Mike has broken Wills heart so many times in so many ways that he didn’t think it could get worse. Out of everyone he thought that Mike would get it, would understand why coming back sends Wills world spinning off its axis, why he can’t drive on certain roads, walk on certain streets anymore. That he’d understand that being here drags up every flashback it can, that he has nightmares every night, that he can’t escape the monsters even now they’re gone. But Mike thinks it’s because his new friends are cooler or it’s because Hawkins is boring and a dump. He pulls air into his burning lungs and keeps his eyes on the road even as bile creeps up the back of his throat. He’s going to drop Mike off, he’s going to call either El or his dad from a payphone and he’s going to cry until he throws up. Again.
“Fuck. You.” He whispers harshly.
Mike doesn’t get him anymore. The guillotine had already dropped, he just hadn’t realised. He feels stupid for not seeing it sooner, for daring to hope when hope has never gotten him anything but hurt.
“Fine, truth is my boyfriend,” he emphasises the words because it hasn’t entirely escaped him that Mike doesn’t seem to like him having one and he’s hanging somewhere nebulously over whether he thinks Mike isn’t as cool with the gay thing as he thought he would be or he’s jealous, which he isn’t allowed to be because he walked away. “Doesn’t like you.” At least he’s honest. At least he doesn’t try to insist they’re all friends here while his partner hates his best friend like when El hated him as much as he hated her. “He knows I had a crush on you and I don’t know I guess maybe he thinks I’m unhappy spending time around someone who broke my fucking heart.” Will has a full grasp on the knife now and he’s twisting it and his conscience is screaming at him to stop as he carves into the wreckage of the best friendship he’s ever had. “I can’t exactly tell him it’s because I’m stuck back in a place that got overrun by monsters and it’s nothing to do with any of you.” Take that, you’re wrong, Mike.
“And put your fucking seatbelt back on, you’re not walking home in the dark alone, you might have been able to get over the fear it’s all coming back as soon as you let your guard down but I haven’t and I can’t handle it.” He hates how vulnerable that sounds under all the barely contained rage, hates that he’s admitting that he isn’t over it yet when he’s trying to be angry.
no subject
“Fuck. You.” He whispers harshly.
Mike doesn’t get him anymore. The guillotine had already dropped, he just hadn’t realised. He feels stupid for not seeing it sooner, for daring to hope when hope has never gotten him anything but hurt.
“Fine, truth is my boyfriend,” he emphasises the words because it hasn’t entirely escaped him that Mike doesn’t seem to like him having one and he’s hanging somewhere nebulously over whether he thinks Mike isn’t as cool with the gay thing as he thought he would be or he’s jealous, which he isn’t allowed to be because he walked away. “Doesn’t like you.” At least he’s honest. At least he doesn’t try to insist they’re all friends here while his partner hates his best friend like when El hated him as much as he hated her. “He knows I had a crush on you and I don’t know I guess maybe he thinks I’m unhappy spending time around someone who broke my fucking heart.” Will has a full grasp on the knife now and he’s twisting it and his conscience is screaming at him to stop as he carves into the wreckage of the best friendship he’s ever had. “I can’t exactly tell him it’s because I’m stuck back in a place that got overrun by monsters and it’s nothing to do with any of you.” Take that, you’re wrong, Mike.
“And put your fucking seatbelt back on, you’re not walking home in the dark alone, you might have been able to get over the fear it’s all coming back as soon as you let your guard down but I haven’t and I can’t handle it.” He hates how vulnerable that sounds under all the barely contained rage, hates that he’s admitting that he isn’t over it yet when he’s trying to be angry.