"It was the best thing I've ever done" Byler Oneshots

[9] Apple Juice

(AKA, Through the thin walls of the Byers house in California, and the three inch gap into the room, Will is sure he will puke if he sees Mike and El make out any longer.)

INSPO CREDS TO bylerloml
- - -

Three inches.
Will honestly hates Hopper for adopting that rule. He understands it's perks, it's protectiveness, and he can see why that should be something established in a teen relationship.

But he will always have the urge to wave his middle finger in Hoppers, rest in piece, direction for it.

He's usually decent at pretending he can't hear the casual giggles that his sisters makes somewhere in between the constant smacking of lips. He can fold the pillow over his ears and try to sleep through it, to safely protect his ears from the revolting sound of a touchy relationship.

Will's jealous, actually. He has always been a sort of hopeless romantic. Daydreaming about dates by a candlelit windowsill, admiring the stars and the espresso bean color eyes his ideal partner has. He knows that'll never happen, though. And that's what makes this whole position even more terrible of a punishment.

His ideal partner is currently at the other end of his sisters lips and he cannot do anything but sit there and deal with it.

It's Mikes last day in California, winter break, actually. Well, the night before his last day. He'll leave on Wednesday, the 30th of December. He has spent 9 days here, a total of 212 hours, and hasn't found a single one to spare for his best friend.
Not even more than a glance in Will's direction or that single pat on the shoulder at the airport.

Hell, Will's not even sure they're friends anymore.

Each day has been spent gushing over El's new pretty dress Joyce lended her, holding hands under the dinner table, cuddling by the fireplace while everyone unwraps gifts (that was especially painful for Will as that had a special place in his heart, he'd always wanted to do that with Mike,) or, their most frequent activity, making out.

So Will's been sitting in his room, alone, so very alone. He's already sobbed into his pillow twice. Occasionally he swallows the guilt like cough syrup down a sore throat, and kisses the back of his hand, closing his eyes and imagining it was Mike. He has an immense sense of regret after those few times, feeling so utterly disgusted with himself he wants to scream into the tear drenched pillow on the floor.

So, he decides to go collect himself with a glass of apple juice from the kitchen fridge. Apple juice is always his go-to for instances like this one, where he feels so gross and undesirable, for some reason it comforts him.

He stretches out his legs when they land on the wood floor. Trying to rub out the tear-worn pinkness of his lower eyelids and cheeks. His own door was thrown shut the second Mike and El hurried up to her room. So he takes a breath and opens it, feeling very revealed for some reason. Like his swim trunks fell down or something.

He has to pass their room and he already braces himself for the inevitable pain that comes from their three inches of visibility.

Will makes the mistake of looking in, just for a moment because it's like staring at a public fight in the streets. It's not pretty, it's not a sight you want to lock into your mind, but you're drawn to look in that direction. Your instinct is to. He swallows deeply when his thoughts are confirmed. Mike is criss-crossed on the mattress, El's lips sealed to his own as cheesy pop music hums in the background. He's wearing that Freddie Mercury inspired jacket that he brought with him to Cali.