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Do you remember when Will was possessed? Do you remember how he was forced to be a spy, forced to lead people to their death? What if it happened again, and what if nobody realized until it was too late.
Picture this: Mike’s crying. They’re not pretty tears, they’re the kind of tears that hurt your throat and make your lips chapped from snot. And maybe he should be embarrassed about that, but he’s not, because in that moment there’s only one thing that he cares about.
‘Will doesn’t know,’ he thinks. That’s the thought that’s bouncing around and around in his head, over and over again like a broken record. It’s deafening in its enormity.
The monsters and the upside down are back, and there’s a good chance that they might die tonight, and will doesn’t know.
(In kindergarten, back when Mike and Will were still mikeandwill, they made a pinky promise to each other that they’d always be ‘The Bestest of Friends in the Whole Wide World’, even when they got old and stupid- and now they’re older and stupider, and Will still doesn’t know).
Will doesn’t know that Mike’s wanted to be more than just best friends ever since they were nine years old (Will smiled a big smile at Mike to show him his missing tooth, and Mike was too young then to understand what all the fluttering in his stomach meant. He understands now).
Will doesn’t know how pretty his eyes are when they catch the sunlight (Mike does. Mike knows that Will’s eyes are gold and green and brown and a little bit of blue. Will’s eyes are as warm as the setting sun, and they’re beautiful, and-)
(Mike said that becoming friends with Will was the best thing that he’s ever done, but Will doesn’t know that he meant it).
Will doesn’t know about any of the 3 ring binders full of his drawings that are carefully stashed at the bottom of Mike’s closet, or the about the other shoebox full of them that’s tucked underneath his bed.
Will doesn’t know that Mike hates him, just a little, because no matter how hard he tries he can’t stop loving Will (and believe him, he’s tried).
Will doesn’t know that Mike can’t stop himself from being reminded of Will everytime he sees someone playing on a swingset, or drawing, or laughing with their friends. Will doesn’t know how many times Mike’s whispered ‘Mike Byers’ under his breath just to see how the words felt on his tongue. Will doesn’t know about the dreams that wake Mike up in the middle of the night, shameful and embarrassed. Will doesn’t know how much Mike wants to hold his hand.
Will doesn’t know just how much he doesn’t know, because Mike’s never told him.
Will doesn’t know how empty the world felt without him, after he moved to California, or how difficult it’s been for Mike to learn how to simply exist without him (Will doesn’t know that Mike already tried to stop, once, the first time Will was gone, when he threw himself off that fucking cliff-).
Mike can hear his dad’s voice in the back of his head; ‘It’s a sin, Michael. They’ll go to hell, sinners, all of them.’ (There was no anger in his tone when he said it, because Ted Wheeler is more casual with hatred than he’s ever been with love).
Today, though, that voice has been turned down to a low volume, inconsequential, because Will doesn’t know, and mike is not going to die before he tells him about- everything. He won’t. He can’t.
So picture this: it’s spring, 1986. The sound of a mourning dove cooing can be heard through the open windows of Hop’s cabin. Mike Wheeler, heart in his throat, says I love you to Will Byers.
Mike Wheeler says I love you to Will Byers, and when Vecna smiles back at him, it’s Will’s eyes that crinkle at the edges.
And what if, when vecna’s gone, Will remembers everything, but he never gots the chance to say I love you back before-