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Will had always had horrible nightmares, at least, for as long as he can remember—perhaps longer. It occurred naturally even before he was trapped in the alternate dimension of the Upside Down, but his night terrors then were of a different nature and usually regarded his deadbeat father Lonnie instead of demo-creatures hunting him down.
However, tonight was different. He wasn’t up because he’d been shocked awake from another nightmare–He just couldn’t sleep, so he stared up at the vast, popcorn-textured ceiling of the motel they’d stopped to rest at. Will’s hands pressed covers up closer to him as the night seemed to bring a new chill, settling onto the already eerie motel atmosphere.
It was quiet–the only noise Will could make out were the croaking chirps of either cicadas or crickets, and those were muffled by the window separating the wilderness from the motel room. It was times like these, late at night, unable to sleep, eerily quiet, that his thoughts could really get to him, clouding his brain like fogging mist.
Times where it was just him, secluded and isolated, and his sometimes horrific thoughts eating at him, snapping and snarling like a rabid dog.
But I’m not alone, Will ventures, a finger trailing along a sewn patch in the cover absent-mindedly. He glances to his side, over to a humped-up shape not facing him–El, his sister, sleeping peacefully. He was glad she was a heavy sleeper, especially when she needed to charge up, but he really wished she’d wake, so he could talk to her.
Although he tries his hardest to not look over there, over at who he’s sharing the bed with, over at him , his eyes betray him and they slip over to a curled-up, sleeping boy, settling on him as if transfixed. There’s Mike too, but he’s sleeping as well.
Will wishes he would’ve argued with Mike when Mike suggested they share the bed (“We shared beds when we were little, Will, it’s fine! For old times sake, huh?”) because all Will can stare at is Mike, and he thinks, perhaps, Mike is the cause for his trouble sleeping tonight. But, he’d remained silent, small bumps of gooseflesh growing nimbly onto his arms and legs as he nodded quietly, feeling horribly guilty to be so eager to share a bed with his sister’s boyfriend. Mike, oblivious to almost everything, had fallen asleep almost as soon as his lithe form hit the bed.
Will wondered suddenly if Mike was still easy to lift if he was asleep. Will knows he himself had gained some muscle over the six months they’d been apart. What about Mike? Was he heavier? Lighter?
Daintier?
His tanned nose scrunched up at the thought, eyebrows furrowing and creasing as he shook his head, lashes fluttering with the dismissal of such strange thoughts. However, even though the thoughts were gone and his mind felt temporarily blank, his green optics still couldn’t peel away from Mike, tracing his features, his much stronger cheekbones, his longer onyx curls, the spray of unevenly spaced, hardly noticeable freckles along the curve of his nose that settled onto his cheeks as well. Mike’s face was completely relaxed, his eyes closed gently, and his mouth finally not moving in a ramble for once. His lips–the small curled, uptick of a pleased smile on the corners of his mouth–seemed to catch onto a refraction of the moon’s opal light, peering in through the flimsy thin curtains, they looked soft, inviting even.
Will vaguely wondered what it would be like to envelop them with his own, to press his lips against Mike’s, spreading feeble warmth with a soft touch. Was Mike a good kisser? He’d had his fair share of experience with El, and he was fairly certain Mike had to have been good at it. If they kissed, would their lips slot together? Fit perfectly like puzzle pieces, feeling all natural and fulfilling? Who would initiate the kiss; him or Mike? He thought about him pulling away from Mike, the lankier’s lips bruised and swollen from kissing, his eyes hazy and unfocused as if he were dazed.
If Will were to kiss Mike, he didn’t think he’d ever let go until almost all of the air in his lungs was gone.
Like always in his fantasies, a certain paladin came to save the day. Beside him, half of his body hidden underneath the frail motel covers, Mike’s leg, the one closest to Will’s body twitched and moved closer. Will almost jumped, startled out of his skin, as the movement thankfully pried him from his thoughts again, though, he forced himself to stay rooted in his spot on the bed.
At least the thoughts were gone, Will’s green eyes instead narrowing into a squint as he peered over at Mike, whose eyes were still closed, despite his dark lashes fluttering against his eyelids and that startling leg twitch not even a minute ago. The content, dopey smile on Mike’s face seemed to have fallen, drooping downward into what Will made out as a frown.
And then it happened again: Mike twitched, though it seemed to have been more of a surprised jolt, like he was spooked. A very small whimper escaped his throat, falling out of his lips freely because Mike was still asleep. His eyes seemed to move behind his closed lids, brows furrowing again in fretful frustration.
It finally clicked in his head. Mike was having a nightmare. On the very rare occurrence Will was freed from his terrors of the night, they seemed to have moved onto Mike. He blinked, concern weighing on his crestfallen heart as he watched Mike squirm again. Will sighed, lowering himself back down deeper into the cover threshold whilst eying Mike warily, unsure of what to do.
After another moment’s passing filled with troublesome worry, Mike’s hands gripped the bedsheet, creasing it with his effort, and he heaved himself up, eyes shot wide with terror and his chest rising and falling with the task of filling his lungs with air. Will shifted next to him, trying to get a better view of Mike without Mike realizing Will’s eyes settling on him.
Pale hands clutching his shirt, Mike froze, still sat up in bed, as he tried to catch his breath again. His tongue left his mouth to wet his lips, whilst his dark eyes searched the room, scanning over both Will and Eleven. Probably to see if he’d woke us, Will mused, blinking his eyes open and pretending to just wake up.
Pretending he didn’t see that nightmare happening was probably the better choice, as to not strain the finally repairing friendship . Better to play it safe, to avoid any possibility for it to get awkward. He didn’t want to ruin something as it finally started to repair, unsure of how much it would take to set off another fight that’d cause a rift between them.
Mike seemed to tense momentarily, watching him with a softer, non-readable look in his dark eyes. Will thought he looked like an observant puppy for a moment, eyes drooping.
“Oh, Will–” Mike started, his velvet tone gone and instead sounding hoarse, his brows unfurrowing and his eyes seeming to gleam. He looked starstruck and hopeful, a small smile loosely growing along his pink lips as he pursed them to query, “Shit, sorry. Did I wake you?”
Will–against his better judgment–just shrugged, faking his best husky, I-just-woke-up groan deep in his throat and laying his head back down onto the pillow but keeping his eyes open, praying this conveyed something translating an invitation to talk. To share. It’s dark, but he can just make out, using the moon’s feeble light, Mike’s pale nose slightly scrunching as his hand rubs his head.
With a huff, Mike shifts and lies down right next to Will. He wets his lips again–perhaps they actually were dry, Will reflects. But they weren’t when I was glancing at them earlier– and refixes his gaze on Will, eyes rounded with his head on his pillow, faces mere inches apart.
It would be really easy to kiss him right now. The thought is dismissed almost as suddenly as it had first appeared.
“Why are you up?” Will ventures, though he already knows. A part of him wonders if Mike trusted him enough to share, if they were back on enough stable ground to have the quality of trust back in their friendship. A part of him wonders if he should just be honest, but he doesn’t dare risk it.
Mike’s eyelashes flutter as he blinks and averts his gaze, perhaps unsure of how to answer. Biting the inside of his cheek, he glances back up at Will momentarily, maybe to gauge his reaction. He still seems to hesitate, nose scrunched and his brown eyes squinted as he whispers out, “Just a nightmare… It’s– I’m fine.”
Will is surprised to find he’d almost forgotten El was in the bed just a few mere inches away from the one Will and Mike were sharing, until she softly grumbled in her sleep and turned away from them, instead facing the opposite wall. He’d glanced over at her noises, but immediately turned back to Mike when he was sure she was fine and asleep. He gives a supple nod, though makes sure his voice is soft–not patronizing soft, but caring soft–when he murmurs, “Okay. Do you… Do you wanna talk about it?”
When Mike’s eyes open again, he’s staring at him with a puzzled expression etched onto his face, as if he doesn’t believe Will wanting to know was true. His body has tensed, and Will observes that fact as the bed seems to suddenly dip down.
Will’s lips make a small click as they purse into a frown. Shit, did I get too nosy?
“Or not–... you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Will adds quickly, gulping so hard it kind of hurts his throat. He shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut, and adds an even quieter, “Sorry, that was pushy.”
Somehow, this provokes a small bubble of laughter from Mike, even though it’s more of a giggle as he tries to remain quiet. Will almost catches on to the saddening fact he doesn’t know what exactly makes Mike laugh anymore, but he prevents himself from doing so with the simple mantra of I made Mike laugh repeating through his head. Will opens his eyes again, peering out at Mike, who has this stupid grin on his face, and it’s only then Will realizes his teeth are slightly crooked.
Will loves him even more, if that was possible.
His voice sounding much lighter and gleeful to his ears, Will prods at Mike as gingerly and gently as he can, whispering, “What? What did I say?”
“Nothing, it’s just–...” When Will pokes him in the side, Mike’s face scrunches and he breathes out in one quiet laugh, “You apologized for being pushy after you asked me if I wanted to talk about my nightmare.”
“Oh, right, sor–”
Cutting Will off right in the middle of his apology–which was pure habit by this point, anyway–Mike presses a pale finger to Will’s lips, arching one onyx brow and playfully glaring at him, a look mastered with time. Seeing Mike with such a look made Will’s face suddenly sting, dusting a light hue of pink upon his cheeks, hardly visible beyond his California tan.
Pulling his finger away, Mike seems to mirror Will’s light blush, though probably from different reasons–embarrassment, likely. His brown eyes, however, seem to soften as well as Mike’s usually irritated expression, making him look more poise and gentle. The taller sighs and shifts in the crappy motel bed again, propping his head up with one knobby knuckle, his features finally catching more of the moon’s luminance from his higher vantage point.
Will takes the small moment to stare at Mike’s random sprays of light freckles, staring at the varying shapes of each one, and how un-even they were, yet even with the symmetry screwed, Mike’s face still looks perfect. His heart almost flutters.
Oblivious to his staring as always, Mike murmurs in a much more quiet tone, casting a brief glance over Will’s shoulder at El, “Um, about my nightmare.”
Will can’t say he wasn’t caught off guard by the sudden change in both the mood and topic of the conversation, because he definitely was. Even with the whiplash of the contrast, Will gives another supple nod, offering Mike a lithe smile spread along his lips, hoping it encourages him.
From what Will can make out in the blanket of night, Mike almost looks embarrassed, averting his dark eyes to a corner of the room and shrugging his shoulders up so far it looked as if the blades of each one were touching his ears. He bites the inside of his cheek and moves the knuckle his head is laid on for a minute, his free hand fidgeting and picking at the cotton motel bedsheet.
“Well… okay, um, so when you were missing–” Mike starts, his voice making him sound awkward as if he were unsure of exactly how to start the telling of his nightmare, “They pulled the–...”
As Mike pauses, he gulps so hard that his adam’s apple disappears. The fidgeting increases, Will observes, but Mike does not falter and rather continues on.
“That body out of the quarry water.” Mike’s dark eyes finally move back to Will, and there’s the buzzing emotion of nervousness in them, mixed with the raw emotion of sadness. “You, um… You remember us telling you about the body, right?”
Yes. Will does remember that. He remembers just waking up in the hospital bed, hearing Mike’s distant shouts (“Guys! He’s up! Will’s up!”) of glee as he stirred Lucas and Dustin followed by their pounding footsteps as if he were the most important thing in the world to them at that very moment. They’d pushed past his mother and Jonathan waiting by the door and smiled so wide it must’ve hurt their jaws later. He remembers all three of them crouching by the hospital bed, bright eyes and rosy red cheeks as they relayed all of the crazy stuff that had happened in his absence, like El, and the fake cotton body, and Jennifer Hayes–as if he really cared Jennifer had cried at his funeral, he didn’t really know her.
Mutely, Will forces a very thin, reassuring smile on his face and nods without uttering a word.
“We all saw it…” Mike continues, his voice a little shaky and quivering as he goes on, “We were all there, and there were police cruisers and ambulances, and even El saw it and… I just–... I just thought you were gone forever. ”
“I didn’t know what to do.” It’s only now that Will realizes that Mike is sniffling slightly as if he’s trying to hide it. He gulps again and whispers, “I thought you’d killed yourself or something, Will… That body…”
Mike meets his eyes, and Will takes it all in with a horrible pang in his heart: tears welled up in Mike’s eyes and his nose a light red, his brows knitted as he told Will exactly how he’d felt in that moment, how he’d feared Will was actually dead. Will tries to say something, but his jaw only falls slack and shuts with a harsh click as he instead opts to reach his hand over to Mike’s fidgeting one and cover it, intertwining their fingers.
Mike glances down at it, but he doesn’t seem uncomfortable. If he was, he didn’t voice it, only briefly staring back at Will before screwing his eyes shut and murmuring in a dejected, horribly mournful voice, “It looked just like you, Will. I thought I’d lost you and I knew I could never ever let you go again when we found you alive. I can’t lose you Will, because that day… that day was one of the worst in my life.”
Will fears his own eyes are glossy, too, because they start to feel wet as he listens to Mike’s small promise, his vow, to never let Will go. Mike’s dark lashes flutter as his eyes flit open, staring directly at him. There are tears running down his wet, freckled, cheeks now, onyx eyebrows knitted sadly and his lip quivering on the verge of a pout as Will realizes he’s trying his hardest to stifle the caterwaul of tears beyond his eyes.
“Mike,” Will starts in a hushed tone much like a whisper, rubbing his thumb gently along Mike’s shaking hand like strumming a guitar. He picks it up, tentatively casting Mike a hesitant glance, seeing the other watch him with wary confusion.
And then, watching Mike with every passing moment, Will presses Mike’s quivering hand against his chest, as close to his heart as possible. Though it was beating steadily a moment ago, it seemed to skip a beat as Mike’s warmth touched against his chest.
Mike’s breath hitches audibly and Will swears it sounds like that of a gasp, the other’s eyes rounded and his voice wavering. His soft pink lip trembles as he fully pouts, and suddenly, in a fast movement, he curls up, sobbing wetly.
Will goes to reach out, to ask Mike what was wrong, if it was something Will did, but Mike beats him there. Still curled up, Mike presses his body against Will’s, his warmth something Will had dreamed of having once again since their fallout as kids.
Will tries to look down, tries to see Mike’s face, but the taller boy has his neck craned to bury it in Will’s crumpled nightshirt, wetting his shoulder with tears involuntarily—not that Will minds, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Mike’s hands find themselves around Will’s body, his legs intertwined with Will’s under the covers.
Suddenly, Will feels like they’re both kids again, but instead of Mike comforting Will about his night terrors, it’s the other way around.
He doesn’t mind. He’d comfort Mike any day.