Chapter Text
As January came to an end, Will noticed a shift in the relationships of him and his friends. Maybe it was the stress of school, maybe none of them were ever meant to be, but it was apparent. Will wouldn’t be surprised if they were all single by Valentine’s Day. Lauren and Melissa apparently had a major fight and hadn’t spoken in days, although they never officially called off their relationship. According to Shelly, they still loved each other, but they needed some space to cool down. Will wasn’t sure he believed her. Jared and Matt snapped at each other every chance they got, and Will noticed them sitting further and further apart every time they were all together. Charlie thought they were going to break up any day now. Will agreed.
And then there was his own relationship with Carlton. It wasn’t bad, per se, but Will could feel them drifting in different directions. He knew most of it was his own fault. Ever since winter break, he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something wasn’t right between them.
There were parts of Will that Carlton could never understand. Trauma he’d never fully get over, experiences they’d never share, habits Will had picked up over the years to protect himself or his piece of mind. Carlton complained about how warm Will always kept his dorm, unaware that every time Will felt too cold, he expected the Mind Flayer to show up and strip him of everything he’d worked so hard to rebuild. Carlton brushed past Will’s scars when they were under the sheets, barely paying them any attention, not knowing how important they were to Will – a reminder of all that he’d survived. Carlton freaked out when he found Will’s rifle hidden beneath his bed, a precaution in case the monsters came back.
Will knew none of this was his boyfriend’s fault. How could he expect Carlton to believe him when he started talking about demons and mind control and alternate dimensions? But it still hurt every time Carlton glazed over Will’s panicked reaction to flickering lights, or how he always seemed slightly annoyed whenever Will mentioned El or Mike or any of his other friends from home that he missed.
So Will started to pull away. He’d drop Carlton’s hand when they were with their friends, he stopped initiating kisses, he’d leave inches of space between them when they sat beside each other. He knew that soon, he’d be like Jared or Matt and start sitting across the room from him entirely. In turn, Carlton stopped reaching for Will’s hand. He stopped showing up at Will’s dorm every chance he had. He stopped buying Will gifts “just because”. They still said I love you, they still kissed, they still had sex, they still talked and hung out, but things were strained. Will wasn’t sure how to fix them.
He was endlessly grateful when he got a call from Robin saying she was coming to New York for the long MLK Day weekend and that Will had better make time to see her.
When he met her at the subway stop, she pulled him into a tight hug and he fought against every instinct in his body to bury his face in her shoulder and cry. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her and her exuberant, grounding presence. She smelled like Nancy Wheeler’s rose perfume and cheap ocean breeze scented shampoo and Will grinned, smiling a real smile for what felt like the first time in ages.
“Hey, Little Byers,” Robin said, pulling back to look into his eyes. “You okay?”
Will opened his mouth to tell her that he was doing fine, but then the lump that had been forming in his throat fought its way up and he choked out, “No. I’m really not.”
Robin just nodded, asking him to take her to his dorm. When they arrived, she dropped her bags and sat on Will’s bed, gesturing for him to join her. He did and she pulled him into her arms.
“Talk to me,” she said, stroking his hair.
Will took a deep breath and then it all came flooding out. How things with Carlton were getting bad, how his friends were all struggling, how school was so overwhelming and he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to pass most of his classes, how Mike had asked to kiss him on New Years, how every day he heard about more gay people dying in the news of an uncurable disease, how he missed El with all his heart, how he wanted to see the Party again, how Carlton never held his hand anymore, how Mike hadn’t reached out to him at all since they’d been back at school when everyone else had called at least once…
By the end of it, he was a mess and Robin’s shirt was soaked with his tears. She didn’t seem to mind, though.
“Okay,” she said. “That’s kind of a lot.”
Will laughed a little through his sobs. “That’s an understatement.”
Robin ran her fingers against his scalp. It was comforting in a way; almost motherly. “Listen, kiddo. I don’t know how to fix any of that. I mean some of it, we could probably work out a solution, but most of it is out of our control. But what I do know is that you’re going to be okay. I can promise you that.”
“How can you be sure?” Will asked.
“Because you’re Will Fucking Byers.” Robin pulled back to make Will look into her eyes. “You can do anything you put your mind to, and if you want to be okay, you’ll be okay. You’ve survived much worse than a few confusing relationships.”
“But I’m so scared, Robin,” Will whispered. “I don’t want things to change so much. It feels like everything is so unpredictable.”
“Will,” Robin said. “Look at me. I’m serious. You are the bravest person I know.”
Will shook his head, trying to avoid her gaze, but she brought him right back. “I mean it. I’ve seen you risk everything for your friends, for your family, for people you barely even know, and for a place that hates you. You’re the kid that dared to be different in a small town where conformity was the only lifeline. You put your friends over your own feelings every time, even when you knew it would hurt. You moved across the country and away from everything you’d ever known without so much as a complaint. Hell, you came out to a whole group of people when you had no way of knowing how they’d react! If that’s not bravery, then I don’t know what is.”
Will stared at his hands, resting his head on Robin’s shoulder. “But what if I choose to do one thing, and it turns out to be the wrong choice?”
Robin squeezed his knee. “If it feels like the right choice to you, then it’s the right choice. No one gets to decide that but you.”
Will was silent for a moment. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute, but Robin’s words, as they so often did, were finally helping him to sort through them all. He thought about Carlton, about the life they’d built here in this happy bubble in New York. He knew that wouldn’t last. Something would happen. Something always happened, and the bubble would pop and he’d be left trying to explain things to a man he’d claimed he’d loved. He didn’t want that for himself. He didn’t want that for Carlton. Carlton deserved more than someone who settled for his second choice. Because that’s what Carlton was. He would never be the one person who’d stolen Will’s heart from the moment he met him.
“I think I need to break up with Carlton,” he said softly.
Robin nodded. “Okay. Tell me about that.”
Will stared at the ceiling. “It’s just… I don’t think I love him that way anymore. I mean, I still love him, but… I’m not in love with him, you know?”
Robin smiled slightly. “Yeah, I know. That’s exactly how I felt before Vickie and I broke up.”
Will fiddled with the sleeve of his sweater. “I don’t want to lead him on, or hurt him more than I already have by staying with him when I know I don’t love him. He’s wonderful, and he deserves so much better than that. He deserves someone who can give him every part of themselves, and I’ll never be able to do that.”
“Then it sounds like you need to call it off,” Robin said sagely. Then, “Now that that’s decided, I couldn’t help but notice you mentioned a certain Mike Wheeler about as much as you mentioned your soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. Wanna talk to me about that?”
Will stared at her for a moment, the observation shocking him, before shaking his head. “No. I think that’s something I need to process later. I need to figure things out with Carlton first.”
“Okay,” Robin said, tugging him close. “Take your time, do what you need to do. And know that no matter what, you’ve always got me to support you.”
“Thanks, Robin.” He smiled at her, then fit himself snugly against her side again. “Speaking of the Wheelers… you still haven’t told me what’s going on with Nancy. Care to share?”
“Byers, you little shit.”
Mike approached the door to his childhood house warily, unsure if his spontaneous trip had been a good idea or not. It was a three-day-weekend and he’d felt like he would have died if he’d stayed in Vermont any longer. He needed to go home to clear his head, to see his mother and his sister, and to maybe find some sense of normalcy in the emotionally tumultuous chaos he’d turned his life into.
Not ten seconds after he’d rung the doorbell, Karen opened it, freezing when she saw who it was.
“Michael?” she breathed.
“Hi Mom.” Mike stared at her, nervous for her reaction, but she just beamed widely and pulled him into her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder, clinging to his mother tightly.
“What are you doing here?” Karen asked, brushing his hair from his face when they finally pulled away.
Mike shook his head. “I just needed to get away. Things have been… hard… and I needed to come home. Just for a few days.”
“Well, you know I always love it when you’re here, sweetheart,” she said. “Come on, let’s bring your stuff in.”
As Mike entered the house, a sense of warmth flooded through him. The smell of his mom’s cooking wafted from the kitchen and the familiar floorboards creaked under his feet. He immediately felt more grounded, less devastatingly confused. Karen was explaining how Holly was with her friends, but she’d be back soon. Mike was excited to see her.
He followed his mom into the kitchen and tried to help her finish preparing dinner while she talked and talked about how much she’d missed him and what she’d been up to in the nearly two months since he’d been gone. She seemed to sense that he didn’t want to talk about school, so she carried most of the conversation and he was content to just listen to her. He didn’t understand how he’d ever been annoyed with his mom as a kid. She was really just incredible and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her at college. Funny how you never appreciate the people you love until they’re no longer with you.
When Holly got home, she squealed with delight upon seeing Mike and hugged him so tight he thought he was going to break in half. He had to hand it to college, every time he’d seen his little sister since moving out, she’d been much happier to have him around then she ever had been before. It was nice not to be bickering with her for once.
That night, he trudged up to his room and flopped onto his bed. His eyes drifted immediately to the picture of the Party he’d framed. The one Will drew. Beside it lay the newest sketch Will had gifted to him over break. The one of El at the junkyard. He smiled as he studied the gentle pencil lines, the strokes of charcoal that Will managed to transform into a scene. He was truly an incredible artist.
Sitting up, Mike glanced around his room, eyes catching on each and every drawing on the wall. Will’s art was plastered across his room, each piece depicting different versions of them and their lives. There were the early crayon drawings of spaceships and dragons and meadows of flowers that Will must’ve given him in elementary school. There were drawings of Mike’s D&D character in scenes of action and quiet connection with Will the Wise, standing regal in his purple robes. Sketches of Mike from when Will was just learning how to draw with pencil fought their way between movie posters and magazine cutouts. Will had drawn the Party over and over again, and so many of those pictures adorned Mike’s walls.
Mike stood, walking around the room to examine each picture. He traced the lines, fingertips brushing the paper where Will’s careful hand had once been. The drawings were parts of Will that he’d given willingly, sometimes even eagerly to Mike. Mike thought that each one was as precious as the boy who’d drawn them.
His mind was a flood of Will, Will, Will, and he nearly lost his balance with the force of the wave of longing that rushed over him as he thought of his best friend. His heart clenched and his stomach felt heavy and all he wanted was to see Will again. To hear him laugh, to see him smile, to smell his stupid coconut vanilla shampoo and watch him draw another picture.
Mike found himself in his basement, although he had no recollection of getting there. He was drawn, almost immediately, to the folder full of notes and papers from one of the Party’s last campaigns from before they left for college, still sitting carelessly on a side table where Will had left it months ago.
He sat on the floor, slowly opening the pages of the campaign Will had designed. He rifled past the stats sheets and campaign outline, finally reaching the page Will had left mostly empty of words save for a few scribbled notes on characters and plays the Party had made. What hit Mike like a punch in the gut were the sketches Will had done on the otherwise blank page.
There were a bunch of them, some detailed, some less so. But every single one was a drawing of Mike. Mike with his brows furrowed in concentration, Mike with a bright smile glued to his face, Mike looking impassive, Mike looking proud, Mike smirking, Mike laughing, Mike, Mike, Mike. Beneath the drawings were two words, underlined and traced over a few times. They simply read: “The Heart”.
He hadn’t realized he meant that much to Will.
He hadn’t realized that meaning that much to Will would mean so much to him.
His chest ached and for what seemed like the millionth time in the last few months, Mike began to cry, clutching the sheet of paper in his hand. He sat there, curled into himself in the basement, for what felt like hours until eventually, Karen found him.
“Mike, are you down here?” she called down the stairs.
Mike couldn’t respond. He could barely get any words out between his sobs. But she must have heard him, because her footsteps became closer.
“I just wanted to say goodnight, are you-“ she stopped short when she saw him. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Mike just shook his head, a sob escaping him as Karen quickly joined him on the floor, wrapping her arms around him. He nestled into his mom’s embrace, clinging to her like a lifeline.
“Mike,” she said softly once he’d calmed down some. “Talk to me, baby. What’s going on?”
Mike took a few steadying breaths, knowing that no matter what he did, he’d start crying again. “I’m such an idiot,” he said quietly.
“What?” Karen said. “No, honey, you’re not-“
“I am,” Mike told her. And he’d never really opened up to his mother this way before, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was so, so lost, and she was asking, and she was warm and comforting and he just wanted to curl up in her arms and tell her how he was hurting and listen to her tell him it would be okay. Just like she did when he was a kid and he’d fallen off his bike, or when he thought Will died and she held him as he cried, or when both Will and El had moved to California and he ran home to her and she hugged him and let him sob about how much he was going to miss them.
“I… I thought I knew what I wanted, and who I was but… I’ve been wrong,” he managed. “My whole life, I’ve been wrong and there were so many times I should have just seen it. I should have known I wasn’t like everyone else, that the life I’d planned out in my head would never be the one I’d truly want and… but I didn’t. I didn’t realize it until just now and now everything’s a mess and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to fix it.”
Karen stroked his hair. “Okay, baby. You’re going to have to give me a bit more than that.”
Mike looked into her eyes and saw that they were sparkling with tears as well. He pressed himself closer to his mom, tears soaking through her bathrobe. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to still the trembling of his hands. This was it. Once it was out, there was no taking it back. His heart raced and his palms beaded with sweat, but then Karen kissed the top of his head and told him she loved him, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to tell her. It would be okay to finally voice the thought that had been consuming his mind ever since his phone call with Nancy weeks ago.
“I think I’m bisexual,” he said quietly.
Karen didn’t say anything at first, but her embrace tightened and she pressed her lips to his curls, holding him close. Mike waited with baited breath, anxiety fogging his mind until finally, finally, his mother spoke.
“Baby,” she breathed. “I love you. Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re not mad?” Mike sniffed.
“No, honey,” Karen said softly. “I could never be mad about that. Listen to me right now. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could ever change how much I love you. And this is something you can’t choose. It’s just who you are. What kind of a mother would I be if I turned you away because of who you love?”
“I don’t know,” Mike muttered, drawing closer to her. “I was really scared you wouldn’t be okay with it.”
“Mike,” she said, “you are far from the first Wheeler to be bisexual.”
Mike wasn’t sure where she was going with that. He remained silent, focusing on the grounding circles she was rubbing into his shoulder.
“Did I ever tell you about my friend, Irene?” Karen asked. When Mike shook his head, she continued. “I was in love with her. I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back on it… I think she was the only person I ever truly loved that way. But I didn’t understand that, so I married your father instead because he was nice, and he had a good job, and I thought I loved him too. You saw how that worked out.”
Mike thought about his father, who left at the end of the summer, moving to a city closer to his job, finally rid of the commute he complained about nearly every day. He’d known for years that his parents never really loved each other. But he had no idea his mom…
“You loved her?” he asked.
She nodded. “If I’d been braver, I would have told her. I would have done something about it. But I never did, and now she’s god knows where, married to god knows who.”
“I’m sorry,” Mike whispered.
Karen smiled, kissing his forehead. “It’s not all bad. I got some pretty wonderful kids out of it.”
Mike chuckled wetly, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I love you, Mom.”
He heard Karen’s quick intake of breath. She was surprised and he realized that he needed to say those words much more often.
“I love you too, sweetheart,” she said softly, and they stayed like that, cuddled together on the floor of the basement until the tears stopped flowing and the world felt right again.