I’m sorry (bylers/wyers)
It was 1986. They were sophomores. Will was still quiet. Mike was still Mike.
Mike had Eleven. Hands held and lips kissed. They were cute. They were endgame. They were meant to be.
Will knew this. And it sucked. Will hated the reason he hated it. He hated it because of Mike. It was always Mike. Always. They were supposed to go crazy together.
And there they sat, in Mike’s basement. Comic books scattered as they argued about whether or not someone could actually become the flash. Mike kept arguing that with the shit they’ve seen, anything is possible. Will said that it was not scientifically possible.
“Well, neither is another dimension, but we’ve both been there.” Mike countered. Will didn’t know what to say to that. He considered saying something more but he just didn’t. He just looked at Mike.
Cheek bones. Freckles. Pink lips. Black hair with some of the curls showing. Mike hated his curls. Will was nothing compared to Mike. He wasn’t attractive, though he’d ditched the bowl cut he still wasn’t. Cheek bones. Freckles. Pink lips parted. Black hair with some curls. Brown eyes. Brows drawing together in confusion.
“Do I have something on my face?” Mike asked, snapping Will out of his trance. Will just shook his head. He looked to the floor. “Can I ask you something? -you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to- and I’m not trying to be mean or anything, I just wanna know- I mean you don’t have to say anything-“
“Just ask.” Will prompted.
Mike took a second. He looked to the floor as well. He pulled on the knees of his jeans. He cleared his throat, as if to get rid of the uncomfortable feelings inside of him. “Are- are you… are you gay?”
Mike looked over at Will. Hopeful Will didn’t hate him. Will took a second before shrugging. He still shrugged the same way he did when they were young. He still moves the same way. “I- I don’t know, maybe.” Will felt a weight lighten off his shoulders. It was still there, but less. “Do you hate me?” He asked, scared to look at Mike. Scared to see a look of disgust, or hatred, or anger.
Mike shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you, I could never hate you. You’re my best friend!” Will felt a lump in his throat. He tried to swallow it. Mike noticed. “Hey, look at me,” he said softly, Will hesitated, but he looked over at the beautiful boy beside him. Mike looked him in the eyes and told him, “I could never hate you.”
And then life moved in slow motion. Will’s heart beating out of his chest. He leaned forward bit by bit. And Mike didn’t move away. Will kissed him. It was short and sweet. And as soon as he moved away, he started to sob. “I’m sorry.” He cried. Mike just took him in his arms. Tears stained his shirt as he tried to calm the boy in his arms. “I’m sorry.” Will repeated over and over.
“It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Mike whispered. He’d seen how much Will was struggling. He’d always seen it. He never had pictures of girls on his walls. He never talked about girls the way Lucas and Dustin had. It was always a ‘i guess she’s pretty’. Will’s eyes always lingered on guys. He tried. But he was afraid. He was already a freak.
Mike held Will close. Rubbing a thumb on his arm in comfort as the boy dissolved. Mike had Eleven. And Will had Mike, but it wasn’t the same way. It would never be the same way.
