Chapter Text
Nine months. Nine months since Hawkins has been under total lockdown, shut down to the outside world, it might as well not even exist on the map if it weren’t for the reason it was shut down. News reporters and radio hosts all the way in California still speculate as to why Hawkins has been on lockdown for so long: a toxic leak? The gates of hell opened in a small town in Indiana? That’s basically the spectrum of speculation.
It’s also been nine months of the Byers and Wheelers living under the same roof, an excruciatingly long nine months for Mike Wheeler. Eight months ago, he and El officially broke up, and for a while, it felt like a relief, until he realized how useless and lonely he felt. He has no one to protect anymore, no one to rely on him, and it makes him feel like shit.
Something he didn’t understand, even worse than losing his girlfriend of 3 years, was losing his best friend of nearly 10.
Sure, Will isn’t his only friend, but Lucas spends every day and practically every night sitting by Max’s hospital bed, and Dustin… well, Dustin has just been distant ever since Eddie, which everyone in the party tries their best to respect. Nancy has Jonathan, and Will seems like he’d rather draw with Holly than even attempt to reconcile with Mike. It almost makes him feel… jealous?
“MIKE,” Nancy yells, snapping Mike out of his own thoughts. “You’re spilling coffee everywhere!” Mike looks down at his overflowing coffee cup and jumps back from the counter as the coffee pot slips from his hands, shattering on the floor. “God damnit” He yelps, bumping into Nancy as he avoids the shards of glass and spilled coffee. He hears his father from the other room chime in with his usual monotone voice, “Language.” Mike bites back a catty response and instead focuses on cleaning up the bits of broken glass littering the kitchen floor.
A voice he hasn’t heard in what feels like months speaks behind him, “Do you need any help?” Mike whips his head around to find Will standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, barely making eye contact with him. “Uh.. yeah, thanks,” Mike mutters, moving over as Will kneels beside him with a roll of paper towels to sop up the still-hot coffee.
Not another word is spoken as the two of them finish cleaning. Mike keeps glancing over at Will, hoping to read some sort of emotion on his face, but he’s unreadable. As soon as they’ve finished, Will gets up quietly, and Mike watches him walk to the next room and sit next to Holly. Only then does a smile crack across Will’s face. Mike frowns and abandons the idea of breakfast completely, the knot in his stomach making it apparent that even if he tried to eat, he wouldn’t be able to keep anything down.
His clock reads 9:00 when he hears a knock at his door. He puts down the X-Men comic he wasn’t really focused on. Expecting Nancy, he wrenches open the door, “Can’t you see the sign Na-” his eyes go wide when he realizes it’s Jonathan, “uh… sorry about that, I thought you were…”
Jonathan interrupts him, “Got any spare blankets? It’s freezing down in the basement.” Mike raises his eyebrows, surprised; he thought Jonathan had been sleeping with Nancy (obviously without his parents knowing). It took Mike about 5 more seconds to realize what was going on. Will wasn’t even willing to ask Mike for a couple of lousy blankets; that interaction from this morning wasn’t an opening to rekindle a dead friendship… it was stupid of Mike to think that.
“Mike?” Jonathan looks at him expectantly.
“Right.. Yeah, I’ve got extras.” He mutters under his breath.
Mike rummages through his closet and finds the blankets he used to keep there for when the party would sleepover when D&D games went too long. Blankets from when Will and Mike would stay up hours as kids, trying to build the best pillow fort. He hands them over to Jonathan, “Thanks, Mike.”
Mike nods and closes the door, standing there for a moment, thinking about following Jonathan down to the basement, down to Will. He stands there for around 5 minutes before shaking his head, turning off the lights, and going to bed.
The next morning, he’s woken up by Nancy pounding on the door, “MIKE! GET UP, OR I’M NOT DRIVING YOU TO SCHOOL.” Mike groans, rolling over to check the time: 7:00. Shit.
In five minutes, Mike has changed his clothes, brushed his teeth, and managed to get downstairs without forgetting his backpack. His mom hands him a bowl of cereal just as he finishes putting on his shoes. “Michael, there is one week until Christmas break. Can’t you at least try to be on time?”
“Sorry, Mom, my alarm hasn't been going off.” Nancy scoffs at Mike’s pathetic excuse. “Alright, let’s get going.” Nancy manages to round up the rest of the troops. It’s too cold for biking to school now, so Nancy has been the designated driver for the entirety of the household.
Holly gets dropped off first, and then it’s Nancy and Jonathan in the front seat while Mike and Will sit next to each other in an awkward silence. Robin’s voice can be heard faintly on the radio. “Hey, Nance, could you turn up the radio?” Will says, and Nancy happily obliges, probably thankful for something to break the awkward feeling that had settled over the car.
Mike was sitting in Mrs. Click’s history class, watching the minute hand click by in what felt like slow-motion, when he felt something graze the side of his leg. He looked down and saw a foot rubbing against his shin, a foot that belonged to Jennifer Hayes. Without looking, he carefully moved his leg away from her and spent the rest of his final period looking down intently at his own desk. It’s not that she wasn’t pretty, but he didn’t feel anything. It just felt wrong. After what felt like hours, the final bell rang out, and he practically bolted out of the classroom, head down all the way to Nancy’s car.
He opens and slams the car door behind him, earning him a glare from Nancy. Moments later, Will gets in and closes the door carefully. Jonathan turns to look at the two of them, “How was school you two?”
“Fine.” They reply in unison, in the same monotone voice.
Jonathan turns back around and looks at Nancy with a small smile, “Riveting.”
The ride home is quiet. Mike stares out the window, watching as other cars pass and seeing the Christmas decorations on every house fly by in one bright, multi-colored blur.
As soon as they pull in the driveway, Mike barely even waits for the car to stop to jump out and slam the door once again. He feels the cold bite through his jacket almost immediately and pulls it tighter around his wiry frame.
Mike doesn’t wait for Will. He’s already halfway down the driveway when the car doors shut behind him, boots crunching against frost-coated gravel. He hears Will’s footsteps behind, but neither of them slows.
The front door opens and closes without either of them looking at the other.
Inside, the house smells like tomato soup and burnt toast. Joyce calls out a distracted greeting from the kitchen, already halfway through a conversation with Jonathan. Mike mutters something that might pass as “hey” and heads straight for the stairs, but Nancy catches him by the sleeve.
“Dinner,” she says pointedly. “Don’t disappear.”
Mike shrugs her off and drops his backpack at the bottom of the steps, lingering just long enough to look toward the living room.
Will is there, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Holly, helping her color inside the lines. He’s smiling again. That same soft smile Mike hasn’t seen aimed at him in months.
Mike quickly looks away. Why should he care about something like that?
Dinner is a quiet, clattering affair. Spoons scrape against bowls. Joyce asks about school; Jonathan answers for Will before he can speak. Mike keeps his eyes on his soup, nodding when he’s supposed to, chewing even when he isn’t hungry just so he has something to do.
Every so often, he feels a pair of eyes on him, but every time he looks up, Will’s eyes are either focused on his own bowl or trained on someone else.
After dinner, Mike volunteers to do the dishes without being asked. Both Joyce and his mom look surprised but grateful. Will disappears downstairs, footsteps creaking on the basement stairs.
Mike scrubs the same bowl three times before Joyce gently takes it from his hands. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah,” he lies. “Just tired.”
He goes to his room early. The house settles around him, the sounds of laughter drifting faintly up from the basement—Jonathan and Nancy, maybe Will too. Mike presses his pillow over his ears until it all fades into a dull hum.
Tuesday is exactly like Monday. Mike wished he could just disappear instead of having to sit through another “family dinner.”
At school, Will sits two rows ahead in English class, shoulders hunched, hair falling into his eyes as he scribbles in his notebook. Mike stares at the back of his head more than he pays attention to Mrs. O’Donnell’s lecture. Once, Will drops his pencil. Mike watches it roll under his own desk.
He doesn’t pick it up.
He hates himself for that.
On Thursday, his mom sends him down to the basement with a basket of laundry. He hears Will’s voice, humming along to his favorite song: should I stay or should I go now, should I stay or should I go now. If I go, there will be trouble. If I stay, it will be double. Mike pauses at the top of the stairs, asking himself the same question, heart pounding so loud he’s sure Will can hear it.
Inside, Will is sitting on the mattress that has been laid out on the concrete floor, wrapped in the same blankets he gave Jonathan just days ago. Mike wonders if Will is haunted by the same memories he is when he looks at those blankets. His sketchbook is open on his knees. Mike catches a glimpse before Will notices him—dark lines, sharp angles, something that looks like twisting vines or cracks splitting the page.
Will looks up. Their eyes meet.
Neither of them says a word.
Mike throws the laundry in the washer quickly so he can get out of there before Will gets the chance to say something, assuming he wanted to at all.
By Friday, Mike knows he should be relieved that it’s finally Christmas break, but all he can think about is how there will be no escape from the proximity of the two families during the Holidays. There will be no excuse for avoiding Will the entire day.
Although as the Christmas tree goes up that Saturday, he can’t help but crack a small smile. Holly’s eyes light up with a sort of joy you only experience when you’re a little kid. Mike’s gaze shifts over to Will, who watches Holly too, then suddenly they’re looking at each other, and Will doesn’t stop smiling. It’s a moment that sparks hope in Mike’s chest. Hope that they may be able to heal this friendship. Hope that their fight might finally end. A hope that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
Then it’s gone. Holly squeals as his mom picks her up with the promise that she could finally help with the lights this year, and when Mike looks back at Will, his eyes have shifted to the Christmas special playing on the TV.
The rest of the night is spent with Joyce and his mom arguing over whether there should be an angel or a star at the top of the tree, Nancy and Jonathan giggling over their hot cocoa, and his father actually engaging with Holly, helping her to put ornaments on the tree. Mike can’t help but glance at Will, hoping to lock eyes with him again, maybe forcing one of them to finally say something that isn’t just lending a helping hand.
Will gets up, saying goodnight to everyone, still avoiding his eyes. As Will leaves the room, Mike watches him go. When he looks back, Nancy is beside him, “Jesus, Mike, would you two just make up already? You’re supposed to be best friends.” She whispers before giving him a slight nudge.
Before Mike can form a response, Nancy has already gone back to the rest of the group, but still gives him a pointed look, a look that says don’t be a jerk.
Mike looks back at the doorway and pushes himself up, no going back now. He forces himself to the door to the basement, which is already slightly open. He takes a deep breath before pushing it open the rest of the way. As he descends the steps, it feels like he might as well be walking straight to his death once he hears Will’s voice. “Will?”
Mike stands at the bottom of the staircase, where he sees Will lying on his mattress. He’s shaking slightly, and it sounds as if he’s talking to himself. A shiver runs down Mike’s spine. Jesus, it’s cold down here.
“Will?” Mike says it a little louder this time, and that seems to register because Will jumps a little before turning to look at Mike. Turns out he was asleep.
Mike and Will stare at each other for a moment like they’re seeing the other for the first time in a long time, which is almost true. “You… you talk in your sleep..” Mike offers.
Will stares at him for a moment longer before responding, “Yeah… Jonathan complained about it before he moved up to Nancy’s room.”
“Oh.”
“Is there something you needed?”
Mike’s mouth suddenly goes dry; he has nothing to say—why is he here? Why is he exactly where Will didn’t want him to be?
Mike swallows hard, “I just… I came to see if you and Jonathan needed any more blankets.” Lie. “I know it gets pretty damn cold down here.” He forces a laugh, anything to relieve the tension that plagues the room.
Mike watches as Will glances down at the bundle of blankets he’s already got tightly wrapped around himself. He looks back up at Mike and returns the forced laugh with a sad attempt at a smile, “I think we’re good down here, but… thanks.”
Mike nods. God damn it, I look like an idiot. “Okay. Um… Night Will.”
“Night, Mike.”
Mike tries to walk up the stairs at a steady pace, but when he reaches the spot where Will can no longer see him, he runs the rest of the way up. He races back to his room upstairs, and as soon as he gets through the door, he slams it and slumps to the floor, hands in his hair and his head between his knees.
He doesn’t know how long he stays like that—sitting there, curled up like some wounded, kicked puppy—it feels hard to breathe, he can’t stop thinking about freezing up in front of Will like that. His chest aches in the same way it has for the last nine months, only this time it’s stronger, and it feels like it could swallow him whole. He lies down on his side, shutting his eyes tight, one against the ground. He can hear the slight hum of Christmas music from downstairs and Holly’s voice singing along.
Mike jolts awake, cold biting through his clothing that’s been drenched with his own sweat. He pushes himself up and can feel his entire body aching as he stretches out his long limbs. He stretches his neck to look at the clock on his bedside table. 2:15 A.M. He leans his back up against his door, enjoying the silence that only the earliest of mornings brings.
With the support of the door, he lifts himself off the ground with a groan. He quietly opens the door into the hallway. He can hear Nancy snoring in her room and can see the small glow of Holly’s night light from the crack underneath her bedroom door. He creeps down the step, careful to skip the creaky one near the middle, knowing that his mother will wake up to the smallest sound. Downstairs, Joyce sleeps on the couch, muttering to herself in gibberish, nothing he can make out.
He tiptoes to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water when he hears a muffled voice coming from below. He stops in his tracks. The voice sounded distressed, scared; he’d heard it plenty of times before. Will.
His body moves faster than his brain as he turns on his heels, grabs a knife from the block on the kitchen counter, wrenches the basement door open, and races down the steps. “Will?!” He stands ready at the bottom of the stairs, expecting to see Will being attacked by an 8-foot demogorgon or something of the sort. Instead, he’s met with what seems to be his peaceful, sleeping figure. Will’s breath seemingly steady until he begins to toss and turn, then comes his voice, exactly what he heard upstairs, except this time he can understand what he’s saying and why he sounds so panicked.
“No… get away from me, please! … Leave me alone!”
Mike drops the knife at his side and rushes towards Will at the sound of his voice breaking, kneeling beside him and gently shaking his shoulders in an attempt to wake him, “Will?!”
Will wakes up with a start, his eyes dart around like he doesn’t know whether to fight or run, until his eyes land on Mike, and it seems all Will wants to do is run from him. Jesus, Will thinks he’s scarier than a nightmare… Harsh.
Mike freezes when he sees the fear sharpen in Will’s eyes.
“Hey—hey, it’s me,” Mike says quickly, still holding on to his shoulders as if to act as an anchor, holding him to this moment in time. “It’s Mike. You’re okay. You’re in the basement. Nothing’s here.”
Will scrambles backward anyway, blankets tangling around his legs. His breathing is shallow, frantic, like he’s still half-stuck in whatever nightmare dragged him under. “Don’t—don’t touch me,” he says, voice cracking on the last word.
Mike swallows. That one hurts more than he expects.
His hands drop to his lap quickly, “I’m—I’m sorry… I won’t.” His eyes shift down, his fingers curling in on themselves like they didn’t know what to do without the sole purpose of comforting Will.
A few moments pass before Will speaks again, “No, I’m sorry… you weren’t who I thought you were,” he mutters so quietly Mike can hardly hear him. “I—I thought I was still dreaming.” Mike lifts his head at Will’s words to meet his eyes, but Will’s eyes flicker away almost immediately.
“I heard you yelling—I just wanted to come check if everything was okay,” Mike says, trying to explain why he came running down here like a mad person wielding a knife. Idiot. He sounds like an idiot. “Just didn’t want you to think—”
“Think you actually cared about me enough to come down here for no reason?” Will cuts Mike off; he doesn’t sound angry, he sounds emotionless.
Mike looks down, his cheeks flushing from embarrassment, and before tears can prick the edge of his eyes, he snaps back, “I care, Will. You’re the one who shut me out.” The next thing he knows, he’s on his feet and walking back to the stairs, picking up the knife he had dropped to run to Will in the first place. Stupid. Stupid. “Try not to wake me up next time you decide to have a nightmare.” As much as he wants to slam the door once he reaches the top of the stairs, he holds back to avoid waking the rest of the house because of Mike’s pathetic need to check on Will anytime there’s even a slight chance he may be in trouble, only to get shut out again.