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Will is four years old, when his short life turns around. He's sitting on a lonely swing on the kindergarten's playground, his eyes glossy from unshed tears, his thoughts circling around how different from what he's imagined his first day is. He hasn't managed to talk to any kids today, settling for small smiles thrown from a corner of the room and uncertain nods not to worry his teacher. He doesn't want them to notify his mom or, much worse, his dad. Anywhere is better than home with him.
Will gets rapidly pulled out of his head by a small child his age, who carefully takes a seat right next to him. His eyes bright, his head full of black locks, but none of that is something that WIll can focus on right now.
No, not with his sight switching between a small smile on the boy's face, undeniably directed at him, and his little hand reached out, waiting for the other child to shake it.
"Hi, I'm Michael, but you can call me Mike" the boy's smile only gets bigger, as Will conscientiously raises his own hand, still unsure why someone like that is talking to him.
"I-I'm Will. Short for William" answers Will, deciding to take a risk and return the smile. He feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders, like his day could not possibly get any better, when-
"Do you want to be my friend, Will?"
The boy, Mike, softly asks, subtly decreasing the proximity between them, undoubtedly seeing how closed off Will is, immediately wanting to comfort him, even if they have just met. He puts both of his palms on the smaller boy's elbows and looks at him with hope written all over his eyes.
"Of course, I do."
The next thing that Will registers is a lapful of his new friend, with his hands holding the back of his sweater and his head placed in the crook of his neck. Will doesn't like physical touch, never has, really, not from anyone who isn't his mom.
As it turns out, however, Will likes Mike.
Mike, who's currently pulling him closer, like he wants to protect him from all the bad things he can't possibly know about. So Will does the only reasonable thing he can think of - hugs him too, intertwining his arms behind Mike's back.
Will is four years old, when he realises he's going to love this boy for the rest of his life.
---
Will is five years old, when his father raises his hand at him for the first time. He’s curled in a ball, decreasing the volume of his body as much as he can, listening to his parents’ screaming matches happening over his head.
“I am not raising a faggot, Joyce ! He’s enough of a disgrace, as he is.”
“Do not call him that, he is your son, Lonnie! He is also five years old! He doesn’t even know what it means!”
“Well, apparently he doesn’t need to understand what being a queer is to be one. My son will not be a fucking fairy.”
Will doesn’t know what those spitefully uttered words mean, but that does not stop his fists from grasping at his hair, pulling on it hard enough to silence the fight in the next room. It does not stop his thoughts from spiralling, his mind from writing out paragraphs and engraving the connection between the word ‘disgusting’ and his own name right into his brain. He’s not sure why his father is so ashamed of him, he’s tried not to misbehave today, not wanting to enrage his already drunk parent.
What he knows, however, is that there must be a reason, why Lonnie hates him, because everybody's wired to love their child, right? Will must’ve done something so unforgivable in his five-years-long life that this privilege has been taken away from him, he’s sure of that.
He looks down at the mark on his skin that started the screams all together, foolishly hoping that it has been washed away along with the waterfalls of tears streaming down his cheeks. But no, the silvery strings of letters are still there, tangling right under his left collarbone, close enough to his heart to explain the overwhelming pain in his chest that he feels whenever he thinks about it. The sentence is unreadable, not in the dark corner of the room he’s crawled into, not with tears blurring his vision.
“Honey, we need to talk.”
He looks up from his hands trembling uncontrollably in his lap to see his mom, standing in the hallway. His father is nowhere to be seen - that’s good. Will’s not sure how many more words he can handle sticking inside of him, pressing their hard corners like thorns, leaving him to bleed wide open.
“Are you okay? This asshole had no right to touch you.”
Will slightly nods and opens his mouth, swallowing a silent cry before, to ask what’s bugging him.
“W-why is he mad? Why do I have something written on me? What is wrong with me?”
His mom steps closer and sits down, right in front of him, putting her hands on his back and scooping him into her arms. Will puts his head in the crook of her neck, seeking as much comfort as he can grasp. He feels more than he hears his mom speak up, she still has her face buried in his hair, after all.
“There is nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. Listen to me: there is nothing wrong with you, no matter what he” she spits the pronoun like it’s made of venom, designed to kill “says or may ever say. You’re perfect just the way you are. I love you just the way you are.”
She takes a break, seemingly stopping to gather her thoughts, to choose the softest choice of words to break the news to Will.
“And about your mark… It’s my fault really. I should’ve talked this subject through with you a long time ago, I’ve just always thought I’d figure out how to do it before it comes. Turns out I never did.”
She chuckles lightly, trying to get Will to understand that she’s not mad at him, she couldn’t be. It works, the boy looks up at her from his place in his mom’s arms, smiling insecurely. The idea of both of his parents losing love for him, for reasons he cannot seem to work out, fades away, but doesn’t disappear. It stays in the back of his head, as he waits for his mom to continue.
“This mark is a soulmark. Everyone has it, some are born with it, but most people get theirs some time before their seventh birthday. It’s usually a sentence, one that will bring strong memories with it, once said by your person. Then it will turn black, so you won’t miss who it is.”
Will just nods his head again, confirming he’s heard her, trying to process everything he’s just learnt.
He has a soulmate? Someone is going to love him for the rest of his life, simply for who he is? How could some stranger love him, if his own father, one of the two people literally designed to do so, programmed by the universe to take care of him, didn’t? He couldn’t even look at Will with anything other than disgust.
His mom looks at him softly, tells him how much she loves him, but he just shakes his head, defusing her words. Her grip only tightens around his arms.
“No, Will, don’t disagree with me. I love you, of course I do, you’re my son. I’m proud of you and nothing could ever make me stop being proud of you. You hear me? Nothing.”
The only answer she gets is a loud cry coming from her shoulder and the feeling of her shirt slowly getting wetter.
Will is five years old, when he lets himself believe he’s worth being loved.
---
Will is six years old, sitting in a bright and colourful room, when dark colours start seeping back into his vision. It’s five o’clock, the universal time for all moms to pick their children up from kindergarten, Will knows it. It just doesn’t make the idea of letting Mike go for the weekend any better.
They’re busy, they can’t part ways now, not when Mike is making him a flower ring, a promise that he’s always going to keep.
“I think it’s silly that grown-ups get all dressed up and nervous, there’s nothing easier than marrying you.”
Will smiles at that, bright enough that he could compete with the Sun itself, if asked. He’s pretty sure he’d win, though, he’s the one who has Mike Wheeler, after all.
“I love you.”
He only says in response, tasting the way the words sound on his tongue.
It’s something that Mike’s worked on very hard for the past two years, making Will understand that he’s worthy of loving and being loved right back. Will isn’t sure he’s right, but it’s not something he’s willing to question, not with their hands intertwined.
Not when Mike kisses him on the cheek and announces them husband and husband. Will wishes he could stay like this forever, wishes he could stay and grow old and die with Mike by his side holding his hand.
He thinks he’d die very happy.
He doesn’t get to, however, his first minutes of marriage interrupted by Jonathan.
“Will, I’m sorry, buddy, but we have to go. Mom’s waiting in the car.”
“Can I stay longer? Please, please, just for a little while. I wanna stay with Mike.”
Will begs, his eyes pleading, his side almost morphed with Mike’s with the way they’re closely pressed into a hug, neither of them willing to let go.
“I wish I could say yes, but we have to get home. We can ask Mike’s mom if she’s alright with you coming over on the weekend”
The older boy says, waiting for his brother to join him on the doorstep. Will gives up and starts standing up, ready to say his goodbyes, to tell his best friend he’ll miss him but maybe they’ll see each other tomorrow. He doesn’t get to, Mike’s faster.
“NO!”
He screams, loud enough to make Will flinch. The tears in the smaller boy’s eyes start forming embarrassingly too quickly, almost automatically at the volume used.
“No! I don’t want Will to go! I want him to stay right here, he can come home with me! He’s not going anywhere!”
Mike is too focused on yelling to notice the way Will’s body instantly curls into a protective ball, his hands coming up to his ears. His instinct reaction to arguing.
“Mike, stop!”
Will hears Jonathan exclaim, his worry heard even through Will’s palms covering his head. He knows his brother’s stepping closer to calm him down.
“Will.”
He doesn’t respond, his head is too dizzy with the world turning around inside of it.
“Will!”
It’s another voice, this one coming from his side. It’s Mike. He’s putting his hands on Will’s. His chin rests on the top of the boy’s head, his arms bringing him as close as he can.
“Jonathan, what’s wrong?”
Will’s calmed down enough to differentiate the words. Mike’s touch slows down his breathing and Will leans into it greedily, trying to respond, but failing inevitably. He can’t talk, choosing to focus on not choking on his tears instead.
“He doesn’t do well with raised voices, screaming scares him.”
Jonathan answers slowly, disapproval for Mike clear in his tone. He shouldn’t blame him, Will thinks, Mike didn’t know. He wouldn’t have done it.
“Will.”
It’s Mike, he still has himself wrapped around Will, protecting him from the world, acting as a shield between his best friend and everyone who could possibly hurt him.
“Will, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
His voice is soft, softer than ever before. It's not like Mike’s ever been rough when speaking to Will, but now, now he sounds like every letter he pronounces is made of love. Will relaxes at the tone, nodding his head and burying it deep into Mike’s collarbone.
“It’s okay.”
He manages to whisper, not pulling a millimetre away from the warm body. He feels Mike kiss the top of his head.
“I love you. Go home. I’ll ask my mom to invite you over tomorrow.”
He says, reluctantly pulling away, the soft undertone never leaving his voice.
Will is six years old, when he first hopes he’s already managed to find his soulmate.
---
Will is seven years old, standing on the Wheelers’ porch, soaking wet from the rain pouring above his head. He contemplates knocking on the door but holds himself back, not wanting to cause any trouble. It’s late, Mike is probably asleep and he doesn’t want to burden anyone with his problems.
This was the only place he associated with comfort, as he ran from his house after his father beat him up in another drunken fit of anger. Jonathan had asked him to hide, just before he went to protect their mom from Lonnie’s hand.
Will doesn’t want to think about the sight he’ll come back to. He doesn’t want to think about seeing his father the next day, his mom covering for him, refusing to report it anywhere. Will loves his mom, he just wishes she’d love herself a bit more.
He doesn’t have time to turn around and change his mind, to look for another place not to disturb his best friend, because the front door splits open, revealing a worried-looking Mrs Wheeler.
“Oh my God, Will, what happened? Come inside, sweetheart, let’s get you dried up.”
“Uh, I don’t want to cause any trouble, I know it’s late, I shouldn’t have come-”
Will doesn’t finish his apology, because Mike’s mom cuts him off right there.
“There’s no way you’re going anywhere, Will, you’re bleeding. Come in right now. We’ll talk when you’re better.”
Oh, yeah, Will almost forgot about this part. He didn’t manage to fully escape his father before fleeing. One of Lonnie’s angry punches reached his face, pushing him four feet behind into a half open door, causing his cheekbone to rip open from the residue glass.
Will steps inside, looking around the house, so different from his own. This one is full of light, warmth and finally, comfort.
“I’m sorry, Mrs Wheeler, is there a chance you could ask for-”
“Will!”
He hears, cutting himself off, as his very own comfort person comes running towards him, all the way down the stairs. Mike is dressed in red pyjamas, his hair all over his head, indicating he must’ve been asleep, which makes Will feel bad for waking him.
“Will, what happened?”
He stops dead in his tracks as he notices the condition of Will’s face. His own eyes start welling up, as if to match his best friend. Will’s lower lip trembles, as he recognises the tone of voice used, the one that Mike chooses only with him.
“M-my dad, he-”
Will is cut off by his own sobs, coming deep from his throat. Mrs Wheeler looks at them, seemingly choosing the right words not to scare Will even more than he already is.
“Will, I need to clean your face up, okay, sweetheart?”
Will nods at this, his eyes speaking for him, the infinite amount of thankfulness written all over his face. He rolls his sleeves over his fists and scoops closer to Mike, his body warmth automatically calming Will down.
“Mike, please, go upstairs and get Will some dry clothes to sleep in, he’s staying with us tonight.”
Her son squeezes his hand once more and immediately stands up.
Will wishes Mike was beside him, when Mrs Wheeler cleans up his wound, pouring painful fluid on his face and putting a plaster over it.
He wishes Mike was beside him, when she gets a call from Will’s mom asking if her son is with them, saying that his dad is never coming back again and thanking Mrs Wheeler for taking care of Will.
Mike is beside him, when Will is changing his clothes, throwing out his torn up ones. The overwhelming feeling of relief spreads all over his small body when he puts on warm socks and picks up a dry pyjamas top.
Mike is beside him, when Will inevitably pulls off his soaked t-shirt, revealing countless old bruises, covering most of his upper body.
“Oh, Will.”
The boy flinches, expecting his best friend to turn away, not wanting to look at the mess that Will is at his only seven year of age. Not willing to deal with everything that comes with leaving Will in his life, which, as heartbreaking as it would be, is a perfectly understandable reaction.
“He will never, ever put his hands on you again. I’ll protect you for as long as I’m alive.”
That’s it. Just like that, Mike is beside him again, pulling Will into a well-needed hug, letting him cry all of his pain out, letting him cry over a parent he’s lost a long time ago, or maybe never had at all. Will loves him so much, he thinks it’s clouding over his sadness.
Will is seven years old, when he learns that sometimes love is unconditional.
---
Will is eight years old, sitting at a school desk, Mike right beside him. They’re waiting for their teacher to officially start their year on the first day of September. Their fingers are intertwined under the wooden surface, the boys still naive enough not to have been infected by the horrible words that remind Will of his father.
When Mr Clarke finally arrives, he doesn’t step into the classroom alone. He has two boys walking behind him, who look about as scared as Will was before Mike found him on the swings.
“Welcome to your second year of school, kids!” Mr Clarke smiles before turning to the two apparently new students. “Say hello to your new classmates, everyone. This is Lucas Sinclair.”
The black boy smiles insecurely, eyeing the crowd of new faces, the crowd eyeing him right back.
“And this is Dustin Henderson. I hope you’ll all treat them kindly; as for now, both of you can sit behind Will and Mike, they’ll show you around.”
Will suddenly feels intimidated, not used to talking to new people and not quite sure how to start a conversation with the boys, who are now approaching his desk. He relaxes a bit, when he feels Mike squeeze his hand, the other boy always noticing changes in Will’s mood. He waves at Lucas and Dustin with his free hand, slightly smiling, as they sit down. At this, one of the boys grins widely, proudly showing the lack of his front teeth. It makes Will chuckle, which gains a smile from Mike, who follows him right ahead, as if the incomers have just somehow earned his approval. Will suspects that his best friend just trusts his judgement, supporting him in any decision he makes.
“I’m Will and this is Mike.”
He introduces them, all in all unnecessarily, as his teacher has already done it. He still thinks that he should, though. Manners and all.
“I’m Lucas. It’s cool to meet someone nice right away.”
They grin at each other. Will is very happy his teacher decided to sit them together. Lucas and Dustin seem different from the other kids in their class, they seem much less scary.
“I’m Dustin. Do you wanna hang out after school?”
He smiles wide open once again, his face reminds Will of a happy frog. He opens his mouth to answer, but Mike runs him to it.
“Sounds great, but me and Will are all set for a D&D campaign tonight, maybe tomorrow?”
Will, for the countless time, feels thankful for Mike and his knowledge of how incapable of saying ‘no’ his best friend is. He wants to hang out with Lucas and Dustin, though. He wishes they’d play D&D so he could ask them to join, but he’s never seen any other kid interested in the game. Their new friends probably prefer football, too.
“No way! You play D&D? Me and Lucas haven’t managed to find any partners. I thought nobody else our age does it! Do you wanna plan a campaign together, we could include dragons and-”
Will sort of feels dizzy from the amount of words that Dustin is apparently capable of shooting out within five seconds, not even caring for his evident lisping, too excited to try pronouncing things slowly.
“Yeah, you should join us, right, Will?”
Mike seeks out his opinion before fully making the invitation. Will warms up inside at the recognition of the soft voice Mike’s been using for the past three years. It seems to be only reserved for him, as if he’s put in a special place in Mike’s mind, on a completely different pedestal than anyone.
He nods his head to answer his best friend.
“Yes, it would be super cool if you could come to my house after school. We can make hot chocolate too!”
Will smiles, receiving three almost identical smiles back. Only one of them slightly differs and as he looks at Mike, he realises why. Mike seems to be smiling at him not only with his mouth, his eyes are somehow smiling at Will too, the boy could mistake them for the Sun, if not for the bottomless brown that is now the only thing in his vision. He isn’t sure how one’s grin can show on their entire face, but it’s undeniable that it’s exactly Mike’s case right now.
“We should call ourselves the Party.”
Will is eight years old, when he finds himself thankful for his three friends.
---
Will is nine years old, all dressed up and impatiently waiting for his best friend to come. Mike isn’t late, he still has about five minutes left, but Will is getting worried. It’s not like Mike to show up to their birthday party later than fifteen minutes beforehand.
And yes, they have had shared birthday parties ever since they met or, more accurately, ever since their mothers found out that their birthdays are only two weeks apart. Will and Mike have always first given each other gifts on the thirty first of March and then, a day later, thrown a joint birthday party. It’s something Will always looks forward to, spending the days before trying to figure out the perfect gift for Mike, trying to outdo himself every year.
It’s what Mike deserves for always staying by his side. Will cannot imagine his life without the other boy. It’s not like Mike comes to Will empty-handed anyway. No matter how many times Will insists that what Mike does for him everyday is much more than enough of a birthday gift, the other boy never fails to make him tear up with the sightfulness he puts into the presents.
This year he gave Will a full pack of new crayons, pencils, paints and brushes; one of those that Will was used to admiring only through shopping windows, dreaming that one day his family would have enough money to get it. His mom would always kiss his forehead, whispering how sorry she is but maybe one day. Mike must’ve seen him glare at it once on their way to school and decided that Will is worth spending a fortune on. Mike obviously tried to brush it off, because it’s his mom, who really bought it, he only chose the gift. It didn’t work, of course. Even the thought of that day makes Will tear up with the love that he has for his best friend.
He can’t believe how lucky he is, how thankful that the universe saw him struggle as a five year old and as an apology gift threw Mike Wheeler into his life. Mike Wheeler, who’s refused to leave Will’s side, who’s worked through all of his issues, who’s managed to convince him that he doesn’t have to look at the world in conditionals.
Will’s gift wasn’t as expensive. He wishes he had money, he would buy Mike everything he ever looks at with even a start of a smile. He doesn't, sadly, so he settled on giving him something he made, trying to put his entire heart on paper, along with everything he thinks about his best friend.
His doubts disappeared, when Mike unrolled the drawing, an awkward attempt of portraying the two of them. His eyes were so bright, they could outshine every star in the night sky above them, it doesn’t matter that Will does not exactly know the number of them. He’s sure they can’t compare to Mike’s smile. The next thing he knew were Mike’s long arms eloping him in an embrace and quiet ‘thank you so much, Will, this is the best gift you could ever get me, I’m keeping it forever and hanging on my wall.’
Today, of course, two of his other best friends are invited too. For the first time in the history of Mike and Will’s birthday, they’re going to spend it in four, two more guests than every year before. Will can’t wait for all of them to show up so that they can wear plastic crowns, matching the exact one that Will has on his head right now. Finally, he hears the door creak and seven pairs of footsteps approach him.
“Happy birthday, Will.”
He hears a unison of voices and when he looks up, he sees his mom, Jonathan, Mike, Lucas and Dustin smiling brightly at him over a cake held by Mrs Wheeler and Mike’s older sister, Nancy. Will immediately gets up and all but throws himself onto Mike, burying his head in the crook of his neck, just like he always does.
“Happy birthday to you, too, Mike. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“How could I not be? I wouldn’t cancel on you for anything.”
Mike softens his voice and all but frowns, unsure why Will would ever doubt him.
“I’ve been here for the past twenty minutes, we were helping with the cake.”
Will pulls away and smiles at him, putting two fingers on Mike’s forehead to straighten up the frown. It makes Mike laugh, it’s a sound that goes right to Will’s chest, stays locked right between his heart and his soulmark.
“What’s up with Mike’s voice? He has like this switch when he talks to Will, you get me?”
Will hears Dustin ask Lucas somewhere near them, but he couldn’t really care, not when Mike’s laughter is the only thing filling his ears. Maybe if Will had it in himself to focus on anything else, he’d hear both Jonathan and Lucas answer at the same time.
“We don’t know, he’s always done it with him.”
The only thing he registers next, are three pairs of arms wrapping over him and Will thinks he couldn’t possibly be any happier.
Will is nine years old, when he thinks the universe might have finally changed its mind about his fate.
---
Will is ten years old, simply sitting in the grass with Mike’s head in his lap.
Will’s hands are in Mike’s hair, playing with it and making a small plait from time to time. His best friend’s eyes are closed, as he’s enjoying the last warm days of the year. Will looks at him like he’s his whole world, admires how calm and beautiful he is. He thinks about asking a question that’s been bothering him, unsure if it isn’t too much of a touchy topic. However, Mike’s told Will repeatedly throughout the years that he can talk to him about anything, that he can always come to him, no matter what. So Will poses the question quietly, lowering his voice not to be overheard by Dustin and Lucas. The other two are currently laying next to each other, about two metres away from them, bickering lightly over some movie.
“Do you think you know your soulmate?”
Will immediately wants to backtrack and apologise, as he feels movement under his hands. Mike’s eyes are now wide open, scanning his face. Of course, he notices the regret written all over Will, he’s always been good at reading him like an open book. Mike’s gaze softens, as he puts his head back on Will’s knees, letting his hands wander into his hair again. Mike keeps his eyes open, fully focused on Will.
“Honestly, I have no clue. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my soulmate. If it’s someone else, they can go to hell.”
Will grins at him, his entire face screaming ‘me, too’. He can’t imagine loving someone more than he loves Mike. He’s heard some soulmates are unmatched, anyway. He doesn’t have to change his life for someone he may not even know, he isn’t going to trade this for anything.
“What’s your soulmark say, anyway? I know it’s still silver, but you must’ve caught a glimpse some time.”
Will stills at the question, his body language doesn’t go unnoticed. Mike is ready to apologise and comfort him. Will is better than his fears. This time he decides it’s time to be braver.
“Uh, I don’t really know, the only time I dared to look at it was when I got it, at six. My dad got really mad over it and called me, um, a fag-”
Will’s breath sharpens, as he tries not not to flinch at the memory. Mike switches them, so that it’s Will with his head in Mike’s lap, his best friend’s arms wrapped around him.
“I’m sorry I asked, I shouldn’t have. It’s none of my business anyway.”
Will shakes his head, trying to interrupt, but Mike’s grip on him only tightens, letting him know he’s not finished. If possible, his voice is even softer the second time he speaks up, bringing Will more comfort than he deserves.
“But, Will, it doesn’t matter what your soulmate says. Your dad is a horrible person and he had no right to call you anything mean, like, ever. Nobody does. I’d kick his ass any day.”
Will laughs, thanking God and anything else that can hear him for putting this boy in his life. He wishes he could see Mike with boxing gloves on a ring with his drunken father.
“Thank you. I love you.”
Mike only smiles at him and Will attempts to stop his heart from breaking, when he doesn’t say it back. He never does, these days. They lost these words somewhere between their last joint birthday and the new school year. But it’s okay. It really is, because Will still knows that Mike loves him, he shows it with everything he does, even if the laughter of some of their classmates stuck with him. Will doesn’t remember the last time they held hands, not since some group of boys called them ‘fairy lovers’ several months ago. Will tries to break the suffocating silence.
“It’s something about girls anyway. I don’t wanna deal with it til I have to, when they turn black. What’s yours?”
He’s curious, he can admit it. He has the right to be, it’s not like they’ve ever discussed it before.
“It says that I’m the heart. Just this and my name on it. Funny, huh?”
Will’s heart bursts open because, of course, Mike is the heart. He’s his heart.
“Your soulmate must be a real romantic.”
Mike doesn’t get to answer, as they hear a click of a camera and, as they turn their heads, see Jonathan in front of them. He’s already flipping his device to let all four of them see the results, as the other two of their friends came closer in the meantime.
“It’s your first official picture of the Party. All of you together.”
Lucas looks at Will’s brother in awe, as if he can’t quite get over how perfect the photo is. Dustin shoots him a collective ‘thank you’.
“I think I should start giving Mrs Wheeler some copies. She should have some photos of her son smiling and I’ve only managed to capture it with Will. She might have to deal with two sons.”
He shrugs before taking off to print out the picture and Will can’t stop replaying his words in his head.
Will is ten years old, when he realises that loving someone and being in love with them are two different things and yet, somehow, Mike Wheeler is the target of both of them for him.
—
Will is eleven years old, settled comfortably in Mike’s room, crayons and some paper on the table in front of him. He’s half-drawing some sort of a dragon, he’s not sure what it’s supposed to be now. He’s more focused on the babbling three year old sitting in his lap, with a blue crayon in her hand. She’s been here for the past two hours, stubbornly insisting on helping her Will.
She even managed to convince Nancy not to put her to bed, twice. It’s pretty impressive, if Will thinks about it. He’s almost sure Nancy knows more words than her.
“Good job, Holly!”
He strikes a high five with her, as the child giggles. Will is so enamoured, she’s adorable. He wishes he could stay like this forever, in Mike’s house, with his older sister watching over them, as his younger sister helps him improve his drawing skills. Where is Mike, anyway? A long time ago Will got permission from all the family members to come by whenever he’d like to with no need to ask beforehand.
Today, he came here right after lunch but he’snot sure how long it’s been since he went down to the basement, all covered in his art, by the way, the timeline of which is raging through about five years. He can’t believe Mike’s put it all up, he’s almost embarrassed looking at some of his old drawings. He tried to convince Mike to take the worst ones down, even offering to make him more in their places, but Mike stubbornly refused every time, claiming that it's a part of who he is, so, no way.
He would like to see Holly and Mike try to outtalk each other. It must be very entertaining to watch, a three year old with the same obstinacy as an eleven year old and an eleven year old with a mental age of a three year old.
“Mikeyyy!”
He hears Holly exclaim as she shuffles from his lap, hurrying to the hallway door. Will turns his back and yes, there he is. Mike’s standing there, leaning in the doorframe, watching him with soft eyes, as he gently picks up his little sister.
“Hollyyy I told you to stop calling me that, it’s embarrassing.”
Mike scrunches his nose with something of a mix of annoyance and affection, as he whines. Will just laughs, looking at Mike right back, he’s sure his face is betraying his adoration, as they speak.
“How long have you been standing there, traitor?”
It’s more of a smile than a sentence of words, really. Will can’t focus on anything that’s not the feeling of being completely and irrevocably in love with Mike. Even though he’s still only a kid, he’s pretty sure that’s what it is. There is no other word that fits.
“Uh, about fifteen minutes. Was hard to keep my eyes off of you, you’re great with kids. She loves you.”
As if he needs confirmation, Holly starts babbling about helping Will with drawing because he’s her favourite. That surprises Will a bit, he’s not sure what to say.
“What do you mean ‘favourite’? Favourite what?”
“Just favourite. In general.”
The way Mike looks at his sister right now could melt ice mountains, love and appreciation all over his eyes. Then, not changing the look one bit, he averts his eyes to Will, his tone getting softer.
“Yeah, me too. You’re my favourite too, Will. In general.”
Will is eleven years old, when he feels his heart burst out with love, not realising it’s his last happy year.
---
Will is twelve years old, laying down in his hospital gown, barely able to move a finger on the hospital bed.
Every time he closes his eyes, he can see the bluish shades of the Upside Down, can hear all the awful sounds that surrounded him for a week. A week during which everyone apparently thought he was dead. Everyone but his mom and Mike.
Mike, who’s currently sitting by his bed, not letting go of his hand for a second. Even as he’s curled into a ball and sound asleep, he still holds Will’s hand like his lifeline. Will suspects he hasn’t got any sleep since he went missing, his heart aches every time he thinks about how much he’s put his friends through. He’s tried to communicate as hard as he could, grateful for having learnt the morse code a few years back, the only thing his father was useful for. It had the advantage of communicating with his mom at the dinner table but not alerting Lonnie too much, only making him mildly annoyed with the tapping sounds.
Will thinks about how awful it must have been for all of them, Mike especially, to have witnessed, supposedly, his body being pulled out of the lake. He tries to avert his mind by switching to the memory of seeing Mike for the first time after this week, when Hopper brought him to a hospital. It’s been two days since then and Mike hasn’t left his side for a moment. Of course, everyone else came too, his mom camping by his bed almost just as much, Lucas and Dustin showing up twice a day. But Mike isn’t taking turns, he just stays there, no matter who else comes to visit.
Will is pretty sure the nurses had to bend some rules for him to literally sleep there, but he’s not surprised, not really. He has not met one person able to convince Mike Wheeler to change his mind.
Since he got admitted, Will has been mostly sleeping and trying to build his body temperature and nutrition back up. In those short moments of awakeness, he tried to catch up on everything he’s missed out on. He should really thank Eleven, whoever she might be. She’s the one who brought Will back, connecting with him through some kind of a portal. Will’s still not sure about the specifics. At least that’s what Dustin said, laughing about how much Mike disliked her at first, simply because he did not care for anybody who wasn’t Will. Will is pretty sure he’s wrong, though. Eleven may have proven that he’s alive but it’s Mike, who’s the reason why. Him and his mom.
Will is convinced that if either of them loved him any less, he wouldn’t be laying here, malnourished and traumatised but still breathing. He will still thank Eleven, or El, as everyone calls her now, as soon as he can. But apparently, now she’s the one missing. Will would give it more thought, but his mind goes out the window, when Mike intertwines their fingers and softly brushes his hand without even opening his eyes.
“Hi, Will.”
Just the fact that Mike’s here, breathing and with a heartbeat, relaxes Will. Mike puts his hand on Will’s heart, making sure he’s alive, he’s here, he’s with him. Will simply puts his own hand over Mike’s.
Will is twelve years old, when he comes back from the dead.
—
Will is thirteen years old, his thoughts spiralling, as he tries not to go completely looney. He keeps coming in and out of consciousness, the only one seeming to get through him being Mike.
Of course it is. Will would recognise him blindfolded and with his ears covered, being able to spot the different shift of energy in the room, when he enters.
It first starts on Halloween, Will can’t shake off the nightmares that keep reentering his dreams, Demogorgons consuming his entire mind at all times - asleep or awake. In the beginning, he doesn’t dare to tell anyone about it - it’s nothing, after all. It’s not like his loved ones haven’t been through more than enough during his disappearance, he can handle a few bad dreams.
But then, then it all starts slowly seeping into Will’s reality to the point, when he’s not sure what’s real and what’s only his disturbed mind’s imagination. He feels like he’s going insane, his night visions feeling more and more like the truth. That’s when he decides to tell Mike. Mike who’s been asking him constantly if he’s okay,
Mike, who’s been checking up on him as often as he can without looking like his own mother.
Mike, who is the only person, who, despite his constant worrying about him, doesn’t treat Will like a glass, ready to break, when you touch it not gently enough. He’s the only one, who manages to find the balance between protecting Will from slipping away right back to the Upside Down and still treating him like a person, like his best friend who he’s known for nine years.
Mike, who took him home, after he almost ruined their trick-or-treating, who didn’t stay with Lucas and Dustin and chose to comfort his best friend instead.
“It’s-it’s like I’m stuck.”
This is the closest he can get to describing the feeling, he can’t think of any better words to express it with. He just hopes Mike will understand him, just like he always does.
“Like-like in the Upside Down?”
Mike looks at Will, his voice softened, his eyes filled with worry. I love you, thinks Will. Anyone else would have given up on him a long time ago, not being able to stand the constant pain that Will seems to be putting everyone through, but not Mike. He’s just sitting there, letting their shoulders bump together, waiting for Will to gather his words.
“You know on the View Master-”
Will explains everything to him, telling Mike how he’s just constantly in the middle, standing in between two walls, one of this world and the other one hunting him since he was barely twelve.
“Just, please, don’t tell the others, okay? They wouldn’t understand.”
“Eleven would. She always did.”
Oh. Will shouldn’t feel as bad as he does right now. She did play a big role in saving his life, after all. He just can’t help but feel like Mike is slipping away from him, slowly distancing from Will, which, of course, he has the right to do. They’re thirteen, for god’s sake. It’s natural for kids their age to have girl crushes, to care about them more than their best friends. It’s not Mike’s fault that Will can’t bring himself to do the same.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.”
He realises Mike says, looking at him with pleading eyes. Will can’t comfort him right now, not when he’s trying to simultaneously keep his right mind and his best friend with him, so he just settles for:
“Me, too.”
He hopes Mike will get it, that he’ll understand how broken Will is, how his crazy is different from Mike’s crazy. He hopes he’ll see how much of a burden Will is, how pointless it is to stay by his side instead of living his own life. It’s not what Will wants, of course, he’d bury himself and build a house in Mike Wheeler’s arms, if it were up to him. It is, however, the right thing to do. To let Mike go, even if it ends up killing Will. He does not care for himself that much anyway, he still can’t understand why Mike basically broke out a rebellion, when Will light-signalised to close the gate, to lock him inside along with all the horrors of the Upside Down back in ‘83. They should have done it, left him there, maybe then he wouldn’t have to be watching his friends sacrifice their lives for him instead of actually living them. Mike doesn’t get it. Or maybe he does, maybe he understands what Will is trying to say, but, like always, he sticks to his guns.
“Hey, well, if we're both going crazy, then we'll go crazy together, right?”
Will is so, so thankful for him, for his link keeping him from going completely over the edge.
“Yeah, crazy together.”
Will chuckles, when Mike puts his hand on his, indicating that he’s not willing to let Will go, he’ll stay with him even if it means joining him in his insanity.
Will is thirteen years old, when he stops being lonely.
—
Will is still thirteen years old, when he gets sucked up back to the Upside Down, this time much worse. Because this time, this time it’s not just that his friends are looking for him. This time his friends are standing around him along with his mom and Hopper, watching him get possessed by a creature from another dimension. Watching him become a spy for the other side. And he can’t do anything about it. He’s not sure there’s any of the actual him left in his body, his mouth repeatedly screaming ‘let me go’.
Only two voices get through to him, the first being his mom, telling him how much she loves him and reminding him about one of the best birthdays he’s ever had. Will isn’t sure how he deserved her, how she manages to stick by him through the worst, day by day watching her son slowly turn into someone she doesn’t know. He loves her so much.
The next one is Mike. Even almost completely out of his mind, his existence pulled away, stuck in the back of his head, as something else takes control of his body, even then Will manages to fight it back, to slip just enough of his consciousness to show Mike that he’s there. That he’ll always listen to him, whatever he has to say. His best friend is relieved to see that Will is still there, somewhere, that he hasn’t been completely wiped out. It gives Mike courage to talk.
“Do you remember the first day that we met? It was-it was the first day of kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends and I just felt so alone and so scared but-”
Will realises that Mike is crying. He’s sniffing loudly but he does not care enough to wipe away the tears.
Will has seen Mike cry only a handful of times, it’s usually him being the emotional one, he’s the one who needs to be comforted whenever someone slightly raises their voice, my god, he’s such a crybaby. Mike, on the other hand, always hated crying, saying it makes him look weak. Will has a vague suspicion that it was his dad, who put this idea in his head and he’d like to have a few words with him about it, some time. But in this moment, Mike is not only crying, he’s crying in front of a bunch of other people, only focused on making Will better and, my god, Will would die for him. He tries to open his mouth to comfort him, but he only has enough strength to show that he’s listening. Engaging takes too much effort and Will is exhausted. So, he listens.
“I asked if you wanted to be my friend. And you said yes. You said yes. It was the best thing I’ve ever done.”
Saying yes was the best thing I’ve ever done, Will thinks.
He hopes Mike knows it anyway, because he just can’t seem to utter any words, for fuck’s sake. He just hopes Mike knows him well enough to see right through him.
Will is thirteen years old, when he sees the best person in his life cry over him.
---
Will is thirteen years old, he’s exhausted, traumatised and scared. He’s mostly just being dramatic, to be honest, because what’s so scary about a school ball? After everything he’s been through, you’d think dancing with one girl for the sake of it all is not that bad.
Yeah, he thought so too. Until it actually happened.
Until a girl came up to him to ask the Zombie Boy to dance.
Will fucking hates this nickname. Will fucking hates it all, if he’s being honest. But most of all, Will fucking hates how Mike encouraged him, telling him to go with her, how he pushed him towards her. He absolutely fucking hates how Mike doesn’t see that he’s breaking Will’s heart, shoving all his stupid childish ideas about them being soulmates down the darkest well he can find in his mind.
Because that’s when El comes in. She looks, honest to god, beautiful, in her dress, with her hair let loose and Will can’t even bring himself to despise her, because she didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t force Will to fall foolishly in love with Mike, she didn’t force Mike not to fall in love with Wall. She didn’t force Mike to be her soulmate, which he clearly is.
His heart finally splits in half, when Mike comes up to her and they kiss, right there, right in the middle of the dancefloor. He bitterly wishes it were him instead, knowing damn well he will never get to.
Will can’t hear anything over the sound of his heart being cut open, over his soulmark splitting open as well. But, to be fair, this one may be only an imagination. Will can’t really tell, his whole body hurts, when he looks at the pair. He suddenly can’t hear anything, his ears full of blood, he’s sure must’ve come from his heart bleeding wide open in his chest.
He can’t hear another heart having been broken, having stayed on the chair, where Mike watched him dance with a girl, looking at him with pleading eyes.
It doesn’t matter, not when Mike has found his soulmate. Not when it’s not Will, no matter the stupid little promises they made at ten. Mike’s slipping away from him and Will has no choice but to witness.
Will is thirteen years old, when he loses his faith in soulmates, realising that even though Mike doesn’t love him, Will won’t be able to ever stop loving him.
—
Will is fourteen years old, helpless and with nobody to turn to. He knows that the Mind Flyer is back. He feels him through the connection left is his body from when he got possessed. He knows it and he still doesn’t tell anyone.
Who would he tell, anyway?
Mike? Who’s been ditching him all summer to stay in Hopper’s cabin and make out with Eleven? He doesn’t even see him very often these days, not really. Not when his girlfriend is the only one on his mind. Not when Eleven isn’t allowed to leave the cabin, hence Mike not leaving it too.
Dustin? Who’s too busy either trying to contact his mythical girlfriend through a set up radio, which Will helped to invent, by the way, or sneaking around with Steve and Robin, his two cool new older friends, doing god only knows what? Certainly not talking to Will.
Lucas? Who’s, surprise, surprise, also too busy with his girlfriend to even care about anything else? No, not really. Will is taking it back here. Lucas is actually the only one of his friends he has nothing against. He’s a good friend, yes, he’s hanging out with his girlfriend more often than not, but who can blame him? Max has had a tough life too, Mike certainly not making it easier by instantly deciding to hate her for some unknown reason. It took a long time (and Will telling Mike to act his goddamn age) to get him to even accept her as someone who’ll stick around.
The last person he wants to worry is his mom, not with everything that’s been going on, not when she’s lost Bob and almost lost his son, twice.
So Will stays quiet. It’s him who the Upside Down is after anyway. The time stopped there in 1983, the same day that Will went missing, got sucked into another dimension. It’s him who started it and it’s him it’s going to take, there is no reason to bring his friends into it. Will gets used to being left alone with his thoughts.
And then Eleven breaks up with Mike, taking Max’s advice to do so, to learn who she is without him. Then Mike barges back into his life and not only that, but also demands that Will comforts him after having been dumped.
Well, he must be cursed. Or stupid. Probably both. Because for some goddamn reason, he decides to do so, to stay with Mike and listen to his whines about Max putting bullshit into El’s head.
Will wants to scream. He wants to tear his hair out, or, more preferably Mike’s. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, he instead forces himself to utter ‘she’ll come back’ and closes his eyes, not wanting any of the guys to see tears under his eyelids. Mike annoys him to no end, he’s not even upset about being broken up with, he’s upset that he doesn’t get to control El, not anymore. And it makes Will fucking insane.
Oh, yeah, too bad your girlfriend wants to discover who she is, after having spent the first twelve years of her life locked in a lab, after the guy who taught her the basic grammar kissed her. Too fucking bad she doesn’t know who she is. Get over yourself.
But Will doesn’t say any of it, he just watches Mike spiral into self pity and hopes he’ll stop some time before Will’s soulmark completely burns right through his skin and sticks to his heart, marking him as the one one-sidedly in love with his best friend. As if Will didn’t know.
Will is fourteen years old, when he finds out that a one-sided friendship is much worse than a one-sided love.
---
Will is fourteen years old, his head dizzy and aching. The look on his face has to portray the overwhelming betrayal that he feels, Mike’s words hurting every part of his body.
“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”
He screamed, right into Will’s face, making his heart split open for three reasons.
The first one, childish, completely unreasonable: Mike raised his voice at him. Will shouldn’t feel as hurt as he does, but it’s just something that Mike’s never done before. Cross it, Mike has never let anyone raise their voice at Will. Even when they argued, he always stuck to his “Will voice”, as Lucas and Dustin called it, trying not to scare Will off.
The second one, much more horrifying, hits him so hard, Will stumbles a few feet back. Mike found the most hurtful string of words he could, thought it through and spit it into Will’s face. The one thing Mike had always fought - the bullies, Will’s own father, for god’s sake. Will can’t believe this is the same boy who comforted him after learning about Will’s home life. He can’t believe it’s the same boy who pushed Troy two years ago for calling Will a name. He can’t believe Mike, of all people, would use it against Will.
“Yeah. I guess I did. I really did.”
It’s the only thing Will manages to say before hopping onto his bike, riding away into the rain, ignoring Mike’s calls after him. Will doesn’t deserve to be called after.
The third reason makes Will’s collarbone itch in pain like he’s having something engraved into his body. It makes him pick up a bat lying inside Castle Byers, makes him hit everything he can see with it. Makes him take their Halloween photograph into his hands, rip it apart right between him and Mike. It makes him curl down in a corner, crying his eyes out over something he’ll never get back. Over someone who has never even been his.
Will is fourteen years old, when his soulmark words turn black. ‘It’s not my fault you don’t like girls’ undeniably written on his body.
—
Will is still fourteen years old, his heart breaking once again, when his mom tells him to say his last goodbyes before they move two thousand miles away. Two thousand miles away from his best friends, from everything he’s ever known. Move out taking El with them, taking her far away from Hawkins to keep her safe.
Will can’t help but blame her for his heartbreak. He knows, logically, she must be heartbroken too, leaving her friends, leaving her boyfriend behind. He knows, logically, he should feel bad for her.
He doesn’t. He can’t, not with his heart being ripped out of his chest once again, not when Will is promising Mike not to join another party, not to replace him.
As if.
It feels like he’s just gained his best friend and he can’t stand that it happens literal days before losing him again.
He can’t stand the undeniable fact that Mike is his soulmate, but he isn’t Mike’s. He can’t stand that he’ll be alone for the rest of his life, pining after the unmatched half of his mark.
Will hugs Lucas, Dustin, even Max, his eyes starting to well up, when he fully realises he’s actually moving away. He takes a deep breath before turning to Mike, knowing he’ll break his heart again within seconds, expecting a goodbye and maybe a pat on the back.
But Mike hugs him. He does not only hug him, he puts his head on Will’s shoulder, letting him bury his own in the crook of his neck. It’s so much like the hugs they used to share as kids. Before everything got so goddamn complicated, before Will doomed himself by falling in love.
Will is fourteen years old, when he lets his soulmate go.
—
Will is almost fifteen years old, standing in the hallway, listening to a mailman telling him that no, he’s sorry but there’s nothing for him, while handling El her weekly letter. Mike’s letter.
One of those that he promised to send to Will, after almost begging him not to replace him.
He can’t even be mad at El, no matter how hard he tries to.
Throughout the past six months, she’s become more of his sister than anything else. Will’s genuinely happy to see her blossom, he’s happy to see her hair grow, to see her starting to express himself.
He wants to be mad at Mike, he really does. But he can’t. He can’t, because he knows that Mike owes him nothing. It’s no surprise he’s reaching out to his girlfriend, he’s most likely soulmate. It’s no surprise he’s not reaching out to Will, they’re not together, no matter how hard he tries to reinvent reality.
Will isn’t sure if he can even still call them best friends, after Mike went no contact for half a year, after everything that happened last summer, nothing of which Mike has ever apologised for. After they haven’t been best friends, not really, not since Will stopped being goddamn possessed, not since Mike lashed out on him for not having grown up throughout the two years when they did, when Will was out, having no time to do anything else than pray and cry.
Will doesn’t flinch when El tells them at dinner that Mike is coming for spring break. He pretends not to notice Jonathan shooting him a glance, trying to check up on him. Even Mike can’t break a heart that’s already been split open.
Will excuses himself and goes to his room. He knows it’s pointless to hope. Nevertheless, he picks up his paints and a canva and starts. He pours himself out, putting everything he feels into it. Stupidly even drawing a heart on Mike. He wants to give it to Mike, when he comes, even if it’s the last thing he ever does.
He’s not Mike’s soulmate, but Will wants him to know that he’s his.
Will is almost fifteen years old, when his heart finally stops breaking, already lying there in bleeding ruins.
—
Will is fifteen years old, standing on the airport, looking for his best friend with eyes full of hope, nervous to see his reaction to the painting he’s gonna give him. He doesn’t give Mike the painting, he doesn’t even exchange a word with him. Will doesn’t even get a stupid i-havent-seen-you-in-six-months hug. All he gets is a pat on the back and ignorance. His whole existence shadowed over by El, whose side Mike doesn’t leave, who makes Will tag along for their obvious date.
Like Will doesn’t have better things to do than third wheel, watching his soulmate kiss his own.
Will tags along. It can't be worse than it already is, right?
He’s proven wrong.
He’s actually proven wrong several times in the span of less than an hour.
He’s proven wrong, when Mike refuses to acknowledge him for the entirety of the date.
He’s proven wrong, when Mike accuses him of moping around and being miserable. Which, very true, by the way. But what did he expect Will to be? Fucking thankful for being ignored on his birthday? For not having been wished anything good by anyone other than his mom?
Oh, yeah. It’s March twenty two.
Happy birthday to him.
Will is finally proven wrong, when Mikes straightforwardly tells him he can’t compare himself to his girlfriend, that they’re nothing more than friends. As if Will isn’t painfully aware of it. As if he hasn’t been aware of that for the past year.
It’s nothing new, so it doesn’t hurt. Will doesn’t even flinch at his soulmate yelling at him for ruining his day. Which, he’s pretty proud of, by the way. Will from a year ago would already have tears falling down his face. But he isn’t Will from a year ago. Will from a year ago doesn’t know what this Will knows.
What hurts, however, is the lack of ‘best’ in Mike’s accusation. It hurts, awfully, but Will knows he’s wrong.
They’re not friends anymore.
Will is fifteen years old, when he realises nobody cares about him enough to celebrate that he’s still alive.
—
Will is still fifteen years old, sitting in the back of a fucking van, with his stoned brother in front of him and his friend, or maybe best friend, to his left.
Will doesn’t even know what to call them. Mike might have apologised to Will for being an asshole, might’ve told him how much he misses him, how Hawkins just isn’t Hawkins without Will. How they should be best friends again.
Yeah, he might’ve done all of that, but truthfully, Will can’t bring himself to believe that Mike cares about him. Not when the only times he’s come to Will first are all about El and their relationship problems. Not when he hasn’t shut up about how El doesn’t need him anymore, how nobody does, ever since they started the ride. Not when he’s been all but whining about how nobody but him cares for her, not even shooting Will once look in the mirror.
Will doesn’t know that Mike’s been sneaking glances at him whenever Will turns his head. Well, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.
What can, however hurt him, is listening to Mike speak. It hurts on both sides. It hurts that Mike believes nobody needs him. It hurts that he believes he’s the only one truly looking for El, putting himself on a pedestal above Will, above her actual brother, after all. Because that’s who they are. They’re siblings, they even look alike. Will loves El, of course, he does, how could he not? How could anybody not? God only knows she, most of them all, deserves loving surroundings, she’s been through hell worse than all of them together. He’s worried half to death over her, scared she’s gonna get hurt. How could Mike ever accuse him of not caring for her? So he does the only thing that comes to his mind. He picks up the painting.
“Can I-can I show you something?”
When Mike turns his face to him, Will feels like the Sun came up after a long, freezing, dark winter. His heart foolishly picks up at the faces Mike’s unknowingly making throughout Will’s entire speech, the number of glances below his lips driving Will to think Mike hasn’t heard one word from what he said, driving him insane. But, honestly, he already drove himself insane. He’s not even sure he hasn’t imagined all of this, he hasn’t just picked and chosen what his mind wants to receive.
“So yeah. She needs you. She always will.”
I need you. I always will.
“Yeah?”
Mike’s smile is evident in his voice, awfully similar to the one Will was used to hearing, the one reserved only for him. Not anymore. He needs to grow up.
“Yeah.”
He nods, feeling sick to his stomach, turning to the window and drowning in silent cries. Will puts his hand over his face to cover his embarrassing tears from the one person he’d once thought he’d never cry over.
Will doesn’t see Mike’s worried looks shot at him through the car mirror. He doesn’t see Jonathan trying as hard as he can to explode Mike with his mind, simultaneously keeping them on the road and not on the nearest tree.
Will is fifteen years old, when he just does not care.
---
Will is still fifteen years old, sitting on his knees next to Mike, looking at the horrifying view of his sister almost dying in the pizza place in a failed attempt to save Max from Vecna.
“Talk to her, Mike, you’re the heart! You’re the heart Mike!”
Will hears himself exclaim, not paying closer attention to his friend’s face, too afraid of what he may see on it. Too afraid he may not see anything but worry and love for his sister, he may not see the empathy that Mike should feel after picking up the pieces of Will’s heart, only to throw a hammer at them once again.
Too bad. Had he looked, he would’ve seen an exact mirror expression on Mike’s face. The same one residing on Will’s face. The same one that was on Mike’s face back in ‘82 at the spring ball. The same one Will’s been wearing since he learnt the identity of his soulmate.
Too bad he’s too focused on holding back the tears to remember a certain conversation they had as foolish ten year olds, this one time, when he learnt the contents of Mike’s soulmark.
Too bad he doesn’t notice the way Mike pulls at his forearm, as if a sentence is being engraved into his body.
Too bad Will doesn’t know Mike’s words just turned black. He doesn’t care to notice any of that, his attention focused on Mike, speaking now, trying to talk El out of his trance.
“I love you for exactly who you are!”
Will thinks his body is set on fire. It takes everything in him not to scream out in pain. But this isn’t about him, he already knew Mike’s in love with El. This isn’t about his selfish feelings. It’s about his sister. She deserves to hear it anyway. Will gathers all of his courage to get through the rest of the speech. To not flee the place like the fucking coward he is, to support El, when she needs it the most.
“I feel like my life started when we found you in the woods.”
Okay, this. Low blow. Will would put it in different words, if he could register anything but overwhelming pain that seems to replace his body cells. He doesn’t know which part of it is his body reacting to the final confirmation that his soulmate could not give two shits about him and which part is just his heart hearing that Mike doesn’t care about his life before meeting El. Like all Will’s best memories don’t exist. No, like he’s alone in them. Alone on the swing. Alone at the birthday party. Alone in the basement. Alone, alone, alone.
Will’s favourite memory stretches at the back of his eyes, reminding Will that nothing that Mike’s ever said to him was true. That the one thing that got Will through his possession was made up. That asking Will to be his friend meant nothing to Mike. Will meant nothing to Mike. Mike’s life hasn’t even started til the day after Will’s vanishing. Will gets up. He needs to get out of there.
He sees Mike pull El into his arms, as she wakes up. He doesn’t see him even notice that Will’s gone from his side.
He comes up to Jonathan, silently pleading to go with him. He does. Jonathan would absolutely die for Will if someone asked him to. Comforting him is the least he can do after choosing weed repeatedly over his hurting brother.
They sit down on the floor in front of the door. Will’s head falls onto Jonathan’s shoulder and he cries, cries and cries. The tears don’t seem to ever be stopping. His brother only pulls him closer with his right arm, pulling it around him.
“I know, I know.”
Will hears, it only makes him sob louder.
“I love you so much. No matter what. And I hate that stupid kid more and more every day.”
Will laughs wetly at that. He loves his brother right back. They stay like that, watching Will’s shielded love confession, that Mike turned around and shot at El, come back to break his heart.
Will is fifteen years old, when he takes himself out of Mike Wheeler’s life.
—
Will is still fifteen years old, but he feels much, much older. He feels like he’s already been through two or three lifetimes, the past four years having felt like eternity. But Will also feels like he’s five, like he’s about to cry over a missing toy, like he’s going to have an irrational, childish breakdown.
Which, god be his witness, he deserves. He deserved a proper childhood, an opportunity to be a kid that he should’ve been. An opportunity that’s been taken away from him, repeatedly, every year since he turned twelve, with no failure.
He hasn’t talked to Mike since they left the pizza place, not really. The last time they had a proper conversation was back in the cabin, back when Will had to break the news of the Mind Flyer not really being gone. Back when Mike put his hand on Will’s shoulder, back when he promised they were going to get through it together.
Yeah, sure. Maybe Will is a little bit bitter, sue him.
Maybe he wouldn’t be if he were able to recall one interaction between them, one since ‘83, one that wasn’t on the topic of Mike’s decaying relationship or the world literally fucking ending. Will doesn’t seem to mean any more to Mike than a cursed portal to the reality they’d all rather forget about. This and apparently, for some reason, just because the Universe seems to hate Will in general, apparently, a goddamn couple therapist.
So, yeah. He’s bitter.
Ever since they all came back to Hawkins, the journey to which not being the best memory, not with El refusing to talk to Mike, not with Mike constantly elbowing Will, like the stupid five year old he is, because Will refuses to even as much as look at him.
It’s for the best, though. He knows that Mike only cares because Will’s life’s in danger again and he’s their only decent chance at survival. Will wants the ground to swallow him whole. He wants to, he needs to die, he’s thought it all through, he’s aware of the connection between him and the Upside Down, he’s aware that he’s most likely Vecna’s next target. He doubts anyone cares enough to even know his favourite song. Even better.
Because with him, the Upside Down will die too. Death must certainly be better than anything he’s doing right now, anyway.
They’re all staying with the Wheelers, as his old house was sold a long time ago. Mike told everyone that Will should stay with him in his room, but Will just shook his head, refusing to look at or speak to Mike. He’s been doing it for a while.
Maybe there’s a certain time, when the look on Mike’s face will stop digging a hole in his heart.
Anyway, Will is staying in the basement, the once upon a time safe space, the place Will would spend most of his days in, happy to just be with Mike.
But now, now it just reminds him of his previous life, of the time he was happy, naive, the time when he thought Will is as much of a part of Mike’s life, as Mike’s his. He stuffles a cry before turning around, slightly taken aback when he hears quiet steps down the stairs. Who could it be?
It can’t be Mike, Will hasn’t looked at him for almost a week now and even though Mike Wheeler was the most stubborn person Will ever got to know, he wasn’t an idiot, well, most of the time he wasn’t. He took a hint and left Will alone, letting his self-pity swallow him whole, only sometimes sending heartbreaking looks at the dinner table. Will would always avert his gaze.
“Will?”
He hears, coming from a few metres in front of him. He tries to see through the darkness - it’s Holly, Mike’s little sister. She must be what, seven now? Oh, my god, she’s so grown up.
“Yeah?”
Will manages softly, easily opening his arms for her, as he sees tears falling down her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Had a nightmare. Sorry for waking you up. Mike just said you had them too, so I thought you’d understand.”
She hides her face in his neck, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt with her small hands and Will just holds her closer, letting her wet it.
“Yeah I do. I do. I’m glad you came here, I’m always here for you. But why didn’t you go to your mom?”
“Because you’re my favourite.”
She says simply, as if it’s the best clarification she can muster.
“You’re Mike’s favourite too.”
Will’s heart breaks right there. He used to think so, too.
“Uh, I doubt it, not anymore, maybe years ago.”
As devastating as it is, it’s the truth. Well, a half-truth, really. Will’s not sure he’s ever been Mike’s favourite, he’s not sure he’s ever even been a part of his life.
“Well, if you weren’t his favourite, he wouldn’t have a binder full of your art, would he?”
Holly says matter-of-factly, as if the sentence doesn’t smash through his skull, right into his brain, migrating with his blood, filling up his body. As if it doesn’t turn his entire world around. Will’s head hurts.
“He does?”
He asks dumbly, why would Mike do it?
“Yeah.”
Says Holly, before she yawns and starts straight up falling asleep in Will’s arms. He decides to lay her down on the couch, putting a blanket on her body. Will’s dizzy with confusion.
Will is fifteen years old, when his heart cracks back together, just a little bit.
— —
Will is fifteen years old, scratch it, he’s actually only a few hours older than he was before, he’s sitting down on the porch, looking at the sky, contemplating his life. He doesn’t immediately feel a figure behind him.
“Will, can we talk?”
Will closes his eyes before opening his mouth, trying to control his words and his tears. He doesn’t want to talk to Mike. He wishes he could just turn invisible instead. It hurts to even look at Mike, to see his eyes pleading, watch his face crumple in heartbreak, when Will doesn’t reply straight away.
“I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
That’s not a no, not an indefinite one. It’s not like Will has ever been able to say ‘no’ to Mike.
“What do you mean we don’t?” Mike frowns in confusion. “We haven’t spoken in what feels like weeks, you don’t even look at me anymore, Will!”
He all but yells, making Will flinch automatically and Mike’s lips immediately form into an apology. He doesn’t say it, though, he never does, not to Will.
“Do you not want to be best friends anymore?”
His tone is softer now, reminding Will of their younger years, but full of sadness, Mike’s tears can be tasted in every word. Will doesn’t have any more self control left.
“Don’t do that.”
He hisses. Mike is taken aback, startled by the bitterness in Will’s voice. Will really should stop talking, he should just leave it at that. He doesn’t.
“Stop trying to come into my life, every time you miss the childhood us. Stop treating me like a forgotten toy, tossed aside and played with every other day out of pity. We haven’t been best friends in a long time, maybe not ever, maybe not since your life started after mine ended.”
Mike’s face expresses only one emotion now: complete devastation. It shouldn’t make Will feel as satisfied as it does. He tries to ignore the ache in his chest, the feeling of being burnt alive - he’s pretty used to it now, these days. Apparently, his soulmate does nothing but cause him pain time after time.
And Will still loves him. God, Will must be a fucking idiot. He doesn’t let himself mourn after Mike, after someone, who was never his.
“And it’s okay, it really is, you just have to admit it. Maybe we were best friends once, all those years ago. We outgrew each other, maybe it was never supposed to last anyway.”
Can you hear it? It’s Will’s soulmark burning its contents into his heart, leaving behind a hole in the shape of Mike Wheeler.
“No, Will! You’re still my best friend. I don’t want us to end, I need you in my life.”
Mike sounds panicked, for some reason. Will doesn’t understand why Mike can’t just let him go, can’t seem to stop pulling on Will’s heart’s strings, stripping it naked and vulnerable.
“Mike.”
Will lowers his voice, his tears more audible than visible now.
“Sometimes you just have to rip off the band-aid.”
Will realises his poor choice of words a touch too late, not before he sees Mike’s eyes tell him he’s noticed the slip up too. Well, fuck his life. Mike’s eyes darken, his lips form into a venomous expression and Will wants Vecna to take him now.
“Yeah, Will, seems like you’ve done it well enough. Didn’t realise we’re lying to each other now.”
Will doesn’t know how to backtrack, how to turn back time to ten seconds before.
“I haven’t lied, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It’s a stupid thing to say, Will knows it. He can’t undo it now.
“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, again, Will. Thought you respected me more than this. Do I not deserve your honesty?”
Mike’s voice is different now, almost as malicious. He’s not screaming, not yet, he’s mocking Will, pulling and pulling at his heart. Will lets all of his self restraints go.
“You know what? You want the truth? I’ll tell you the truth!”
Mike’s taken aback by the volume of Will’s voice. Nevertheless, he looks at him expectantly.
“It was me. Me, who all of this came from. It’s me who needs you, me whose heart you are. Me, who keeps letting you come back to my life anytime you feel like it, because apparently I’m a fucking idiot. Me, who sees you as the only person not treating me like a mistake. Me, who keeps putting you above anyone else, even though you ditched me for a year to talk to your girlfriend!”
Will screams, he screams, feeling like he’s going to cough his lungs up, his pain almost turning into white smoke coming up his throat.
“Me and El broke up. We love each other but not like that.”
And, honestly, does Mike even think sometimes? As surprised as Will is at this, it doesn’t make anything better. It almost certainly only makes it worse, because if Mike isn’t even in love with El and he’s still put her above Will every time, then what does it mean for Will? He doesn’t want to think about it.
“How could you possibly think this is about El?”
Will snorts humourlessly, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve. He stoops lower, putting his hands on his knees, trying to stabilise himself. He doesn’t notice his t-shirt revealing a part of his chest.
But Mike does. Mike does.
Suddenly Will finds himself in his arms, Mike’s head atop of his, pulling him into a much needed hug. Will tries to fight back, tries to get away, but Mike doesn’t let him. He just stays there, still as a mountain and rocks Will back and forth to calm down his inevitable panic attack. It’s only ten minutes later, when Mike finally speaks up, not moving one finger in their position.
“Will.”
He says softly, using this tone, Will closes his eyes, but nods to show that he’s listening.
“I need you to know that you’re not a mistake. You’re not anything less than absolutely perfect and I know that I don’t say it enough, but I love you. I’m sorry you thought that I didn’t.”
Everybody has their limits. As patient as Will is, he’s just reached his. He rips their hug apart, standing up and turning his angry face to Mike.
“So what, you saw my soulmark and suddenly decided that you’re going to care for the poor fucking fairy, who’s unmatched with his soulmate, out of what? Sentiment?”
He has no idea where he’s stored all this anger, but it’s undeniably there, coming out in red lines.
“We’re not unmatched.”
Says Mike quietly, carefully taking a step in Will’s direction.
“What?”
Will’s dizzy, his world turned around, he’s sure he’s hallucinating.
“We’re not unmatched.”
Mike repeats, putting his hands on Will’s face, beaming at him. Mike pulls up his sleeve, revealing his own soulmark, all in black.
‘You’re the heart, Mike’ stares right back at Will, he’s not sure how, but it just does.
“I thought we were unmatched, because my words turned black back at the pizza place and I thought it’s you but then you kept pressuring me into telling El that I love her and I just-”
Mike takes a deep breath and connects their foreheads. He delicately puts both of his palms on Will’s cheeks, who puts his hands over Mike’s. They’re like ying-yang, Will’s hands cold and Mike’s warm, fitting together like two halves of one heart.
“I’ve been in love with you since I was six. I meant nothing more than when I told you that you’re the only one I want as my soulmate all those years ago.”
Will is sure that the volume of the world decreases at this moment, focuses only on Mike’s face, on his eyes and his lips and his cheekbones and-
“Tell me to stop.”
Says the world in front of him, slowly closing the distance between their mouths, stopping to utter once more.
“Please, Will, I need you to tell me to stop.”
But Will only shakes his head and ceases the last centimetres between them, finally tasting the flavour of love, of his soulmate. Mike’s lips open and he brings Will closer, putting his arm around him and Will’s sure he could die right here, right now.
And then Mike puts his hand on his soulmark.
Will is fifteen years old, when he believes that Mike is going to love him for the rest of his life.