Notes- TW for talk of blood and death
Mike got Will's suitcase from the room for him. Will had tried, but his legs gave out within three feet of the door, so Mike said he'd do it. Will was thankful he was at least understanding of that. He didn't seem all that sad about Brad's death though. Will guessed it was understandable. The guy literally wanted to kill him, but he thought Mike might be a little sympathetic about it. He wasn't.
Will and Mike had been camped out by the motel for an hour or so now. When they told the front desk about the incident, they called the police. Only, the police didn't show up, government officials did. Government officials who recognized Will for one reason or another. Will would've laughed about that if he had it in him– he was probably somewhat of a celebrity up in certain branches.
They pretty much took the entire investigation from there, patting Will on the back and saying not to give the incident another thought and let them deal with everything. Easier said than done, of course. How was Will supposed to do nothing about this? He at least wanted to break the news to Brad's mother.
Mike had insisted that Will go to his house and get cleaned up before they alerted everyone of the bad news. He said a nice shower was going to help Will calm himself down. He gave him permission to use up all the hot water, which Will would definitely be doing.
The second drive of the boys' night was much less fun than the first. Will's hands were still shaking, although he tried to stop them. It has been over two hours since Brad died and he was still in fight or flight mode. Get your act together.
He finally sighed. "Maybe you're right, Mike. It's late and I don't want to call everyone over at midnight to deal with this." He had been thinking about it for a while. Of course, the situation was important, but everyone was probably sleeping. It was an inconvenient time to die. Mike had suggested just putting it off until the morning, which was looking more and more appealing by the second.
Mike nodded. "That's fine. You can stay at my house for the night." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, looking around. "Uhh... Where do you want to sleep?"
Will didn't like the way Mike said the question because it made it seem like he was hoping for something. Something Will couldn't give him right now. Sleeping in the same bed as the guy his dead boyfriend wanted to kill on the night he died seemed morally wrong in so many places. That wasn't going to happen.
"A bed, maybe. If you've got extra." Will shrugged, ignoring how Mike's shoulders sank slightly.
"Are you okay being alone? You can sleep in my bed if you want... I'll take the floor." That sounded perfect.
"Yeah. We can do that. Thanks." Will smiled slightly at his friend. Friend? Yeah, his friend.
Will gave Mike his bloody clothes, hoping that they could be washed. The shirt was one of his favorites and he wasn't exactly ready to part with it. Mike said that he wasn't sure anything would wash out, but he'd try his best. Will decided to take that and head off to clean up.
He stood in the Wheeler's bathroom (Mike's bathroom, to be specific) for a while, just looking at himself in the mirror. He looked bad. His hair was disheveled and the dried blood from his nose was smeared all the way down to his chest. He had blood on his cheeks too, but not his own. His hands had slightly less blood than before since he was given a wet wipe from the lady at the front desk to wash them off. Now he couldn't wait to wash off the rest.
He turned on the shower water and waited for it to heat up. The warm water felt amazing. It had been a pretty cold night and Will's fingers were about ready to fall off. He hoped the Wheelers wouldn't mind if he tripled their water bill this month.
He watched the water go into the drain, slowly losing its red color and eventually becoming plain water, as if Will had never been covered in blood in the first place. Half of it was comforting, and half of it seemed off.
He put his finger to the glass door, drawing something in the collected mist. At first, he wasn't sure what he was drawing but realized after a while that it was a cartoonish depiction of the demogorgon he had encountered earlier that night. He quickly erased it by wiping the door with his hand.
After Will finally got out of the shower (it was a while, Mike knocked on the door twice to make sure he was alright), he put on some pajamas and walked into the hallway, making his way to Mike's room. Mike was making his bed, putting new pillows in the pillow sheets and straightening out his comforter. He had set up a small sleeping bag by the side of the bed.
He turned and noticed Will in the doorway. He smiled. "Did the shower help? You were in there for a while."
Will nodded. "Yeah, it felt really good." He looked at the bed again. "Thank you, by the way. I'm sure this isn't how you wanted to spend this evening."
Mike shook his head. "No, that's absolutely fine. I mean, I told you I wanted you to call if anything happened. I was sort of expecting the worst the entire time, so it's not like this ruined my night or anything." He fluffed out the pillow one more time. "I'll always help you if you need it."
Will went over and sat on the bed, which Mike had finished making. "I just still can't believe he died. It was so... sudden."
Mike stared for a second and took a seat beside Will. "Did it really just come out of nowhere? No signs at all?"
Will thought, recalling something he saw before entering the room. "There were flickering streetlights at the other end of the parking lot." He shivered. "Maybe the demogorgon was lurking over there."
Mike sighed. "I'm just glad it didn't get you. How'd you even manage to escape that?"
"Pure luck, I think," Will explained. "I had all that blood from my face and they're attracted to blood so I thought I was done for. But then it attacked Brad and I think the smell of all his blood masked the scent of mine. Thankfully too because I wouldn't have been able to move if the demogorgon attacked me."
Mike tilted his head. "Why wouldn't you be able to move?"
Will shook his head. "Brad tied my hands to the bed with a rope because he didn't want me to try and stop him from killing you."
"Oh my god, actually?" Mike laughed, more out of shock than humor. "He's a fucking psychopath."
"That's what I told him. His disagreed. Said he was doing everyone a favor by taking you out."
Mike frowned. "Ouch." He laid back on the bed. "I can't believe he actually wanted to kill me. Do you think he would've? Like, if the demogorgon didn't come, would I be dead right now?"
Will shrugged. "Maybe. The thought of him killing you is just so weird to me. I never thought he was that bad of a person."
"I did." Mike nudged Will's arm. "You shoulda listened to me," he taunted.
Will rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. You didn't think he was gonna kill someone." He yawned suddenly, stretching his arms out. "Wow, I'm tired. I didn't even notice."
Mike sat up. "Do you want to go to bed? I can shut the lights off and everything." He shot out of bed and went to the light switch, looking around. "Do you want water or something? Extra blankets? A pain killer?"
Will laughed at Mike's sudden hospitality. "I'm fine, Mike. Just go to bed."
Mike shut the light off. "Alright. Goodnight."
Will lifted the blankets out of their neat position, feeling bad since Mike had just arranged them so nicely. He tucked himself inside. "Goodnight, Mike."
Will listened to Mike walk over and find his way into the sleeping bag in the dark. Then everything was quiet aside from the sounds of the night outside and the furnace somewhere in the house. For the first time that night, Will felt calm.
"Hey, Will?" Mike said quietly from the floor, breaking Will's sudden serenity.
Will sighed, turning to face Mike. "What?"
"You said something earlier... about how you shouldn't have gone on that car ride with me or anything... did you mean that?" Mike's voice was weak, as if he was on the verge of tears and was trying not to get emotional.
Will looked up at the ceiling. He didn't remember saying that, but he sure remembered thinking it. "Would it bother you if I meant it?" he asked.
Mike was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I think it would."
"Then no, I didn't mean it. I wouldn't trade that car ride for anything, Mike." That much was true. Will hadn't felt so free in a long time.
"Would you do it again if you got to go back in time and do the night over?" Mike asked. What a strange question, but Will knew the answer.
"No, I wouldn't."
Mike woke up at eight in the morning, surprisingly enough. He thought he'd sleep longer since he went to bed so late. He had dreamed that Brad's ghost was eating his eggos and chasing him down a hallway in the Hopper-Byers' house while trying to shoot him with a crossbow. He thought it was funny enough (scary in the moment), but decided it was best not to relay the dream to Will.
He got up and went to the laundry room, checking if the blood had washed out of Will's clothes. He had been doubtful it would since blood stained so easily, but the results were surprising. The yellow and blue paid shirt (it looked familiar– Mike wasn't sure why) looked good as new. The pants were a different story. You could still see that there had been blood covering them the night prior. Will had told him that it was okay if the pants were wrecked because he had a couple of pairs just like them. Mike decided to deem the laundry a mission successful. He retrieved the clothes (the good ones, at least) and put them in Will's suitcase.
Will was still sleeping, from the looks of it. He looked pleasant enough, curled up in a blanket on the bed. The sheets had untucked themselves from the end of the bed and Will's striped socks were visible. Mike quietly walked over and pulled the sheet back over them again. He stood there a second longer. He hoped Will would be alright after last night. It wouldn't be good if Brad's death had some giant effect on him. In Mike's eyes, it seemed like that would be exactly what he wanted. Brad didn't deserve too much mourning. But, the again, seeing anyone die like that would be traumatizing whether you like them or not.
Mike sighed and left the side of the bed. He went downstairs and took some eggs out of the fridge, beginning to prepare a small breakfast. He figured it would be better than waiting until they got to the house. Will probably didn't have much time to eat dinner last night.
Will showed up in the kitchen right as Mike was finishing up, perfect timing.
"Wow, did you make breakfast?" Will walked over and looked at the plates Mike was preparing from over his shoulder. He seemed tired still.
Mike nodded. "It's just eggs. Go sit down."
Will dragged himself over and sat down at the kitchen counter. "How early did you wake up? Breakfast and laundry?"
Mike laughed. "Like, thirty minutes ago. It's not that impressive." He placed a plate in front of Will. " Bon appetite ."
Will thanked him, picking up a fork. "You ready to break the news to everyone?"
"I really am." Mike, selfishly, couldn't wait.