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From a young age, Will Byers had decided that he was cursed. Before interdimensional creatures and monsters dressed up as men, before the revulsion and terror and the feeling of his mouth being forced open and invaded, before “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” and the bone deep knowledge of you are different, you are faulty, you are disgracefulbadwrongdisgusting–
Before this, Will’s fears were confined to the Byers household. The cadence of his father’s footsteps as they walked past his door, weighed down and angry. The scattered beer bottles littered around the living room, warning him of the danger beyond the entryway. The quiet sobs from Mom in the middle of the night, when she thought no one could hear. The snarls and yelps from Jonathan as he took yet another beating meant for Will, and the tears that their father would call him a useless fucking pussy for.
After the Upside Down, Will was certain he was right.
Normal boys don’t get taken by beings made of nightmares to hellish realms. Normal boys are not soft, or delicate, or sissies, and normal boys certainly don’t cry. When the bodies of normal boys are found waterlogged and blue at the bottom of a quarry, they don’t come back to life. Normal boys stay dead.
“Will?”
The voice registered in his brain, but it sounded distorted. Muffled, almost. He blinked slowly, willing the room to shift into focus. With a slight jolt, Will noticed the sun was setting; the last time he had blinked, it had been around noon, right?
“Hey, Will? What’s going on?”
More voices joined the first. They blended together, loud and grating. Will could tell they were speaking to him. He could hear the worry in their voices. And, a syrupy voice from the parts of Will that he kept firmly locked away crooned, the beginning notes of exasperation bled into their tones.
No, Will felt himself frown, the truer parts of himself trying to not buckle under the weight of years of conditioned self hatred, they’re not mad at me. They’re worried.
“Will, c’mon man–”
He tried to focus on the wallpaper. It was yellow, the color of comfort and home. Will’s favorite color, his consciousness noted, far away from here. The setting sun drenched the wall in fire, almost making the pastels glow. Will decided the corner he was curled in would be a great place to paint, if he managed to escape the veil shielding him from the world and its horrific pain. As it was, he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Guys, back up!”
More talking. A huff of annoyance that made Will flinch. Footsteps. A door shutting softly.
Will blinked again, a face he would know blind and half dead settling in, inches from his own. Brown eyes, deep and focused entirely on Will. Freckles dotted on his pale skin, high cheekbones, thin lips. The tangle of black hair was getting long, curling in his eyes. Will watched him huff absentmindedly to get it out of his face.
Mike.
“Hey,” Mike murmured, voice soft and warm and safe, “can you understand me?”
Yes, Will wanted to say, I hear you, I know you, I’m trying but time is wrong and I don’t remember how to move, am I going to be stuck like this forever?
All he could manage was a grunt.
“Don’t try to speak if you can’t.” Mike paused for a second, considering Will. He wondered if Mike saw anything worthwhile.
You know he does, something whispered, but was quickly drowned out by the heavy numbness in his chest.
“Blink once for yes, twice for no,” Mike said suddenly, snapping Will’s fraying consciousness back to the present, “can you do that?”
Will blinked once.
“Good job, Will,” Mike smiled, “can I sit with you?”
Will blinked once.
Without a hint of distaste or annoyance, Mike gracelessly folded his lanky body into the space next to Will. After he was settled, Mike turned to Will with a grin. It reminded the parts of Will’s brain that were still online of simpler times, of a boy who would do anything for his friends. Whether it be something as simple as talking himself hoarse after Will had a nightmare, or putting his body in harm’s way to protect someone who couldn’t do it themselves. Loyal, earnest, and determined. Mike the Brave.
“Can I hug you?"
Will blinked twice.
The thought of physical contact, restrictive contact, made Will feel sick. Made him feel twelve and small and scared and violated–
“Hey, it’s okay. I won’t touch you, I promise,” Mike whispered, and Will could breathe again, “can I tell you about the character I’m working on for Max’s first campaign as the DM?”
Will blinked once.
“Awesome,” he beamed, and then he was off. Will watched, enraptured, as Mike began to ramble. A flush appeared on his cheeks, and his boyish smile made him look far younger than he was. Mike gesticulated wildly as he talked, and as his excitement grew, he started rocking back and forth slowly. Will was certain he didn’t even realize he was doing it. If he was being completely honest, Will had no idea what Mike was even saying, but that wasn’t the point. Could you blame him?
Passion was a look that had always suited Mike Wheeler best.
As he continued to talk, Will felt his body start to sag into Mike’s side. Without pausing, Mike wrapped his arm around Will protectively, and Will all but melted. Sighing deeply, he burrowed into Mike’s side. He was safe. Mike was here. Mike would protect him.
“–and I’m gonna make sure that my character’s intelligence is like, a seven at best, because that means I can annoy Max even more–”
“So, business as usual?” Will rasped, finally beginning to regain his bearings. It felt like he was emerging from the bottom of the ocean.
“Hey!” Mike laughed, voice still tender and quiet, “how’re you feeling?”
“Not sure yet,” Will replied, and he was finally being honest. He could feel his emotions in the back of his mind, but he hadn’t been given access to them. No, they were far away, where they had no way to hurt him. His body wasn’t ready to feel them. Will was learning to respect that.
“That’s okay. We’ve got time,” Mike said, running his hand up and down Will’s arm. Will sighed softly in agreement, closing his eyes and tucking his head into Mike’s neck. God, he was exhausted. These episodes always left him drained and weighed down, like his blood had been replaced by lead.
“The others?” Will asked hesitantly, only now realizing that he and Mike were alone in their apartment.
“They went home about…” Mike trailed off, checking his watch, “an hour and a half ago, I think?”
Will was too tired to feel guilty about it, but he knew he would soon.
“Hey, don’t feel bad. They understand, Will. It’s November sixth, after all.”
Will shuddered despite himself. November sixth. The anniversary effect. The dark clouds that had begun to envelop Will as the summer heat gave way to autumn’s chill. Clouds that would not dissipate for at least another month, if Will’s stupid brain had any say.
Mike, ever attentive, pulled Will closer without having to be asked.
“I’m s–”
“Nope,” Mike cut Will off, squeezing him gently, “no apologies. You know I love you and I want to take care of you. You’re not a burden to me, and you never have been. Let me do this for you.”
At the pleading tone in his boyfriend’s voice, Will surrendered.
“M’kay,” he sighed, and Mike’s posture loosened, “can we order something other than pizza? I think if I have to eat another slice of cold pepperoni I’ll die.”
“We gotta get up to get to the phone,” Mike pointed out, and Will groaned dramatically.
“Fine, abandon me,” Will huffed jokingly, and the way Mike’s face fell made him giggle.
“I would never abandon you,” he said, voice deep and serious, “don’t joke about that. Crazy together, remember?”
Will smiled despite himself, and he could feel his cheeks turning pink with delight. Mike let out a pleased hum, pressing a kiss to Will’s temple.
“Now, is it cool if we get up? I’m hungry and can’t feel my legs anymore.”
Will snorted as Mike stood up with a groan, his knees cracking.
“I’m literally only twenty five, what the hell was that?” Mike exclaimed, and Will felt laughter begin to bubble up. Mike, latching onto the light he could see returning to Will’s eyes, doubled down, “seriously Will, you’re gonna have to get me a walker by the time I’m in my thirties. I’m way too young to be aching like this!”
Finally, Will’s laughter echoed around the room. Stilted and worn, but real. Mike’s expression melted, a dopey smile gracing his face.
“I love your laugh,” he sighed, and Will rolled his eyes.
“Why don’t you go order me sushi, loverboy,” Will grinned, “and save the cheesy lines for later.”
“Your wish is my command, sorcerer,” Mike said with a flourish, kissing Will’s hand and bounding towards the cabinet in the kitchen with all the takeout menus.
Will sighed, cracking his neck. It was stupid to think that the nightmares and trauma from his childhood would ever go away. Will knew this. That didn’t make it easy to deal with. As he listened to his boyfriend rattle off his usual sushi order on the phone, however, Will realized that this burden wasn’t something he had to carry alone ever again.