Passage

by Luna Rapunzel

It's been two days since Will moved away from Hawkins, and he still hasn't heard from Mike. El has heard from Mike, of course: she's on the phone with him now, in her room, just like she was for hours last night. "Hey, Will," she calls when he passes her on his way to the kitchen, "Mike says hi—" and Will could just strangle them, if he wanted to start something, but he doesn't.

3. Thanksgiving

A/N: I realized after the fact that I accidentally recopied Chapter 1 as Chapter 2. I've gone back and fixed that now.

xx

Mike stays with the Byerses for an excruciatingly long five days at Thanksgiving. Mom and Jonathan are both working overtime—Mom to catch up on mortgage payments and Jonathan to save a little extra for college—which leaves Will alone in the house with Mike and El, hiding in his room and listening to them making kissing sounds through the thin walls.

More than anything, Will wants to get out of his bed and knock on El's bedroom door and be welcomed inside like a friend, but he knows he wouldn't be—that it would be weird and sad and awkward, and that Mike and El would look at him like they had nothing to say to him, like they wanted nothing more than for Will to leave them to their privacy.

You're ruining our party, he had said. You're destroying everything, and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?

On Mike's last night with them, Will wakes up at one A.M. with a craving for ice cream. Jonathan is snoring away in the bed across from his, so he pads quietly out the door of their bedroom and into the kitchen, where he's surprised to find Mike, not asleep on the couch, but sitting at the table with his head in his hands and a weary expression on his face. Will composes himself quickly. "Can't sleep?" he asks as he fumbles for a spoon.

"You, too, huh?" says Mike, cracking an unconvincing smile. "Listen, Will, El and I—"

"It's fine," says Will automatically. His whole body feels like it's on fire. He retrieves a spoon and closes the silverware drawer with a loud snap.

"We missed you this week, that's all," Mike says. He seems to be inflating himself up for a big speech. "You're my friend, too, and—I know El is my girlfriend, but you could have spent time with us."

"Yeah, well, you could have asked me to. You could have called one time in two months, but you didn't," says Will hotly. "What did you think I was going to think?"

Mike winces. "I know I haven't been the best friend lately—"

"No. You haven't."

"—But phone calls go two ways, you know. You could have called, too."

"Could I have, really, with El tying up the line every night?"

"Will—"

"No, Mike. You know, Dustin hasn't had a problem calling here regularly. Lucas and Max call over. Hell, I've even heard from Steve once or twice. The truth is that you haven't paid attention to anybody but Eleven since she closed the gate and came back to you, and I thought we'd been through this already, but apparently, I can't compete."

He slams the freezer door shut and starts shoveling ice cream from the carton into a bowl. Will can feel his eyes burning and prays to god that he won't start crying here in his kitchen over a bowl of ice cream with Mike right there to see it.

Frowning, Mike insists, "It's not a competition—"

"Of course it's a competition! And I always lose. I always lose."

Will tries to carry his ice cream and his dignity out of the door, but Mike stands up and rushes to block the doorway, staring him down, something unreadable in his eyes. "Will—!"

Will moves right, then left, then right again; Mike blocks his every turn, and Will grabs him, meaning to push him out of the way, but instead finds himself tilting up his chin and—oh no.

Oh, no, no, no.

He doesn't give Mike long enough to kiss back—doesn't even give himself long enough to learn what Mike's lips feel like, to remember and replay it over to himself after this moment is over, because he already knows it's the most of Mike he's ever going to get. Will wrenches backward, stares into Mike's stunned eyes, and says, "Let me down one more time, Mike, I dare you."

Mike stares back and says nothing.

"That's what I thought," Will huffs, and he shoves past Mike and storms back into his bedroom.

He doesn't register at first that Jonathan has woken up, so he jumps when he hears his brother's bleary voice saying, "Is everything okay? I heard shouting."

"Everything's fine," says Will, flopping down on his bed and burying his face in his pillow.

"Will, you can talk to m—"

"Just leave it alone, Jonathan, please," Will implores him. His voice cracks.

Three weeks later, when Mom asks Will about making arrangements to stay with El at the Wheelers' for Christmas, Will tells her he doesn't want to go. He doesn't say why. Mike still hasn't called, and neither has he.