Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Um, Will?"

The voice on the other end of the receiver is a familiar one, but Will can't quite place it at first —  it's 1 AM on a weekday and he's still half-asleep, after all.
Nonetheless, hearing the voice triggers a visceral reaction in the pit of his stomach.

"Yes, this is Will. Who's calling?"

"It's Karen"
A short pause
"Karen Wheeler. Well, Childress now, but…"

Will looks around on instinct. No one is there, and yet it feels like he's being watched — probably by the cameras of a (very depressing) prank show.
"Mrs. Wheeler?"

"Yes, hi. I know it's late, I'm sorry"


"No-no, no problem"
Will rubs his eyes.
"Is something wrong?", he asks. And what a stupid thing to ask: of course something's wrong.

Karen sighs.
"Yeah, it's about Mike"

(Of course it's about Mike)

"He-", Karen's voice hitches, "he did something very stupid tonight… something to himself"

(Of course he did)

Neither of them speaks for a few seconds. Will is afraid to ask — if he doesn't, there's still a 50% chance his friend is okay. Schrödinger's Mike, if you will.

But as much as he would like to, Will still can't freeze time. Maybe El could have, but, yeah, El's dead.

(Mike can't be dead too, he really can't)

Eventually, he lands on:
"Is Mike…ok?"

Karen takes only a second to inhale and reply, but it's a very long one.
"No", she says, as dry as her wet voice allows, "but he's still with us, thank God"
Will doesn't believe in imaginary friends living above the clouds, but he too is thankful. More specifically for the absence of a pause between that no and the very next but. Unfortunately, there's not much else to be grateful for (except for Mike not being dead, obviously, but, again, it's not like our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ stopped his hand in the first place, so…).

"He drank and then took a bunch of pills. Luckily I found him in time…" Karen goes on explaining, and, as her voice trails off, Will's breath catches. He expected it to be the case, of course — or at least something akin to it, like Mike slitting his wrists, throwing himself into a river, inhaling too much carbon monoxide — but it isn't any less appalling to have it described out loud.

"They were…" Karen admits when she's done with the story "…my anxiety medication". Her voice trembles with guilt, the implications of Mike using her pills to try and kill himself being simply too devastating. Will wonders why she decided to mention it at all, since there was no need to share such information with anyone outside of, probably, medical staff.
Perhaps it's a form of self-punishment, he surmises.

Regardless, what can one possibly reply to that? He knows he should say something, anything, but words are stuck in his throat. No, scratch that — words are stuck in his synapsis, actually, bouncing off the walls of his brain, unable to organize themselves into articulate sentences.

"It was so- so scary, Will", Karen chokes out, filling the silence herself even though it's technically Will's turn to.
The way she utters his name, with such unbridled desperation, doesn't make it any easier to speak.

Eventually, he opts for validation.
"Of course it was", he gently whispers in response.

And, then, he tries with sincerity:
"I'm sorry, I - I don't know what to say"

And it's true, he really doesn't. His inner turmoil sounds more like a swarm of bees than intelligible thoughts.

"Yeah", Karen lets out a soft huff, "I don't even know how I'm managing to speak coherently right now. It's just… well, I needed to talk to you"

Will can't help but wonder where he's falling in the list of people Karen has decided to reach out to after the fact. He doesn't know when she exactly found Mike, but it's still quite odd to notify people who aren't even family at 1 AM.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, why is Karen calling him at all? It's not like he and Mike are close friends anymore. The last time the two of them were in the same room was actually in '97, at Lucas and Max's wedding. 5 years ago.
And Karen knows this, because she still calls Joyce from time to time and they naturally discuss their respective sons' life updates (which Joyce passes on to Will).
So yeah, informing him right after the fact doesn't really sound like a priority. Especially this late.

"When he first woke up…", Karen's voice cuts through his musings, immediately providing an answer, "Mike asked for you"

What?

"Well, not exactly asked. He called your name, though. Very clearly."

What?

"He was completely out of it, I'm sure he won't remember. But he did mention you, most definitely"

Once again, Will finds himself speechless.
He's tempted to question Karen's perception of reality — after all she must have been in shock and worried out of her mind, which is the perfect recipe for hallucinating things that aren't actually there.
Maybe Mike just meant to say something along the lines of "I will [do this]" or "I will[think that]". Maybe he didn't even say anything at all.

Still, Karen believes he did. What would be the use in fighting her on this? Her son just tried to take his own life, it doesn't exactly register as a point anyone should make.

Plus, does it even matter? If anything, Will is thankful the misunderstanding took place. This way he's been promptly informed about Mike's attempt, which sure wasn't a guarantee even in the distant future. People are weird around suicide, it's considered shameful, something to hide at all costs.
Will doesn't see it that way, of course: his own sister committed, how could he?
But maybe Karen would, and therefore hide this information from Joyce. Maybe Mike would make her swear not to reveal it, under any circumstances.

After all, Will isn't even sure Mike's own father got word of it.
Karen moved to Pittsburgh after their divorce in the early 90s, and Mike has been crashing at hers for the past few months (as far as Joyce, and by extension Will, knows). Ted, on the other hand, still lives in Hawkins, with Holly being the single one out of his three kids who still has a somewhat normal relationship with him. Neither Mike or Nancy bother to speak with their father, and, according to his ex-wife, he doesn't seem to care that much.
Given that his reaction to Mike's situation would probably be one of contempt, it's fair to assume Karen didn't tell him.

It's also likely that Nancy doesn't know either. Not because she and Mike are on bad terms, quite the contrary in fact; it's just that award-winning war correspondent Nancy Wheeler is currently chasing her next story in Afghanistan, and it would be very hard, as well as very detrimental to her mental stability under such stressful circumstances, to inform her right away.

Which means that, if any other Wheeler family member knows about what happened, it's probably Holly.

For some reason, though, Will is more and more convinced that she doesn't. Actually, Will is more and more convinced that no one else knows — and probably will know, for a while at least — period. He senses it in the way the woman speaks to him, like she's clinging to a lifeline: they are the only ones currently sharing this heart-wrenching secret, the only ones carrying its weight. And it's terrifying, but in a way kinda special too. An unlikely bond like the one uniting their two families back in Hawkins, a bond he thought had been severed long ago.

A bond Will cannot (nor wants to) break off. Especially not now.
For Karen — his Mrs. Wheeler —and for Mike.

"So, I was thinking", the woman's voice slaps him back to active listening, "and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't…"

Will doesn't even let her finish, finally clear-headed enough to cut to the chase.
"Which hospital?" he shoots, "I think I can be there around lunch time"

Karen exhales in relief
"Um, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. There were no beds in the ICU so he's still in the E.R. They're letting me stay by his side as he recovers"

"Perfect. I'll be asking for you by the E.R. desk. See you later"

***

'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles
If I could just see you
Tonight

It's probably the 6th time A Thousand Miles graces Will's ears since he left home, and the poor man is starting to hate this new singer Vanessa something… maybe Colton, Charlston? Whatever, the name will definitely come back to him. According to WAEB-FM's early morning show, this is the song's third week as Hot 100's number 5, which means Will is clearly bound to hear it again every time a radio frequency reaches its range limit and gives way to the next one.

He's just crossed Pennsylvania's state line, with the Appalachians looming over Interstate 78 and dawn breaking behind him. It's been a little over 4 hours since he's left Montauk and he hasn't stopped once, not even to take a leak or have a cup of coffee — pretty stupid in hindsight, since his eyelids keep drooping shut. Sure, he's headed to a hospital, but hopefully as a visitor and not a car crash victim. Better to stretch his legs and pump some caffeine into his veins before it's too late.

When he steps out of the car the air around him is pleasantly chilly. The 7-Eleven's coffee is terrible, though.
As he sips on it, leaning on the hood of his worn out Explorer, Will's train of thoughts keeps circling back to the last conversation he had with Mike. It was the man's birthday, just a month ago, and Joyce was visiting as she often does during the weekend, now that the Byers-Hoppers have moved to NYC to help Jonathan raise his daughter.

She keeps saying it's temporary, just until little Jane is old enough to stay home alone during her father's work trips all over the country, but it's unlikely that Hop will be able to resume his job as Chief of Police in Montauk — or would even want to, for that matter, since he really, really hated having to deal with drunk tourists and stupid misdemeanors. He claimed he wanted a quieter life, but after you deal with interdimensional monsters on a daily basis for years, normal small town police duty gets boring pretty fast (and boredom leads to overthinking, which is something Hopper definitely can't afford anymore). Thus, when the opportunity to take on a more active role in the big city presented itself, he wasted no time and accepted the offer, using Jon and Jane as leverage to convince Joyce it was definitely worth it to trade salt-laden sea breeze for NYC's signature stink. In turn, his wife is very happy to play the "but my poor younger son is so lonely!" card anytime she needs to escape the city, Hopper or both.

So, on Sunday April 7th, Joyce was once again having lunch with her son on the porch of her Montauk home now turned Will's humble abode when she suddenly remembered it was actually Mike's birthday. Will hadn't forgotten — he could never — but was purposely avoiding the topic in hopes his mother wouldn't rope him into an embarrassing conversation with his former best friend. He can't remember exactly when they stopped calling on each other's birthday, but it must have been at least three or four years ago, and it's very likely it was Mike to "forget" first: Will's birthday comes earlier in the year, and Mike is also the one who started drifting apart, so...yeah.

Joyce, on the other hand, still gives Mike his birthday call every single year.

…I'm actually in Montauk, you know?, Will heard his mom say while nervously fumbling with the hem of his shirt, …yeah, exactly, he's here next to me, I'll put him through.
Joyce passed him the receiver with an encouraging look, but Will was anything but encouraged.

"Um, Hi Mike"
He said sheepishly.

"Hi"

"Happy birthday"

"Thanks"

Will shot Joyce a look and mouthed "help me" in her direction, but she waved him off and left the room.
Apparently he had no other choice but to continue.
"Um, how's… how's it going?"

"You know, same old, same old", Mike deadpanned.

The fact that Will no longer knew what Mike's same old would even look like at this point made him feel guilty, angry and sad all at the same time.He wanted to scream, punch the wall, punch Mike. Instead he inhaled, hoping the new intake of air would come with the ability to act as nonchalantly as possible.

"My mom…she says you're in Pittsburgh now", he babbled in a very much not nonchalant way.

"Yeah"

Now the next logical step was to ask about work, but Will was unsure whether it was actually appropriate to discuss his friend's job (or lack thereof).

Eventually it was Mike to bring it up, perhaps as a way to avoid judgment through pre-emptive self-deprecation.
"I'm occupying my mom's basement, like in the good old days" he chuckled bitterly, "except I'm 31 now, and being unemployed isn't as fun anymore"


Will felt the responsibility to reassure him, but he only managed to come up with a condescending, poor attempt at comfort.
"It's not your fault 9/11 fucked the economy, you're gonna find something else, don't worry"

Mike didn't even deign him with an answer.
The consulting firm he'd been working for since '96 had laid him off at the start of the new year. Will knew he didn't like the job — Mike had told him so himself at their friends' wedding and then reiterated it during his (more and more) sporadic calls — but still, losing it to recession must have been terrible. And he definitely wasn't helping with his useless remarks.


"What about, um, other things?"

"Other things?"

"Yeah, like, I don't know, a special someone maybe?"
Will immediately cringed at his stupid choice of words (why a gender neutral term, and a particularly lame one at that? ) but even more so at how dumb it is to ask someone about their love life when they're struggling with unemployment and the lack of privacy that comes with moving back with your parents.

Mike, as expected, audibly snorted.
"No, there's no special someone. I'm not exactly a catch, you know"

"Don't say that", Will felt the urge to rebut, but it sounded empty and even more condescending.

This time Mike replied.
"Why? I'm a grown ass man still living with his mother", he said bitingly, "who would ever date me?"

Will let out a ragged sigh.
He would.
Always and forever, he would.

But he certainly couldn't tell him that, could he?

If you asked anyone in Will's life they'd say he's moved on, and technically it is true — he's found new friends, had (and loved) a few boyfriends, done things his younger self wouldn't even think possible. Still, it wouldn't be entirely accurate, because that's not how Will sees it: moving on is a "directional" term, it implies the existence of a straight line connecting point A (the past) to point B (the future) that everyone must walk, regardless of what, or who, is left behind.

And this is something Will simply can't accept.

He has learned to live without El because he had to, but that doesn't mean he's moved on from her. Nor that he wants to.

He has learned to live without Mike too. But moving on? Na-ah.

And maybe he's not in love anymore, not like he used to — the all-consuming, angsty pining that comes with your teenage years is bound to take other forms at some point, and in Will's case it morphed into a subdued kind of longing, more akin to the bitter taste of missed opportunities. But that is precisely the reason why Mike will always be his weakness: you can't exactly work through the grief of losing something that never came to be.
It just sticks with you, haunts your story, makes you wonder.

And how could it not, when Will has never felt more cared for in his entire life than by Mike? Sure, his mom and Jonathan have been there for him through thick and thin, but that was somewhat expected of them. And sure, family members don't always do what they are expected to — being Lonnie's son has taught him as much — but it's still frowned upon, especially in a society that pretends to care about biological families more than anything else, to give up on your child or your sibling.

Mike, on the contrary, was urged to do exactly that, give up, and he deliberately chose to ignore what people said. He chose to fight for him, to stay by his side over and over again.

Even when, with the demands and expectations of young adulthood, teenage Mike started to repress some of the features that'd made him such a great friend, that unique brand of adoration and loyalty was clearly still there — hidden in the cracks of his clumsy attempt at conformity.

Which is why Will decided to stick around even though the safest choice, at that point, would have been to take a distance and protect his heart.
And that's also why, after years of radio silence, Mike still has the power to break said heart: Will yielded it to him when they were 12 and never asked his friend to give it back. Them drifting apart doesn't change that.

In fact, the reason why they lost touch in the first place is that Will didn't fight to keep Mike in his life for Mike's sake, not his.

Again, his family was expected to stick around, but the Party? After the Upside Down had been destroyed and they all left Hawkins, they could have dicthed him for good and never look back. Will would have understood, really: he's always been a liability. To this day he still struggles to fully believe them, when Lucas, Max and Dustin remind him that he's in fact very much worthy of their love and care.

So, naturally, when Mike started to pull away from him Will thought his friend had simply had enough, that his devotion had finally run dry. The fact he had pledged allegiance to Mike didn't mean Mike had to put up with him for the rest of his life, right? All the more so after El's death, which had destroyed Mike more than anyone else.

Leaving the dead weight behind is usually a good survival strategy, so Will could see why he didn't want to be dragged down to the bottom of the ocean with him. It was utterly devastating but it also made perfect sense.

He did consider to confront him after the first few unanswered letters, but why beat a dead horse? It was easier, and kinder, to just let Mike go.

Years, months, days later, in the parking lot of a 7- Eleven just outside of Allentown, PA, Will can't believe he's ever thought that giving up on their friendship was the mature thing to do.

Their last, awkward, conversation was already quite revealing in this regard: Mike didn't shy away from his pain, albeit filtered through dry humor and self deprecation. Will simply needed to listen and sit with it.

Of course it's always easier to look at things with the benefit of hindsight.
The Will who talked to Mike that day isn't the same Will who's currently rushing to Pittsburgh in the aftermath of his friend's suicide attempt. And it definitely isn't the same Will who's just been told that Mike may have wanted him by his side (possibly the whole time).
He still believes it's highly unlikely that Karen heard that right, but…what if Mike really did ask for him?

For the first time since he hit the road, thanks to a caffeine-induced spurt of clarity, Will lets himself dwell upon the possibility.
It's a harrowing thought, because it would be confirmation that he really did fail one of the most important persons in his life.
On the other hand, though, it would also mean that he has at least a modicum of power over the situation.

When they last talked, back in April, Will was convinced he could no longer get through to his friend, that honest communication between them was a thing of the past. But he was wrong, and Mike has paid the price.

If he had known better, he wouldn't have said such useless shit as "the right person will see beyond that" when his friend opened up about his struggles.
He certainly wouldn't have let him get away with a quick "if you say so" right after that.
He wouldn't have taken up so much of their call babbling about his new projects just to fill the silence, giving Mike the chance to feel even more of a failure than he already did.
And he wouldn't have ended the call without telling him how he really felt, namely that, despite all the awkwardness, it was incredible to hear his voice again; that every good day, every career milestone, everything basically, felt incomplete without him by his side; that he'd still have him, in any way he wanted, and always will.
In other words, he would have fought tooth and nail not to waste the chance he had been given.

Now he just needs to stick to this sentiment and try to undo this mess.

***



"Carlton!"
The sun is almost at its highest and Will has just entered Pittsburgh, a giggle escaping his mouth as he suddenly remembers the name of that Vanessa singer from earlier. Which, ironically, is also the first name of his most recent ex — and probably the reason why he kept forgetting (repressing?) it in the first place.

It wasn't a particularly bad breakup, the one with Carlton. They'd been together for 4 years when Will called it off a little over a year and a half ago, and neither of them made a tragedy out of it. They just didn't want the same things anymore.
They met in New York, a few years after Will moved there (and more specifically into Jonathan's shitty two-bedroom apartment). It was '96, and Will's love life had been stagnant after a couple of short-lived relationships.

He's had a total of three boyfriends since coming out: Chance, a classmate at the Rhode Island School of Design, then Richie, a friend of a friend, and finally Carlton, whom he met at a queer rights rally.

Chance was sweet, a great first boyfriend, but it was too soon and Will kept obsessing over Vecna, El and, well, Mike, so it only lasted for a couple of months. Richie was less sweet but a better lover, and he actually managed to keep Will's mind and body occupied for almost a year. Then it came Carlton, who stayed in Will's life long enough to meet his friends (he was his plus one at Max and Lucas' wedding, for instance), share an apartment, and make plans with.
After a while, though, it became clear that those plans didn't really fit together.

Will's 00s started with the painful realization that city life was starting to drain him. Despite being very grateful for the chance to enjoy New York's queer scene and give a career in art a serious try, he had grown to hate the less glamorous aspects of it: nothing but skyscrapers, gas exhaust and piss stink for miles was a really depressing landscape to find oneself in for more than a few years,  especially when paired with the mortyfing ordeal of kissing art critics' asses while being stuck in a shoebox of an apartment.

Hence, when Jonathan had Jane — the lovechild of a drug-induced fling that came back to bite him in the ass — and the Byers-Hoppers decided to leave Montauk in order to help him, Will saw that as his opportunity (and the sign) to finally move out of New York by claiming their parents' house as his new home. Carlton, however, wasn't ready nor interested in leaving NYC, and neither of them wanted to give up their own personal version of the future, i.e. a career-oriented city life vs a quiet, more explorative, one.

Eventually it was Will who cut the cord: one fine day in the Summer of 2000 he said goodbye to Carlton and moved to Montauk with all of his stuff. He also stopped obsessing over "making it".  He still paints — now in an actual studio in an actual house — and has even found a brand new canvas for that: his clients' skin.

Will discovered his love for tattoos during the college years, when inking his body became a way to reclaim it from abuse. The sharp, hot pain that came with it was also more effective in shutting his brain off than weed or antidepressants.
When he was in New York he used to look into courses for tattoo artists every few months. It just made sense: he loved to paint, he loved tattoos, why not combining the two?
Carlton didn't like the idea: he believed it was a downgrade from a thankless but highly- thought-of career as an artist. That was another source of friction in their relationship.

Will ended up attending on of those courses anyway, but only after his decision to leave both Carlton and the City had already been made.

Two years later, he has enough clients at the Montauk tattoo shop where he rents a workstation in to support himself, and he's also in the process of opening his very own studio. He's still in the early stages (gathering information, permits and whatnot), but has already eyed a very promising property just outside of city limits. It's very close to the Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner's museum home, which feels like fate since it's one of his favorite places in the area (and ever).

As he enters the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center's parking lot, Will wonders what Mike will think of his latest arm pieces. When they last saw each other he was wearing a suit, so Mike couldn't see any of them (except for the ones on his forearms when he ditched the jacket and rolled up his sleeves), and since the wedding he's added even more. Some of them hold particular significance, such as the flower branches wrapping around his arms just like the Upside Down vines were entwining his body back in the day — only, these ones bring in the lushness of Spring instead of unspeakable horrors. Others, the majority of them, are just aesthetically appealing designs.
Mike will be able to see them this time because Will is wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, and one he knows he looks good in. Putting together a flattering outfit was clearly not a priority of his, but it's not like picking a nice shirt instead of a lousy one would have taken longer anyway.

***

Karen is talking with a young doctor when Will finally catches sight of her. She's nodding slowly, hand over her mouth and right leg twitching (Mike has definitely inherited his nervous ticks from his mother).
"Will, you're here!", she beams as soon as he gets closer.
"Hi, Mrs Wh…", he tries to say, but his words get drown in a super tight hug. Karen holds him like he'd fly away if she let go, and Will gladly accepts the care. He thought it was going to be more awkward, but it isn't, not even a little bit.

"Um, sorry", Karen releases him and sniffs, "this is Dr. Robinavitch"
The man politely nods.
"And this is Will Byers, Michael's best friend"
Will shudders. Best friend is a title no one's called him in years — with its almost childlike, nostalgic quality — and it feels particularly wrong when attached to Mike, the person Will has failed the most. It's also kinda exhilarating, in a way. He can almost smell the words, straight out of his memories: grassy like the schoolyard where they met, with a pinch of the Wheeler's basement signature mustiness and a sweet note that reminds him of summer days at the lake. There's a hint of acrid in there too, for all the blood and the violence of their teenage years.

It takes Will back to when he and Mike were still allowed to talk about their feelings, to touch, to imagine a future together.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Byers", the doctor says, bringing him back to reality, "we were just talking about the next steps in Michael's care"
"Right", Will nods gravely. He looks around and, discreetly, into the closest rooms and boots of the E.R., both hoping and dreading to see Mike.
"He's a little further down the hall", Karen whispers in his ear as soon she realizes, "boot number 7".
"So", the doctor reprises, "when he first arrived we had to intubated him due to some trouble with his breathing, but when the most severe symptoms wore off artificial ventilation was no longer needed. He's been conscious and alert for a few hours now, however, we still need to keep him under observation a little while longer, since, as far as I understand, this wasn't exactly an accident"
The doctor makes a short pause, and Karen gulps nervously.
"In cases such as this one, we are required to carry out a psychiatric assessment and this may result in an extended stay, we call it involuntary psychiatric hold"
"What does that entail exactly?Are they going to restrain him?", Will interjects promptly — the concept of being held in a hospital against your will doesn't exactly sit right with him given his own history.
"The assessment is just meant to establish whether he's still a danger to himself or others. But if the psychiatrist suspects he's likely to attempt again they'll refer him for a mandatory stay, which can take from 72 hours up to two weeks", the doctor further explains.
"Understood", Karen says, apparently satisfied with the answer, "and… are we allowed to see him before the assessment?"
"Sure, you can stay with him for as long as you wish"

Karen sighs. She looks very tired, the bags under her eyes more prominent than Will has ever seen them (even after the demogorgon attacked her, back in '87).
"Mrs. Wheeler", he says, "why don't you take a break first? Have a coffee, maybe?I'm here now, I can stay with Mike"

The doctor looks at her sympathetically, and Karen almost bursts into tears.
"I really need to go to the ladies' room…", she admits.
"Please go, take your time, really"
"Ok, Will, thank you, thank you very much. And thank you Dr. Robinavitch".
"Just doing my job", the doctor replies with a smile.

Karen shakes the man's hand, softly pats Will on the shoulder and finally walks away.
The doctor turns to leave as well, but as soon as Karen is out of earshot, Will blocks him.
"Dr. Robinavitch, between you and me, I'm not a fan of involuntary hospital stays and I don't want Mike to be restrained or sedated for weeks on end…Is that a necessary measure, in your opinion?"
Dr. Robinavitch scratches his beard and leans in ever so slightly.
"You can call me Dr. Robby", he offers, " and it's not really up to me to determine that"
"I understand, it's just…"
"But I'm not a fan of psychiatric holds either, for suicide attempts in particular. Most of the time, keeping patients locked up in a psychiatric ward exacerbates their depressive symptoms instead of helping them to get better. Especially when it comes to your friend's demographic"
Will nods. His experience with police and hospitals (or rather labs) has made him wary of institutional authority, so it's nice to find someone who questions the system for once.
In a way, he thinks, this Dr. Robby sounds a bit like Owens.
"So" the man continues, "I'd advise your friend to stick to a very straightforward story and just agree to everything the psychiatrist says. He's white, middle-class, apparently healthy; they'll let him go"

Will wonders what would happen to him, a gay man who doesn't exactly hide his sexuality, should he find himself in Mike's shoes. Or to a woman, a person of color, someone who lives on the streets… maybe Dr. Robinavitch wouldn't be as understanding, and neither the psychiatrists.

Well, luckily Mike is neither gay, a woman or black.

"Of course this doesn't mean he's cured", the doctor concludes, "the real hard work awaits him on the other side of those doors. He'll need all the support he can get from his family and friends. Ah, and therapy, clearly"

Will takes a deep breath. Therapy is not something people with such big secrets can rely on (not entirely, at least)
They'll have to zero in on the support part, he supposes.

"Clearly", Will repeats, "thank you doctor, we'll do our best to help him"
"No need to thank me", Robinavitch replies before turning back on his heels, "take care and say goodbye to Ms. Childress for me"

***

The curtain separating boot 7 from the others is already half-open.
From where Will is standing Mike can't see him, thank God. He needs some time to try and collect himself before coming in.

On his way to Pittsburgh he's put together and rehearsed a million different speeches, and he still can't decide whether to go for concerned, sassy, unbothered or something else entirely (whatever that may be). Maybe he should just wait for Karen to come back and act as a buffer, but he knows it would be a cop-out.

So he decides to rip the band-aid off and eventually sticks his head into the boot.
Mike doesn't see him at first, and Will has a few seconds to just… observe him. His hair are shorter but just as fluffy — Will loves those curls almost as much as he loves him —, his face is even paler than usual and he's clearly lost some weight. Anyone would say he looks terrible, but there's no version of Mike that Will could ever find anything other than devastatingly handsome, so it doesn't even register. He also looks younger, or maybe it's just Will's wishful thinking rehashing memories of a different time, when, despite the monsters, things were easier and they were still the best of friends.
What would that Will say to that Mike?

"I hate living in a world where Jar Jar Binks is an actual Star Wars character too, but this was a bit much, don't you think?"

Mike turns his head and freezes. His jaw stays dropped for a few seconds, which gives Will enough time to attempt a reassuring smile.
"Will? How are you here?", he says, eyes widened and voice hoarse.

How, not why. Good, Will can work with how.

"Your mom called me"

Mike closes his eyes in frustration.
"Please tell me you were in Pittsburgh, by some miracle"
Will grimaces and awkwardly scratches the back of his head
"Um, not really"
"Oh, God"

Mike looks away, clearly mortified, and a mix of despair, empathy, and a whole swarm of butterflies hits Will right in the pit of his stomach.

It reminds him of his teenage years, and, more specifically, the overwhelming rush of desire laced with a crazy amount of guilt that would leave him breathless every time he looked at Mike for a little too long; it also reminds him of how hard it was to swallow it down and pretend it was never there.

Then they lost touch and, after 5 years of basically no contact and 20 more of loaded history, Will doesn't know what he's supposed to feel or do. With Mike and with himself.

"I can't believe my mom made you do this", Mike reprises in a disgruntled huff, but he sounds more embarrassed than anything else.

"It's really no problem", Will tries to reassure him, knowing perfectly well it's no use.

"Of course it is", Mike replies, as expected, "we're not even -"
his breath suddenly catches, gaze snapping away from his friend.

Will gulps.
"I don't mind, Mike"

"Yeah you do, how could you not?
Mike's hands flap restlessly by his side and Will itches with the urge to close the distance, pin them down and shut him up. Standing still, arm-crossed by the curtain, is starting to feel pretty awkward anyway. Mike too seems to find the distance just as weird, as he shifts his weight towards Will mid-rambling.

"It's fine, truly", Will insists, increasingly more frustrated with each new correction.

"No, it's not. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, really I…"

"MIKE!"

Will's voice startles the other patients and alerts the nurses passing nearby, who promptly side-eye him. He mouths a fumbling apology.

"I said it's fine", he repeats — at a much lower volume this time.

Mike's eyebrows scrunch into a soft, pleading frown, and Will folds like a cheap suit. He'd forgotten how unfairly irresistible Mike's puppy eyes could be, and now he wants to hold him so badly he's sure he's gonna die if he doesn't get to.

To hell with restraint, then. He's going in.

All the various IV tubes and strange cables standing in the way make it more a collision than a hug. Will's hands land over Mike's neck, with one gently cupping the back of his head.
He smells of sweat, hospital and home, and his shoulders feel as stiff as a board under Will's touch. He's clearly taken aback by the unexpected change in his friend's demeanor and possibly uncomfortable with such close proximity, which makes Will immediately self-conscious. He tries to recede as smoothly as possible but Mike promptly perks up, yanks him back and… pulls. His fingers slide on the other man's back and grab desperately at the shirt over it, while his face ends up buried in the space between the neck and the clavicle.

"I didn't want anyone to be dragged into this mess", Mike whispers in a pathetic, wretched tone, "especially you"

Especially you.
What does he mean by that?
Will decides not to dwell upon it for now and just replies with a simple "I know, but I'm glad I came"

Mike scoffs.
"This is so embarrassing"
"It's not"
"It is"
"If you say so", Will concedes, because he knows that Mike would rather try to kill himself a second time than feel like he's being pitied. "Not to me though", he points out anyway.

"I'm gonna kill my mom", Mike sighs.
"As long as you don't kill yourself", Will blurts out.
What is it with him and black humor today?
Well, at least Mike seems to like the joke, giggling into Will's neck.

***

They've just broken apart when Karen gets back into the boot, and Mike immediately scolds her for inconveniencing his friend.

"You asked for him, honey", she gently counters.

"What?"
Mike blushes instantly. Not even his sickly complexion can hide the pink hue forming around his hollow cheeks.

"Yes, Michael. You don't remember it now, but you did"

He opens his mouth to say something, but eventually thinks better of it. His gaze is stuck on his lap and Will feels suddenly very self conscious.

"Oh, don't worry. I believe he would have wished to be here regardless, right?", Karen shoots him a look, and Will nods accordingly.

"Yes, of course", he says, duly. It's like they're kids all over again, gently talked down by a sympathetic but firm Mrs. Wheeler.

Mike inhales and finally turns Will's way. Something gleams faintly in his eyes, but he can't pinpoint what it is exactly. Shame? Awkwardness? Longing?
"Will, I don't…", Mike splutters, "I have no memory of that, and… I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to rope you into… this"

Will is surprised: he expected Mike to deny the possibility of Karen's story being remotely plausible straight down to the bitter end. Instead he not only accepts it as a likely scenario, but also owns up to its consequences. Is it true, then? And does he remember?

"I didn't want you to worry, both of you", Mike continues, abashed, "I know it was stupid, and I'm very sorry"


Karen leans out and takes her son's hand
"You don't need to apologize. If anything, I should be the sorry one, for not realizing what you were going through"

The woman's words resonate with Will. He's sure neither will ever forgive themselves for letting this happen.

"There was nothing to realize", Mike replies too hastily, and in the attempt to reassure his mother involuntary lets his mask slips, "it's always been like this"

Will feels a sharp pain tugging at his heartstrings. What does he mean with it's always been like this? How long has Mike been feeling this lost? How long has he wanted to kill himself?

Mike seems to pick up on Will's concern and immediately adjusts course
"I mean, I get sad sometimes, like everybody else. I think it's normal after, well, everything", he pauses and shifts his gaze between the other two, probably waiting for some form of sympathetic acknowledgement that, however, never comes.
"I was just stressed 'cause of the whole work thing and I had a little too much to drink. And sometimes drinking makes you do stupid things. But I'm fine now, really, I didn't mean it like that"

Karen's eyebrows scrunch in sympathy
"Michael…"

"It's true mom, I'm ok. Please don't make this into something it's not, it's enough that you dragged Will here"

"She didn't drag me, Mike", the latter interjects, "I offered"
It's not entirely true, but what's a little white lie?

Mike sighs.
"I still can't believe you came here all the way from Montauk. It's crazy"

Crazy together
The words echo in Will's mind, plucked out of a distant memory. The Ghostbusters costumes, the basement, Mike's soft voice: it's been almost 20 years and it feels like yesterday.

"Eh, I needed a break", he says "it was a nice road trip"

"You drove here?", Mike almost jumps in place, "I thought you took an early flight!"

Will doesn't say what he's really thinking — which is: as if I'd ever wait for some flight instead of rushing here straightaway — and provides another white lie.
"Well, since what happened back in September I avoid flying as much as possible. And, as I said, it was nice"

Mike scowls.
Even though they haven't seen each other in years it seems like he's still very good at reading Will — and so is Will when it comes to reading Mike, which means that both of their attempts at downplaying the situation are not working at all.

"Let's focus on you", Karen chimes in, interrupting the sequence of lies, "Dr. Robinavitch said they'll send a psychiatrist down so that you two can have a chat"

Mike grunts, and for a moment Will sees the petulant kid that used to bike everywhere with him in place of his adult counterpart that's actually sitting right there.
"I don't want to talk to a psychiatrist", he protests, "they'll let me stay here"

"Maybe it would help", Karen provides.

"I don't think so"

"Why? They know what they're doing. Right, Will?"

Both mother and son turn towards him expectantly, hoping the other will pick their side. It's a pretty uncomfortable position to find oneself him, and the last thing Will wants is to upset Mrs Wheeler, but Dr. Robby's words are still fresh in his mind.

"Well", he says, trying to be as considerate as possible, "I'm sure they do. But…I talked to the doctor earlier and he said that this kind of psychiatric holds can sometimes do more harm than good"

"See?", Mike gloats, waving his hand forward in a triumphant motion.
Karen looks at Will like he's just stabbed her in the back.

"That doesn't mean you're off the hook", he corrects, hoping it'll help him earn back some points.
"The psychiatrist is still going to see you, and you'd better listen to them"

Great, now he sounds like his mother too.

***

The psychiatrist takes her sweet time to come down from her ivory tower, and when she finally does it's already around 2 PM.
Will's stomach grumbles and Karen suggests they go and have something to eat while Mike talks to the doctor.

It's lovely outside, and even lovelier when compared to the acrid stench of disinfectant that pervades all of the E.R. — Will's nostrils are basically burnt by now.
They walk in silence for a few blocks and then Karen locates a decent enough diner to have a seat and a meal in. She takes just a large cup of coffee and Will feels kinda bad for the double cheeseburger with fries he didn't hesitate to order.

"Don't be stupid, you need sustenance after driving the whole night. The only reason why I'm not eating is that my stomach is still in knots"

She is so strong, Will can't help but think as he watches her sip on her coffee, fully present despite what she's been through.

"Do you really think it's best to take Mike home?"

Will looks broodingly out the window.
What does he think?
He's been wrong before, when it comes to Mike. Very wrong. And that's part of the reason why they're even discussing this together in a crappy Pittsburgh diner.
Why should Karen listen to what he has to say? Why should anyone, really?

"I don't know", he provides, "I mean, it's what the doctor suggested"

"But he isn't a psychiatrist"

That's true, he isn't.
So why did Will trust his opinion on the matter?
Did he, by any chance, project his fears onto Mike and then believed anything that could confirm them? It wouldn't be the first time.
Maybe a longer stay in the hospital could help him, and Will is bound to screw things up over and over again.

"Well, anyway", Karen continues before he can reply, "he's talking with one right now, she'll get a better picture and let us know"

Right.
It's not like they can actually do anything. Why does he always have to center himself? Vecna might have convinced him otherwise, but the world does not, in fact, revolve around him. And it's not up to Will Byers to decide Mike's fate, as much as it wasn't up to Mike to decide El's.

He remembers telling him that all the time, in the months leading to their graduation. Back then, Mike used to obsessively replay their last exchange to find the exact moment when everything went south, then bike to Will and  cry on his shoulder like a baby.

He's told him the story a thousand times: El asks him to understand and say goodbye to the party, he begs her not to go, they  kiss before she releases him. There was something else that he didn't want to share, though: Mike confessed it to him one night, when he was particularly distraught. He said they would hate him if they ever found out 
Will finds it hard to believe, but has never told anyone nor brought it up with him ever again.

"Do you want to go rest for a while, honey?", Karen asks sweetly.
She's probably realized he's zoning out.

"Oh, no, there's no need!", Will chirps to overcompensate, "I believe it won't take too long at this point, anyway"

Karen found him in her basement around 10 PM, immediately called 911 and rushed to the hospital in the back of the same ambulance. He was admitted to the E.R. shortly after, so it's been roughly 16 hours. If the psychiatrist agrees to let him go it's likely it'll happen soon.

"I'm sorry I dragged you here", Karen reprises, her face scrunched in a contrite expression, "but, I don't know, I was alone, couldn't call anyone else and he'd just asked for you. I guessed he wanted you by his side, but it didn't occur to me that you'd have to drive all night to get here, I'm really sorry"

Will's heart breaks into a million pieces at the thought that Mrs Wheeler's apologizing for something that just a few years ago would have simply been taken for granted. It speaks volume, and he doesn't like the music.

"You have nothing to apologize for", he says, taking her hand in his, "You made the right call. I'm just sorry no one was here with you earlier. Doesn't your sister live here? Is she out of town?"

"She's my sister in law actually. Or, well, my former sister in law" Karen points out.
"We have a great relationship, don't get me wrong. After all, she's the reason why I moved to Pittsburgh in the first place: there was a job opening at her firm and she thought of introducing me to her boss, no matter the divorce. But she's still Ted's brother's wife, and I didn't want my ex husband to find out what happened from them. Especially not until Mike says it's okay, which will probably never happen, so…."

"What about Holly?"

"She idolizes her brother and he's still very protective of her. He wouldn't want her to know, not right away at least. Plus, she's still crashing at Max and Lucas' in California, and I don't think Mike wants them to know. He only asked for you, after all"

Yeah, there's that.
Will can't ignore it any longer, can he?

"May I ask you what he said exactly?"

Karen grimaces. It must be hard to relive those moments.
"We were still on the ambulance. The paramedics had managed to wake him up and he slurred a few words. The first thing he said was sorry, I think he said please too and then your name at least three times. I asked him will what?, because at first I thought he was trying to form a sentence, but then he repeated Will again and kept chanting it for a while. We got to the hospital right after and they rushed him to the E.R., so I don't know if he said anything else"

Ok, so Mike did ask for him, after all. It's not a misunderstanding.

Perfect, just perfect.

Karen squeezes Will's hand that's still lying over hers.

"As I said, I'm sorry you had to come all this way, but I'm very glad you're here for Mike. He needs you in his life"

Ah, that stings; Will wonders whether it's a subtle jab, whether Karen secretely harbors some resentment over the fact that he gave up on her son. He couldn't really blame her if that was the case.

"He hasn't been the same since you went your separate ways", the woman continues, "and I hope that at least one good thing can come out of this…"

Will swallows what's left of his fries and ponders how to reply to that.

Mike's mom wants them to reconnect, that much is clear. And even if she resents him in some way, to her he's still Mike's childhood best friend — exactly like Mike will always be Will's in Joyce's eyes. With one key difference, though: only one of them has wrecked havoc in the other's life, and it's not Mike.

It doesn't matter, though. Not anymore.

Whatever curse he's cast on his friend, keeping a distance from him clearly doesn't work. He knows it, Karen knows it, Mike probably knows it too, and that's why last night he called his name. Or so it seems.

"I hope that too, Mrs. Wheeler"

***

The psychiatrist has apparently agreed to let Mike go, but under the condition that he'll give therapy a try. She's referred him to a specialist who works mostly online with patients from all over the country, since Mike told her that he isn't sure how long he's going to stay in Pittsburgh, and will also check on him every few months. It won't be expensive because Karen has added him to her insurance program when he lost the job.

As soon as the doctor is gone they get ready for discharge. A blonde nurse named Dana hands them some paperwork and while Mike fills in the form, Karen manages to catch him off guard and pinch his cheeks.
"See? It wasn't so bad, was it?"

Mike rolls his eyes
"See? I told you it wasn't that serious, didn't I?"

"Let your therapist be the judge of that", Will teases him, trying to keep the tone of the conversation as light as possible while also reminding him of the actual weight of what just happened.
Apparently, this is what he's supposed to be doing.

Before leaving, the psychiatrist accosted him and Karen and gave them some tips on how to handle the situation: don't smother him, give him time and space to process the "incident" on his own but don't indulge him if he ever tries to downplay it. It's important that Mike comes to terms with his feelings in order for him to get better, she said.

When they're finally outside the hospital doors it's already dinner time. They hop on Will's car since last night they got there on an ambulance, Mike demands to ride shotgun and Karen suggests they get some pizza on their way home. When she gets off the car to go pick it up, Mike tilts his head in Will's direction and looks up at him in a way that can only be described as endearingly awkward.

"I already told you I'm sorry", he whispers then, "but I haven't said thank you yet. So, thank you"

Will blushes under his friend's soft gaze, throat suddenly dry.
"No problem" is all he manages to say.

"Do you need to get back soon?", Mike inquires. Will can tell he's trying to come off as nonchalant, but he still detects a needy undertone to his voice. It makes him feel warm inside.

"Not really, I have no appointments until two weeks from now"

"Oh, ok"

They stay silent for a while, uncertain on how to keep the conversation going after that. Does Mike want him to stay, or is he just making small talk? Does Will want to stay? And for how long? He hasn't really thought about that, has he?

Karen won't definitely mind having him as a guest for more than a few days, but that doesn't mean he should overstay his welcome. He isn't sure what that's supposed to mean, though. Is there even a recommended timeline for something like this?

Luckily Mrs Wheeler is back with the pizza before Will can spiral any further.

***

The topic eventually comes up anyway, namely when they're sitting at the kitchen table of Karen's new apartment.

"So, honey", she asks with a slice of Margherita in her hand, "you're staying for a while or do you have to get back soon? I really hope you can take some time off and hang out with us a little bit longer"
Will almost chokes on a piece of pepperoni.
"Um", he stutters, "I- I am actually, um, free for a few days"
"Great!", Karen rejoices, "then Mike can show you around"
The Mike in question lets out a chuckle: "Pittsburgh is not exactly famous for its touristic attractions, but sure. Not everyone is lucky enough to live in a charming little town by the sea, you know"

"Well, you could always come with me instead", Will blurts out on autopilot, and as soon as he realizes what he's done it's already too late.

"That's a fantastic idea!", Karen immediately jumps in, "you could use the distraction and Will won't have to drive back all by himself, if he really means it"

Mike looks down in embarrassment, while Will has no other choice but confirm what he's just said.
"Of course I mean it"

"You really don't have to indulge her", Mike says under his breath, holding the same gaze from before — the one Will finds irresistible. And maybe it's true, he doesn't have to, but if Mike keeps looking at him like that he certainly will want to. Actually, who is he even kidding? Will wants to already, he doesn't need any more incentives for that.
Sightseeing around Montauk with Mike is actually a fantasy he's entertained ever since Joyce and Hopper moved there in '89 and he used to visit them on his school breaks. There's something so special about that place, and he would be so lucky to share its magic with his best friend.
Of course right now they're in very peculiar circumstances, and Will isn't even sure of where Mike stands when it comes to their friendship, let alone to the possibility of spending an indefinite amount of time in close proximity with him. Hell, even the car ride to get to Mountak is an unknown variable in this regard.

Nonetheless, now that idea's been planted in his head it won't go away.
What if it's exactly what Mike needs? It would be stupid not to give it a try. It'll probably be awkward for a while? Sure, but they need to start somewhere if they really want to rekindle their friendship, and what better way to do it than having long walks by the beach, watching the sun rise over the horizon and eating ice cream on a warm summer night? The fact these are all very romantic activities people usually engage with during dates is just a funny coincidence.

He can do it. He should do it. It's fine. He just needs to say: "I know, but I'd be very happy to have you"
And so he does, and everything changes.