Chapter Text
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Wills POV
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3 days after Mac-z
Before Mike and I started speaking again, I’d usually go to the basement to draw or read after I was done in the shower, but since things have been okay the last few days, I figured I could just go straight to his room.
I made my way over, shaking my hair out as I went, trying to get as much of the water out as possible.
My mom finally took me to the barbers for the first time last week, allowing me to get rid of that heinous bowl-cut.
I mean don't get me wrong, it got me where I need to be- but it made me feel so much better having it gone.
That thing was weighing me down.
I knocked on Mike’s door, waiting patiently for an answer while wondering what him and I were going to do today. We could probably read comics, or work on our next dnd campaign, although Dustin got mad the last time we did that without him.
After a few seconds, no answer came, so I tried knocking again- a little harder this time.
The last time I saw him he was in the kitchen, so he may not have come up yet.
I was about to walk away to check- when I heard the undeniable sound of feet shuffling on the other side of his door before it slowly crept open a few inches.
I looked up to see half of Mike’s face looking back at me, his expression sorrowful.
Dread settled itself in my stomach like a bowling ball. This wasn’t normal.
“Hey…” I said softly, trying to keep my tone free of the very aggressive worry I was feeling.
He audibly swallowed before quietly saying, “Hey… Uh sorry… I… I don’t think I can hangout today.”
My heartbeat sped up at the familiar feeling of dejection as it settled itself under my skin.
I choked back my tears while trying to consider that maybe this wasn’t as big of a deal as I was making it.
"Can I ask why?” I said quietly.
He chewed on his bottom lip before speaking up, “My room is really messy… and I need to clean it.”
My eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I can help you clean it.”
He shook his head rapidly. “No. That’s not a good idea. It’s pretty gross in here.”
I tried to joke through my spiraling anxiety, “Mike… you’ve literally farted on me before. There’s nothing more gross than that.” I gave a strained chuckle.
But he didn’t laugh, or even smile... instead, he gave me a small- “Sorry Will.”- Before shutting the door in my face.
I stood there for probably 3 minutes, trying to figure out what I could’ve done to cause this.
I thought we were okay. I mean hell we’d just been talking and joking like 30 minutes ago. And now I’m getting doors shut in my face.
I slowly made my way to the basement, where I sat down on the couch, in painful silence.
…….
One month later
I have been properly avoided like a bad ex since then- and it’s honestly gotten pretty freaking ridiculous.
Later that day, (the one where he shut me out) I was sitting in the kitchen eating lunch with Holly, and he’d walked in to presumably to get food- and when he saw me, he looked at me like I was a whore in church, and then turned heel and booked it out of the room.
I had to excuse myself shortly after to go cry in the basement.
The weight of the emotional whiplash was intense- I couldn't understand being treated like the plague less than 24 hours after being treated like the cure... it was mentally crippling.
I had spent days crying myself to sleep, running over in my head what could've happened. But now I can’t help rolling my eyes.
It’s almost comical how quickly Mike can dip out of a room if I walk into it.
Sometimes, I liked to imagine he's a looney toon character- which has started making it a lot more amusing.
Jonathon noticed him doing it last week and asked me about it- but I couldn’t tell him why.
Because I still don’t even know.
I'd played that day in my head a hundred times.
‘Mike came into the kitchen, a smile on his face, joking with us.
We all talked. I left to shower.
Everything went to shit.’
I have only been able to come up with one reason that he’d be acting this way- which is that he somehow found out how I feel about him.
But honestly... If this was his reaction to that information.
Then I’ve got shit taste in friends, and men.
……
Today Holly and I were coloring at the table, while her mom cooked dinner.
In the absence of her older brother, we've grown really close- bonding over our love for art, and how to make it.
I’ve been teaching her new coloring techniques like how to blend and choose her colors.
This had become a pretty regular routine for us.
While Ted sat in his Laz-E-Boy watching TV (where you could always find him), we would color together at the table- usually while Mrs. Wheeler cooked and talked about her day.
I honestly couldn't imagine how lonely she is.
She does pretty much the same thing every day, and I've noticed no one really talks to her much- well, aside from asking her where things are, or when she’s running errands.
I looked over at Holly who was mouthing 'ask her'.
I smiled and shook my head. 'okay' I mouthed back before taking a deep breath.
"Hey Mrs. Wheeler?" I asked quietly.
"You can call me Karen, Sweetheart." She said while looking over her shoulder, giving me a warm smile.
"Right sorry," I sheepishly said, continuing with more confidence, "Would it be okay if I taught Holly how to draw dragons?"
I know the question is silly, but she's still so young and I'd told her I needed her moms approval before I agreed to teach her.
I would feel so guilty if it ended up giving her nightmares.
Mrs. Wheeler turned to look at me with a big smile on her face, the wooden spoon in her hand resting on the pot of noodles she was watching.
"That’s such a thoughtful question, Will." She beamed.
I ducked my head shyly- I was just being courteous; it wasn’t that big of a deal.
I looked over at Holly- who was chewing on her bottom lip, anxiously waiting for her mom’s answer.
She looked like a lot like Mike.
I quickly tried to force the thought down, reverting my eyes to Mrs. Wheeler.
"I think that's completely fine." She stated with a big grin, adding- “Just nothing too scary."
I nodded my head rapidly in agreement before giddily smiling at Holly, who was just as excited as I was.
…
Mike could usually be found in the living room, or in his bedroom- and never anywhere else.
Tonight though, he was on the couch- looking like he was on the brink of existential boredom.
(A spitting image of how Ted always looked)
A couple times over the last month I’d tried inviting him to color with us, Holly always chiming in a- “Yes please! Come on Mike!"- trying to help me convince him.
I can't figure out if she understands that it’s me he’s avoiding and not her.
I was too scared that if I tried to explain that to her, she would go and ask him about it. So, I’d decided to stay quiet.
It was obvious she missed hanging out with him though, it painted itself on her face after every rejection we got.
Which I’d expected for me- but she didn't need to be collateral damage in our war against each other.
He could always just say ‘I don’t really feel like it, thank you.’ and move on.
But instead, he chooses to be a grade-a asshole by throwing out bullshit excuses.
I had to force myself to stop worrying about it awhile ago, it was becoming unhealthy how much sleep I was losing.
If Mike wanted to lie, that was a choice I had to accept.
“Mike! Can you please come set the dinner table!?”
Mrs. Wheeler yelled over her shoulder, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin, and bringing me back to the present from my thoughts.
It was honestly surprising to hear his name come out of someones mouth.
It’s easily been a few weeks since the last time any of us have actually acknowledged his existence.
At least since Mrs. Wheeler had told him he’d needed a haircut, which would have been a few weeks ago.
At the time I could've argued that he didn't need one- but then he’d come back and I had to silently thank (and curse)- Mrs. Wheeler for proving me so very wrong.
I had never noticed his curls before- and maybe that's because his hair was so damn long that it was always weighing them down- but regardless, they were gorgeous.
His new hairstyle made him look un-ironically so much more mature.
I just wish that would reflect in his behavior.
I chewed on my lip as my chest constricted painfully at the memory.
Had it really been that long since anyone’s said anything to him?
The familiar feeling of sadness crept it's way up my throat, making it tight as I realized that Mike was probably just as lonely as his mom.
He also hasn’t been a part of any of the group hangouts in the last month either.
So, I guess it wasn’t just me getting avoided.
But, I haven’t seen him book it away from any of the others like they had some horrible disease... not like what he does to me.
My sadness was stripped away almost immediately.
Mike had put himself in this position, separating himself from us and continuing to CHOOSE to do so.
I’m not shedding any more tears for him, my pity bank has run dry.
I was brought back to the present again, by the sound of pots and pans colliding together- causing my heart to jump sporadically in my chest.
I turned to see that it was coming from Mrs. Wheeler aggressively shuffling through the cupboard.
I huffed in amusement, barely catching the sight of movement in my peripheral, and letting my head turn to see what it was.
It was Mike.
He was standing up from his place on the couch, moving at the speed of a sloth- which seemed highly unnecessary.
He also looked visibly annoyed, presumably at the fact that he was asked to move from his comfy spot on the couch to actually help for once.
I couldn’t help but internally scoff at this.
Irritation bloomed in my chest at the fact that none of the boys in this house appreciated her like they should.
Mrs. Wheeler didn’t deserve the attitude- she would bend backwards for any one of them without complaint if they asked.
I watched with unreserved judgement as Mike crept towards the kitchen- well at least until our eyes locked and he stopped dead in his tracks.
Anger bubbled in my chest at his blatant hesitation to come in here because of me.
Was he worried I was contagious?
Was he worried that he'd walk in here a heterosexual, and walk back out a homosexual?
I chewed on my top lip angrily, trying to calm myself down.
I never in a million years thought that he'd act like this.
I mean, I know his dad is a homophobic piece of shit, but Mike has never seemed like the type the follow in those footsteps.
Lucas told me he'd stood up to Troy for laughing at my grievance assembly, and pushed him on the ground after he'd called me slurs.
So it just makes no god-damn sense why it would bother him so much.
When he finally stepped into the kitchen, the anger that was boiling in my chest was sucked out of my body with an invisible vacuum cleaner.
He looked exhausted.
And not the type of exhausted you get from staying up too late... no, it eerily reminded me of how I looked when I’d been possessed a few years ago.
He had the clammy skin, and eyes that were void of light- with heavy purple bags underneath them.
It made my stomach twist painfully.
Maybe this has never been about me.
Maybe something else was happening and I’d just assumed it was, because it’s the only thing that ever made sense.
I guess I also never really pushed back either, to make sure everything was okay.
Once he'd shut the door on me, I shut my own back.
Maybe I should've pushed harder?
Maybe I should've put my foot in the door?
No.
I can’t do this to myself.
If I go down this hole, I end up right where I've been the last few years.
In mental torture.
Mike is a big kid and if something is going on, he can man up and tell someone about it.
I don’t need to baby him.
I’ve dealt with his shit ass attitude for the 4 years, and no matter what’s going on, it doesn’t give him the right to treat me or anyone like that.
Mrs. Wheeler had already set out the dinnerware that would be needed for dinner- so all he had to do was set them out on the table.
Which you'd think would be easy enough.
But nothing with Mike was ever easy.
He went to pick up the plates, and I watched in horror as his elbow knocked into a glass- subsequently sending it flying off the counter.
It made a horribly loud noise as it shattered across the kitchen floor- causing him to jump backward as Mrs. Wheeler gasped.
I covered my mouth in shock, my eyes locked onto Mike- who was now staring down at the mess, frozen in place.
“Michael Wheeler, what have you done?” Mrs. Wheeler rushed to say with a slightly annoyed tone, “Go get the broom.”
I watched her start picking up the bigger pieces of glass that hadn’t shattered to dust.
I looked from her back to Mike- who was still just standing there, his chin practically to his chest with his eyes scrunched closed.
Michael!” Mrs. Wheeler shrieked.
With the rise in tension, I sprang up from my seat to go and fetch the broom because Mike obviously wasn’t going to, and Mrs. Wheeler was getting irritated.
Something I hated more than than horrible haircuts, was conflict.
It reminded me so much of my dad and mom fighting when I was younger- and I tried to avoid it at all costs.
When I came back, Mike still hadn’t moved, and Mrs. Wheeler looked furious.
His behavior bothered me, but not like it was bothering his mom...
I’ve seen this boy run head first into danger, talk back to teachers, and stand up to bullies at school for Dustin- so this was really out of his character.
I started to sweep up the glass, while thinking about what might be making him act like this.
(If I had a nickel for every minute I’d spent thinking about Mike Wheeler, I’d be happily living in a cottage somewhere.
Probably still thinking about him, but at least I’d be comfortable.)
I’d swept the entire kitchen before inevitably needing to sweep around his feet.
“Hey uh… Mike? Can you uh, step sideways please?” I tried asking softly.
But he didn't even acknowledge me.
"What is wrong with you?" Mrs. Wheeler asked in disbelief.
I turned to look at her, seeing that she was talking to Mike, anger written all over her face. When Mike still didn’t respond, she exploded.
“Michael Wheeler! This behavior is unacceptable! Will has asked you to move after graciously getting the broom and sweeping up YOUR mess.”
I watched Mike flinch as she grabbed his arm, his eyes blowing wide as she started dragging him towards his room, her loud words and angry tone fading as they climbed the stairs.
My heart felt like it was stuck in my throat, and a sour feeling had settled in my stomach.
I have never seen Mike act like that
I replayed the moment she grabbed him in my head.
He’d look surprised...
No.
Scared.
He looked really scared.
I looked down to start sweeping again, but something had caught my attention.
And as I kneeled down, my heart pounded harder against my ribs the closer that I got.
There were drops of blood on the ground surrounding a couple pieces of glass.
My stomach coiled painfully tight as I followed the trail of red streaks with my eyes, leading right out the door.
Mike was bleeding.
Why didn’t he say anything? Why did he react that way? Why didn’t he move off the glass?
Why? Why? Why?
Thought after thought raced in my head as I quickly finished sweeping up the glass, grabbing the paper towels and some cleaner, to get started on cleaning up the blood.
I followed the trail all the way up to Mike’s bedroom door, where it had noticeably gotten heavier- making me queasy.
I finished cleaning it up, trying not eavesdrop on Mike and his mom’s conversation. But they were loud.
“Mom please don’t leave me alone…”
My heart squeezed painfully in my chest; Mike sounded seriously scared.
“No Michael. You should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before this. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”
“Mom plea-“
I walked away quickly; guilt building heavily in my chest.
I shouldn’t have heard any of that.
When I got back to the kitchen, I put everything away- trying to bite back the familiar sting of tears behind my eyes.
I turned around to see that Mrs. Wheeler had come back into the kitchen, scaring me so bad that my soul nearly left my body.
Her cheeks were flushed bright red, “Oh! Sorry Will." She said while picking up the broom from where I’d set it against the counter. "Thank you for sweeping, I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome." I said shyly while trying to calm my racing heart.
"I have no clue what’s going on with that kid.” She added, her tone back to its calm state.
“Me neither” I agreed with a strained smile.
This night was going to be a long one.
......
After dinner I thanked Mrs. Wheeler for the food like four times- trying to make sure she knew how appreciative I was, before I excused myself to help Jonathon do the dishes.
Him and I talked quietly amongst ourselves, catching up about our days.
He’d been out with Nancy, still looking for clues in the upside down- which made me extremely nervous, considering we now knew how strong Vecna had truly become- and how ruthless he could be.
I selfishly didn’t want them out there. But nothing was going to change their minds.
On a happier note though, apparently him and Steve had a good heart to heart- so they were on good terms again.
Which I had told Jonathon ‘Would probably last until tomorrow’, prompting bubbles to get rudely blown in my face.
After finishing up the dishes, everyone broke apart to do their own night routines.
Mrs. Wheeler would leave to take her bubble bath, Nancy and Johnathon would leave to go and see the rest of the group at the cabin, Holly would go to bed, Ted would sit in his chair where he would inevitably fall asleep, and Mike would be in his room.
I would usually go to the basement and work on one of my drawings, but tonight, I was a bit too distracted thinking about what happened earlier.
I was resting against the counter, deep in thought when I heard Mrs. Wheeler call out.
“Hey Will? Can you please take Mike a plate?”
Damnit.
I really didn’t want to- but I also didn’t want to raise any alarms.
“Yes of course.” I replied reluctantly.
This really wasn’t how I thought today was going to go.
“Thank you, goodnight!”
I turned around to let my head fall against the kitchen counter- this was my own personal hell.
I must have been a menace in my past life.
After sulking, I loaded up a plate, making sure to keep everything separated, before tossing it in the microwave.
Once it was acceptably warm- I took a deep breath, and started my journey towards Mike’s room.
I was walking through the living room when my eyes drifted over to Ted- who would usually be zoned out on the tv- but was now staring at me, with a terrifying death glare.
My blood ran cold as I quickly averted my eyes away.
I didn't even think Ted knew I existed. I'm pretty sure in the last 10 years, he's said maybe 5 words to me.
I tried to brush it off and keep on my mission- but anxiety now swirled harder in my chest.
Thanks for that Ted.
I’m not sure why this was making me so nervous in the first place.
Well, okay, maybe it’s because Mike and I haven’t had an actual conversation in weeks, and even then we hadn't had any deep conversations.
Not since California, where he'd told me he wanted us to be a team.
Which I’ve since found out, meant absolutely nothing.
He has made it super clear he wants nothing to do with me.
Best friends my ass.
Once I reached his door, I took another deep breath before knocking twice.
No answer.
This was starting to give me horrible déjà vu.
Even though it’s only 8:00pm, he may have fallen asleep. He did look extremely tired earlier.
I looked down to see the bedroom light peeking out from underneath his door.
Okay so maybe not asleep.
I swallowed my crippling anxiety, and brought a shaky hand up to knock a couple more times with more force.
It made my stomach flutter when the door opened, revealing a very annoyed looking Mike.
“Wha-“
He'd cut himself off from finishing whatever it was that he was going to say when our eyes locked.
“Oh, hey” Came out quietly instead, his eyes dropping to the plate I was holding.
Butterflies filled my stomach, cuddling up with my anxiety.
Mike had audibly dropped his voice to something softer, and he didn’t look annoyed anymore- just tired.
“Hey.” I replied softly.
While Mike was looking at the plate, I was looking at him.
My throat constricted tightly as the worry built itself higher.
He looked incredibly sick.
It caught me by surprise when he broke the silence.
“Is that for me?”
His voice was so quiet, that if I wasn’t already looking at him, I wouldn’t have been able to hear it.
“Oh… uh yes…your mom, she uh… she asked me to bring you something to eat.”
I stumbled embarrassingly over my words, suddenly forgetting how to speak.
I quickly pushed the plate towards him, hoping that once he took it, I could retreat to the safety of the basement where I hopefully wouldn’t embarrass myself anymore.
He reached out, cautiously taking it with shaky hands.
“Thank you.”
I watched his mouth move with the barely audible words.
The anxiety in my chest was now punching the butterflies out of the air- turning them to ash.
Mike’s behavior was setting off every alarm in my head.
Something felt horribly wrong.
This didn’t feel like one of his usual tantrums.
Usually his emotions were very loud, and everyone else's problem.
But these ones were intentionally quiet, like he didn’t want the rest of us to see him.
“Can I come in?” I asked without thinking.
He looked about as shocked as I felt. I can not believe I'd just asked him that.
“Uh… yeah sure, come on in”
I was fully expecting him to say no with another bullshit excuse, so him opening the door for me felt a bit jarring.
The first thing I noticed upon entering the room was Roary sitting on his desk.
I thought Mike had got rid of him years ago.
I got him that stupid dinosaur for his 11th birthday, it was the coolest one at Melvalds, and I had saved up my allowance money for months to get it for him.
I turned around to see Mike looking down, fidgeting with his hands, still standing awkwardly by his bedroom door.
If I wanted a conversation to happen, it was clear I'd need to break the silence.
I took a deep breath and gently cleared my throat. “I… uh… I thought your mom made you get rid of Roary?”
‘Smooth Will, real smooth.’
I watched his shoulder visibly relax, regardless of how dumb this conversation was.
“She did, but I went and bought him back.”
He set the plate of food down before picking Roary up.
My cheeks heated up at the fact that Mike had taken his time and money, to get back a stupid piece of plastic that I had bought him 6 years ago.
"You bought him back from who?” I asked, while trying to calm my racing pulse.
"The little boy down the street." Mike admitted sheepishly. "I had to bribe him with $10 and a bag of candy."
"Mike!" I let out a stunned laugh, "That was way more than he was worth."
"Not to me."
My jaw snapped shut. He hadn’t wasted a single second to respond.
Did Roary really mean that much to him?
My eyes wandered down to the floor, where I caught sight of the dried blood from earlier.
He still hadn’t cleaned it up.
It made the worry immediately come back full force, pushing out all other thoughts.
“How is your foot?” I asked, trying to keep my tone calm.
It had to be brought up at some point.
He recoiled backwards, obviously not expecting someone to have noticed what happened earlier.
I watched with sadness as his mask faltered for a second, before he decidedly dropped it completely- limping sorrowfully back over to his bed.
Where he just, stood- looking like he was hesitating on whether or not to give an answer.
I couldn’t help it as my bottom lip pushed itself out- this was utterly depressing to witness.
It made my stomach hurt to think that this last month may have just been him suffering up here in silence.
Was it because he didn't let anyone in... or because we just don't ever try hard enough to get him to open up.
I tried to think back to all the times him and I talked- stunned to realize it was always about someone else.
Usually, El or I.
I can't remember a time where we’ve talked about anything outside of the problems he's had with both of us.
The fact that I don’t know what he's been through these last few years makes me want to puke.
“I haven’t checked.”
I barely caught it, but was unable to hide my shock when it registered,
“Mike that was 2 hours ago. You still haven’t checked?!” I shot across the room.
“Sit down, now.” I commanded.
This stupid idiot, what if it gets infected and we have to amputate his foot. What's he going to do with one goddamn foot.
He did as he was told, sitting down slowly; his eyes blown comically wide. “I’m fine Will, really.” he weakly protested.
“Stop talking.” I stated firmly.
I was not budging on this. Someone needed to take care of him for once, and he was going to let me whether he liked it or not.
I kneeled down in front of him, slowly lifting the injured foot up and balancing it on my knee.
I quickly looked up when Mike gasped, finding that his eyes were already locked on mine, chewing on his bottom lip.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
He nodded, “Yeah… just hurts.”
I could understand that, I tried to be more gentle as I lifted his foot a little higher- taking a closer look at the damage.
A few small shards of glass were embedded in his heel, with the blood around them already dried.
“Oh Mike.” I scrunched my face up as my stomach churned- I’d never been great with blood.
I gently set his foot down. Looking up to see him adorably clutching Roary to his chest.
I quickly left to grab the first-aid kit out of the bathroom, and when I got back with the supplies- I was met with a pitiful sight.
Mike had laid back, his chest was rising and falling aggressively, with a thin layer of sweat resting on his forehead.
I walked over to him, kneeling down and carefully picking his back foot up- which caused him to jump, which caused me to jump.
I huffed out a shocked laugh as I clutched my chest, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay.” He said quietly, his adams apple bobbing with a harsh swallow.
I quickly got to work, deciding not to bring too much attention to his severely worrisome state.
He didn’t do or say much as I cleaned and bandaged his foot- other than a few quiet hisses when I initially pulled the glass out.
When I got his foot completely done I set it gently on the ground.
When I looked up, my heart stuttered in my chest- finding that Mike was already looking at me- but his eyes were hazed and unfocused.
“All done.” I spoke quietly, trying not to spook him.
Upon me speaking, he quickly averted his gaze to the ceiling- his cheeks flushing red.
I cracked a small smile at this-he was cute when he was flustered.
“Mike…” I started softly.
He abruptly hopped up- causing my heart to once again slam itself against my ribs in shock, as he limped over to his door.
“Thank you so much Will, really. But I need to clean my room.”
I looked around the room in question, finding a singular towel on the ground, but that was it.
I looked back at him, trying to figure out why he'd feel the need to lie again.
The feeling of frustration was quickly building in my chest.
It feels like every step we take forward is followed by three steps backwards.
A mantra of HelphimHelphimHelphim and JustgoJustgoJustgo, aggressively fought for dominance in my head.
It would be so easy to just walk out the door- to fall back into our routine of avoiding one another.
And maybe I would if these were different circumstances, but Mike was acting abnormal, and it was extremely concerning.
I also needed him to know that I wanted to be here- and if he still refuses my help after that... well than at least I can say I tried.
“No.” I stated firmly.
Mike looked like a kicked puppy, tears immediately filling his eyes before he snapped them closed.
Worry sent a pang through my heart as I stood up to start walking towards him.
What in the world was causing this.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
His voice was quiet, laced heavily in bitterness.
I stopped dead in my tracks, anxiety filling my stomach.
“Doing what, Mike?” I asked cautiously.
I don’t think I’ve done anything to him- especially nothing that would elicit this kind of reaction.
He stayed by the door, his hand on the knob, looking like he was ready to dart out of the room.
“Hey… hey... it’s okay.” I tried to soothe, cautiously resuming my movement towards him.
My heart only squeezed tighter in my chest when he looked at me with tear filled eyes.
And then the dam broke, washing us both away with the tsunami that was Mike Wheeler's emotions.
“Please… please leave... you can’t- I can’t, please Will you can’t see me like this. You need to leave.” He was pleading through broken sobs.
But nothing in the world could have made me leave in that moment.
If I walked away when Mike so obviously needed comfort- it would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I walked the rest of the distance, coming to a halt in front of him, delicately placing my hands on his cheeks, and letting my thumbs run across them to brush away his tears.
I half expected him to pull away, to yell at me for spreading my disease.
But he let me.
This was new territory for both of us, and being this close to him was suffocating. I could hardly hear anything over the drumming of my heart in my ears. It only sped up as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine- sobbing harder.
It had just occurred to me that I have never seen Mike cry.
My mom had mentioned once that he cried during my possession. But him and I have never gotten the chance to talk about it.
It is becoming painfully clear how little I’ve actually talked to Mike about his issues.
I gently traced his cheekbones with my thumbs- letting them dance gently across the constellation of freckles that laid there.
The butterflies in my stomach decided to do the moonwalk at the same time when Mike decided to take it a step further- wrapping his arms around my waist, and pulling me tightly against him.
I’m pretty positive that he could feel my heart beating aggressively in my chest, theres no way he couldn't- It was practically throwing itself at his.
I was the first to very reluctantly pull back.
My breath caught in my throat when my eyes landed on him.
He was so fucking pretty.
My eyes danced over his features, soaking in all of the small details while I was allowed to be this close.
The slight red that was lining his waterline was a beautiful contrast to his pitch-black eyes, making me wonder what he'd look like in eyeliner, my gaze dropped, finding that his lips were swollen and red from chewing on them- looking extremely kissable.
El has said before that kissing him was extremely unenjoyable, and that her and Dustin had kissed during a game of spin the bottle one time, and it was way better.
It made me bitter to know that I’d only ever be able to take her word for it.
My eyes wandered up to his hair- which was fluffed up, curls sticking out in every direction. Leaving him looking angelic.
It was truly unfair how pretty he could look while crying.
It made it damn near impossible to keep my thoughts in check.
But even then, I could see the exhaustion making itself more and more prominent in his eyes- reminding me of the worry that was sitting right next to the butterflies and anxiety.
“When’s the last time you slept?” I said barely above a whisper.
His face dropped into a pout, and after a moment or two, he finally said, “I’ve been getting an hour every night for the past week…”
"What?!" I said in shock.
This boy was going to give me a run for my money.
I’d moved to sit on the edge of his bed, quickly kicking my shoes off and settling into the middle,.
He was watching me with confusion prominent in his expression.
I let out an amused laugh while rolling my eyes. “Come on Mike, I don’t bite.”
His eyebrows had just pinched tighter together at this, so I tried to explain further.
“I just know that sometimes having someone with you- when you… when you... um.” My words got stuck.
It's not that I didn't want to tell him the truth, I'm just worried it would make him feel guilty for something that he did unintentionally, years ago.
I can't really remember the little details about it- considering that, that time in my life was blurred by demonic possession.
But I do remember waking up from a nightmare, and it had been one of the worst ones at the time- leaving me shaking and drenched in sweat.
It had felt like I was going to die from panic, until I'd heard the voice of an angel.
“Will… Are you okay?”
It was Mike, who was sleeping on my floor in a sleeping bag.
Regardless of the fact that it was incredibly uncomfortable on the ground, and freezing, he had opted to spend that entire week with me.
That specific day, he had woken up, or maybe had already been awake, to check on me.
I remember him climbing in the bed to cuddle with me, holding me until I’d stopped shaking, whispering soft words of affirmation in my ear.
It genuinely still impresses me how he was able to keep his cool through everything. If our roles had been switched, I wouldn't have been able to do what he did.
Being 13, and helping your best friend stay who they are during a possession that no one knows how to fix, is a heavy weight to carry.
I've never spoken it out loud- and maybe I can’t, for fear that he would read in-between the lines.
But he saved me.
He truly kept me from allowing the darkness to take hold, when it would have been so easy to.
That was the last time I had ever let someone comfort me after a nightmare.
Because they weren't Mike.
And over the years, I'd grown a dull resentment towards him for it- for showing me what it felt like to be loved and cared for.
I snapped back to the present, realizing I’d gone quiet.
“When what?” He asked softly.
I shrugged lightly, “It’s nothing, Mike. I just want to be here for you, that’s all.” I put my best reassuring smile on, trying to make it as convincing as possible.
He limped the rest of the way over to the bed, sitting down gently on the edge before turning to look at me.
“When what?” He repeated himself, even softer than before- if that was even possible.
God, why did he have to be so soft with me- it makes it incredibly difficult to get over him.
He was looking at me like he could see into my soul, searching the darkest corners that no one else wanted to see.
He has always been so intuitive about how I was feeling, always being the first one to check on me, making sure I was okay and safe before deciding what he was going to do next.
And then, to make this moment harder than he it already was, he did that stupid thing where his eyes get big with sadness, and his eyebrows pull gently together.
And it broke me.
All of the tears I’d been suppressing all evening came pouring out, leaving me feeling even more guilty.
This was supposed to be about him.
I was supposed to be comforting him.
But I’ve been holding my breath for years, waiting for him to see me again.
To acknowledge that I exist outside of everything that's happened, that I'm still the little boy on the swing-set.
And now here he was, scooting himself closer to wrap his arms around me- cradling my head to his chest.
I let myself melt into the embrace, bringing my hands up to clutch the back of his shirt.
And then, as if I needed any more reason to be helplessly in love with him, he decided to whisper- “Crazy together…” so delicately into my hair.
The same phrase we’d spoken as a promise years ago- that if we were going to lose ourselves, we’d do it together.
And right now, I definitely felt like I was losing it.
I honestly can't believe he even remembered.
I tilted my head up, pushing my face into the crook of his neck- which was a weak attempt at muffling my fierce sobs.
And he not only let me, but held me tightly in place- anchoring me to earth, lighting my way through the darkness,
and leading me home.