Work Text:
“Mi-Mike?” My voice comes out dry and it burns my throat. I can just barely see due to how blurry everything is, but I’m fairly confident that I can see Michael.
Footsteps. The sliding of a chair. A hand on mine. He’s sitting next to me, rubbing circles on my hand.
What is he doing here? I know he said he’d give me a chance, but no Wheeler forgives that fast. Sometimes it takes months of hard work. For him to just show up, something’s off.
My consciousness reminds me of how much my entire body aches. A doctor keeps coming in to give me pain medication, but it does nothing to help. In the past few hours I’ve heard faintly that I’m hurt - no shit, I’m in the hospital - and that some injuries are severe. It’s a miracle I’m conscious they say.
Miracle my ass.
”Mike? Wh-Why are you he-re?” I cough the words out. Jonathan has stepped back into the room and is pouring me a glass of cold water. Sipping it helped my throat ease up.
He remains quiet, as though he’s contemplating his words. “Will, do you remember what happened?” His brown eyes stare into mine. It’s warm and inviting, yet serious.
”Remember wh-what ha-happened? Wha-“
Oh.
Oh.
But how does Mike know about that? No one else was there. It was just Tyler and I. I would know if someone else was there. They would have tried to help me, right?
Unless I’m not worth helping. No one will ever love you, the words echo in my mind. No one would have wanted to save me anywho. I’m not a person worth saving.
”Nothing ha-happened! I- I fell and got h-hurt!”
”Will,” Michael begins again. “Please. We know what’s going on. We just need you to say it.”
”Say what?” I shout. My voice wavers a little, but I ignore it. “There’s nothing going on! Please, guys, just drop it.”
He shakes his head. I feel like vomiting all over again. “No, Will. We can’t just drop this. This is serious! He put you in the hospital, Will! He broke your ribs!”
”No one did anything!” I respond. “Come on, Jonathan, you’ve met him. Tell Michael he’s not like that!”
”Who?” Jonathan raises an eyebrow. He has a concerned look on his face.
”Tyler! My boyfriend!”
Michael squeezes my hand a little. I watch Jonathan’s expression drop. He looks like he might faint. I glance back and forth between the two of them. There’s something heavy and unsaid in the air, and I have no clue what it is. I offer Jonathan a chair and he politely declines.
”Will,” Michael curls his bottom lip in. He seems like he’s stuck between avoiding looking at me and making direct eye contact. “We- We never said we were talking about Tyler.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
Way to go Will! Why not just tell them all about what’s happened? Maybe send them to your dorm while you’re at it!
I take a breath in to try to recover some ground. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing.”
”Will..” Jonathan reaches out towards me. I nearly hurl myself back off the stupid hospital bed. Any form of contact right now makes me feel like running away. I pull myself in as tightly as possible. My head rests between my knees.
Everything has come crashing in at once again. It feels awful and I honestly just want to do anything to not be in that stupid hospital room. The walls are so blank and white and shapeless and empty, it’s nauseating. Scents of chemicals fill my nose and remind me where I am.
I’m in a hospital. I’m in a hospital bed sitting alone. All eyes are burning into me. I want to scream and cry and speak and tell them everything and just melt into Michael’s touch and stay there. But I can’t. I can’t do anything because I’m frozen. My body is stuck and unmoving, like a statue.
”Breathe with me,” A doctor is in the room now. Jonathan and Michael are swatted out of the room. The doctor takes my hand and places it on her chest, where her heart is. I feel the beating vibrations. Her breathing pattern is steady.
”In, two, three, four,” She takes a breath in. I try to match her breathing, but it’s like my lungs are working against me. The doctor repeats this pattern a few more times. Eventually, I’m able to somewhat breathe slower.
I wish I was a kid again. Like a young kid. Before everything happened. Before the upside-down, before school, before boyfriends, just before it all. I want it to just be me and Dustin and Mike and Lucas again. Just us like it used to be. And I wish that El had a normal childhood and we were all just normal kids and Max wasn’t hurt and everyone’s dads weren’t assholes and things were just okay.
But it’s not okay.
”Are you okay?” The doctor asks.
I pull my head out from between my knees. Exhaustion fills my body like an old vase. “Yeah,” I nod with what I hope is a smile. “Thank you.”
”No problem,” She smiles. “And umm, we have a therapist coming in later to talk to you about what happened. Just to make sure.”
”What.” My expression drops. “I don’t need therapy.”
”Mr. Byers, what you’ve gone through—“
”Please don’t call me ‘Mr. Byers’. It makes me sound like I’m my dad,” I look away. This is awkward. “And I’m an adult. I can say I don’t want to see a therapist.”
”Sir, please, we advise—“
”Please, just- just let me rest for a while,” I almost choke the words out. “Thank you for everything Ma’am.”
The doctor nods slowly and ducks out of the room. It’s late at night now. Dark outside. I turn the hospital television on and flip the channels. Mostly news and sports, occasional game shows. I settle on wheel of fortune. MTV is also running so I could always flip to that.
Sleeping seems impossible. I try turning the television off, rolling over, flipping my pillow, drinking water, using the bathroom, but nothing works. Is this how Mike feels when he can’t sleep? It’s like I’m so achingly tired, but my body rejects the notion.
I’m not afraid though. My dad used to tell me that men don’t get afraid. Only faggots would do that. Of course, look how I turned out. If he only saw me now, I know he’d be so disappointed.
Why won’t my brain shut off?
I count specks of paint on the ceiling. There are 32 over my bed, and an additional 14 near the window. I count seconds that I’m awake, but lose count after I reach four minutes.
God, I just want to sleep.
Morning comes all too early. I’m “woken up” at the ripe hour of five o’clock for blood labs and vital checks. My body hurts a little less today which I guess is good. Maybe the meds are finally working.
Nurses come in and out to give me medicine and treat my injuries and whatever else they do. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here. Sundays are boring. Hospitals are boring. I spend most of the day waiting and trying to sleep.
Eventually, Mom comes in to visit in the afternoon. She brings some art supplies which would’ve been nice if I could use my arms. My right hand - the dominant one - is currently on a do not use policy. Apparently I landed on it or something.
Being with Mom makes me more comfortable in a way. She’s not a guy. She’s been with me all my life. A small, familiar voice drifts into my mind. It’s not my fault when the sound is like honey coating a blade. I’m attracted to the sweetness, so I could I know I’d get stabbed so quickly?