Chapter Text
He was drowning again. The water clung to everything, his clothes, his hair, his eyes. He could barely see anything past the blur of suffocation, but he could make out figures. People stood outside, observing him like an animal on display. They wore white coats, reminiscent of the scientists in Hawkins Lab. Polished, uncaring, disconnected from human remorse. Mike felt the body- no, the person he was inhabiting, screaming. The water felt like it was washing off his entire being, trying to make him forget. Forget what he wasn't sure of. Himself, maybe. But that thought terrified him completely to the core.
Is this what El went through growing up?
This panic is new. He feels more frantic, out of control. The suffocation was unbearable. His vision was spotty. He could feel himself slowly falling into unconsciousness. The white figures still stood there, looking down at him from their invisible pedestals, noting down observations.
Mike wished this could end faster. It felt too real, the pain, the emotion. God, he just wanted to sleep in his comfortable bed at home, surrounded by familiar laughter, planning a future campaign, or walking down the trail to school with the Party. Not this. The air was getting stolen from his lungs, water entering like a predator ready to overtake his body. Slowly, he was fading. The body started to thrash, his mind screaming wildly stop get out get out get out-
But wasn't this what he wanted when he gave everything away? He hated seeing them suffer, hated himself more for standing by and just watching. They were his friends, weren't they? Best friends, every single one of them. And friends wouldn't just watch each other suffering. (They're suffering because of you. You did it, right?) They were dying. Everyone was in danger. Newt was in dang-
...
Wait, what.
...
Who's Newt..?
What the hell is going on.
Mike was tired. He was drained, exhausted, and done with these insane dreams. He was officially losing his mind. Four years of supernatural bullshit wasn't enough, no, the universe has to add prophetic visions on top too. Brilliant. Thank you for nothing, world. You have failed me entirely.
From the side, he could see one of the white blurs approaching. His sight focused just enough to see a woman by his side. She was Mrs. Byers's age, with blond hair tied neatly in a bun. Her eyes were gentle, motherly, but he could sense they held no warmth. Mike doubted anyone who willingly participated in human experimentation could remain soft or kind. She smiled at him, in a way that made her seem like she expected this outcome. She was one of the figures who appeared most. Mike dubbed her as White Phony. He definitely heard her name in one of his dreams but couldn't care less to remember it. Miss White Phony reminded him of Dr. Brenner, which did not help soothe his panic.
His eyes shut tight. Black overtakes everything. The last thing he heard before everything turned black was a deep, soft voice.
Tommy, wake up.
//
Mike shot up with his heart beating in his throat. Everything looked disorienting, his head swam with an incoming headache. He could hear Nancy's gentle voice telling him to breathe. In and out Mike. Just like that. When his heart finally stopped trying to beat out of his chest, he carefully lifted himself off his bed. It was still dark out. The moonlight peaking through his curtains made everything illuminate in an eerie way. The shadows seemed to taunt him— dancing in corners of his quiet room. Times like this made him wonder why he even went to sleep anyway.
The dreams started a few weeks ago. At first, it was just flashing images—flickering lights, a lab, tall walls. As time went on, these images slowly transformed into nightmares. Mike would find himself lying down with doctors— crazy scientists—looking down at him with medical tools poised to do surgery. This is going to hurt, a male voice would say before searing pain envelopes his entire being before he woke up with a silent scream. Sometimes, he would see others—boys like him— in pods of water, screaming. Banging on the glass, desperation and fear clear on their faces. Mike wills his body to move, to do something, but it all ends before he can do anything. This scenario specifically makes him uneasy in a way he can't explain. Mike knows those boys mean something to him. Most often, he dreams of himself drowning before he succumbs to suffocation.
But sometimes, a blond boy appears. He's lanky, tall, with a soft British accent. He looks familiar, in a way that a Polaroid photo from your childhood would remind you of a distant memory. The boy shows up sporadically, sometimes in a clean, white room, where he's younger, or in a vast fields surronded by towering walls. His name is on the tip of his tounge, he knows it! He just...can't recall it. (You have failed me too, stupid brain) His memory of the boy is blurry at best, yet he never fails to make Mike feel warm after he wakes up, closer to the feeling of a cozy blanket shielding him from the reality of the world. Kind of like how Will makes him feel.
...
Mike shook his head before his train of thoughts completely derailed from track, crashed, and burned to ashes. His musing was interrupted by a low mumble from behind.
"Mike? Wha' happened?"
Oh.
Will.
This arrangement of theirs is still new, with Nancy wanting (insisting, more like) to sleep next to Jonathan, Will was promptly left with no place to spend the night. Mike had offered for both of them to sleep in his bedroom. The first night was all awkward gestures and stilted silence. Not that they haven't had dozens of sleepovers growing up. But It's...different, now that they're not curious kids taken back by simple things in life.
Then, as the nights started passing, it got lighter. Easier to talk. Now, the room is filled with shared whispers in the presence of stars and quick, lost glances in the dark. Hushed laughter and joyful, real smiles. They spent so much time apart being just Mike and Will as individuals that they forgot what it was to be Mike&Will together.
Will.
The voice greeted him like a breeze on a hot, summer night. Encapsulated his heart in a tender hug. Mike turns around and sees him, yawning as he tries to shake away his tiredness. Will looks soft, the light from the window making him glow, capturing his radiance in all its glory. His hair is an untamed mess, strands sticking out in all kinds of directions.
Half-lidded eyes, drowsy from sleep with a smile on his face, Mike thinks Will looks like the most breathtaking he's ever seen. He doesn't think he'd allow himself to think this way if he were fully awake. But with his lingering unease finally leaving at the sight of his best friend, Mike let's his mind consume the sight in front of him.
Will let's out a questioning hum. Right! Will asked him a question. "Nothing, just a nightmare, is all", Mike says, trying to hide his shakiness from before.
That comment seems to wake Will up from his slumber. "Oh. Do you want to...talk about it? I'm here to listen," he offers, voice quiet but certain with a hint of reassurance.
Mike shakes his head. "It's okay. I can't remember much anyway." How can he explain his dreams (nightmare, whatever) in a way that would make sense? Hey Will, I actually dreamt about mad scientists cutting my brain open and boys being drained of their blood, who , by the way, I'm certain I know from somewhere. What do you think? He's sure that it'll play out spectacularly. Well, he knows Will won't think any differently of him. It's just that, he doesn't want to dump his problems on him when he knows Will is already struggling with quarantine anxiety.
He's been more jumpy and alert than before. Will, that is. He tries to hide his discomfort and succeeds most of the time. Mike's pretty sure only him and Jonathan know Will is anxious about the...situation. Will and El have been talking more often too. They've become close since California, almost inseparable most days. Mike's grateful, ecstatic, really, to know they both have each other (a part of his mind whispers it's because he couldn't stop hurting them both. It's all your fault- Mike squashes the cruel thought with an imaginary swatter. He really doesn't want to experience an existential crisis with Will nearby. Oh my god, no)
Mike checks his clock for the time. It's a little bit past four. Shit, he totally woke Will up with his twisting and turning. "You should go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you," he says, voice tinged with guilt.
"No, it's okay! I wasn't even that tired so you don't have to worry." Will says, voice hushed in the quiet embrace of the night. Will offers him a tentative smile, which is soon overtaken by a little yawn. It seems to affect his previous energy as his eyes start slipping shut in quick blinks.
Cute.
"Okay..maybe you're right...I should definitely go back to sleep." Will says with a little huff that sounds like a warm bell chime of a faraway night to his ears. Mike let's out a muffled laugh in response. God, someone sedate him before he does anything stupid like kiss Will's forehead.
Yeah, definitely should go back to sleep.
"Goodnight, Will." Mike whispers in the calm of their shared space. "Night, Mike," Will whispers back. His voice casts a loving spell on Mike, guiding him to sleep. A soothing lullaby for Mike's tense tremors. His body finally relaxes and he feels safe in their room, knows that his dreams won't find him now that Will's covered Mike's fears.
Mike closes his eyes, finally resting. He sleeps, and dreams of soft brown locks and radiant smiles.
//