demogorgongotme | IC Inbox

Mike already decided sat in Max’s Fortress Of Solitude, which was actually just a blanket fort she’d built to sulk over her attempt at getting Lucas back blowing up in her face in, that if they were breaking up he wasn’t going to be the one who did it. He knows damn well the whole thing is on life support but he can’t fix it overnight and he’s not willing to pull the plug either. So he’d asked for Maxs advice, she’d told him through handfuls of M&Ms that she wasn’t the person he should be asking because she ruins everything she touches, then she cried, then they both agreed that maybe instead of fixing things by sticking bandaids all over them it was about time they fixed themselves instead.

It’s one of the reasons he’s been so busy, he thoroughly resented calling Owens at first, fumed over it even. But therapy is actually kinda helping, even if it does mean a lot of picking things open that are held together with glue rather than healed and then having to deal with them being open again. It’s hard is the point, really, really hard. And then he did the no alcohol January challenge with Andy and he can officially say he hasn’t been drunk since New Years Eve so there’s that. Because if this shit is what he has to haul himself through, the metaphorical hot coals he has to crawl over, to make things work out, then he’s going to at least try.

And all the school work he just… didn’t do has to be done. And he has until May to rectify it so he doesn’t have to redo first year, his parents will actually murder him if he fails. If they don’t murder each other first. Divorce seems to be looming harder than ever.

There are no less than six pens stuck in his messy bun and when he jumps to answer the phone all of his books that had been stacked precariously on the bed go crashing to the floor. Working at the desk would be smart but he’s not always smart.

“Hi,” he says when he picks up and then thinks about how Andy basically moved into his dorm following a post Christmas bust up with Diana. “Mike speaking.”

Will has been stuck for a long while in the impression that nothing that was wrong with him could be fixed. Therapy with Owens hadn't done as much as any of them hoped, and he's remained convinced every step of the way that everything was going to continue to be his fault. He entrenched himself in his work as much to earn everything back that he needed for college as to sequester himself away from the rest of them so that he couldn't hurt them and likewise nobody else would have to deal with him. Mike deserved better than him; the feelings he'd harbored for a decade would have to be shoved way down in a box and not acknowledged in any meaningful way ever again.

He hasn't actually admitted any of this to anyone else. Not even Dustin. Not even his brother. While Mike is making strides toward self-improvement, Will is tired of trying anymore.

It doesn't stop him from trying to at least keep some line of communication though, because in spite of it all he still values his friendship with Mike, and the gesture is lovely and thoughtful and he really likes the flowers themselves. The orange and yellow look really nice!

There's a second that he can't speak when Mike answers, sounding a little out of breath from launching himself at the phone. He manages after a moment, though he has to clear his throat to make his voice work again.

"Happy Valentine's day..."

“Oh, hey,” Fuck. He’s been turning over what to say in his head for the last few hours and nothing seems good enough. Like when he wrote and rewrote what he was going to put in the card for so long Max got sick of waiting and roped Andy into pelting him with marshmallows because they wanted to go get dinner and not wait for him all night.

It might seem like strides on the outside but it feels like baby steps while he waits for it to all implode again. But that’s fatalism and he’s received a thorough dressing down for that from the therapist so he’s trying to learn to stop it before it overwhelms him and gives him an excuse to make stupid choices that he’s not proud of.

“I uh… I wasn’t really sure if I should do anything but…” but he’d been bullied into just taking the plunge. “I didn’t want you to think I was silently dumping you again or something.” And okay he’s not convinced Will hasn’t done just that to him instead but he’s trying to follow the request to stop assuming things if Will hasn’t actually said them. “And it’s Valentines Day, so yeah… happy that.”

It never used to be this awkward but he had never had to sit with two years of fear that he was about to lose the person who mattered most only to end up reflexively pushing him away to try and get rid of it then. He’s got making up to do and facing it for a third horrible time was a big enough push to decide to put in the work instead.

“Also I’m coming over on Friday, to Hawkins, not to drop in on you unannounced or something, but I’ll be staying with Eddie and Steve because my parents house is a fucking warzone.”

They'd gotten so ingrained in the pattern of only talking about the serious stuff when they were on the verge of completely falling apart that Will just didn't feel safe bringing it up to begin with lest Mike should think that it's time to start catastrophizing again. He doesn't want to examine that thought right now, though. This is supposed to be a nice thing, not a prelude to a final stab in the heart.

He really hopes that Mike isn't too hurt by his opting to not go out of his way to make any grand gestures this year. The idea of yet another possible rejection had frozen him in indecision until he'd given up.

"I really liked them, thank you," he says quietly, worrying the cord of the phone between his forefinger and thumbnail standing with his back against the living room wall with his head down and eyes sort of unfocused at the floor.

The corner of his mouth tightens as Mike explains the plan; every so often Karen had taken to leaving Holly with the Byers after she and Joyce had started getting close, to keep her away from the escalating fights at the Wheeler house. It meant that he got to lend her his crayons and watch movies with her that she might otherwise not be able to, while she's forced way too young to come to terms with the idea that her family wasn't all going to stay together. He knows that feeling, so he's trying where he can to make sure she knows that it's not her fault and it's not the end of the world.

"If you need to you can take over the couch here," he offers, figuring that Joyce wouldn't mind it overly much. "Holly does that when she's here."

“You’re welcome,” at least it doesn’t sound like he’s done completely the wrong thing, even though the fear had nagged at him since Max let him know everything was set up.

The real big fear of the moment, overtaking even the idea that he’s messed up too hard to come back from it with Will, is that the moment his parents actually separate Ted is going to withdraw his financial support with college and everything he did from the moment he realised he wasn’t going to get in if he didn’t try at school to now where he’s surrounded by textbooks racing to catch up again will have been pointless. All the seeing his friends, all the times he could have spent hanging out with Lucas or trying to rebuild with Will and he didn’t because he was studying will have been for absolutely nothing.

He doesn’t have enough faith in Ted Wheeler not to be scared either. But that’s for another time.

“Yeah she told me all about it, she really likes you guys.” Okay he’s putting it off, that’s not great. He has to be honest and transparent and he knows it, professional opinions and all that. “Thanks for the offer but I think maybe we need to… I don’t know see each other, before I take you up on it, that’s why I’m staying with Eddie, it means I have somewhere low stress I know I can go if things are all going sour.” There’s no malice in it, his tone is soft and even.

He hadn’t been able to run last time and it was an uneasy sort of peace. He doesn’t know if Will has read the letters or straight up burned them, or if finding out that Mike had figured himself out because it all blew up in his face has nailed more in the coffin than it helped, he just wanted Will to know he’d had his own feelings before he had any clue they were reciprocated so he wouldn’t keep thinking it was pity or inauthentic. What he does know is that if he turns up and cries on Eddie, or even Steve, it’s okay, they’re good at offering support without taking a side.

“I miss you, and I’m trying to sort myself out before I cause more damage than I already have, but I guess I just… I want to try, if that’s what you want too but it’s okay if you don’t,” it’s not okay as such, it would hurt, but it’s not his decision and he doesn’t want his feelings spared at the cost of Wills, “I’m not like totally doing this for you or something, you prompted it but I’m doing it for me, you all keep telling me I don’t deserve to feel like shit all the time and I’ve elected to trust you all and try to fix it. So I’m not trying to make you feel like… I don’t know, like I’ll give up on it if we don’t work out.”

Mike really has thought of everything, hasn't he? It's a level of consideration that he remembers fondly from when they were much smaller. He doesn't really know what to say in response to any of it though, refusing to open his mouth and say the wrong thing like he always seems to when he's under stress these days. Or, maybe the wrong thing isn't what it is, it's just never quite what anyone expects or wants from him and while that seemed to be something they could deal with when he was little, now that he's a grown man nobody has the patience.

Grown man, as if he isn't still too young to buy alcohol...

"I miss you too," he says thinly, hoping he doesn't sound upset even though he kind of is, even though it's nothing that Mike has done since they'd talked on New Years. He's sat and read those letters, one by one, from the earliest date he could find, every time he's felt particularly lonely or unlovable. Every one was a gut punch of some kind, and he feels like maybe he should resent the feeling that they give him after everything that's happened, but he's still so deeply, miserably in love. It just doesn't seem fair that now that they're being honest with each other, that it's seemingly on the precipice of calling it quits.

Will takes a long, steadying breath after Mike talks himself out. "I think we really need to talk. Somewhere neutral so it's not like last time... I promise that's not as bad as it sounds so don't freak out, okay?" He doesn't want either of them to feel helpless or cornered if this ends up going as poorly as some of their previous talks, and he's not trying to outright imply that they're about to officially break up. He wouldn't be able to live with himself it they did it like this anyway.

“Yeah I agree,” Mike says pulling a pen out of his hair and fiddling with the clicker. He’s said pretty much everything he can and he’s putting in the work but there’s definitely things still hanging over Will and at least he’s properly equipped to listen, no excuses, they, he’s decided are to be used only for forgiving himself.

“Saturday maybe? We can meet in the park, then we can try not to shout and if we have to there’s always the trees?” It’s probably the most neutral ground and well away from anyone who might step in.

The thing about precipices is that if there’s someone extending their hand you always have the choice to take it, Mike has his all the way out and he’s fetched the ropes and he doesn’t care if it hurts him to pull them back off the ledge, but he’s also willing to let go if that’s really for the best.

Will is nodding in spite of the fact that Mike can't see it, feeling the clenching in his chest loosening just that little bit. They could do this, to whatever end might come.

"Saturday," he repeats. It'll be well past Valentine's by then, but that doesn't matter as much; after all, after Valentine's comes the chocolates left over on sale and he has a plan. No matter what his pessimistic streak might be convincing him of, he does still want to make this work. They deserve to make this work.

"Say before noon? If it goes well then...maybe we can go have lunch."

“Yeah that sounds good to me,” there’s a tiny bit of optimism that if he can use the coping tools maybe, just maybe Mike can manage not to absolutely fuck things up for once.

Even if it means spilling that yeah actually there are a few Will related things that have left him traumatised in a way that makes it crystal clear that they are in no way Wills fault, because they aren’t, they never were and he’d rather find a way to heal them than avoid it altogether. His therapist is going to have a hell of a session with him on Friday, he really hopes they’re paying her enough to justify it.

“Is someone gonna be around in case you need to be picked up? I’ll probably just walk and I’d put Max on it but… I’m kinda hoping she won’t be back yet.”

"I can ask Jonathan if I can borrow his car." He's gotten good at driving while emotionally compromised, oddly enough. He takes after his brother in that way.

He gnaws fitfully at his lower lip for a long moment, then steels himself and forces a smile onto his face. He knows that people can hear when you're smiling on the phone, and he wants to at least try to give Mike less to worry about.

"I really did like the roses, though. Nobody's ever got me flowers before. I'll have to ask Mr Blackwood how to keep them alive longer."

“Okay good,” Mike is not good at driving when emotional and has nearly crashed his car more times than he cares to admit.

The silence stretches until it’s almost unbearable and he’s about to call time before Will saves him from that particular purgatory, and if he ends up twirling the phone cable around his fingers like Nancy did when she had a teenage crush that’s between him and God. “I’m really glad you like them, I uh… got hung up on trying to research meanings and all that stuff but then I figure I should just get colours you like and not think about it too deeply.”

The smile is more genuine when Mike says that. It means more than he probably realizes that he would go through the trouble, but then again, Mike was a writer, a sucker for a narrative, enjoying double meanings and riddles and smart approaches to small things like that. It makes Will relax a little bit more.

He laughs a little bit, dredging up what he'd learned from his boss about flower arranging for the job. "Sincerity, friendship, energy, desire? I think you did good. And...yeah I like the colors too." He knows that Mike is probably really frustrated by how freaked out he gets by physical contact if they're not careful, so even the slight indication that Mike might still want him is encouraging. Unless it was on accident, in which case they could totally twist the meaning as they saw fit.

"So...see you Saturday?"

Will laughs and oh… he’s missed that. Really missed that.

He heaves a sigh, “okay so maybe I did the thing where I overthought what I wanted to say so hard I gave up and somehow when I stopped trying got it right,” it’s unfortunately on brand.

He’s not frustrated at all, the hesitation has more to do with his own issues with intimacy in any form than anything Will has done, he’s slowly getting over them in the way you kinda have to when your unofficial roommate is like an oversized and very annoying cat who can’t go a day without sitting on you in some way, or playing with your hair, or generally getting up in your business.

“I look forward to it,” genuine. Even if it’s hard, even if he has to face the consequences of his actions, he made Will laugh today, there’s a flicker of hope to cling to.

Edited 2023-02-16 02:31 (UTC)

They've both got intimacy issues of such drastically different stripes that honestly being able to come together in the middle on anything to do with their feelings for eachother is a miracle in and of itself.

"I think that means you need to turn off your brain sometimes and just do what feels right. I know it's hard, but you do better when you're not massively complicating stuff in your own head," he points out. He knows Mike has to know this, but it's a lot harder in the moment to hold on to that line of thought. Maybe having it said out loud will help.

If it weren't a phone call he could just kiss Mike goodbye and hang up before he had to be out the door for the day, but as it stands, he just glances toward the clock above the stove, and lowers his voice again, murmuring a quick "gotta go. Love you, see you Saturday."

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