Chapter Text
Who the fuck is Tammy?
The thought hits me so hard I almost miss the turn at the end of the hallway. I don’t stop walking. I don’t let it show. I nod when Dustin says something I don’t hear and keep my eyes forward like if I slow down, it’ll all catch up to me at once.
Tammy Thompson.
She was that chick who sang the national anthem for a game that one time. Well, maybe sang isn’t really the right word. It definitely sounded like something, that’s for sure.
I mean, I think that’s who Will was talking about. We don’t know any other “Tammy”.
I pause.
I can’t think properly right now. The slower I walk, the quicker my thoughts catch up behind me and hit the back of my head. It’s all just starting to pile up. A name shouldn’t do this. A name shouldn’t feel like a bruise I didn’t know I had until someone pressed on it. I don’t get it. He said it so casually. Like it was a well known fact.
He's just my Tammy
What did that mean? And if it was so important then—
Then why didn’t I know about it?
Maybe…maybe it’s because it didn’t really matter. Tammy, Tammy is a girl. Yeah. That matters. Girls matter. Girls are safe. They’re…girls are normal. That’s what’s right. That’s what makes sense. I keep on walking to god knows where. My chest feels so tight, like I’m about to emotionally implode at any given second. I hate it. I hate that it feels like my throats about to start closing up and I hate that my stomach won’t stop turning and my hands feel to goddamn big for my pockets. The words of his confession won’t stop playing over and over again in my head. Will likes boys. Cool. That’s cool. That’s a totally cool thing to like.
I tell myself that repeatedly because maybe the more I say it, the more normal it’ll feel. Maybe if I keep saying it my heart won’t beat out of my chest at the thought of it. Maybe if I just think everything is fine, then it won’t feel like a big fat punch in the gut when I try to ignore the rest.
The rest.
…All of it. All of the rest. All of the times my gaze has held onto his lips for every second too long. All of them times our hands have touched and my body just froze for even the smallest tick of time. Or maybe like all the times Will’s smile lingers too long when he talks to me. The way he always knows when I’m lying about being fine. The way he just knows. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the person he was talking about was…no. It’s not. That’s so weird. It wouldn’t be and I wouldn’t want it to be, right? I push the though down fast. Kind of like what Nancy used to do to Steve’s huge hair whenever someone walked in her room without knocking.
My foot hits the edge of the hallway doorway too hard, and I stumble just slightly, and that’s when it happens.
Will.
Ha.
Cool.
He’s turning the corner at the same time. I didn’t see him. Didn’t plan for this. Didn’t plan for shit. Then—bam.
“Oh- shit Will uh hey…man.” Good job, Mike.
I punch his shoulder, like friends. Will stumbles back a bit. His hand catches the wall before he falls, my hands and body already instinctively close. God I’m soooo so so stupid. Why would I need to catch him? He wasn’t even going to fall. My hands twitch back down to my sides, rubbing the fabric of my pants until I can feel the friction of it on my leg. My chest is doing that stupid flip thing again. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
“Mike are you uh…are you okay? He asks.
My mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again, but only half way until it closes again. I nod.
“Good. I’m—yup. I’m great.” Another swing, another fucking miss.
He blinks at me, like he’s waiting for me to say more. He’s just gonna have to except that that’s all I can really accomplish right now. Those are all the words I could spit out and they weren’t even in the right order. There’s a sort of awkward silence hanging over the air and I kind of wish me and it could switch places right now. It starts to get to heavy. I need to say something.
“So… are you excited for tonight?” Idiot.
“Oh, uh, honestly, I think I’m more scared than I would be excited,” he huffs, “Mike, are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird..”
He takes a step closer as if we weren’t already close enough.
“I’M GOOD.” I yell. Or scream. I don’t know. I didn’t hear it, I just said it.
Will freezes for a second, probably wondering if I just completely lost it. He furrows his eyebrows like he’s trying to read me, and I want to scream. Or run. Or maybe both.
"Sorry wow, tone problem. Ha. I mean that I'm uh I'm good...dude." He looks me like I'm absolutely losing it. He isn't even wrong.
“Mike you’re kind of…red,” he says. Quiet, like he’s not sure he should even say it.
Red? Of course I’m red. I’m dying. Inside. Dying. It’s like someone shoved a 12 foot loaf of bread into my mouth and told me to fucking breathe.
“Yeah, no. You're uh seeing things. Like colors because I’m not red. And if—if I was which I’m very much not, it would be because I was just in the sun and um…yeah.”
“Mike,” He says softly. God I hate that. I hate that he knows just what to say and how to say it, that he’ll always know when somethings off. The way he lowers his voice even thought it’s just the two of us makes my skin get all bumpy. Like I’m some kind of fragile thing that’ll break if you get too close to it. Except I’m not fragile. I never have been. Because I’m fine.
I shift my weight, suddenly very aware of how close we are. Too close. Close enough that I can see the faint freckles on his nose and the small rose in his cheeks. Close enough that I can smell his stupid shampoo. Why the hell do I know what his shampoo smells like?
“You can talk to me.” His hand reaches up to touch me. My skin gets hot not even at the contact, just the thought. I move back. Shit, no. I don’t think I wanted to do that. His face changes. It’s so small and it’s so subtle, but I can see it. Dammit.
“I’m fine, Will. Seriously, I am.” I regret the words the second they slip off of my tongue.
Will looks at me. His eyes looking for something I’m trying to convince him isn’t there. There’s that godawful flutter inside my chest. I don’t think that’ll ever go away. Jesus, I’m pathetic. His hand falls back to his side, finally surrendering the idea of contact. He always does this. He always balances on the edge between caring too much and not enough. And something in my stomach twists, sharp and sudden, at the idea that I might be the reason he’s learned how to do that.
“Okay, but…if there was something wrong, you’d tell me, right?”
“Yeah…yeah of course I would. You’re my—” My what? My friend? My best friend? My…no. That’s ridiculous. I can’t compare him to someone I never even really knew.
“…Mike?” He looks at me, concerned.
“My friend…you're my best friend.”
His face drops. It was almost like saying that was wrong. How though? Isn’t that what we were? We were just friends. We’d always just been friends. From those first days on the swings to when I would lie awake at night wondering if he was even still alive. I mean sure, I might have written him more letters than El. But that was only because he’d never pick up the damn phone. And, well, yeah I stare at him a lot, but that’s just because he finally decided to ditch that fuck ass bowl cut that totally went out of style three years ago and I’m still getting used to the new one.
The silence breaks when the door to the radio station creaks open and the noise hits us all at once. Both our heads whip in that direction.
Dustin’s voice—too loud, always too loud—echoes from somewhere near the soundboard. Lucas is arguing with Steve about something stupid, probably weapons. Nancy’s pacing with a clipboard like that thing might actually save us. Robin’s perched on a chair, legs swinging, talking a mile a minute about frequencies and interference and how she definitely, definitely did not sign up to die in a creepy alternate dimension.
Finally, something normal.
“C’mon. We should probably go over there.” I manage to say.
“Right, yeah, totally. Let’s go.” There’s something about the way he says that that makes me on edge. Like something isn’t right. Like there’s something else that should have been said. Instead of talking about it, we leave it. Dangling in the atmosphere I thought would inevitably suffocate us to death.
We step into the room with everybody else. It hits me all at once how serious everything is about to get.
Like—this is it. No more planning. No more talking in circles. No more stupid fights about who’s plan is better. The Squawk smells like dust and static and fear, and everyone’s faces look sharper somehow. Older. Like we’ve all aged five years in the last five minutes.
Steve’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight. Nancy’s whispering something urgent to Robin, who’s nodding way too fast.
Will stands just to my left. Not touching. Close enough that I can feel the heat from him anyway.
And then—
A horn blasts outside.
Loud. Long. Aggressive. Like whoever’s out there has absolutely no respect for subtlety. Or, yknow, general tranquility.
Everyone freezes.
“What the hell was that?” Lucas says.
Another honk. Even louder.
Hopper sighs and gets up off the couch he was brooding in.
“Murray’s here. Everyone got what they need? Once we leave, we can’t come back. Not until everything’s over, got it?”
Everyone nods, the fatality of the situation seeping deeper and deeper.
We spill outside in a rush, and there it is.
A semi truck.
An actual, honest to god semi truck, parked crooked as hell in the grass like it just fought its way there.
“…Is this really how we’re breaking into an A grade military base?” I look at the truck. I guess I thought it’d be more…subtle.
“Sorry, isn’t that the supply truck? Yeah I'm sure that we'll be spotted ten miles down the goddamn road.” Robin agrees.
Murray shrugs. Clearly, he’s already thought this one out. Shocker.
“You know what they say, go big or go home.”
"Nobody says that." Robin says.
“Yeah and in this case it’s more go big or go die, so.” Lucas retorts.
Murray ignores them and claps his hands together like this is some kind of fun road trip. “Alright! Glad we’ve settled that dispute. Everybody in. Chop chop.”
No one moves for a second.
Then Hopper glares at all of us and that’s enough motivation.
Everyone files into the truck. Nancy helps Hopper load in the weapons while Jonathan and Steve help load in…actually they don’t really help load in anything. They just stand there fighting over a heavyish looking box arguing over who gets to carry it in front of Nancy. I seriously don’t get what they see in her. If a guy wanted to carry a semi-heavy box in front of El, I’d definitely let him. Less work off my back. It starts to make me wonder the why of it all. I mean, she’s not even watching them. I keep walking to the truck as everyone gets in. My knee hits the metal ledge of it. It’s hard, and sharp, and loud enough that it rattles up my leg.
“Shit—” I hiss, grabbing my knee as pain blooms hot and stupid.
“Mike?” Will calls immediately, like my name is a reflex.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically, because apparently I’m physically incapable of saying anything else.
He laughs. Honestly there was something about that laugh that made everything seems slightly less shitty. His hand stretches out to me.
“Get in, stupid.” He smiles and I’ve never wanted to get inside of a dirty semi-truck more.
I take his hand and we find seats. I drop onto a crate near the back, stretching my leg out a little, pretending that’s totally normal and not because my knee feels like it’s trying to escape my body. That’s definitely gonna bruise. El walks in and sits down next to me. She leans her head on my shoulder and on instinct I rest my head upon hers. I think I’m supposed to feel something when we do this. When we’re acting like what we are: a couple. But honestly, it doesn’t feel much different then when I used to lay on Nancy’s shoulder when we were younger.
I stare straight ahead at the metal wall of the truck, watching it vibrate as the engine roars to life. Murray’s voice carries from the front, barking something about ventilation and “no sudden movements unless you want to be shot,” which—great. Love that for us.
El squeezes my hand. Just once. Like she’s checking in. I turn to her.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
There it is again. That question. The one everyone keeps asking like it’s got a different answer hidden somewhere inside me.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Just banged my knee.”
The drive is filled with whispers of strategic planning. Who’s staying with who, what to do in case of an emergency, and why Robin should have used the bathroom before we left. I drag my eyes over every one, eventually landing on Will. Usually, landing on Will. He looks a bit out of it. I wouldn’t really expect otherwise right now. I find a small rock on the floor and toss it at him.
“Hey,” I whisper. He snaps out of it and looks at me. “What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?”
He gives me a look. One that screams, “Wow my best friend's dumb”.
“What?” He chuckles, his mouth already forming a small smile.
“Dam.”
I win today. There’s a small silence before he laughs. Not loud—just this soft, surprised sound, like it slipped out before he could stop it. His shoulders loosen a little, like I just handed him something familiar to hold onto.
“Wow,” he says quietly. “That was…pfft- that was really bad.”
“Hey,” I whisper back. “You laughed. That means it worked.”
We share a look. I can’t bring myself to really look anywhere but at him. It’s this moment. this very moment. I see it. I realize it. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept it. I manage to tear my eyes away from his, completely crapping on our moment. I shift closer to El. My body tenses and I hold her just a bit tighter than I think I was holding her before. I turn away and place a kiss to the top of her head. No, shit, it all feels so wrong. Like I’m killing a part of my body that doesn’t deserve to be touched. She looks at me, confused, maybe a little worried.
“Mike?”
“Sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me I just—”
She kisses me. It’s just like every time. I can feel the daggers being thrown at my head right now. Will. Oh my fucking god I can’t even kiss my own girlfriend without thinking of him.
She pulls away and cups my face
“It will be okay. I know that…I know that you are just scared. Me too.”
“Yeah…thanks El…” I hate it. I pull away and lean my head on the opposite side of the truck wall.
I stare off into nothing the rest of the ride. Eventually, as he always does, Will manages to catch my eye again. He brought his sketchbook. Funny. We’re on the way to our very possible deaths and he’s drawing. I want to see it. I want to see what he’d drawing. Sketching. Painting. For a brief moment he looks at me and my eyes catch onto his. He looks away, quick. Really quick. Now I really want to know what he’s drawing. Just then, a thought creeps into my head. I turn back to El.
“Hey, El?”
She turns her head, “Yes, Mike?”
“I never said thank you.”
Her face changes a bit. Clearly, she’s got no clue what I’m talking about.
“The uh, the painting. I never said thanks—”
There’s a loud coughing noise parallel of me. Probably Will’s dust allergy or something.
“Yeah it was…it was really great. I liked it a lot.”
“Mike…what painting?”
My heart stop for a second. Huh?
“The one you asked Will to commission? With the uh the dragon and the heart and—”
“Mike. I did not ask Will to make a painting. Ever.”
My heart stops for a second.
Actually—no. That’s not right.
It stutters. Like it tried to beat and forgot how.
I stand up.
“What?” I say. It comes out too sharp. Too loud. I feel everyone in the truck shift, but I don’t care. I look straight at El. “You—you said—”
“I did not, Mike,” she says gently. Too gently. “I never asked Will to paint a picture.”
The truck hits a bump and my shoulder slams into the wall, but I barely feel it. My ears are ringing now. Loud. Like static. Like someones banging on a door in my head that I’ve kept shut and locked for years.
The world tilts.
I turn my head slowly. Slowly. Like if I move too fast something terrible will happen—like I’ll see something I can’t unsee.
Will.
He’s frozen.
Shit, I need to go. I to be anywhere but here right now.
At that very moment, the truck speeds up. Faster and faster and faster. I hit my head again against that fuck ass metal wall. Jesus, was the whole truck just out to get me at this point? Eleven takes my hand and tells me to sit down, but I don’t want it. I don’t want her.
…
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
Fuck.
There’s shooting outside. Lots of it. We’re here, but my heart stopped long before the fight began. Every one ducks down for cover, but I don’t move. I’m shaking from head to toe, my mind going a million miles a fucking minute. It’s like my entire goddamn body just forgot how to work. My breathing feels heavy, my head won’t stop pounding, there’s gunshots heard all around me, Murray is driving like a fucking psycho, there’s yelling, screaming, hitting, slamming, killing, there’s so much happening right now, but I can’t seem to process any of it. My chest feels heavy. The world is spinning more than it should be right now. I take a few shaky steps back and lean my body against the wall. Grasping onto anything that could possibly ground me, but no inanimate object could ever hold a spot next to perfection. The back of the truck slides open and Nance and Hops start shooting. Military agents drop like flies, but everything so blurry I honestly can’t tell who’s standing and who’s falling. We get to the gate and Murray slams the gas. I fall forward. Someone calls my name. There’s another gunshot. Shit—
My whole body reacts to the sharp metal bullet the pierces to my shoulder. I twist and slam against a crate as we make a sharp turn into the upside down. The pain hurts like hell. I don’t think I’ve ever been shot before. I mean for the past hour, this is kinda what I’ve just been feeling on the inside. At least now I have a physical wound to match it. I can hear the faint sound of footsteps rushing towards me. My head lolls to my side and someones yelling at me. I know that voice. It’s my favorite sound in the whole world. I blink up and see Will’s silhouette anxiously hovering over my body.
He leans down and crouches in front of me. He says something, but I can only tell because my eyes feel glued to his lips. His hands are on my shoulder, pressing a towel hard against the graze in my skin. Then, the first good thing happens in this stupid truck. He places a hand on my cheek and I can finally hear him.
“Mike…” His voice is low, trembling just a little, but there’s something steady under it. Something urgent. Something that screams I‘m here. My chest constricts, my heart trying to claw its way out, and somehow, all the chaos around us—the bullets, the roaring engine, the screaming, the shouts, the sharp scent of gunpowder—shrinks down to the space between his eyes and mine.
“You’re going to be okay,” he says.
“You…you scared me,” he whispers. His forehead rests against mine. There’s no space between us. None. My ears are ringing, my vision is spinning, but somehow his heartbeat cuts through the chaos. Strong. Steady. His.
I blink, and it hits me: I don’t care about the bullets. I don’t care about the semi-truck, the military, the Upside Down. All I care about is that he’s here. Right now. And he’s looking at me like I matter.
“I…” I start, but the words stick.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “Just…stay with me.”
“…Okay.”
I lean forward, the top of my head hitting his chest. Everyone’s moving around. Nancy comes over and look at my face. She takes it and examines me, probably making sure my dumbass didn’t get shot anywhere else.
“Mike you fucking idiot! Why were you standing?! Something seriously bad could have happened!” She yells, but I know she’s just scared.
“Yeah I just…I’m sorry.”
Will moves back to give us some space. She pulls me close, her hands shake a bit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this. It was kind of weird. I glance at my shoulder, at the blood soaking through. We’re not out of this yet. Not even close.
“Nance…I’m okay—”
“I know, okay? I just—” she takes a deep breath, steadying herself for whatever she’s going to say next.
“I’ve already lost everyone else, I can’t lose you too.”
I sit there for a second. Shit. I can feel the tears fighting their way out of my eyes, begging to be seen, to be noticed. Mom, dad, Holly…too many things had happened for me to be so okay with just being shot, even if it was just a graze wound.
“I’m…sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” she says, voice quieter now. “I just…you’re my little brother. I can’t—can’t stand the thought of something happening to you, even if all you do is piss me off. Not now. Not ever.”
I let my head drop against her shoulder for a second, just to steady myself, just to breathe. She lets me, doesn’t push, just holds me there like we’re in our own little bubble despite the gunfire and chaos tearing around us. Her hand rubs small circles on the back of my head, quiet but steady, it’s the most calm I’ve felt in days. Finally, she pulls back.
“You okay?” she asks softly, like she’s checking, but also like she already knows the answer.
“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” I say, though part of me wonders if I’ll ever feel fully okay again.
“Good,” she says, then as if we weren’t just having a bonding moment, she slaps the back of my head. “Because I need you in one piece, Mikey. I can’t fight the Upside Down or the demos or Vecna or whatever the hell else is out there if you’re not here. So don’t you ever scare me like that again, or the next bullet that hits you? I’ll make sure it doesn’t miss.”
She hands a first aid kit to Will and gets up to help Kali, Hopper, El, and El, and Murray go over the plan a final time.
Will kneels beside me again, first aid kit cracked open between his knees. His hands hover for half a second before touching me, like he’s asking permission without actually saying it. It makes my stomach twist. I nod once anyway, because apparently I’m incapable of denying him anything.
“This is gonna sting,” he says quietly.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Figured.” I mumble.
You see, I know I said that. But holy mother of anything holy it really did sting. Like bad.
“Ooookay, wow! Holy fucking shit! Ha!” I suck in a breath and tilt my head all the way back against the wall.
“S-sorry I know it hurts, just…just a few more seconds I swear.”
“Yeah, no man take your—fuck! take your time.” It came out at more of a pussy ass squeal than a normal sentence, but I was just shot, so. Yeah.
He presses gauze against my shoulder, careful but firm. His fingers brush my skin and my breath catches before I can stop it. He notices. Of course he does. His jaw tightens just a bit.
Neither of us says anything.
Then, I suck it up. I need to say something.
“So,” I start.
Great opener, Wheeler. Pulitzer prize worthy.
Will doesn’t look up, still focused on my shoulder, fingers steady even though I know he’s anything but. The gauze is soaked through now. He swaps it out for a clean one.
“…So?” he prompts gently.
“Right, yes so…the uh..the painting?” I did it. Go me. Yay.
His hands pause. Just briefly. Just enough for me to feel his hands pausing. Then, he unpauses.
“Yeah? What about it?” He says, like this isn’t a super very important conversation.
“Well, I was just wondering—” I gesture vaguely with my good hand, which immediately feels like the wrong move because I kinda looks like I’m swatting a fly or something. Put it down Mike, you’re embarrassing yourself. “Like. Hypothetically.”
“Yeah? Hypothetically what?” He finally looks at me. If he doesn’t back up, I fear I may vomit.
“Yeah. Hypothetically,” I nod, way too fast. “If someone were to, I don’t know, make a painting. For another person. Without telling them. And convince the other person that it was actually commissioned by that persons girlfriend and was definitely not they’re original idea. And that painting had, like, a dragon. And a heart. And a lot of…emotion.”
Will’s mouth twitches.
“Oh.”
“No, no, no, no,” I shake my head. This isn’t going good, “I’m not saying this in a bad way. I’m just saying, yknow, hypothetically, if that did um happen, uh, I’m just wondering if the painting was…well uh… w-would be—”
“Would be what, Mike?” Will’s hands stop moving.
“Gay.”
…
Wow holy shit.
Will looks stunned, shocked, mildly taken aback. Honestly, I might look the same. He blinks.
“…Gay.”
“Not in a bad way!” I shout immediately. “I mean, like, artistically gay? Emotionally gay? Like feelings gay. Which is totally fine. Cool, even. Super cool. I’m pretty sure I heard someone say that Shakespeare was gay once and he’s famous so—”
“Mike,” Will says, trying to keep a straight face, “What are you trying to asking me?”
“Right. Sorry. Okay. New angle.” I take a breath. “Did you—”
Nope. Abort. That sounded wrong.
“Why didn’t you—”
Also wrong.
“Is it because—”
Jesus Christ.
I groan and throw my head back, hitting it a few times against the wall. Will’s hand comes behind it and stops me.
“Mike.” He looks at me.
“I promise the goal of this conversation isn't to make me sound like an asshole. It’s just that…you lied to me.”
Will stares at me, his earlier face faltering into something more serious.
“And…and you made me think the painting was from El, but it wasn’t. It was from you. And you made it for me. Did you lie because you didn’t want me to know? Was it because you didn’t want her to know? Was it just because you were scared I just—I don’t get it.”
“Mike…”
“No, no, and I do totally kind of understand why you didn’t, but also like, is this like…a you like me thing? Or a you like boys just not me thing? Or a you like me but only in a really platonic way which is fine like it’s totally fine but...fuck. Sorry I'm just...curious?”
He stares at me.
I stare back.
The silence is so thick I could choke on it. At this rate, I wish I could.
“…Wow,” Will finally says. “You really know how to make a guy feel normal.”
“Sorry, I know that was ass.”
He laughs then. Really laughs. Short and breathy and a little disbelieving, like he can’t believe this is his life.
“And for the record,” he says, “You just asked me, like, a hundred questions that could get you stoned in public.”
“Right. Yeah no cool that’s uh…yup.”
“It’s okay though, I forgive you.”
“Oh thank god.” I sigh and we both laugh.
He looks up at me again. This time, there’s something raw there. Something unguarded.
“Mike—”
The back of the truck slams open.
Cold air rushes in, along with Hopper’s voice.
“El. It’s time.”
My heart drops straight through my stomach.
Will’s mouth closes. Whatever he was about to say disappears, swallowed whole by reality.
El looks at me and I catch her gaze. I immediately feel Will moving off me and cleaning up the first aid. Dammit.
“Just…just give me a sec.”
I get up and walk to her. I don’t know if this is the last time I’ll ever see her. I walk closer.
“Nervous?”
“..Yes. A lot.”
“Don’t be. You’re my superhero, remember?”
She smiles and hugs me.
“You’ve got this.” I assure her.
I won’t tell her. I can’t, not yet. I do care for her. I care so much…just…not like that. Honestly, I don’t think it was ever like that.
“I will be back.” She nods and holds my face.
“I know you will.”
She leans in for something I don’t have the strength to deny her just yet. I let her plant the kiss on my lips. It feels so wrong. Everything about this feels wrong. Like I’m being forced into a mold that’s bent entirely out of shape.
“I love you, Mike.”
I open my mouth to respond. To say it back, just once.
“...Yeah, me too.”
Dammit.
She turns and hops out of the truck, following Hopper.
“Be safe!” I shout behind her. She turns and waves. Then, she’s gone.
I can still feel the weight of her lips stuck to mine. It’s a feeling I can’t wipe off no matter how hard I try. The conversation between me and Will sits in the air waiting to be reopened.
I turn to finish that conversation, but he’s not there anymore.
“Will?” I call out only to be answered with dead air.
I look around for him, then there’s a hand over my shoulder.
“Will I—”
Yeah. No. Not will.
“Lookin' for your boyfriend?” Lucas sighs with a stupid grin smothered on his face.
My face heats up. The sun is upon me. I fear I may die.
“WHAT?!” I shout so loudly that everyone pauses what they’re doing to give me a very judgmental stare.
“Oh uh, sorry…" There's weird silence followed by confused faces, but it fades quickly, "But Lucas what the hell is wrong with you?”
“You just mad I’m the one saying it and you’re the one waiting for it to happen.”
“Lucas, me and Will are friends. Just. Friends. I don’t know where the hell you got that fucked up delusion from, but it’s wrong. And should be studied in a lab.”
Lucas just raises an eyebrow. One. Singular. Judgmental eyebrow.
“Okay,” he says slowly, like he’s explaining something to a particularly stupid dog. “Then why are you sweating like you just ran a marathon in hell?”
“I am not sweating.”
“Your face is redder than Steve’s face when Nancy ignores him.”
“Okay, um, rude?” Steve butts in.
“That’s just—heat,” I snap. “Truck heat. Metal heat. War heat. It’s hot.”
“Mhm,” Lucas hums. “And the panic?”
“I don’t have panic.”
“You reek of panic. Specifically that of the gayer kind, my friend.”
“Okay that’s a little controversial, don’t you think?,” I argue. Weakly.
Dustin pops up out of absolutely nowhere, because clearly people always need his input.
“Wait—are we talking about Mike and Will?” he asks, eyes lighting up like Christmas came early. “Jesus, finally.”
“No,” I say immediately. “We are not. No one’s talking about anything about Mike and or Will. Nothing is being discussed. Nothing.”
“Yeah, okay, sure, whatever,” Dustin ignores me. “Cause me and Robin had a bet on when this would happen and I guessed within the week, so that means somebody owes me ten dollars and a special feature on The Morning Squawk.”
Robin chimes in, her head jerking up, “What?! That's bull! Lucas interfered, that's cheating!”
Dustin looks at her and argues back, "All I hear are excuses."
If I had an option between staying here in this moment or be eaten alive by anything in the upside down, I’d chose the second option.
Lucas claps me on the shoulder. “Relax, Mikey poo. If anything happens, we’ll pretend we never saw it.”
“…That’s not comforting.”
“Good,” he says. “Because you’re really bad at lying.”
I go to make another retort, anything to get my point through their thick heads, but I stop when I see Will come back onto the truck. Lucas pats my back and whispers something that makes me think the deaf just might have it better. I go to walk up to him.
“Hey Will I—”
“Save it, Mike. I don’t wanna talk to you. I really just don’t.”
My face contorts, showing every emotion I could possibly have in the span of just a few seconds. What? Why? What’s happening? Did I do something? We were just fine? Or…oh. That’s probably why he walked out. Because of her. Shit.
“Will, cmon man seriously i just wanna talk,” I reach out to grab his arm, but he pulls away before I could even lay a finger on him.
“No, Mike! I said no! God, you can just never take that for a fucking answer, can you?”
And then the engine revs, the truck jerks forward, and I don’t get to respond—but honestly? I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.