Angst in My Pants (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
partypaladin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
caiartistcollective2024-04-08 09:41 pm
partypaladin) wrote in caiartistcollective2024-04-08 09:41 pm
But the loneliness never left me
He’d felt his stomach dropping long before his plane hit the runway. It’d only been a few months since Christmas, but his nerves are still electric under his skin, keyed up and sparking at the thought of seeing Will again. He should’ve called like he said he would. He should’ve written like he’d meant to, but the truth is he can’t think of anything worth the price of a stamp, let alone the long distance charges. His own college experience sounds incredibly dry compared to Will’s stories about drag queens and gay bars. He’d thought Chicago would be more progressive than Hawkins, but so far all he’s seen is the rigidness of Academia and an advanced high school hierarchy where the athletes still get away with murder.
He isn’t bullied, exactly, though he has a sneaking suspicion that he would be if Nick hadn’t been assigned his roommate due to some random lottery drawing. He knows he’s not well liked, something that’s obvious by the way Nick’s friends tease him, not friendly but not outright hostile, either. He misses his friends. He even misses Hawkins, in his own way. But most of all, he misses Will.
He thinks that they’ll pick up where they left off at Christmas, except this time he’ll try not to let himself get too jealous about Will’s life in Cleveland or the friends that have moved into the space he used to occupy. He tells himself that he’s going to be supportive and ask more questions this time, no matter how much it hurts.
He just doesn’t expect the mouth shaped bruise on Will’s neck, or to keep catching the tail end of conversations about the guy who gave it to him. His name is Daniel and he’s Will’s first boyfriend. Mike misses how they met, but he doesn’t particularly care. Will doesn’t talk to Mike directly about him and yet it seems like Mike can't seem to escape people asking questions about him in his presence.
Mike feels stupid for worrying about long distance bills when it feels like Daniel must be calling every night, if not more. He doesn’t like the way Will slips away from him and the others to take a call, only to return half an hour later looking tired and worn down. Mike spends the whole night watching the light of the TV reflect off of Will’s unhappy face in the Byers’ living room, narrowly looking away in time when Will turns his head in his direction.
Like clock work, the phone rings exactly at 10pm three hours later and the entire Party gathered groans in unison as Will preemptively gets to his feet to take it in the other room.
“You’re going to miss the best part,” Mike blurts out as Will scoots past him with a muttered apology. Will gives him a small shrug and disappears behind the nearest bedroom door, his voice muffled and sounding far away.
When he finally emerges only a few minutes later he looks even worse than he did before. If Mike didn’t know he was upset from the look of pure misery on his face, he’d know it by the set of his shoulders and way he avoids joining the others and goes to the kitchen instead. Mike follows him into the kitchen, studying him for a moment before leaning against the doorway.
“Hey,” he says, softly. “Can you give me a ride home?”
He isn’t bullied, exactly, though he has a sneaking suspicion that he would be if Nick hadn’t been assigned his roommate due to some random lottery drawing. He knows he’s not well liked, something that’s obvious by the way Nick’s friends tease him, not friendly but not outright hostile, either. He misses his friends. He even misses Hawkins, in his own way. But most of all, he misses Will.
He thinks that they’ll pick up where they left off at Christmas, except this time he’ll try not to let himself get too jealous about Will’s life in Cleveland or the friends that have moved into the space he used to occupy. He tells himself that he’s going to be supportive and ask more questions this time, no matter how much it hurts.
He just doesn’t expect the mouth shaped bruise on Will’s neck, or to keep catching the tail end of conversations about the guy who gave it to him. His name is Daniel and he’s Will’s first boyfriend. Mike misses how they met, but he doesn’t particularly care. Will doesn’t talk to Mike directly about him and yet it seems like Mike can't seem to escape people asking questions about him in his presence.
Mike feels stupid for worrying about long distance bills when it feels like Daniel must be calling every night, if not more. He doesn’t like the way Will slips away from him and the others to take a call, only to return half an hour later looking tired and worn down. Mike spends the whole night watching the light of the TV reflect off of Will’s unhappy face in the Byers’ living room, narrowly looking away in time when Will turns his head in his direction.
Like clock work, the phone rings exactly at 10pm three hours later and the entire Party gathered groans in unison as Will preemptively gets to his feet to take it in the other room.
“You’re going to miss the best part,” Mike blurts out as Will scoots past him with a muttered apology. Will gives him a small shrug and disappears behind the nearest bedroom door, his voice muffled and sounding far away.
When he finally emerges only a few minutes later he looks even worse than he did before. If Mike didn’t know he was upset from the look of pure misery on his face, he’d know it by the set of his shoulders and way he avoids joining the others and goes to the kitchen instead. Mike follows him into the kitchen, studying him for a moment before leaning against the doorway.
“Hey,” he says, softly. “Can you give me a ride home?”
no subject
It’s all falling apart and Will doesn’t want to hope, doesn’t want to hang everything on this being any different than last time and he knows what will happen if he accepts the invitation to go inside. The problem is that he wants to. They go inside, they kiss more, Will allows himself to be touched, lets himself give Mike the thing his actual boyfriend wants from him, god he has a boyfriend and he’s going to break someone else’s heart, he’s so selfish. And then what? What happens after that? They live 400 miles apart. They can barely maintain a friendship at that distance.
“If I come in…” Will hates himself. He hates himself for trying to save them by breaking them. “We do what?” He doesn’t want to be the sensible one, he hates being the sensible one. “And then what? Can you promise me you’re going to give us a shot this time? That you won’t change your mind in the cold light of morning, can you swear you won’t do that this time?”
Tell me it’ll be different, please, please tell me you’ll try. But Mike jumped away like he’d been burned and Will knows it’s different in Hawkins, that they can’t tell Mikes parents, that it’s a massive risk, it’s just a case of whether Mike believes that they can do this somewhere else. Whether Mike thinks he’s worth it or not. Will secretly doesn’t honestly believe that he is.
He feels like he’s cocked a loaded gun to his own heart. He waits for Mike to pull the trigger.
no subject
Mike can feel his heart sink the moment will says if, the hope inside him withers up and disappears like smoke. Mike doesn't have an answer to his question. He knows what he would like to do if they go inside. He knows that he wants to kiss him for hours, fall asleep on the couch together, or up in his bedroom, wake up and play video games until it's time to meet the others, feel whole again in the knowledge that he hasn't lost him. He wants it so badly he can feel it like an ache in his bones.
Can you promise me you're going to give it a shot? That you won't change your mind in the cold light of morning? Can you swear you won't do that this time?
Mike stares at Will, the corners of his mouth twitching as he considers each of these questions. He could tell him what he wants to hear, but that's always been the most important rule in the Party. Friends don't lie. And Will had been his first friend. His best friend. The most important person to be honest with. Everything had fallen apart because Mike hadn't been honest enough to just tell him how he was feeling. To do anything less than to be honest right now would be unforgivable. Even if it hurts like hell.
"I want to," Mike says, biting his lip. "I've wanted to." I've wanted you. He takes in a shaky breath, feeling his eyes well up again. "But I can't..." He feels them spill over as he looks back at Will. "I don't know if I can give you what he does." Each word feels like a cut to his wrists. "We couldn't tell anyone."
Because that would mean that he was gay and that would mean putting a target on Will, himself and their families. Because it's more than just about the two of them, even if it shouldn't be. And Daniel probably takes Will out on dates, gets to take him home and kiss him and touch him and...
Mike feels bile rise up into his throat. He can't do that. He lives in Chicago and he hates it, but he's stuck there for the next three years. Three years of phone calls and letters and not being able to touch Will or see him unless it's a holiday or the summer. He knows it's not fair to Will or himself. He thinks it would just be more hurt building up between them. He wouldn't lose him, but why would Will want to hang on to that? How could he not resent Mike for holding him back?
He feels dizzy and unsteady, the way he'd felt after losing too much blood that one time. Part of him wishes he could pass out and put this conversation off for later. It feels like the end. Like that last night all over again, except he knows death isn't a possibility. He's going to have to live with it this time. "I think I..." The word is on the edge of his tongue but it feels too hard to say. This time not because he doesn't mean it but because of how much he does. He presses his lips together to keep himself from saying it. To keep himself from dragging Will along any more than he already has. He sniffs, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I don't want to break your heart again."
no subject
He told himself to expect the worst. He knew Mike would rather pull the trigger than take a chance on him. He knew that and he still allowed himself to believe for a moment that this wasn’t going to be the outcome.
He wants to scream and cry and beg for Mike to just try. He can be a secret but he can’t be a best friend who he treats like a boyfriend but won’t commit to it. He could shrug it off, go inside and prove that he’s worth it. It probably wouldn’t work on account of the fact that he actually isn’t.
Will takes a deep breath and when he lets it out the sense of detached calm sweeps over him again. Blunting his emotions. Making it feel as though he’s floating above the whole horrible scene.
Mike doesn’t want to break his heart again but somehow doesn’t seem to understand that he just did. Will was a fool to expect it to be different. They can’t bridge the gap, it’s too wide.
“For the record,” Will tries to force emotion back into his voice but it’s gone. “I get it. And I’m not angry. But I don’t think I can be around you right now.”
Tears burn his eyes but don’t fall.
“Call me if you change your mind, I need to go home now.” He flips the switch at the side of the steering wheel that unlocks all the doors.
no subject
Mike can see Will pull back inside himself, out of reach and emotionless, and it blurs his vision because he's the reason. He doesn't want to break his heart again any more than he wants to break his own, and yet here he is again, staring at the shards lying between them. Except this time he knows there's no gluing them back together. He'd come back hoping that he could cross some of the distance between them and all he'd managed was to make it insurmountable.
He almost wishes Will were angry. He'd be willing to take on any yelling or insults better than he can the sheer impassivity in his voice. Mike hears finality in it as he unlocks the doors and he gropes blindly for the handle, the world a blur. "I'm sorry," Mike says, his voice breaking as his fingers find the handle and he pulls. The door swings open and Mike stumbles out of the car, his knees weak. He gets hallway to the basement door before a sob escapes his mouth and he can't hold it in anymore. He turns back toward the car at the curb, to finish telling Will what he should have. To say the biggest truth of them all.
But Will is already gone.