Work Text:
Creeeeak
“El?” Will asked, the sound from above him stopping with his query along with the scissors in his hand. “Is that you?” He gently set down the colorful paper and tools next to the rest of his D&D campaign. It had hurt to learn that Mike and Lucas were still playing without him even after their fight about girls and his “childish” hobbies, but he still rejoined the party in their campaigns nevertheless.
If it still could be called a party.
Lucas was always at the side of Max’s hospital gurney. Not that Will could blame him of course. Max had grown on him in the few years he had known her; she, El, and him once went out to the mall to ditch his friends who were whining about being dumped.
As if he’d ever tell anybody else that, though.
Dustin started to hang out with Steve more after the death of Eddie. He had become more quiet — reclusive — every time the party played D&D. And — again — Will couldn’t blame him. He’d lost people before, and it hurt just as much every time.
Mike on the other hand....
Will understood that Eddie was a good friend to Mike just as much to Dustin, but Mike was too quiet. It was most likely because El broke up with him a month after escaping the sick clutches of Brenner.
Why?
She felt lost, is what she had admitted to Will later that tense night. Mike was amazing to her, but at the time she needed to step away from her grief, and he wasn’t exactly helping. At the same time, something was missing from their seemingly perfect relationship. Not Mike’s inability to say “I love you,” (which wasn’t his fault — it were his parents’) but his tendency to forget that not all problems needed to be fixed with mansplaining. Although their reunion was emotional, many unspoken thoughts had broiled under the surface of their heads touching.
Will had seen it first-hand as he third-wheeled watched from behind the two.
“El?” he asked again, “Are you there?”
They had been staying in the Wheelers’ house for the past few hours; Will carefully setting up for his next time being DM in the basement, Mike — who was supposed to be making the figurines — pouting in now his room, and El occasionally jumping in on the two of them working. Apparently she found great pleasure in spooking the two. Unfortunately, earlier that had pissed off Mike and he headed upstairs.
Without inviting Will.
He shook off his gnawing feeling of agitation and gazed back up at the ceiling. Growing impatient with the passing seconds without a reply, he stood from his chair accompanied by the scratching of wood on the floor as he pushed it away to head upstairs. The stairs creaked noisily under his feet, eerily reminiscent of the haunting moments of a demogorgon creeping by. Will’s hand slowly turned the doorknob; his eyes peeked through the sliver of space nestled between the door and the wall to glimpse an odd scene: His sister stood on the opposite side with a resigned expression twisted on her face, her foot tapping impatiently — a habit she could have only learned from Max.
She turned to Will as the door whined squeakily to signal his arrival.
“Shh,” she whispered to him, eyes blown wide as she glanced around the seemingly deserted house, “he could hear.”
Will’s heart leapt into his throat. “Vecna?” he choked out, unknowingly taking a slight step backwards.
She shot him a pitying look. “Mike,” she deadpanned.
”Oh.” A short breath blew past his lips. Somehow, that was even worse.
He screwed up his eyebrows for what must have been the hundredth time that afternoon. “Why don’t you want Mike to hear us? Are you mad that he’s your—,” Will paused to glance at her, “—ex? I’m pretty sure you agreed to stay friends.”
”Ugh,” Eleven grumbled, rolling her eyes and pulling him toward the family room where they plopped down on the couch.
“You and Mike,” She pushed a finger into his chest and then pointed upstairs, “do not talk. Why?”
A million thoughts swirled around in his head. “I—,”
Eleven grabbed his hand tightly. “Friends. Don’t. Lie.”
He swallowed nervously.
She stared.
”I like him,” he whispered, broken eyes finally lifting to meet hers.
“Okay? You should kiss him.”
Will choked on his next words. “Kiss him?!” Finally, the realization dawned on him that the act of being gay was not something El had been warned to stay away from.
Or was told about at all.
”It’s... well, people don’t like it when boys like boys or girls like girls.” He averted his gaze. “You could get called slurs — which are really mean things. People would shun you.”
”And sometimes.....”
”They’ll hurt you.”
”Will,” the grip on his hand tightened considerably, “has anyone hurt you?”
There was a slow, hesitant nod.
”I will kill them.” Her face of anger morphed into one of hatred as she went to open up her mouth again. “Did Mike hurt you?”
”No! Maybe a little... but not intentionally!” He yelped, tugging down her outstretched arm. “He’s just... oblivious.”
”Mike hurt you,” she said, eyes smoldering, “you are my brother. I will kill him.”
”Nonononono! How about I talk to him and you don’t kill him?” he tried desperately.
”Fine,” she huffed, “but I will be outside to listen. He cannot hurt you if I am there.”
”He won’t hurt me, El,” Will said softly, “Don’t worry.”
He stood, laid a gentle hand on Eleven’s shoulder, then ventured up the staircase while feeling her steady presence from behind him. Breathe in, breathe out. It’s just Mike. My best friend. Why is this so hard? Will snapped his eyes open, not even realizing they were closed. His hand hovered over the door before finally he inhaled sharply and rapped on the wood.
“Come in,” a voice mumbled from the inside.
Will slowly pushed the door open and leaned on its frame. “Can we talk?”
Michael Wheeler’s eyes met his from underneath his mess of curly hair (which Will really wanted to gently brush aside). “Yeah sure, come sit.”
Will quirked an eye at the other.
“Oh shit! I’m sorry.” He swept out a lanky arm to send a few comics fluttering off the mattress to the floor. Mike tried to bite back a grin but failed miserably, glancing down in embarrassment. “Sorry about that. Umm… you can sit now?” he said awkwardly, patting the space next to him on the bed.
A small breath of laughter escaped Will’s lips as he plopped down on the navy blue comforter. He could basically feel El analyzing his posture as he sat, trying to figure out whether he felt safe or not.
”Will,” Eleven said, mysteriously popping into the doorway on cue with his thoughts.
”More visitors,” Mike mumbled under his breath, “Hey El… what brings you here?”
She ignored him and continued her steadfast gaze on her brother. “You are fine?”
”Yes,” he sighed out in exasperation.
”Good.” A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You do not leave until you two kiss.”
With that, the door slammed shut with a bang, leaving the two boys in shocked silence.
”El!” Will rushed to the door, beating on it with his fist as the other hand twisted the locked handle wildly. “Let us out!”
He swung his head around to glance at Mike: he was frozen, jaw hung open in a daze.
Will’s hands stilled and dropped to his sides; he took a hesitant step toward his best friend to speak. “Mike,” he asked softly, “are you o—?”
”I’m not— I’m not like that.”
And with those words, he finally shook out of his stupor to actually look at Will. Will, who the realization was slowing dawning on that El was wrong.
”I’m not like— those people. I don’t— don’t like—,”
The unspoken words hung as if suspended in the air, clouding up Will’s throat until he couldn’t breathe:
I don’t like you.
Then, it was in that moment when the doorknob finally clicked, Will rushed out of there as if he never entered, and arms enveloped his body with a bloody nose pressed to his shoulder that he realized his life wasn’t meant to be enjoyed.
For he was never really living, only surviving anyway.