Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!

Now that Will Byers wasn’t living at home, but rather in his own college dorm room, he’d realised he wouldn’t be able to rely on his mom or his brother to wake him up for the day anymore. Instead, and much less politely, he was jerked awake by the digital high-pitched beeping of an alarm clock.

Will sat upright. He was pretty groggy; squinting one eye, keeping the light out through his lids, breathing deeply, waking up. He scrubbed at his eyes with a fist, not really ready to be up at 7:30, but knowing that he had to be regardless- and he wasn’t the only one.

In the bed on the other side of their small dorm, Lucas Sinclair groaned into his thin foam pillow. Will looked over, and despite being sympathetic to Lucas’s situation, he couldn’t help but stifle a tiny chuckle. Lucas was face down, shirtless, only in his light blue boxer shorts, one leg hiked up, arms snuggling the pillow under his face. A sliver of yellowish morning sunlight cut through the curtains, their final indicator that yes, unfortunately, it’s time to get up, boys!

Lucas, now brushing his teeth by the sink in their itty-bitty dorm kitchen, still only in his boxers, looked over at Will as he ducked down and opened their mini fridge. Will was already dressed, and was grabbing some orange juice for breakfast before looking to head out the door. Lucas noticed his sketchbook under his arm.

“Hey,” Lucas said through a foamy mouth full of toothpaste. His eyes followed Will as the other boy stood, kicked the mini fridge closed and grabbed a stray glass from the kitchen counter. He looked at Lucas, waiting for him to speak.

“Do you think Mike’s gonna be there today? At lunch?” He leant down and spat into the sink before turning on the faucet, watching the white foam circle the drain and disappear.

Will blinked at the mention of his best friend. He thought for a moment as he poured the orange juice into the glass. He didn’t care that Mike and Eleven were still together- that wasn’t his problem. But for the past few weeks or so, Mike had flaked on the friend group.

They all usually ate lunch together; whether it be in the cafeteria, outside on a nice day, in a random diner, they always did. Otherwise, they wouldn’t see each other much- they were all such busy bees. So the lunch meetups meant a lot to Mike’s friends, but especially Will. Since all the way back at the start of high school, Will and Mike, the childhood best friends had grown distant. They weren’t on bad terms, but they were just… awkward. They couldn’t talk to each other- at least, not in the way they used to. Their conversations had turned from deep, meaningful and open chats to shallow conglomerates of small talk topics, and they could both feel it. But neither was brave enough to bring it up.

And now, Will and Mike hardly even had that. The lunch meetups were all they had left, but every time, Mike had some sort of reason that he wouldn’t be able to show- but the group all knew very well that he was going off campus to see his girlfriend instead of them. Vane apologies were made, as were his excuses, and that was it. Almost every single day, Will was left listening to the empty dial tone of the landline dorm phone, feeling lonely, feeling abandoned. That was, if Mike had even been gracious enough to give a call in the first place. He hadn’t done that in a while.

Will shook his head, pulling himself out of all of those thoughts. He glanced up at Lucas again, sipping his juice. He shrugged a little, trying to seem like he didn’t care, even though he did.

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

Lucas nodded, clearly lost in thoughts of his own. Will could tell that Mike never meeting them anymore was getting to Lucas as well. It was getting to the whole party, but there wasn’t much they could do.

Will put the (almost entirely full) glass of juice on the counter again. He wasn’t thirsty anymore.

“See you later,” He flashed a gentle smile to Lucas, who nodded ‘bye’ in return, and turned out the door, sketchbook underarm, bag over shoulder.

Lucas eyed the full glass of orange juice before picking it up and absentmindedly having a sip, forgetting he’d just brushed his teeth. Immediately he winced and made a face, repulsed. That was just the kick in the ass he needed to finally begin getting dressed and reluctantly start his own day.

⠀

Will squeezed his way through a maze of stools and easels and his chattering peers before settling down in a stool of his own.

In the fifteen minutes he had to spare, Will clamped down a canvas to the easel before him. Laid out brushes, knives, jars of turpentine and other spirits. Prepared a plastic palette with blobs of multicoloured oil paints.

God, art excited him. It had since he was a child. He’d love to say it was because of some deeper truth; that art allows you to express yourself or say things in ways words don’t. But honestly? Will couldn’t truly pinpoint just one reason why he loved it so dearly. It relaxed him, it was beautiful, it was creative. He got to see his thoughts come to life in front of his eyes. It was cool. It impressed his friends, it validated him. All the times since Will’s childhood where he’d shown his friends, where he’d shown Mike, new drawings and paintings he’d made, blushing and looking away sheepishly as they all complimented him in ways that he didn’t know how to take.

Will felt a tiny pang in his heart when he remembered showing Mike a particular painting he’d done. It had been of him, Mike and their friends all dressed as their respective D&D classes, fighting off a three-headed dragon.

He tried not to think of that memory anymore, instead shifting his focus back to the class, watching as the professor, an older man that Will didn’t quite remember the name of, walked in and began setting slides into a Kodak carousel projector.

⠀

Hours later, with notes taken and brush strokes made, people began to pack away their supplies, ready for the coming break. Just as Will started gathering his things back into his bag, his head darted up in alert when the professor clapped twice, loudly, garnering attention. Everyone stopped what they were doing; cleaning brushes, closing bags, talking among themselves.

“Okay, everyone! A quick announcement before you head out,” his voice called out, being sure that everyone heard, “we’re participating in the Emerging Artists Student Show. It’s juried this year, which means not everything gets in, so start thinking now about what you’d want to submit.”

The professor walked around the room, handing each student a photocopied pamphlet. Will looked it over, intrigued. In bold lettering, the front page read out:
EMERGING ARTISTS 1990
Juried Student Exhibition - Open to All Fine Arts Majors
Submission Deadline: April 13th

He skimmed over some more of the printed information, lips parted in interest as the professor continued to speak.

“You can enter up to three pieces each. They can be works you’ve made in this class or personal pieces, it doesn’t matter- just as long as they were completed in this last year.” He paused then, but quickly added, “If you’re thinking of submitting slides, shoot them this week. Turnaround time is five-ish days, longer if the shop’s busy. That’s all.”

Will folded the flyer messily and shoved it into the his bag before zipping it closed, grabbing his sketchbook and shuffling out of the room amongst the other art students, making his way to his friends.

Today, the group was hanging around outside. Lucas, his ex-girlfriend Max Mayfield and their friend Dustin Henderson all sat in various scattered spots by the cracking stone steps that lead directly into the humanities building, enjoying the frosty early spring air, and what was left of the winter. Lucas and Max sat on a step together, while Dustin sat on the ground in front of them.

And, as suspected, no Mike.

Will wandered over and lowered himself next to Dustin, letting his bag slip off his shoulder and onto the concrete next to him, listening to his friends converse with each other.

“This isn’t new, you guys,” Dustin said, spitting a little through his braces as he spoke. “They’ve been doing this for like five years now.”

“I’m not saying it’s new, I’m saying it’s bullshit,” Max replied. She swallowed a sip of cherry Coke in a can up through a white plastic straw, resting her chin on her palm. “I mean, Lucas and I never ditched you guys the way Mike has been ditching us, right?”

When Dustin furrowed his brows and Will glanced away, Max sat up a little, defensive. She didn’t notice Lucas’s awkward shift at the mention of their relationship. Had she and Lucas ever done that? She didn’t think they had- not that she could recall. Max turned to Lucas, who sat by her side, but a foot or so away.

“What do you think?” She asked, but got no reply. Lucas was dazed out, staring into nothing. Dustin met eyes with Will, both of them mildly concerned.

“Lucas?”

He snapped out of it, looking over to her.

“Sorry- what? Oh, yeah, I don’t know,” Lucas replied. Max opened her mouth to say something, but she was cut off by Dustin speaking first. She noticed that he’d turned around, watching as someone approached. Someone tall, someone lanky.

“Well, well. Look who it is!” Dustin said, squinting in the white sun. “Boy, I was getting worried that you weren’t gonna show for the- my, what is it now…” he looked at his bare wrist as if checking a watch. “Oh, that’s right. Fifth day in a row.”

“Okay- yeah- I get it, alright?” Mike replied and looked down at Will on the ground- the space between him and Dustin. “Just- scoot.”

Dustin and Will obliged, shifting around and making room for Mike to sit down on the ground between them.

“We haven’t seen you for almost a week and that’s what you’re gonna go with?” Dustin said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “You got anything else for us, Mike? Anything at all?”

Max and Lucas glanced at each other. There was an overarching air of tension in the group. Will, feeling awkward, unzipped his bag and reached inside for a can of Coke he’d hidden in there at some point.

Mike finally spoke up, feeling the pressure what with Dustin staring at him and the general silence falling over the party.

“Okay, I’m sorry that I have… responsibilities-“

Max cut him off almost immediately, scoffing.

“Oh, please. We all have responsibilities, it has nothing to do with that, and you know it,” As Max spoke, Will continued shuffling around the various items in his bag, searching for the Coke can. “This is to do with El.”

Will looked up at this. It was only for a moment, though, before he went back to his search.

“We’re allowed to hang out!” Mike argued.

”All you ever do is see her!” Max quipped back.

It wasn’t unusual for Mike and Max to bicker- they’d been doing it since they met. But in middle and high school, it was just silly. As adults, it felt more real. They both brought up points of things that actually mattered, or things the other did that were truly wrong.

“Okay- okay!” Lucas put out a hand, shutting the two hotheads up.

He took a breath, taking a quick glance at a hurt Max before turning to Mike.

“We just… we’ve missed you, dude.” He said earnestly. Mike lowered his gaze now, feeling bashful and guilty all of the sudden. Sometimes he hated vulnerability. It made him feel exposed.

And yet…

Mike glanced up at his friends. “Yeah,” he spoke softly, “I’ve missed you guys, too. It’s just… been hard out here without her.”

Dustin shrugged, his voice softening too. “It’s been hard for us without you. We need you.”

A moment of understanding silence went by. The conversation was far from a perfect fix, but for now, it would have to do.

The moment was ultimately broken by the gentle scuffle of paper. Mike glanced over at Will, seeing that a flyer had slipped from his open bag as he searched for- and finally found- the can of Coke. Without Will realising, Mike had lifted the sheet of paper between his fingers, reading it under his breath. His eyes widened a little.

”Woah!” He turned to Will. Will looked up and saw Mike holding the pamphlet, smiling that goofy smile, with those crooked teeth. Will breathed out a chuckle, feeling a little awkward as everyone in the group also looked over at the paper.

“You have to submit something, Will,” Mike pushed, newly excited for the boy next to him. Somehow, despite his excitement and enthusiasm, his voice remained soft and gentle; a certain tone Will hadn’t heard from Mike in years. He suddenly felt strange about Mike acting like they were still so close, speaking so warmly, behaving in a way he hadn’t been able to get out of him for a while now. Still, it made him feel good, and he couldn’t help but smile and blush.

“I don’t know…” he stuttered a little, grinning down at his lap at the idea of it. He wasn’t overly confident in his abilities, and his friends all knew that about him, but they did their best to make him see just how talented he was.

Mike looked around at the others with raised eyebrows, silently asking for their encouragement, which they obliged.

“Come on, Will!” Lucas cheered on.

“Yeah, come on!” Max agreed, nodding, red strands of hair bobbing around with her movements. If she had’ve been speaking to anyone else, she might’ve been taken as being sarcastic. But Max knew better than to be snarky towards Will- he was the sweetest person she knew. Him and El were some of the only people she allowed herself to be truly vulnerable around, because she knew they’d understand. Lucas, too. But since their breakup last December, she’d retreated back into her hard shell around him.

Soon enough, Will was being eagerly encouraged by all his friends. He couldn’t help but smirk and look away, embarrassed but so grateful for them. At last, he gave in.

“Okay,” he all but whispered through shy giggles. “I’ll do it.”

⠀

Will, sitting up in his bed, glanced over to the same digital alarm clock that started his day. The blinking red numbers told him that it was currently 2 o’clock in the morning.

He brushed the eraser end of his pencil against his lip, looking down at the sketchbook page opened in his lap. In the dark, the graphite lines were a little hard to see, but Will focused nonetheless. He just wanted to get something on the page, and he’d fix it up tomorrow before working on his final version.

The sketch wasn’t anything special; no, nothing like the painting he’d made for Mike back in ‘86. But it was good enough.

He flipped the book closed and tossed it to the carpeted floor carelessly, cringing at the dull thud it made, which in turn caused Lucas to grumble and shift in his sleep.

Will slipped under his covers, tucked them right up under his chin, and closed his eyes.

⠀

In Castle Byers, Will was supposed to be safe.

Him and his brother Jonathan had built this fortress together, so a place handcrafted with such love should be the safest place to hide in this Hell dimension.

And yet, through the gaps in the branch walls, Will can hear the grumbling of the monster.

His stomach hurts; hasn’t eaten in a week. His eyes hurt; hasn’t slept much in this place. And his entire body aches; so much running. So. Much. Running. In this place. From that thing.

In a moment, his leg is snared by large grey fingers with sharp yellowing claws at the end of each one. He shrieks, petrified and in pain as it drags him out from the billowing entrance of the castle the brothers had built. Out from that safe place.

Will can’t move; there’s too much fear. He just freezes, on his back, on the ground, his vest wet with sludge and dead leaves. The monster crawls over him, pinning him down.

He can feel it’s breath on his face as it’s slimey grey flower-petal mouth flaps open up slowly, showing Will hundreds of razor sharp teeth, all funnelling into the centre where two mandible-like jaws wait to feed.

Will screamed, absolutely terrified. He thrashed around, and only got even more scared when he could physically feel two hands holding him down, pressing him down, constricting him…

“Will! Will, dude, you good?! Will!”

“Let me go! Let go! Go away, go away, GO AWAY!” He sobbed, scared out of his fucking mind.

Lucas stumbled back, letting go of his friend.

His eyes flew open, and he could feel his lashes were damp with tears and his face with sweat.

Will shot upright in bed, panting desperately. He looked over to find Lucas, standing in just his boxers again, looking just as scared. Will sighed, exhausted, but also embarrassed.

“Sorry…” he stuttered. He turned to glance at the clock. 6:38am. Will looked back to Lucas, but was unable to meet his eye, feeling guilty. He obviously woke him up- Lucas wouldn’t be up at this hour of his own volition.

“Hey, no, it’s all good,” Lucas replied, calming down a little. “You alright?” He then asked, stuttering himself now. They were both clearly as freaked out as each other.

Will nodded gently.

After a moment of silence, Lucas asked something he knew Will probably wouldn’t like, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“You want me to get Mike?”

“No- Lucas, it’s fine. I’m fine. Thanks.” He said, still with that usual softness that Will always had in his voice. He then threw the blankets from his lap before bounding out the front door, still in his pyjamas. Lucas stood around awkwardly in the dorm room, left dumbfounded and completely alone. He couldn’t help but feel bad for suggesting he go get Mike, just as he suspected he would.

In the communal hallway bathroom, Will burst into a shower stall, slamming the curtain closed behind him with a whoosh!

He pressed his palms against the cool tile wall, catching his breath and trying to let his heart slow down.

Just a dream. It was a dream. You’re fine, you’re here.

You do not need him. You aren’t twelve anymore. Pull it together, Will.

Will flattened one hand over his heart, still feeling it going faster than it should be. He took several more deep breaths, head spinning.

After a few minutes of swallowing oxygen and trying desperately to calm down, Will finally started to peel off his sweaty pyjamas. He felt scared and he felt disgusting.

He tossed the clothes over the lip of the shower stall wall to his left so that they hung over it. Will, feeling ever vulnerable whenever he was naked, even if he was alone, which he always was, hugged his arms over his bare chest. It was red and splotchy where he’d gotten hot with the fear in the night, and with the thrashing around.

Will sighed before slapping on the faucet, letting the warm water cascade over his already damp hair and face, blubbering out air through his lips under the stream.

He was sick of feeling like this.

Chapter Text

The days leading up to the deadline for submissions seemed to go by slower than usual. It made Will think of something El said one time; that emotions can make time speed up or slow down.

In that time, Will finished his subpar sketch, put brush to canvas, and after a week or so, his submission painting was done. He still couldn’t say he was thrilled with it, but that was mostly because he couldn’t stop comparing it to his past works- to pieces most important to him; pieces he wishes he could be submitting instead.

He stepped back from the easel, eyes scanning over the colourful painted surface. Depicted before him was a knight, complete with shining armour and a long, silver sword that gleamed in the sun. His back was facing the point of view; his face obscured. Dark hair cascaded down his back from under his helmet in waves of curls. He stood over a sparkling lake in a meadow of grass, sword in hand, arms raised, looking at a castle in the distance.

Will sighed a little. He knew what he’d painted- he wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t as oblivious as some. To anyone except for Will, this knight was just a regular knight. But Will knew that it wasn’t a knight that he’d painted.

It was a paladin.

He dipped his brush in a glass of turpentine, and watching as the murky colours came free from the bristles, Will felt ashamed, which made him sick to the stomach. And he let it come, didn’t try to stop it. Nausea, guilt, stupidity, shame. He tried not to admit it, but these were all things that he felt he deserved. Will hated himself; hated himself for hating himself. It was a vicious cycle, but one he’d been dealing with for a long time, and dealing with alone.

He only ever had one other gay friend- her name was Robin, and she was just about the coolest person Will thought he’d ever meet. She just got it. The same sickening shame that Will had felt, she’d already felt. The same crush on someone he couldn’t have, she’d already had.

But Rob was older than Will, and so they wouldn’t be in college at the same time. At first, the idea of leaving and having to be somewhere without another queer person around to talk to crushed him. He remembered sobbing about the idea of not seeing her for a while; knowing he would see her again, but still being so broken up, thinking of all the what ifs.

What happens when I need someone and you aren’t there? No one else knows what it’s like, Robin. I can’t do it alone, not again. I can’t do it, he’d cried to her, and Robin couldn’t help but tear up for him as well. She didn’t know what to say, what could help. The same loneliness that destroyed gay kids like him, she’d already felt.

Will sniffled a little and continued packing away his art things, only becoming more and more disappointed with the painting the more he thought about it. He couldn’t tell if it was that bad, or if he just hated what it stood for.

⠀

Days later, once the painting was dried, Will rolled it up, submitted it, exchanged it for a claim slip, and pretended it didn’t exist anymore. It wasn’t his problem now. He wouldn’t see it again, knowing he wouldn’t get into the art show anyway. It was stupid, agreeing to submit something in the first place. So stupid.

Which is why he literally can not believe what he’s hearing on the other end of the line.

“Okay… thank you,” Will made himself say before listening to the call hang up, and the dial tone sing to him.

After a few moments of silence, mind racing, he set the phone back into the cradle.

Lucas- who was sat up in his own bed, half listening to Will talk into the receiver, eyes darting between a sports psychology textbook and his own scrappy spiral notebook- suddenly glanced up to his roommate.

“Who was that?” He asked, taking a moment to stop jotting down notes.

“Um…” Will started, averting his eyes. “It was nothing, it was just my mom,” he stumbled over his words and scratched the back of his neck. Lucas nodded, going back to what he was doing, and Will swallowed nervously.

⠀

Mike, sat cross-legged on his bed covers, toyed with a loose thread on his sleep top as his girlfriend spoke to him through the crispy signal of his walkie-talkie.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled absentmindedly, not entirely listening to everything she was saying, lost in thought. His ears only properly chimed in when she asked about Max.

“Is she there? Can I talk?”

Mike looked over to his roommate’s bed. Max was also sat up, but wires attached to little plastic buds snaked out of either one of her ears as she studied. The music coming from her walkman and into the earphones was so loud that Mike knew exactly what song it was and what part it was at. Judging by that and her perpetually annoyed resting face, he got the idea that she didn’t feel like talking, and Mike guessed if he interrupted her music, she might explode.

“…No. She’s not here,” Mike said into the receiver, hoping that El couldn’t hear Max’s music herself as loudly as he could.

“Oh…” El replied, clearly a little disappointed, but then she perked back up, struck with a thought. “Wait- is she with Lucas? They are back together?”

Mike shook his head despite knowing El couldn’t see him.

“No, no… they’re still broken up.”

El’s sigh came through crackly, but Mike heard it clear as day.

Last November, Max’s mother, Susan Mayfield, passed away. Something to do with a drunk driver, Mike remembered. He also remembered how Max had acted when her step-brother died, and the way she shut down. She pushed away her family, her friends, and Lucas.

The coming December, Max did the same thing. It seemed that Max’s natural response to grief was to completely alienate and isolate herself from those who loved her, and Mike couldn’t very well blame her. She had gone through so much loss, and no matter how they fought, at the end of the day, deep down, he did love her (though he’d never admit it) and wanted happiness for her.

Lucas didn’t blame her for the breakup, either. He was deeply upset- he loved her, of course- but he kept the same I’ll wait for whenever you’re ready to try again, even if it takes the rest of my life mentality around Max. They remained amicable, but it was clear to all of their friends that both parties were hurting.

And now it was April, and Max was on her way to healing but not at all healed yet. Everyone was secretly, quietly hoping and waiting for the day where they’d finally take each other back. For the day Max would let Lucas back in to help her heal fully.

El sniffled a little. “I hope Max is okay,” she said, before adding, “Lucas, too. Is he- do you think?”

“…I don’t know,” Mike answered honestly. There wasn’t much that got to Lucas quite like his loved ones disappearing from his life. He needed people, he needed friends, and he needed Max just as much as she needed him.

After a minute or so of silence, Mike spoke up again.

“How’s everything back at home? Still mad at Hopper?”

Eleven groaned a little into the receiver. Mike smirked, letting her rant.

“Yes! He will not even let me talk about college anymore,” she rambled, and Mike listened this time. El recounted about how she wanted so badly to go to college with her friends, and how Hopper had to remind her how much she hated school, promising her she’d be sick of it after a week, telling her about how he didn’t go to college and I didn’t turn out half bad, did I, kid?

The pair chattered for another ten minutes or so before Mike heard Joyce on the other end of the line call El out for dinner. He supposed he’d better get going too, seeing as Max had stopped her walkman, pulled the buds out of her ears and begun packing away her textbooks. He glanced down at his wristwatch. 8:52pm.

“I have to go,” El told him, and he found himself nodding pointlessly again.

“I love you,” She said after a few moments. She remained quiet, shy, hopeful. Max heard this and peeked over from her bed, trying not to make her spying too obvious.

Mike’s palms clammed up, feeling watched by Max and waited on by El. He chewed his bottom lip a little, panicking, the clock in his head ticking.

“Yeah- oh, hey- Max is back, I gotta go, miss you, talk tomorrow!” He shrunk the silver antenna back into the walkie and tossed it onto his blankets as if it were a grenade.

Max shot a look at him, her red hair whipping around. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“Really? Again?”

He covered his face with his hands, sucking in an exasperated breath.

“Oh, my god, look, if you can’t say it then you need to just drop her, Mike. She doesn’t deserve this.”

Mike tore his hands from his face. “Oh, like you’re in any place to be giving me relationship advice right now.”

Max recoiled, her eyebrows drawing together. That stung.

Mike knew he probably shouldn’t have said that. He knew as soon as the words left his mouth. He was just defensive, and he knew why. Max knew why.

Everyone probably knew why.

⠀

I love you.

Yeah- oh, hey, Max is back, I gotta go, miss you, talk tomorrow.

Taking a break from tossing and turning in bed, Mike checked his watch once more with a huff.

1:51am.

He sat up and swung his long legs over the edge of his mattress, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hand. As Mike let out a quiet yawn, he looked over to Max’s bed. Her back was turned to him, so she wasn’t much but a lump under the covers with a tuft of red hair poking out from the top. He could see as she twitched a little in her sleep, her breathing quick. She’d told the group about her frequent nightmares since Billy and Susan’s deaths, so Mike wasn’t too concerned. Still, he felt a little bad- he felt bad for anyone with nightmares. He couldn’t know what it was like.

Mike stood and crept toward the front door before opening it and stepping out into the dim dorm hallway. On the adjacent wall, Mike pressed himself back-first into it and slid down until he was sat on the floor with a sigh.

I love you.

You can’t even write it, Mike.

His face flinched a little.

If you can’t say it, you need to just drop her.

You can’t even write it.

Just when the thoughts were close to making him want to cry, tears already beginning to form in his eyes, Mike was quietly thankful that the sound of another opening dorm room door snapped him out of it. He glanced over, watching minimal soft light pour out from the crack of the door and disappear when Will closed it behind him.

Mike’s breath caught.

Will jumped a little, clearly not expecting anyone else to be out here, especially not at this hour.

“Hey,” Will whispered. His brows furrowed a little when Mike looked away and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Oh, hey,” he replied as nonchalantly as he could muster, but Will had already caught him, and Mike knew it.

Will tiptoed over on socked feet and slid down the wall next to Mike, taking care not to bump elbows or brush knees with him.

“Can’t sleep?”

Mike shook his head, not meeting Will’s eye.

“Is it… El?” He asked, and that’s when Mike looked over with those big, wet doe eyes, and Will felt his heart wilt. He couldn’t help it.

“Even… even after everything, I can’t…” he swallowed, “I still can’t…”

Mike wrung his hands, trying to force himself to just get the words out. Will could tell this was deeply troubling him, and he understood well enough what Mike was trying to say.

“Hey, Mike- it’s okay-“

“I just can’t say what she wants me to say,” he finally got out, not crying, yet sniffling regardless.

Will looked away, and as did Mike. The two boys just studied the floor for a while, before Will gathered the courage to ask;

“Do you… I mean- maybe you can’t say it because… because you…” Will thought for a moment. “I mean… you might not feel… that way… you know what I mean?”

Mike’s breath caught in his throat again. his brows were arched up and his pouty lips were parted slightly, giving him that signature sad puppy-dog look. With frightened, teary eyes, he looked back to Will.

“I don’t…” Mike swallowed, “I don’t know,” he said, his voice trembling and so quiet that Will could hardly hear him. When Will just stared at him with a sympathetic expression, unsure what to say, Mike had to look away and wipe his eyes on his sleeve again.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped and chuckled a little, embarrassed. “It’s stupid, I’m sorry-“

When Mike pushed himself to his feet and started walking toward his door, Will’s mind raced and his eyes darted. He had to say something, but around Mike, it was hard to say anything sometimes. Finally, he just blurted out what had been on his mind all night- what had been keeping him up.

“I got in.”

Mike turned, confused.

“What?”

“The…” Will suddenly regretted speaking up, but it was too late now. His throat dried up a little. “The art show thing,” He stuttered over himself and began backtracking. “It’s stupid- sorry, I know it’s not the time-“

“What?! No, no, Will, that’s incredible!”

Will hid his blush by turning his cheek to his shoulder as Mike dropped back down, sitting cross-legged in front of Will now.

“What’d you paint?” He asked, that soft regard seemingly saved only for Will returning.

“Oh, it’s- it’s nothing, it’s just… um…”

When Mike’s smile faltered a little, Will started covering.

“You know- you can come see it. It’s an exhibition, so…”

Mike raised his eyebrows, and Will quickly added.

“The others too, I mean.”

Mike nodded, smiling so softly and so earnestly that it made Will’s stomach flutter with butterflies, but it also brought back that sickening sense of shame that he was so familiar with.

“Okay,” Mike said. “April 28th, right?” He asked, pushing back to his feet and heading for his door.

Will was stunned for a moment. He remembered that from the pamphlet…

“Yeah,” he said, and he couldn’t help his smile. Mike smiled back before heading into his dorm.

“Wait!” Will stood too now, and Mike turned again.

“It’s just- I haven’t told anyone else yet, so can we just… keep it between us for now?”

“You are gonna tell them, though?”

Will nodded, and Mike nodded back.

“Okay,” he said, “well… ‘night, Will.” Mike grinned softly as he wished goodnight to the Byers boy.

“Yeah, ‘night,” Will replied, smiling too. They shared a look for a moment longer before Mike closed his dorm room door, and Will was left standing in the hallway.

He could feel his heart beating in his face. But without Mike here, talking to him, that nauseous feeling from before was taking over. Will’s smile fell, and he retreated back to his own dorm room, already regretting his actions.