled into a very surly stereotypical Mike Wheeler-esque face. He managed to look in the direction of where the voice had come from; it had been yelled by the clearly exhausted and likely enraged lunch lady who was waiting to dump some unhealthy concoction of fats and oils and deep-fried shit onto his plate. 

“You are holding the goddamn line up. Pick. Something.” she said through gritted teeth, her face turning red. Mike was unsure whether that was from her pure anger or the complete heat of an unventilated and dilapidated high school kitchen. Probably both.

 “Uhhh.” He looked over to his left and saw his best friend, Will, glaring at him with a slight hint of annoyance in his eyes. He had completely forgotten they had gone up to get lunch together.  Mike parted his lips and rolled his eyes in pure irritation. “I’ll just have whatever he’s having.” he muttered, gesturing towards Will. “Thank the Lord. You kids only seem to grow more slow the older you get. Jesus Christ.” Mike desperately bit back the bile at the back of his throat to prevent any sort of barrage of insults from coming out of his unpredictable mouth. 

Even Will seemed to understand this, having nudged him and staring at Mike with a look completely embodying Stop. Keep your mouth shut. Mike glared back. At least I’m not the one who ended up at a goddamn high school cafeteria serving gross ass food to teenagers for a living below minimum wage at the peak age of 62. He snapped his head back, thrusting his empty tray towards the lunch lady, where she then shoved a spoonful of fried chicken and mac and cheese down onto it. “Thanks.” he muttered indignantly.

As they were about to go further down the line for the “healthy” supplements of milk and fruits, a barrage of snickering and giggling overwhelmed the air. How embarrassing. What a loser. He managed to make out. It was these two random girls in front of him and Will in line. Mike looked down in an attempt to hide his anger, testily hitting his foot on the wall of the buffet line. 

Will sighed as he nudged his friend’s shoe that had suddenly started banging the block with his own in a way to say It’s okay. Breathe. His eyes nearly felt like they were blinking involuntarily, so aggressively to the point it felt like he was giving himself a migraine.

As they continued to shuffle so slowly to the left that it felt like their legs were being dragged in tar, Mike could make out that the giggling had not ceased. Instead, it had grown louder. As soon as Mike was truly going to let all hell loose on these Angela carbon copies, they had turned around to look at him and Will. He barely shifted his head to make sense of the stupid sneers on their stupid faces. Nevermind. All eyes were on William Byers.

The two girls whispered something to one another before giggling once more. “Hey Zombie Boy, can we ask you something?” Eugh. He was brought back to the moment all those years ago at the Snowball Dance where Will exuberantly agreed to dance with the girl that had used the same awful name. But of course, now it was endearing. Why wouldn’t it be? Will was probably the most endearing person he had ever known, Frog Face would never evolve in that sort of way; its poisonous intent would always infinitely remain, especially since it wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Um, sure. What’s up?” Will puzzledly asked. Another giggle. “Why do you keep hanging out with that guy? He’s so weird and such a freak.” At the uttering of those words, the world felt like it had collapsed in on his lungs and choked him in a dark ocean, dragging him down further, further, further, into the impenetrable darkness. “He’s not weird and he’s not a freak.” Will spat, immediately turning away from them to angrily swipe at an apple in the refrigerated area of the line.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you feel bad. I mean, look at him,” one of the girls giggled. “And look at us. We’re not freaks that waste your time. We’d never waste your time.” They giggled again to the point that Mike wished his eardrums would self-implode so he’d never have to hear their grating nail-on-chalk voices again. “At least-” Will had started to retaliate. But he’d be completely cut off. 

An arm had flung itself protectively over him and another on Mike, tugging them closer to the body that these limbs belonged to. “Hey. You two. Leave my boys alone.” What would seem like a harmless tease on paper to these girls, was dripping as a hostile reprisal.

But he wasn’t exactly happy with this supposed “savior.” The heavy scent of cologne, white jacket sleeve embroidered with the Hawkin’s tiger and jersey number explained everything Mike needed to know. This was a senior on the basketball team who would not stop berating Will in the hope that he’d take on a game or two with him and even maybe try-out. “Whatever, Chance. You’re just upset you missed out on the chance to take us out on a date and now that you see that we’ve got our eyes on someone else, you’re all nervous and jealous!” one of the girls shrieked.

Chance nodded, snickering to himself. “Heh, yeah. That’s definitely the reason. You girls read me like a book.” His arms remained still on Mike and Will, though he couldn’t quite tell from across over to his best friend if his hand was getting closer to Will. “Whatever.” the other girl scoffed. “Let’s get out of here.” The two mouthbreathers grabbed their trays with their heads high up into the air, walking into a separate area of the cafeteria.

“Hey, thanks Chance.” Will voiced, looking up at the senior with a small smile. Chance grinned back. “Anything for Will Byers and his friend over here.” Friend. That word embodied a particular sting to Mike’s chest. 

Chance had brought Will suspiciously closer to his torso, with his arm much nearer to Will’s, having released his other on Mike’s shoulder to ruffle his hair. Oh that fucking did it. It reminded him of the very incredibly awfully awkward moment when Argyle brought him into an uncomfortable hug. Only three people were reserved to mess with his hair, and they were, written and signed, Nancy, Jonathan, and Hopper. Not this fucking kid who was practically the same age as them and had no sort of familial or platonic connection to him. Just some asshole who’s gotten way too close to Will for his liking.

He pushed himself away from Chance with a shove into his arm, leaving it suspended in midair and two faces of dark eyes staring at him bewildered.. “Y’know what Will? I’m gonna find us a table. Care to join. But only if you care! If you don’t care I don’t care hahahaaaa….! Continue with I don’t know, with talking about shooting balls?? I don’t fucking know. See you??? Soon. Bye.” He flashed them the most sickeningly sweet smile he could muster and stormed off from the line before grabbing a black cherry drink to refresh the desert his mouth had become.

Mike managed to take a deep breath and found himself at an empty table. Many students had evacuated with their families months prior, leaving the schools rather quiet and bare. Quite the opposite of Michael Wheeler’s current state of mind, however. The previous interactions raced through his infinitely loud thoughts, made no better as Mike continuously stabbed the fried chicken with his spork. It felt like he had delved into hours of pure insanity before Will made his way to the table two minutes later, waking him up from his spiral of madness with a light thud of his tray across from him. “Hey.” he said firmly, with a hint of what the hell was that?

“Hi.” Mike mumbled. He couldn’t bear to look up at his best friend’s hazel eyes. He felt Will sit down in his chair and pull closer to the table with a loud screech. His gaze shot up and down between the soft irises contemplating him and the mutilated food on his messy tray.

Will always knew when something was troubling Mike and he could never prevent himself from opening his mouth and spilling out every little silly thing that held a nuisance weight in his mind. Simply from the soft, pleading expression of I’m here to listen, he couldn’t help himself from revealing the troubles in his soul to Will. He had an understanding of Mike no other singular person could comprehend; the way his best friend weaved his words so intricately and ethereally to him made him feel seen, that someone held that hand on his that everything will be okay. No one else had that brilliance that emitted so radiantly off of Will, leaving him desperate to let it kindle and flourish in an environment where its beauty only remained with the two of them.

So that’s when he started complaining like a toddler to his best friend.

“Too many people like you.” Mike blurted loudly. This sentence must have screwed up Will’s senses so badly that he had squinted his eyes so deeply at something that can only be heard. “What?” he demanded.

His heart started racing. In typical Mike Wheeler fashion, he had worded his anger in a way that was likely to deeply insult Will, just as he had all those years ago in his garage in the rain. Through desperation, tears welled up in his eyes, forcing himself to look up and burn his tears in the piercing light of the lamps of the fluorescent panels. 

“It’s just. You’re getting this stupid – incredibly freaking superficial – attention from the same people who were so happy you had gone missing all those years ago and its so – so fucking – “ the spork in he had been gripping so tightly moments prior had fallen to the ground, his hands instantly running through his black curls back and forth through complete rage and apprehension. 

His hands had made way to his eyes, rubbing back and forth to the point he could feel them burning and mutating into an unnatural crimson color. “ – so fucking two-faced. You and I both know why they all wanna cozy up to you. Like those three buffoons in line.”

Will’s arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and eyebrow raised. “No, I don’t.” he shrugged bluntly. Mike’s mouth dropped. “C-c’mon Will.” He coughed an awkward laugh. “Don’t make me say it. Please.” He buried his face in his palms, his cheeks blossoming into a hotness of scarlet that was implausible to deny.

“No, Michael. I don’t know. Tell me. Enlighten me.” Shit. Shit shit shit. How am I supposed to straight up say to his face ‘everyone is goggling over you because you’ve grown very large – not in the bad way the very healthy good way and that your voice is deeper than all our voices in the party combined and I couldn’t help but notice that you try to hide your arms in your flannels and jackets but I could very well tell when we were out in the desert all those months ago digging in the suffocating heat?’ God help me.

He lifted his eyes from his hands slowly and couldn’t help himself from his gaze darting to Will’s shoulders, his biceps, his forearms, in his sternly crossed arms. He looked up a little bit higher. His best friend’s hazel eyes were slightly displeased, but the way the light caught them, transforming his irises into breathtaking colors of green and even yellow, brought Mike back to that intimate memory the two of them shared in the Surfer Boy Pizza van. 

“So?” Will demanded, breaking Mike out of the stare he had committed to his auburn eyes. “OH! Uhm – you’re … not as small as everyone would have expected you to grow to be,” he barely squeaked, shoving his face back into his hands once more, his cheeks and forehead so warm one could have been able to crack an egg on his face and it would have started sizzling. 

He heard Will laughing quietly to himself, guaranteeing Mike a single tiny peek out of the tight gaps between his fingers. “You’re joking, Mike.” Will had his typical Will Byers smile beaming on his face, one corner of his mouth slightly more upturned than the other, allowing for his adorable front teeth to peek through - reminding Mike of the softness, innocence, and daintiness of a little bunny rabbit.

Mike’s breath hitched, forcing himself to rub his hands over his cheeks in an attempt to hide the crimson in his face – if anything, he was making  it levels worse. “I’M NOT! That’s why Chance is so like – freaking obsessed with you. Because you’re um. So muscley and. Stuff.” he coughed awkwardly, reaching over to the floor to pick up the spork and continue stabbing at the food on his tray. “AND UM.” Mike realized what an awkward way he ended the sentence so bluntly. Even though he had a feeling that it was the complete truth. “That’s why he wants you so so so” – with a little hint of bitterness – “badly on the basketball team. You’d just um. Be, that great!” Mike exclaimed, nodding so enthusiastically that it felt like his head would fly off and explode from its lightheadedness.

Will let out a teasingly exasperated sigh, closing his eyes briefly before uncrossing his arms to set them atop each other on the table, leaning a little bit closer with a gleam in his bright, hazel eyes. “You’re helpless, Mike. You know that? Can’t believe you haven’t lost your head or anything.” He blinked gently, breathing in and sighing out once more, but in a longer, more tender manner. 

And once again, it felt like Mike’s breath was giving out and that his heart had taken a trampoline trip to his throat. “Yeah, but that’s why I need you. Here with me especially.” It was hard to notice how close their feet had gotten to one another, nearly intertwined, like the locks of a gentle braid. “If I lose my head, you’re here to screw it back on.” So softly, Mike had expressed this.

Will’s smile grew larger. “Yeah?” Mike pulled his hands from cheeks down to his lap to prevent himself from pushing his best friend’s silky bangs out of his eyes. “Yeah.” he whispered breathlessly to his best friend. The two of them remained in such a moment that felt like it was lost to all of time; no one else was there, they remained, floating, suspended in the comfort of space and a thousand stars staring back at them. Not a single word was said. Before something came to Mike’s mind, something that had been clawing away in the deepest corners of his thoughts and memories. 

Taking a breath, Mike whispered “Hey, Will I –” Before he could even comprehend how to formulate his note to his best friend, two familiar faces had smashed their trays next to Mike, jolting him from the quiet state of euphoria he had shared with Will, their bodies and feet pulling several inches away from the other.

“Mike, what the hell did you do to your chicken tenders?” Dustin looked down at him with what seemed like genuine terror. “Oh, y’know. This shit is fried terribly and burnt to a crisp, just like One. So why not pretend that I was stabbing One with my spork, y'know?” He proudly put his spork on exhibit to Lucas and Dustin. 

“Ooookay…” Lucas would say uncomfortably, furrowing his eyebrows towards Will, who only shrugged and rolled his eyes, amused. “Personally, Mike, I can’t tell if that’s pure psychopath behavior or actual motivation to kill this guy. There’s this like, weird grey area that you’ve got.” Dustin hit him in the back of the head, causing Mike to wince and throw his arms in defense towards him. “Okay, okay! Lay off me, alright?”

Dustin let out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever man, me and Lucas have something to show you guys. Lucas, you got the radio?” “Yep, right here.” he quipped, setting it down on Mike’s left side before the two of them sat down. However, as Dustin went on to explain something about the radio station Robin and Steve worked at, Mike felt incredibly dejected. Any time he and Will shared a moment where it felt like magic was manifested in their singular memories together, something always had to interrupt them.

He looked up at his best friend, who gave him a weak smile, giving him the word that he likely felt the same way about these nearly scheduled interruptions. Mike was determined to understand the electricity that kindled whenever him and Will caught the eye of the other and when they stood mere inches away from a touch that felt like a fire would flourish. But for now, it would remain in radio silence.

“Hey Will, come up here on our side so you can see the map better.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He made his way over to the  other side, leaning over Lucas and Mike as Dustin unraveled a map. 

Mike furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, looking over to his right to state the obvious to Dustin. “Dude, this is just a map of Hawkins. What importance does this have??” he demanded, an edge of annoyance in his voice. 

“Son of a bitch, Mike. Are you blind?” He hit Mike on the back of his head again. “Quit that!” he yelled at his friend. “Not before you stop acting like a complete dumbass! Look!” Mike rolled his eyes and looked down at the map, examined it for a moment, before seeing that Lovers Lake was circled. 

He looked between Dustin and Lucas. “Why is Lovers Lake circled?”

A beat.

“That’s where Holly and her friends go everyday. They refuse to tell us why but Robin and Steve always hear them through a lot of channel skimming where they eventually catch their walkie talkie channels. It’s weird. I think we need to follow them one time when they leave.” Lucas explained. 

Mike swallowed nervously. Hearing his sister being so secretive when Hawkins was so vulnerable left him shook to his core, his body shivering nearly like his blood had transformed into ice.

”I-Is there any reason as to why she’s doing this with her friends?” he questioned, looking up to Dustin and Lucas, before catching a nervous glance from Will. He hated himself for not noticing this behavior in his younger sister. He was always supposed to be the protective older brother and friend, but let himself get too carried away while being trapped in his thoughts.

Dustin took a breath. “We think that, Henry is trying to lure them in. He- he’s weak, but not weak enough to catch some 8 year olds to bring back some of his old strength, y’know?”

Mike looked down, nodding. He couldn’t bear to lift his head out of the true fear running through the course of his veins.

He felt a gentle hand squeeze his shoulder, letting him relieve some of the dread that had built up in every singular corner of his body. Hoping it had been Will’s hand, it was truly Lucas’s instead. “Don’t worry, Mike. We’re not gonna let anything like this ever happen again. Trust me. Okay?”

He managed to nod back to his friend. “Okay. Thanks guys.” Mike would say, still feeling a slight chill and shake within his torso.

”But … we’ve got one question. Those being stalked by One always had some sort of warning signs. Nosebleeds, headaches, nightmares and … eventually seeing a grandfather clock but I don’t think he’s nearly at that point or she … “ Lucas trailed off, parting his lips before looking down to the ground. It was clear what he was thinking of.

Mike furrowed his eyebrows. “No, no. No, not really. She’s honestly been very happy and energized lately. And when we come back from school, she almost always immediately draws with Will, right?” He looked up to his best friend for his confirmation.

Will seemed like he was lost in the processing of several thoughts in his mind, before opening his mouth as if to say something. “Yeah. But um. Now that you mention it, every time I draw with her, she draws this … guy. This guy she calls Mr. Whatsit. Every single time I sit down with her, and ask her what she’s drawing, she sits in silence until I see it’s some man in a brown suit and fedora. ‘Mr. Whatsit, my friend!’ she’ll tell me. While it’s obviously not too detailed, it’s always the same general concept. And I can’t believe it took me so long to realize but it’s — it’s reminding me of how I’d always draw the Mind Flayer when — it had possessed me,”  he barely managed to choke out. 

The entire party had gone silent while the clamor of the cafeteria filled the air around them. “He — he’s got to be visiting her or something. In some seemingly harmless form. He has to be.” Will uttered, his voice heavy and ever so slightly, trembling.

In replacement of his fear, Mike had a form of newfound anger rushing up into his head. He wasn’t gonna let that Henry - son of a bitch - Creel get his fucking grasp on any one else he cared about. That is when he started formulating a plan just as he started speaking.

“We are going to go out tonight to follow Holly. Me and Will will be with her since she won’t suspect anything since we live with her and take her everywhere on our bikes, while you guys will follow from a distance if she tries to slip away to whatever thing she wants to sneak off to at Lovers Lake with her friends. Also, keep an eye out for them, we need to get an idea as to why they're sneaking off intoo these weird gatherings. We’ll keep each other at the ready on our walkies. Okay?” He looked to all three of his friends for confirmation, with specific emphasis on Will.

Lucas looked back to nod. “Okay.”

Dustin followed suit with his nod. “Okay.”

Now, he looked up at Will, who was still leaning over him, with a particular gentleness in his gaze. Closing his eyes, his best friend finally nodded, opening his hazel irises to even capture Mike in a hitch of a breath in such a dire moment. “Okay.” he voiced, confidence creeping out of his singular word of affirmation.

Mike grinned, before setting his hand in the middle of the table to start a collective hand stack. One by one, his friends followed suit, before Will gently placed his on top. 

“To the death of Vecna.” Mike announced.

”To the death of Vecna!” the others quipped, lifting their hands triumphantly into the air.

Mike could feel the rage behind his eyes flourish as the lunch bell finally rang, a cacophony announcing that students needed now to run their way back to class.

Just as Henry had his particular chimes of the Grandfather Clock, this one represented an intense feeling Mike had digging in his chest; the fury he had felt seeing how vulnerable and panic-stricken Will had been in Hopper’s cabin all those months ago as a result of rediscovering his resurrected perception of One had become so extreme he nearly felt like lashing out at the nearest mouthbreather. 

One thing was for certain: Mike was going to kill that fucking bastard whether he liked it or not.

Chapter Text

“Come on.”

A trembling breath captured the suffocating silence of the desert kitchen in which several tired and heartbroken teenagers lay awake, beyond the precipice of slumber, in which only one of them remained within a sort of particular threshold between dreams and reality in the hopes to destroy a monster intent on annihilating a small town and even the entire world.

Mike Wheeler’s face had grown nearly as frigid as the refrigerator they sat nearby to, his eyes, however, hot and raw from the boundless tears that rolled down his cheeks and onto the cold metal beneath him.

“Come on. Come on.” he urged softly to his girlfriend, whose presence became eerily quiet after what he assumed to be her losing the upper hand against Henry, her body twitching and coughing hoarse, desperate for air.

“I know you’re in there.” Mike whispered these self-doubting words, barely heard through the shaky breath heaving amidst his lungs. Simply through saying these remarks that Mike couldn’t even believe himself, a trembling wall of tears smothered his gaze, forcing a rapid spell of blinking that made him feel like someone had poured an entire bottle of pure hydrochloric acid down onto his eyes.

But in spite of that, these tears weren’t simply from the fear that held its iron grip on his heart for Eleven’s life, no. 

“I know you’re in there. Wake up.” He squeezed her shoulder tightly with another crushing of his eyes closed, a preventative measure keeping him from screaming the sobs that fought to be unleashed at the back of his throat.

No, these tears held the torturous memories and revelations of Mike’s own sentiments and intuitions. Every single droplet that poured its anguish into materialization were occupied by the many reflections of his mind that wandered the pathways of his thoughts, whether it have been these past few havoc-wreaked days, or even beyond the brink of several years. 

“Wake up. Wake up.” El remained as silent and still as a lake on a crisp, autumn night. No, it wasn’t her who Mike was urging to wake up. It was himself.

Eleven had relaxed off into gentler waves of breathing, virtually tranquil and at ease. It seemed like she had dozed off into a pleasant dream; one more soft exhale escaped her lips before her chest delicately rose and fell in near silence once more.

Mike hadn’t felt such a physical or emotional disposition for as long as he could fetch and run off into his memories. Wake up. His reiteration of two, simple words garnered such a degree of agony on his heart it felt like it would nearly implode within his chest and still could not hurt him as much as he was hurting now.

Wake up. Mike shut his eyes tight, forcing more hot tears to roll down his cheeks. You’re the heart! These words that had captured butterflies in his stomach mere hours ago brought an immeasurable deal of piercing pain into Mike’s chest. 

When he had gently brought Eleven’s hands into his earlier just before they were interrupted with Argyle’s blasphemous pizza, Mike had decided to commit through to the thought that had been held captive in the darkest corners of his mind. 

I guess what I wanted to say is —

Unraveling the painting Will had so enchantingly crafted sealed a panic that remained constantly present in Mike’s mind into genuine and devoted acceptance. I love Will Byers. Seeing his best friend’s eyes mere inches away from his own face so intricately placing words — while somehow being El’s, confusing him however in the slightest as she never had an interest in D&D — made his heart see the color he couldn’t bear to accept before, even despite the fact that he may have been a little jealous to hear that there may have been a girl Will liked and was painting for.

 — I love you. But not in the way you want me to. These words had been unable to make it past the threshold of his thoughts, though he knew Eleven would have understood wholeheartedly had he uttered them. 

I love you as a friend. And I always will.

Mike’s memories chaotically reassembled back to the moment when he and Eleven reunited, their bond temporarily reignited by their tight hug, only made closer by their comforting forehead touch. However, once Mike pulled away, reassuring her that he was here with everyone, the facade blew away. His gaze staggered on Will, who smiled his gleeful, Will Byers smile at the sight of his sister.

The earth could have felt how heavily Mike’s stomach heaved itself into an existence of dread. It felt like time had become a massive drawl as his gaze devastatingly flitted between the two siblings. 

Mike knew why he had acted so bitterly at the airport, why he had gotten so furious at Will in the roller-rink, and why he couldn’t say I love you to Eleven. Being reunited with her brought back the anguish that as long as he called himself her boyfriend, he would never be happy and he would never be able to end up as his true self that his inner voice desperately yelled at him to be.

He had no capacity to talk about the cacophony in his head; except for one person. His best friend, Will Byers. Will understood him on such an intricate, personal level that he knew the second when Mike wanted to complain about something stupid. I’m all ears. he would nudge him.

However, there was one particular thing that Mike couldn’t be completely truthful about when opening up to Will. “The thing” he wish he had told Eleven before she had been taken away by the authorities and ultimately by Owens’ in order to bring her powers back.

In what right mind would he tell his best friend why he couldn’t say I love you to the girl he was supposed to be so head over heels in love with? Will would only end up questioning why he couldn’t say the basic foundational affirmation of a relationship that’s supposedly been going strong for several years. 

Because I have actually been in love with you for several years.

While Mike knew Will would never reciprocate his feelings in a million years, he felt delighted to the reservation of being his best friend, because there’s always been something different about their friendship. Closer, sentimental, levels more devoted than any of his other friendships. 

It’s Hawkins, it’s not the same without you. 

He voiced this so gently to Will, to have him understand the difference the care they have for one another holds. In such a subtle manner, he attempted to express the adoration he has for his best friend, in a moment that felt like his heart nearly jumped straight out of his throat to express all that’s been on Mike’s mind for years.

In that singular memory, he felt a little flame kindle in his chest as Will admired his dark eyes softly, just as Mike did into his breathtaking hazel irises, teary-eyed. 

Cool … !

Cool . 

It felt like Mike had poured every living inch of his soul into that “cool.”

Could Will possibly understand the difference in their relationship, the subtle flirts, the lingering looks?

You’re the heart!

Of course not. 

So yeah, El needs you, Mike. And she always will.

In some messed up, self-sabotaging scenario, Mike’s mind had screwed with him like a bully pulling a prank on his weak victim. As soon as he had heard Will utter those affirmations, he took it to the heart as his words. How could it not have been as Mike traced his fingertip across the intricate strokes of the different shades of paint, eyebrows furrowing as it crossed a faint fold in the paper, his finger ultimately ending up to the heart on his crest? His thoughts wandered to Eleven's letter mere days ago.

Will is painting a lot. But h-he won't show me what he's working on. 

I mean - I mean - I mean, El - 

Will would exclusively make extraordinary pieces of artwork for Mike, he even had a binder whose spine was barely keeping itself together by the seam full of drawings that had been made and gifted by Will, in which he’d look through on lonely nights when he desperately missed his best friend.

Maybe it is for a girl. I think there is someone he likes. Because he has been acting ... weird.

- asked me to. She commissioned it, basically - I mean , she told me what to draw.

Mike's heart had raced at the near brink of what felt like it would jump out of his throat nearly at that moment, his chest tightening with his ever-hitching breath. Could it really be me? His girlfriend's letter and now this breathtaking piece of artwork blended into one in a torpedo of giddiness, Mike becoming nearly sick to the stomach with euphoria. El had no conception of the contents of the party that Will had beautifully illustrated. How he felt the shame that had built up in his heart over the past, suffocating years of his life skid off away in the dust to be burned by the desert sun; how he wished he could do the same for Will, that he wouldn't have to hide behind his sister’s name out of fear of humiliation. Mike could have nearly been floating in the dear, yellow light that Will was ensnared within. It was exceedingly hard for him not to catch a couple glances at his best friend's delicate lips that spoke on about how Eleven had felt so lost without him these past several months.

El would have never understood this speciality exclusive to him and Will’s friendship. But she loved him. And Mike had always asked Will for those drawings because he loved them. So she lied. She went on and formulated up a joke that Will was in on, saying he was painting for some random girl to throw him horribly off to see the gift that he clearly had not expected from Eleven. How would he have expected that his girlfriend planned such an extensive piece of work on their D&D party, something he had thought she knew absolutely nothing about? The ultimate surprise. So in all logic, of course she would want to ask her master artist brother to make her loser boyfriend a gift to showcase the love she has for him.

Mike always knew at some point El wouldn’t need him anymore. She was strong, independent, and courageous, something he chronically struggled to be. So when Will reassured him with the painting, Mike had the revelation that he wouldn’t mind no longer being El’s boyfriend.

His sentience, existence, and happiness wasn’t based on some romance he forced himself into when he was the ripe age of a little middle schooler.

I feel like my life started the day we found you in the woods. The day Will went missing.

All that mattered to Mike that regardless of the feelings he held for Will, he could forever be his best friend. They both needed each other, whether it be in Mike’s selfish, yearningly way, or Will in his genuine, benevolent way. However, he still had that little voice reaching from the unaccessed corners of his mind, possibly hoping, praying, that he reciprocated, the ties of their souls entangled with the other. 

They always have needed one another, for as long as he could remember.

Even if Mike attempted to convince himself his feelings had been reciprocated by Will, when everything fit together like the final slot of a puzzle piece that had felt like he had been toiling at for years on end.

That’s why it absolutely gutted him like a flaming, piercing knife to his living being when his best friend reiterated to him several times you’re the heart! Will wouldn't have brought up the tender words that had felt like he had put his heart out on his sleeve if the sentiment truly was emitted from the requital of endearment to Mike's own feelings. 

He knew. Will knew. Will knew what the thing was, and was urging for his best friend to reveal it to Eleven. 

That moment in the van had never been about the two of them. It truly, genuinely, 100%, had been from the desire of Eleven to gift him that painting and say he was the heart of the party to — what probably had its intentions to be incredibly sincere but only emphasized in his heart that he was an awful boyfriend and a terribly lousy friend. 

While petrified for his girlfriend who lay suffocating for air on the metal table, he couldn’t help but feel the teeming misery overflowing in his heart and up to his eyes as Will pushed his hand into his shoulder, reiterating what he — Eleven saw him as. You’re the heart! 

That’s when the words he had so dreaded to say to El managed to croak their way out into actuality, as she only seemed to struggle more from the opening of his useless mouth. 

I love you! You’re my superhero!

Pointless words poured out of his mouth, now realizing they were eerily similar to what Will had said in the van. 

I’m such a great boyfriend that I can’t even come up with my own genuine fucking words to say to my girlfriend while she’s suffering in the chokehold of a goddamn monster thousands of miles away.

Mike came to a dramatic revelation. He never “needed” Eleven. As malicious as it was, Mike was complicit in using her to hide the shame he carried in every single step that felt hefty enough to the point that he feared he'd find himself crashing down between the rigid layers of stone beneath him. Maybe with the hope he could feel how it is to be ... normal. So in what right mind would she want to hold a grasp on his hand when he was so detached, so selfish, so pathetic? But now Eleven supposedly and genuinely always will and continue to need him. Why else would she be so desperate for him to tell her he loved her? Why would Will be so desperate for him to tell her he loved her?

Because the only person Mike needed was William Byers.

Who was now desperately shaking him at the shoulder as he sobbed uncontrollably, his body heaving through his choking breaths. Mike's memories of the past hour tortured his mind, continuously replaying like a broken walkman on repeat. Through his devastation, he couldn’t help but lean closer to Will who constantly reassured him softly but unwaveringly that El would be okay.

But he wasn’t crying entirely for El. He was crying for himself, that that he wouldn’t be okay. He’d have to continue to put up with lying to his girlfriend who he did not carry the love that he needed in his heart for. 

The love that swelled like the great tides of the sea any time he distinctly caught the glimmering eye of his best friend. 

“What’s his problem? Little dude, she’s gonna be tooootally fine, especially after that wicked pizza I so masterfully crafted!” he could hear Argyle reassure unwittingly.

”Jonathan." Will remarked nastily. He could only imagine the glare he was giving his brother’s friend.

”Hey man, why don’t you take a breather? You seem stressed.” Jonathan quipped.

”Y-Yeah man. Like all this freaky magic stuff going on has put a weight on my emotional being. You’re right dude.”

“Why not make a pizza for us again? Just … not in the kitchen. We don’t want the magic of your pie messed up by the magic in here, you get me?” Mike could hear how weary his best friend’s brother was, only imagining how even more so he’ll become with a days-long road trip to drawl out even longer back to Hawkins. 

“Yeah of course! Maybe I’ll even take a little whiff of our little purple palm tree delight, dude. Ease my brain out. Be back brochachos!”

With the sudden squeaking of shoes out of the kitchen, it was obvious Argyle had left to have a breather of his weed. Mike loathed the fact that he couldn’t understand social cues for the life of him.

”Jesus Christ, man.” Jonathan croaked, Mike finally pulling his soaking face up to make faint eye contact with him. “Sorry about him guys. I really am. I know he’s made this trip a little tough for us.” His best friend’s older brother groaned softly, rubbing his hands across his face and into his eyes. “I’ll go check on him and make sure he doesn’t run into the street or something crazy while he’s high. Alright?”

”Yeah, don’t worry Jonathan. We’ll be here.” Will reassured, the slightest hint of a tease within his voice as Mike felt his hand squeeze his shoulder.

Jonathan smiled gently at his younger brother before glancing to Mike, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. "Hey, Mike?"

He looked back down towards Eleven's arm. "Yeah?" he mumbled quietly, wiping the remaining tears that drifted slowly down his freckled cheeks. For some reason, he had a disconcerting suspicion in his stomach that he really didn't want her to see that he had been crying. 

"Don't be too stressed over her, alright? She's a lot stronger than most of us make her out to be and we need to give her that credit, y'know what I mean?" Jonathan stretched over to put a hand on Mike's shoulder, reassuring him with a soft blink of his eyes.

"She'll wake up, and when she does, she'll be happy that you were here, along her side. You let her know she wasn't alone in your own great words, comforting her from the other side. Got me?"

Hah, yeah. My own words, my ass, Mike scoffed in his mind, the thought suspended within the storm that the ideas in his head clashed with. But he knew Jonathan came from a place of sincerity and couldn't help but feel a little happy for his older sister, for the fact that she had such an emotionally competent and self-aware boyfriend who looked out for her and others out of the pure generosity of his heart. Mike knew he would never have the capacity to even marginally compare.

"Thanks, man. I , appreciate it. Really do." he responded bluntly, barely being able to maintain the eye contact he previously held with Jonathan. Mike was able to catch the emitting of a small smile from his best friend's older brother, before he pulled his hand away with the gentle ruffle of Mike's hair. "Keep your head up." Jonathan encouraged. "We're all gonna need it." With a little discouragement to the end of his sentence, he nodded at his younger brother before shooting a fleeting glance between the two boys. Weird. Mike thought to himself.

But he couldn't help the warm feeling that kindled within his chest. The Byers family always treated him fondly, as though he was an additional part of their family. Whether it had been day, night, monster or no monster, they always welcomed him in their arms and provided him with the love his family lacked, the love that kept the Byers tethered to one another, that remained cold and distant in the hallways of his home.

He had only ever felt this sort of love when his mother embraced him, the warmth of her arms wrapped tightly around his that concealed the shame and reproach to his own living being after the several times that the course of reality clicked in his head, that'd he'd continue to lose his best friend in the way that it would always be his fault, because Mike never tried hard enough. The best friend who was the incarnation of love itself.

"I'll be back. Make sure she wakes up fine, 'kay guys?" Jonathan's gentle voice snapped Mike out of the chaos of his thoughts, leading him to pull away from the tight grasp he had been holding on Eleven's hand. He simply sighed and nodded, his head feeling like it was nearly about to snap off.

"Yeah, go ahead Jonathan. Honestly, I'd just be worried 'cause he might have already run out or something. We really don't need some car accident when we're about to leave because he was all high on the goddamn interstate." Will chimed, running his sturdy palm down his face in such frustration, Mike could nearly count the all hints of red on his face.

His older brother dragged his hands into his hair, pulling his bangs so substantially far back that Mike practically felt the tension in his own scalp. "Ah shit — " Jonathan cursed and sprinted out of the kitchen, his shoes squeaking on the shiny surface illuminated by the lights that were tearing at Mike's eyes, a migraine kindling in his temples so fiercely it felt like pure poison was rushing through his veins.

The bell of the front entrance jingled, distantly muffled voices faintly cushioning the silence between the two boys. The kitchen had become so hushed that Mike could hear his best friend's delicate breathing and the buzz of the underwhelming jaded AC unit that struggled to wheeze a fresh breath of cool air in the hot, desert twilight.

Mike felt another gentle squeeze of his shoulder. He sighed, giving into the warm safety that the comfort of a single minor gesture his best friend would offer him. Sure, he'd live with the torture that the affection he had for Will will remain unreciprocated for the rest of his life and would even probably see him end up with the girl of his dreams and completely forget about Mike — but at least in these singular moments, he knows he wasn't alone. He hadn't lost Will and he was here with him.

How their dynamics had switched up; Mike had arduously always looked out for Will, who was especially withdrawn and spoke nothing of his troubles to anyone but him. Now it had become entirely the opposite; with a simple gesture from Will's ambicable irises, Mike involuntarily jabbered on about the seething thoughts that scribbled their residence on every quiet corner of his mind.

"Hey ... you okay?" His best friend had kneeled down onto his knees to be eye-level with Mike. Regardless of the obnoxious disdain Will would find glaring at him with the pure manifestation of daggers as he had in the hallways of Hawkins Middle or even from the inconsiderate words of those he cared about, his kindness was unmistakable and unwavering. Mike knew his best friend hadn't the heart to exhibit any malice. He, undoubtedly, really was pure light.

"Yeah." He struggled to keep the eye contact between his dark gaze and those encapturing hazel orbs of his best friend's.

Will frowned. His best friend knew Mike was lying and refused to avert his worry without some unceasing affirmation. "You sure?"

Okay, Mike couldn't handle it anymore. Here he was, with such a near lack of space between them that Mike could count all the moles bespeckled on Will's face, his distinctive fretting eyebrows accentuating the innocence he persistently radiated. All the while his unconcious girlfriend remained motionless, her only sign of life the quiet rising and falling of her chest. "Of course." Mike responded, catching his eyes caught in a competition between Will's eyes and his soft, pink lips. He turned his head away to hide the crimson that had sneaked up onto his face.

He could hear WIll stifle a sigh as he shuffled himself back up to his feet. "Alright." Leaving his side, Mike couldn't help but trail his eyes wistfully after him as Will escaped his grasp once more. He had made his way to the other side of the table, directly across from him to kneel beside his sister. Mike watched as Will delicately set his hand on the side of Eleven's head, tenderly cradling her forehead with his thumb. After a distinct spell of silence, a shadow of distress burgeoned on Will's face. "She's been sitting like this for forever," he croaked. "I hope she's okay."

Mike blinked nervously and parted his lips, his gaze fleeting between his best friend and his girlfriend. Before he could manage to murmur reassurance, a fragile voice broke the air.

"I am — I am okay." Eleven uttered huskily. She managed to push herself up onto her elbows, softly blinking to readjust herself in the lighting after entire hours of her physical body being closed out to any illumination. 

Mike felt a sort of distinct detachment in his chest. His girlfriend who probably just saved the entire world in which he had said I love you to mere moments ago had finally woken up. Why wasn't he more excited? An existential perception of dread ate away at his stomach, a voice in his head screaming that what he had said to El while she was struggling for air would be a hot topic between the two of them in conversations to come. 

He turned his head to face El, who yelped as she was tugged into a tight embrace with her brother. How physical he was to show the adoration he had for those he cared about. Mike bit back hot tears as he remembered just how much he missed the comfort of Will's bear hugs and simply couldn't bear it in himself that he had smacked the chance away only days ago out of the pettiness of his heart from his tactless jealousy. He could not comprehend the fact as to why Will was still friends and wanted to be friends with such a loser asshole.

Nonetheless, Mike couldn't help but smile at the love the Byers' siblings had for one another. Just another illustration of how entangled with devotion the family represented itself with in beautiful dedication. If he hadn't known them, Mike could genuinely imagine them as complete twins that shared the other's thoughts, that one would be lost without the other, the yin to the yang. In his eyes, Mike saw them as soft little teddies that emitted the warmth of the snugness of a sweater straight out of the dryer on a frigid, winter evening. 

The warmth he knew he would never deserve.

Wonder Twins, he smiled to himself sadly.

Through the fervor of his exceedingly deafening thoughts, Mike could hear Will stifle a sob, sending a panging throb straight to his heart. "We were so worried." he sniveled, drawing away from the hug. "I know. But I am here now." she smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks but making it no farther before being wiped away in another due embrace in Will's arms.

Mike sat there awkwardly in what felt like a separate void of time from the two siblings. Before long. they had split apart, Eleven's gaze drifting away from her brother and onto her boyfriend. He stiffened, feeling like he had been smothered of all the air in his body in the manner in which he could not comprehend the emotion she was exhibiting after earlier hearing Michael Wheeler propose his grand confession to her. Exuberance? Definitely not. Contentedness? No ... not that either.

It was as if the AC unit had suddenly repaired itself out of the pure convenience of the moment. He could hear his heart roaring in his ears, his blood transforming into thick ice. No, it was absolute indifference. Holy shit, what the hell had he done?

"I— I'm — Are you — " Mike looked up, hoping the flourescence of the lights will burn the tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to break like a dam.

"Mike." she interrupted, her voice firm. 

"Y-Yeah?"

Eleven sighed, setting her head to the side, gently blinking. Here she was, about to spit out a fathomless list of why she loathed him. But why? He had said he loved her, had he not?

All that was thrown out at him were the spreading of her arms into the air. Come here. they invited.

With no hesitation, Mike pulled himself into El's arms, burying his face full of tears into her shoulder. "H-How did everything go? You and the others defeated One?"

Silence.

Was Eleven ignoring him out of detachment or had something horrible happened while she piggybacked?

Perhaps even both.

"El?" Will quipped.

More silence.

With a squeak of the table, El had drawn away from the hug and back onto her feet, a little wobbly albeit. Mike furrowed his eyebrows, trembling. In moments when Eleven refused to respond to a question in dire need of a comforting answer, it was a hint to the danger of something tragic.

All that could be heard was the soft woosh of the AC, the hum of the refrigerator, and the sudden startling ring of the front door.

El sighed, leaning herself back onto the table as she looked down onto her feet.

The loud squeak of sneakers against the furnished floor made their way across the dining room and into the kitchen. "Heyyy Eleven! Welcome back." It was Jonathan, smiling in the doorway.

"Thank you." she murmured, returning her older brother's smile.

"Of course." Jonathan looked amongst the three teenagers. "You ready guys? It's time we hit the road again, especially 'cause Argyle's too stoned for another pizza."

"Yeah, definitely," Mike sighed, the weariness of his body and mind suddenly washing over him, not even thinking about food in this moment. Will and Eleven collectively agreed with the nods of their heads. 

His best friend's older brother gestured with his head out towards the door. "Then let's get this exhausted show on the road." He walked out of the kitchen, leaving the three of them alone once more until the familiar ring of the front door announced Jonathan had left the restaurant.

Eleven was the first to head out, before stopping herself at the door and setting her hand on the wall. "I will tell you everything that happened on the drive to Hawkins." she whispered somberly, the tiniest hint of a sob hidden in her voice. Sighing, she made her way out, nearly in a run before the bell rang once again.

It had become so eerily quiet in the kitchen that Mike could hear the beating of his own heart. He turned towards Will, to see that he had already been looking back at him with the agonizing expression proliferating across his furrowed eyebrows and his glassy eyes. Yet another stab seeing his best friend in such a heart-wrenching condition. 

"C'mon," Mike said softly. "Let's head home."