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Mike thinks it's a bit unfair.
It came like a storm, hammering down his throat, his heart stricken still as he let the words vibrate throughout his veins.
“I loved you, Mike. And I've accepted the fact that you never will so will you please drop this?”
Mike really has no idea how a simple confrontation about dishonest paintings had turned to another dreadful fight in the rain. Outside the porch, away from the door Will had refused to open, a thunder roared and Mike thinks Will was being unfair. The world is being unfair. Everyone is being unfair.
He ought to say something, anything. But Will had looked too hurt, and Mike had found himself swallowing rocks. Unable to find words.
Mike Wheeler thinks it's a bit unfair that Will Byers of all people thinks he never loved him. He had loved him before he even knew what it meant.
Mike never minded the sun until it shone one afternoon in the swing set and it had caught the briefest of Will's eyes and Mike had thought it shone the first time Will had nodded yes to be his friend.
So to think Will never thought... to think Will had thought.
He made a step, forward, and Will had flinched just the tiniest bit.
Mike had loved him first. Mike had loved him the very first day he met him. And it was something he had always known. All his life, it was all he ever knew. All his life it was all he's trying not to.
Mike Wheeler had always loved Will Byers. And everyone should've known that.
The jar was at the top most of the shelves and he was standing on the sink trying to reach them when his mom had caught him. He remembers the annoyed yelp and worried “Michael!” as Karen Wheeler lifts him off the counter and onto the floor. Mike remembers his mom yelling, and talking, and nagging.
Mike remembers the small of his voice as he croaks “I was trying to make Will's lunch.”
And the way Karen Wheeler had paused, hands in her hips as she looks down. “What?”
“Will says sometimes Joyce forgets to give him food when his mom and dad fight.” Mike glanced at the jar of jelly at the cabinet once more. “Will says Jonathan hates hearing their parents fight so he is never home. I was just trying to be nice.”
And Mike remembers the way Karen had looked at him that day. Of pure terror and pity, and adoration.
“Have you... Have you been bringing him those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
Mike had looked away. “Don't be mad.”
Mike remembers the way his mom had hugged him. So tight he could barely breathe. He remembers the day his mom started making lunch for two. Until Will had started coming over to their house for dinner. Joyce had stopped Will first, embarrassed. Until one evening when Joyce had asked for Will at the Wheeler's and his mom answered. She was frantic, scared, and from the living room, Mike could make out from their faces that it was serious.
The rain pour heavy as Mike felt his heart pound so loud he might cry.
“Where's Will?”
Joyce had asked the moment one of Jonathan's friends had answered the door. Jonathan had come out, properly drunk, brows in a frown and worry.
“What?”
“Where's Will?”
“Will's missing?”
Mike remembers his heart breaking and his tears welling up as they search the woods. Everywhere for Will. Mike had remembered begging his mom to let him help the Byers look for Will.
He remembers the dejection in the air as they all went back to the Byers' house. The bile at the pit of his stomach as he saw one Loinnie Byers lighting a cigarette in their porch as he smirks at them.
And then a thud, and a thud. And the faintest “Mom?”
Mike remembers how fast Jonathan had run that day, the horror he felt when he opened the trunk and Will had come out from the car.
He remembers the anger, the rage, the rock at the bottom of his feet. The way his small hands wrapped around them and seething, he threw it at his face.
Loinnie had tried coming after him but Joyce was quick to follow up with a slap, and another, and another. Mike had lost count as he runs towards a weak Will, crying, and sweating. Jonathan apologizing, crying.
Mike remembers Will looking at him, and through weak sobs, that hopeful smile. Mike thinks anyone wouldn't have had the energy to smile after all that, but Will did. Will does. And if Will continues to be kind, then Mike has to be the one to be mean to them.
Will had always thought it was funny that Mike was cautious with Lucas at first. Mike wouldn't blame him. He was overreacting then, he could say that now.
Mike remembers the exact moment Lucas had said “It's because I'm black isn't it.” and the way Mike had backed off to tell him it wasn't.
Lucas had smiled like he won as he played with Will. He was properly pissed to have him that day, and the next, and the following. But since Will was happy, Mike could be happy too.
Not as happy as when Dustin Henderson joined their little group. Lucas used to say Mike just likes Dustin because then he could tuck Will away from him and Dustin and the rest of the world. It had always confused Will and Dustin back then. Mike never says otherwise.
Because Mike fears that they know. That Lucas might, and if he does then surely Dustin will. And if Dustin does then...
Because Mike had known. For a while now. When he had let himself hug Will after a nightmare and he remembers thinking that he cares deeply about him. So much. Too much. And maybe it was brotherly, like the way his father had said it. But when the sun had caught the briefest again, of Will's smile this time, Mike felt the tiniest pull in his chest and he remembers the overwhelming buzz and warmth spreading throughout his whole body that he was sure he would've exploded.
Will's little cackles.
An oh.
Will's eyes meeting his and the faintest of freckles in his cheeks.
The oh.
Mike had mourned it since.
Being hopelessly in love with Will Byers has been something Mike Wheeler had always known. Lucas had shamed him for it, Dustin remains clueless. But Lucas had known, he somehow always does. Mike thinks it's because they're neighbors. Sometimes, Mike thinks he's just not that great of a 'hider'.
It came one campaign night when Dustin and Will had rushed upstairs to grab the pizza his mom had ordered when Lucas had given him the knowing smirk, and “Someone has a little crush on Will.”
And Mike remembers the fear, the shame, the guilt. The words his father had said, the words Troy and other men had said, the words Loinnie had said. Mike remembers the fear he felt and what it meant for Will. And Mike can't let them hurt him.
Lucas had been kind, smiled only and fixes their board as he nods. “It's okay man, we're friends.”
Mike remembers the relief, his smile, the tug at his chest. He remembers Will trying to hug him goodbye the same night, Mike remembers pulling away before he even can. He does remember. It was the last time Will tried after all.
So no, Will was being unfair.
Because what does he know?
What does he know?
He wasn't there when he had blamed himself for his disappearance. The way his whole body waits unmoving as he stares outside the window, walkies in his hand because he knows Will was out there. And if there's somewhere Will would go to, it would be him.
He waited even when people had told him he's missing and that he will be for weeks.
What does Will know when Eleven came in like a superhero. Mike didn't see a girl who looked like a boy dressed in an oversized benny's burger shirt that night, he saw hope.
Eleven was hope. And if she's the only person she can cling to for hope then that's all he will do. For Will. All for him.
It came all naturally of course though. That one thought, one night where Mike just sees her as she is. A girl, their age. If he would've met her sooner, maybe they could've been friends. Maybe Mike could've liked her. Maybe then Will... maybe then nothing bad had happened to him.
Mike had learned heartbreak when he saw a body being pulled away from the lake. It hung in the air lifeless. Mike remembers the numbness that traveled from the pad of his fingers onto his whole body. The deafening noise tuned into one singular tune. The slow breaking of his heartbeat.
Eleven's consoling voice. Grief, anger, disbelief. Maybe Mike had said something really mean, he remembers El's face breaking as he bikes away. Feeling shreds and shards of his heart in every pace.
He remembers coming home and feeling lost. Completely lost.
His mom bathed in moonlight as she let him hug her. Mike had cried. And cried. And his mom knows. Of course she does. She knows better what love is, and importantly, what love is not. And Mike Wheeler had loved Will Byers since the very first day he met him.
It was guilt that bubbled up his throat when he saw Eleven trying, and then faintly, Will's voice.
It was guilt, and shame, and—
Eleven has been through a lot. Mike had known that. And Eleven has no one. No home to go to. Nobody to go to. No person, no place.
Mike remembers the pity he felt. She's been trying to help him and they've been treating her so awful. He made sure he cares enough for her.
And Mike cares enough for her. And maybe it meant something. Maybe it could mean something.
Lucas had seen right through him. Pissed, rightfully so as he confronted him one night after they tackled each other to the ground.
“You're way too close with her.”
And Mike's uncaring shrugs. “She's our friend. Did you see what she just did there? What she can do? She can help us find Will.”
“And when she does?”
He had quieted down.
“Where will she fit in your life, Mike? Surely not Will's.”
It should've been a warning. Mike persisted anyways.
So Will was found, El was gone. And Mike was consumed with guilt. He had been the reason Will disappeared and now El. And it has been eating him from the inside. Enough why he didn't notice Will being more different than usual. When he did, it was already too late.
It had scared Mike. To lose Will again. And it had scared Mike, how much it scared him. And what it means with what he feels. And what it means with Will. And...
“Crazy together.”
And Mike loved him. That's something he's far more scared of than anything.
Eleven came like absolution.
She has always come like an angel at Mike's will. With Eleven smiling and dancing in his arms, Will had looked like a distant figure at the back of his mind. Dancing with another girl. His little hands on her waist.
When Eleven had kissed him. Mike felt free. From the shackles of being in love with your best friend.
Eleven was absolution. And if Mike cares enough about her, then maybe he can learn to love her the way he does... the way he loves... the way he always loved Will.
Maybe he can. So he tried.
Tried not to open his eyes when he kisses her again. And again. And again. And—
Tries not to linger too long beside Will. Tries not to stare too long, at Will. Lucas had organized movie dates when Will had noticed the sudden distance between Mike and the party. He did so with a tight jaw and a knowing look towards Mike.
“I get what you're trying to do, but if this fucks up the party man...”
So Mike agreed.
Days torn to two. Days with El and nights with Will. If his heart beated more in the darkness of the theater with no one watching and when his hands had brushed against Will more than kissing with El does, Mike was too ashamed to admit.
He tried anyway. Because he knows he can love her. Maybe if he spends enough time, kiss her enough, maybe then, maybe—
He lost him anyway. Said things he never meant, done things he never meant. And with it, El.
It wasn't his fault but Mike felt like somehow it was.
He spent months of his life trying not to lose him only for him to just... leave. To leave Mike.
And Mike had felt the ache of longing in his chest. Grief. He had come close to one, with a lifeless body at the lake. It came second when he realized he had lost him anyways. El with it. And she loves him. God, she loves him. Now what? Now what, Mike?
He didn't respond to her letters until two months later when Will was mentioned. It wasn't anything. She just said Will had let her borrow his clothes and that they had cut her hair to look like him. El sent a picture and Mike ached at how similar they kind of looked.
And with it, Will's own letter. And Mike felt, again, for the first, what it meant to breathe.
Mike responded.
Will's letters came like an avalanche, and Mike had responded to him with so much enthusiasm. All the days and nights he had spent reading, rereading and writing and— he cared about them a bit too much that El's letter had caught his eyes.
“Will had said you want me to know that spelling sucks anyways and that I should keep going and do my best. I am glad, Mike. But... why couldn't you say it to me instead? Did I do something wrong? I will wait for your letter, Mike. Jonathan says maybe you don't have enough paper to write onto, I hope Nancy buys you more. Anyways, I will wait for your letter.
Love, El.”
It was quiet in the basement when he had finished reading the letter. Faintly, he could hear Lucas asking for him from upstairs but his mom had said the same excuse twice. “Honey he's already asleep, come back tomorrow?”
The basement was dark, didn't even bother to open the light. Will's binder lies atop the cot El used to sleep at. Mike could hear worried statements from upstairs as he tunes them out and reads El's letter again.
He stares, and stares. And clutched the paper in his chest and just stared at the ceiling.
The slow turning of the fan that had caught some of the beam from the moon. The low murmurs. The quiet in the dark. Mike had stared, and stared.
He wrote her the letter after a while. And again. And again the next day. And the next.
Will had called. Mike remembers the way his chest tightened just to hear his voice. Mike remembers the way he closed his eyes clutching the telephone. All the months of getting to know El. Of convincing himself he loves her.
“Hi.”
Came undone just from that one line.
“Hey.”
So really, Will shouldn't blame Mike if he was ever distant during their phone calls. Or if he barely called. When he does, it's always Joyce on the job anyways. So not that it should matter. It did piss him off but it does not matter.
Only it did when El's last letter came and Mike had read them. El hadn't mentioned Will for months. And the next time she did, it was because she thinks he likes someone.
All the excitement and nervousness of seeing them again. Seeing him again. All disappeared.
Mike came with a bunch of flowers, a hug, and an acute awareness that Will had changed. It was in the way he smiles, the way he holds his body, the way his eyes shimmered when he saw him. And the way he clutched the painting in his hand.
The painting.
Mike had felt people hugging him and that little awareness when Will was about to hug him had come full force.
“Hey”
What was wrong with him?
“What's that?”
He saw it. The way Will's eyes fell. Mike tried not to see it. But when does he ever do so successfully? It's Will.
Why does it matter if he likes someone anyways? Good for him? And that maybe it has been Mike all along. The someone who doesn't like girls. But he had known that. Accepted that. Will would never like him so why did it matter?
If Will was... if Will could like someone then Mike shouldn't... Mike shouldn't stop himself from liking someone too. To let himself love El. To love her before it's too late.
The painting, what Will said. It had helped him. Helped him make the decision. To love her. To like her. To try. To... keep trying.
If he flinched and if his chest stopped beating when Will had said he liked someone. And that someone has been a boy. Mike had felt the sickest he had ever felt.
Because Will liked a boy... and it wasn't him?
And it had broken him. To think that all this time, Will was suffering and all this time he has been. So forgive Mike if he wanted to be best friends with him again. At least he could still have that. Will, as his friend. Like it should've been.
When he lost El, and she... she said those words and Mike couldn't even... he couldn't even...
His life hadn't been the best after.
So cleaning his basement before he leaves for college and stumbling upon El's crumpled letter about a painting Will has been working on for someone he likes, Mike receiving the painting, and that vague confession about a boy he liked. Mike had felt his chest soar. Confusion. Hope. Anger?
Anger because what? Will had given up before even letting him know? That Will might've never let him know that—
Mike staggers, all of his emotions coming all at once as Will looks down.
What does Will know? What does he...
“I loved you.”
And Will looked so hurt and Mike couldn't, he just couldn't.
“Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to say? Now that you know, what now?”
And Will was crying and the storm was thuddering.
Mike made a step closer, Will was just out of his reach. His Will. His sorcerer. His... friend before anything else.
It was unfair. Unfairly so. To have Will like him secretly all these years with a thinking that he, of all people, never loved him. Could never love him. Will ever love him.
Because that's what Mike has always known. That's what Mike been trying to do and couldn't. Not love him. Unlearn how to love him. Love anyone else. Love someone who isn't Will Byers. He came close but always... always never enough. Never not as much. Never in a way he does Will.
And maybe Mike shouldn't have been an ass when Will asked earlier what he meant when he pulled up the painting with a pissy attitude. When he said “So what? You lied? Like El did, because you were trying to spare my feelings?”
Maybe he shouldn't have urged. Persisted. But Mike had hoped. That maybe, that maybe...
“Will, did you really think...” His voice came like a whisper, undone, barely in the air. “Did you really think I couldn't love you?”
Mike thinks it's unfair. Severely so. That Will Byers of all people thinks he never loved him. That he never could love him. Because he had loved him before he even knew what it meant and more so when he did.
Will had looked up, terrified, tears sweltering his pretty eyes. The thunder roared once more and Mike was shivering from the cold as he reached up to caress Will's cheeks. And it's as soft as he could remember. Who was he kidding? It's as soft as he always remembered.
Will's eyes widened in confusion and Mike had softened his as he looked at his quivering lips.
“Will...” A confession? “Loving you is all I ever knew.”
And to make it clear, he made a point by kissing him. By kissing Will Byers. Whose tears had tasted salty. Will Byers who gasped and stiffened. Who looks particularly adorable as Mike pulls away.
“What...” Will found his voice again, albeit shaking, nervous in the edges. “What are you saying?”
Mike wiped his tears, chest swelling in adoration, and endearment, and...
“I love you.”
Will blinks, and blinks, and blinks.
“Don't.”
And Mike doesn't understand.
“Don't say that.”
Will had tried to pull away and Mike pushes more, scared to pull away, to let him go, to—
“What? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something wrong? Tell me, what did I do?”
And Will had looked at him like he took his heart in his own hands and broke it in front of him.
“Mike...” He leans his cheeks on Mike's palms and Mike could feel himself break. “You're being unfair.”
And Mike's heart breaks.
“What? How... how am I being unfair, Will?”
“I have spent...” Will had cried. “I have spent half of my life loving you and the other half convincing myself not to, Mike. So don't... don't do this because you pity me or or because you feel lonely or because you feel like you have to.”
Mike stills.
“Please don't do this.”
And Mike's heart breaks. It did. Fell apart, got torn into shred. Shattered. It does all the time for Will Byers. Will leans more to the touch and Mike cups his cheeks, the tears, the heart.
Mike didn't know what to say. What is there left to anyways? He had spent half of his life loving Will. And the other half trying not to. And now... now what?
Will looks up and Mike had thumbed his tears again.
“Are you cold?” He whispers.
Mike nodded.
So Will opened his door and Mike let himself in. The house was already dark. Quiet. Everyone probably asleep except Will, and Mike. Thunder lit up the living room from the window and Mike had reached for Will's hands and Will had let him.
“Do you want something to drink?”
Mike stops him.
Will whips around. “Mike?”
Mike had clenched his jaw, hands tight around Will's as he tries not to. Tries not to say anything. Feel anything. Tries not to break. But...
Will properly face him. “Mike?”
“I know I was never good with words.” Mike had stopped himself from choking on it. “Or with love, and feelings. And has never been a good boyfriend to El. Or a good friend lately to you and Dustin or Lucas... But I mean it, Will.”
“Mike...”
“I have loved you since the day you smiled at me at that swing, Will.”
The silence was deafening, drowned occasionally at the grumble of the storm outside. The thunder, the shush of the winds in the trees, rain water splashing onto the window in a quiet tap.
“And I didn't... I didn't want to hurt you and I had thought you would never want me I mean why would you? You're so perfect and beautiful and goddamn kind and when I met El I thought...” Mike swallows. “I had thought I could forget everything I know about you.”
Will stares, only so. Mike squirms from where he cowers.
“But I can't Will. I can't forget about you. I remember your smell, I remember your smile, the way you stupidly laugh in a corner when you think nobody's watching. I remember what scares you at night. I remember holding you tight. I remember... I remember everything. So how... how dare you think for a second that I could never love you. Will... that's all I ever did.”
Another thunder errupted, loud enough to match the rhythm inside Mike's chest, or the panting on Will's. The heavy silence. The words that hung continuously in the air. Said. Unsaid.
Will backs down first, caves in on himself. He almost looked small from where Mike hovers above him. But Will had looked up and Mike had looked down. Eyes all over him.
“And you know it.” It was quiet, an admission. “Because you know me more than anyone else in the world. You knew.”
Will looks away, Mike cups his cheeks, ever so gently. That maybe one move may crumble everything fragile between them.
“I wanted to give up.” Was Will's own quiet confession. It was enough for Mike. “I wanted to let you go.”
Mike steps closer. “I know.”
“I almost got tired waiting.”
And Mike had hugged him, Will clinging closely onto his own. Head buried in his chest with a sniffle.
“I will move to New York and I was ready to forget about you.”
Mike had clutched him tighter. “I know.”
“I will go to a bar, like you said, maybe meet a guy or two that reminds me of you until they don't. Until I forget about you.”
Mike felt his chest tightened, barely a whisper, he managed a croak. “I know.”
Mike heaves a sigh.
“I lied, you know.”
Will sniffs. Mike brushes his hair.
“When I said best friends.”
Will's laughs reverberated in his ribcage.
“I felt awful. And somehow worse when I thought you liked someone else. That you may like a boy that isn't me.”
Will peeks above, just the tiniest. “How could I? You're all over me when we were kids. Remember when your cousin tried to befriend me—”
“He's an ass don't mention him. But I mean, what was I supposed to think? You didn't want me, you were pushing me to El. And I almost believed you.”
Will snorts. “What did you want me to do? Tell you don't go back to her? Keep you to myself?”
Mike considers the idea a little too long because Will had nudged him in the stomach.
“Mike that's awful.”
Mike hugs him anyways, laughing a little. “I was scared, so scared that I may be making decisions that I will regret. Decisions that may hurt a lot of people. I wanted to find something to cling on to you, but no, you just had to push me away.”
Will aimed to protest but Mike was quick to push his head back to where he was squished.
“And I'm sorry for dumping that responsibility to you. It wasn't a decision you should make. It was something I should've done. I really thought I'd lose you. I really thought I'd made a mistake. I could love El, I know I could. But I would never love her in a way I loved you and that felt awful. Do you know how awful that felt, Will? It was horrible.”
Will didn't say anything, but Mike felt smaller hands fidgeting the hem of his shirt. Another thunder roared outside.
“El knows.” He whispers.
Will looks up.
“When she looked at me, goodbye. When she said her last goodbye, I felt it. You know. She knows. I chose her, but she knows. And I guess that haunted me more than anything. God, I was such a terrible boyfriend aren't I?”
Will nodded, Mike had rolled his eyes.
“I'm a lame ass loser, whose girlfriend knew was in love with someone else, whose girlfriend knew my love wouldn't save her. Whose best friend he has been in love with is finally getting rid of him.”
Mike sighs.
“You getting rid of me, Byers?”
Will nods. “Yeah, no doubt.”
Mike nods, tears brimming his eyes. “You'll meet a lot of jerks and assholes like me who couldn't figure their shit out, out there.”
Will tries a smile but sobs leave his lips.
“But you'll also meet amazing new people, who'll love you, and paint you new colors. I meant that one. So forget about Hawkins, and demogorgons, and Vecna.”
Mike felt Will's arms tighten.
“Mike.” He sobs.
“Forget about Troys, your stupid father, the upside down.” Mike caresses the hair that sticks in Will's sweaty forehead. “Forget about me.”
Will sobs harder but managed a small smile. “A bit impossible.”
Mike laughs through his own tears. “Yeah?”
Will nods.“I love you, Michael Wheeler.”
Mike swallows. “Yeah?”
Will hugs him and Mike lets him. Lets the storm pass, lets time pass. Let the moment bleed into each other.
“Let's move to your bed.” Mike insinuated that earned a nod from Will as they carefully navigated through the dark halls. There was quiet and heaviness in every creak. The way Will's door opened and closed in a thud. The way Will's hands had gotten rid of his wet sweater. The way Mike had let Will’s hands linger at the skin in his arms, his chest, his stomach.
The way Will had looked up at him, so beautiful, and so breathtaking, and so...
Mike kisses him. One hand on his jaw the other tossing the shirt completely aside before it went like magnet back to cup Will's other jaw.
The kiss was everything.
Everything Will meant to Mike. Everything Mike had wanted Will. It was soft, and deep, and so sad. And so everything in between.
The taste of salt from Will's eyes as he lifts Will's shirt. His back hitting a drawer but Mike didn't pull back. Just swiftly pulled away to toss Will's shirt somewhere before bending down to cup his cheeks and kiss him again.
The thunder cracked and Will made a disgruntled moan at the back of his throat, fidgety hands clinging onto Mike's belt hoops as Mike treaded his first tongue in. And again, and aga—
Will pushes away, just to breathe near his lips. As loud as the storm outside. As loud as their heartbeat in the silence. Mike had reached for his hands and kissed the inside of his wrist. He watched Will come undone.
“Touch.” He whispers before guiding Will's hand on his hair. Will pants, experimentally brushing it, as Mike hums, jaw clenching.
“Like this?”
Mike noses his cheeks. “Hmm.” A hum before he was diving right back in. So sudden that Will had clutched his hair in surprise and Mike moaned languidly at that. Something that seemed to have made Will stop.
Mike swallows. “You liked that?”
Will swallows, then a small nod. Mike hums, kissing him again.
“Me too.”
Will's hands both reached out as Mike pressed him closer. Squeezed between the hardness of his drawer and Mike's body. When Will groaned at the pain, Mike pulls away, and without warning lifted his thighs. Will squirms in surprise.
He didn't say anything, so Mike didn't say anything as he laid him in his bed. And when a thunder whipped outside accompanied by a lightning. Mike swore he felt thirsty for the first time. Will Byers stretched, inching his head back as he swallows, hooded eyes on Mike. Flushed cheeks, flushed lips, flushed chest, flushed...
Mike slotted his hands on lean waist and traced the way it contracted in his touch.
Will breathes. “Mike.”
Mike swallows, hovering above, not dipping for a kiss at the jaw, nor the lips, just enough to see him eye to eye. Mike was overcome with the sensation of loving him.
“Will.” He whispers his name, like confession, dipping closer, never enough. “Will.” an unraveling. He could feel Will heaving with his own chest barely pressing against other bare chest. “Will.”
He pulls back and with a loving peck on the lips, he croaks admission. “I love you.”
The phone rang and when he answers, he could already hear Max yelling at Lucas from the background. Lucas and Dustin were arguing as Will's little giggles occasionally lingers. Mike pays too close of an attention to them he could almost pretend it was meant for him.
At night when the party had gone to bed. Mike clutches at the silence a bit longer until it was all Will's voice.
“I met a guy.” He will start and Mike will listen.
Some of it lasted so fast, Mike often made fun of it for him. Some last so long, long enough to choke Mike's heart and stop it from beating for a moment.
Then comes his whisper. “Are you happy?” and the usual silence will follow. Mike smokes his cigarette, he had told Will about it which Will absolutely hated. Sometimes Will would say yes, sometimes Will would say—
“No.”
And then Mike would flick the cigarette to the ground, stomp on it and watch the calendar.
“Do you want me to visit you on the weekends? I'm free.”
A hesitant pause that Mike had grown to know too well. A “Well, Carlton had promised to take me...”
Mike pushes his glasses up, enough to not have his hair on his forehead. “After?”
Then with a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah I'd like that.”
And if that makes Mike's heart pound a bit faster, he doesn't say. He just says “Good.” and with a swallow. “Goodnight, Byers.”
Will almost always doesn't say anything afterwards. Perhaps guilt, perhaps everything in between. But he sighs at the end, like it was inevitable. Like it was simply something beyond his control. Then he cackles, a soft, and so quiet “Goodnight, Mike.”
Before the dial permeates the quiet of the room.
Mike barely registers the ping of his microwave before he was stomping upstairs and away from the telephone. He didn't want to say goodbye, but did anyway.
The same time next day, the call came again.