Chapter Text
He looks fucking ethereal.
Will Byers looks beautiful in the way a fallen angel is, on his knees in the middle of a burning battlefield with blood running down his nose from brand new powers he just unlocked.
Mike's breath hitches at the sight. He can’t help but stare. His cheeks are burning – must be from the proximity to the flames, right? Then why does it feel like getting hit in the face by a snowball?
Yeah, he’s feeling a little delirious.
I think I hit my head.
There’s a strange floaty feeling rising in his chest, like his whole body has suddenly changed its state of matter to a light gas. Like helium. It’s the lightest he’s felt in months.
Mike has been in a strange state of mind. Feeling like there’s a piece of him missing, but he has no idea what it is. Feeling empty because that missing piece leaves a void in his soul. Feeling alone in a room full of family and friends. Feeling out of place at Party hangouts. Feeling left out. Left behind.
The thing is he was excited as hell to introduce Will to Eddie, because he knew they would get along. Just didn’t expect them to get along this well. He brought Will to Steve’s house – which is where the metalhead has been staying – as soon as they deemed it safe after California.
Eddie and Will got along, sure. But it was a couple weeks later that they really started to be friends. Close friends. Them and Robin. Mike has no idea why. And it’s been bothering him endlessly.
Because it seems like Will only ever wants to spend time with the two of them now. Sometimes he visits Max with Lucas, sure, but most days he goes to Steve’s house after school with Dustin. Sometimes they all hang out together, and sometimes Dustin and Steve go off to do their own thing. Leaving Will with Robin and Eddie.
Mike has barely spent time with his best friend the past year despite living in the same house as him. Because the raven-haired boy can’t stand coming with Lucas to the hospital – it’s too depressing for him to see Max so unnaturally still for more than a few minutes at a time. At school they’re together, sure, but it’s not the same. They can’t really be themselves in public.
After dinner, Will usually draws and enjoys some peace and quiet at the end of the day. Mike doesn’t want to take that time away from him. Wants to let Will enjoy his hobby. And anyway, Mike has always respected his art like crazy.
Plus, Jonathan was usually there. That is, until the power outage a couple weeks ago in mid-October. Things have shifted slightly since then. Nancy and Jonathan seem to be on much better terms now, and he’s taken to sneaking into Nancy’s room at night.
Steve and Eddie are different, too. Mike can’t really put his finger on it, but they’re acting different around each other, somehow. And Steve is wearing Eddie’s vest, which is a very strange thing to be doing considering Eddie is still thought to be a murderer.
Mike knows it’s Eddie’s vest – he’s seen the former Dm wear it many times at Hellfire Club D&D sessions. It has lots of pins in it, including different bands, a D20, a small pink triangle (Mike is mystified as to why Eddie has that one), and the One Ring from The Lord of the Rings (which Mike knows Steve hasn’t read). The vest itself is far more worn and ripped now, despite the fact that Eddie hasn’t been wearing it much since he got stuck staying at Steve’s house. Mike kind of wonders what happened to it. Wonders even more why Steve is suddenly wearing it like it’s his favourite piece of clothing on earth.
Whatever. Anyway, all that would be fine. Wouldn’t be why Mike feels like he became invisible.
He’s feeling left out because he’s introduced two of his friends only for them to start spending more time with each other than with Mike. Eddie, Will and Robin seem to have this big inside joke Mike doesn’t know about. He’s pretty sure Dustin has guessed what it is, but when the raven-haired boy asked him about it, his curly-haired friend pretended he had no idea what Mike was even talking about.
He quickly started feeling left out. Like he doesn’t belong with them. Isn’t welcome.
Mike slowly started to stay away from the hangouts. Spent the time alone in his room. Maybe a part of him wanted to see if anyone would even care when he disappeared from their social life.
There’s been a concerned look or two from Will, but nobody has said anything, not really. Nobody has cared. That’s only confirmed it to Mike – he doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t make a difference if he was gone entirely.
He’s been talking to people less and less. Especially about anything real. Anything actually honest.
Like how he’s been wondering if there’s even any point in him still being here. How much he feels like he doesn’t belong, anywhere.
And what’s the point in even trying to find belonging when he makes no difference in the lives of his friends? When their world keeps spinning just the same without him? Hell, they probably have more fun without him.
Will has been happier. Seems more at peace with himself now, somehow. Eddie and Robin are good for him.
But if he’s happier without Mike, what does that say?
It must mean that Mike is a bad friend. A bad person. And even though it hurts like hell, this is no surprise. Because he knows he’s only ever hurt Will. Only ever failed him.
So Will is better off without the raven-haired boy. Maybe everyone is.
Mike knows this. He’s just been too selfish to do anything about it. Anything more than try to limit the time everyone is forced to spend with him, as much as possible.
He barely sees Eddie anymore. Hasn’t spoken to El outside of Crawls for months. Puts himself through the bare minimum of social interaction at school and around the house.
He knows the others are misunderstanding his behaviour. He’s pretty sure most of them think he wants space or just doesn’t want to talk to them. Or they’re too stressed dealing with their own thing. Which is totally fair – there’s a lot going on.
But Mike is pushing them away, and they’re letting him. It just makes him feel like he doesn’t matter to them, or anyone.
He knows it’s unfair to resent them for not trying harder to include him, when he’s so clearly excluding himself. It’s unfair to be mad at Will for believing Mike when he says he’s fine.
But he can’t help it.
Can’t help getting upset every time Will doesn’t see the lie, or lets it slide. Doesn’t ask Mike if he’s sure, or if he’s really fine. Because when it’s bad enough for Will to ask, Mike is probably on the verge of tears. And probably for no good reason.
But he needs them to ask first. And he needs them to ask again even though he says he’s fine. Mike can’t just go and ask for help. Can’t go down to the basement in the middle of the night to tell Will about the dark thoughts he’s having.
It’s not like Mike would actually do anything, though. He’s just being dramatic. And that’s not worth wasting anyone’s time with.
Mike is probably only considering these things because he wants attention, anyway. He’s practically dying out of desperation to be seen. So his brain is coming up with drastic ideas.
He should be concerned about the fact that he likes the thought of the ideas, though, right? That part of him wants to listen to the intrusive thoughts in a way that is completely detached of the conversations with his friends that it could lead to.
Nah, he’s fine.
Can’t really do anything serious, anyway. At least not for the sole purpose of telling someone and getting attention. That would be highly manipulative.
But what if he did it anyway, and they found out on their own?
The question has been keeping Mike up at night. Making him argue back and forth in his mind. Again and again, only to come to the same conclusion all over again – it’s still manipulative.
And stupidly risky for no reason. Why risk actually liking it and doing it over and over just for the hell of it, when Mike could just go talk to someone instead?
Except he can’t do that. How is he supposed to, when he knows damn well he’s a total melodramatic crybaby? How can he ever complain about his life to someone who has been through as much shit as Will has? And he can’t even consider being honest about this stuff to anyone else. Certainly not if Mike has to bring it up.
Because he won’t. He can’t.
He would just be a manipulative, weak attention-seeker pathetically begging for comfort that others need and deserve more than he does.
So, he spends his days desperately hoping someone will see what’s going on in his head, despite him trying to hide it. Wishing that someone would go to the effort of looking, trying to see past the mask Mike wears every day. That someone would care enough to force him to talk.
Because he wants to. He wants to talk to Will. He wants to hear that he matters after all. Wants to be shown that he matters. Wants to believe it.
But lately, he just can’t.
He spends too much time in his own head. Stewing in quiet anger and then hating himself for unfairly resenting his friends. After all, how are they supposed to know their behaviour is hurting him when he doesn’t tell them?
Yes, Mike Wheeler is the problem. He’s his own worst enemy. And he knows it.
He knows all of this, and yet can’t change a thing. Feels like there are no good options.
And what does one do when there are no good options? One turns to consider the bad ones.
But in the end, none of it matters. Mike’s feelings don’t matter. Because they’re all fighting for their lives once more. And he’s supposed to be fine. So he will be fine, because he has a role to play in all this. He’s the Heart. So he has a job to do.
Because he may not be worth shit in this world, but his best friend sure is. And Mike needs him to know that.
He runs towards Will, ignoring a sting near his abdomen and an ache in his shoulder, pulling the brunet to his feet. Wraps the hazel-eyed boy in a tight hug. “You’re a sorcerer. A real-life, honest-to-God sorcerer.”
“Mike.”
Will breathes his name like he’s the only thing that matters. The raven-haired boy wishes that were true. That Will really thought that.
“You did it. You really did it.” Mike’s voice drops to a whisper of awe, pulling out of the hug to look at his best friend. “You were amazing.”
Will barely breathes. They’re so close that Mike can feel it against his lips. Warmth crackling between them.
He has this strange feeling that he’s on the verge of figuring something out. Like a word on the tip of his tongue. A snowball rolling down a mountain about to turn into an avalanche.
The sound of helicopters above them snaps him out of it. “Shit, we gotta go.”
Will blinks. Looks around. “Wait – mom.”
Mike rakes his gaze across the mess Vecna made of the Mac-Z. His veins freeze when he sees her. “Mrs. Byers!”
He runs towards her, dragging the hazel-eyed boy by the hand behind him.
“Oh God.” Will’s voice shakes as he drops down beside her, hands flying to her neck to try and stanch the wound.
There’s fresh blood along her collarbone and neck – she must’ve been flung past something sharp when Vecna threw her. She opens her mouth to try to say something, but no sound comes out.
Will is in tears. “Don’t- Don’t try to talk, mom. We’re gonna get you to the hospital, okay?”
Right. Yes. Hospital.
Mike looks around. Sees a military truck not far from them. Taps Will on the shoulder. “There. Come on.”
He dips down to pull Mrs. Byers’ arm over his good shoulder. Will catches on, mirroring the movement on his mother’s other side. They haul her up, carrying her between them towards the truck.
Mike suppresses a gasp of pain. Glances down. His own shirt is soaked in blood just above his left hip. He must’ve caught shrapnel.
Never mind. Problem for later. For now, they have to make sure Mrs. Byers survives this.
Mike grunts in effort as he opens the door to the truck. Helps Will drag his mom into the passenger seat. Tries not to wince as he runs around the car, climbing into the drivers’ seat.
“Wait, we don’t know how to drive this thing.”, Will points out, voice on the edge of complete panic.
“We’re about to find out.”, Mike replies.
He grabs the stray walkie sitting on the dashboard, tunes it to their frequency and talks into it.
“Eddie?”
“I’m here.”
The answer comes a heartbeat later, like the alleged cult leader has been waiting for radio contact – which, he probably has. He’s been stuck at the Squawk, and the last news he got was that the military caught them.
“I need you to teach me how to hotwire a car. Right now.”
“What?”
“And also how to drive.”
“I- Huh?”
Mike presses the button on the walkie, but it’s Will who yells over the centre console.
“Eddie, we don’t have time! How do you hotwire a car?!”
“Uh- Right, okay.”
Yeah. Hotwiring cars 101. Mike just casually has to learn to do that and drive right now, with someone’s life in danger.
He can do this. This is totally going to go well.
He glances over at Mrs. Byers, holding on to life fiercely, Will trying to stop the bleeding.
Definitely going to go well.
I hope.