Three Handwritten Letters

Three Handwritten Letters (That say so much more)

Ever since I was a little kid, Lonnie and Troy put it in my head that I was different, calling me awful names and doing awful things to my body.

It stopped hurting as I grew up.

I have the word "gay" engraved on my skin. It's been there since I was... ten, I believe? Troy cut it into the small of my back, it scarred.

In more than one way.

I can't lie to you and say the words weren't true, I'm totally gay. I think you made me realize that, Wheeler. With your stupid fucking smile, and the way your hair would fall just right when you would run to my house in the rain. It was endearing, really, the way I admired you. I can't believe you didn't see it any sooner.

Doctors are gonna take one look at my body and know why I did it. They're not gonna need an autopsy, this letter tells them all I need to know.

I overdosed. On what? Every fucking pill in my medicine cabinet, my antidepressants, and I had some of my mother's whiskey to help me wash it down.

For context: Maybe if I take the antidepressants, I'll finally be fucking happy when I slip out.

But then I'll just feel guilty.

I'll do it on Thursday. I have no plans, Jonathan will be out with Nancy, and mom will be out with Hopper. Eleven is gonna be with you, Wheeler.

Don't blame this on her, by the way, there was no way for her to know. For how much people say we act like siblings, we barely even talked our whole time in Lenora. She was infatuated with planning a visit to you. With planning you to visit us.

It hurt.

Because I knew, no matter how many times you came to Lenora, the only thing you would ever care about was El. You barely even looked at me. Do you know how much that hurts Mike?

And then we have the time El was sick, so she couldn't visit Hawkins, but fucking lord could I. I let you do things to me, I think you were just imagining I was El.

That guilt trampled me, Mike. So fuck you. I know you think it meant nothing, that week, but it meant so much more to me. I know you and me would've never happened even if I chickened out of this, but it's unfair to not say these things to you, so no. I'm killing myself, just so I can FUCKING TALK TO YOU!

Because that's the only way you'll fucking listen.

Am I killing myself for attention? Yes. Why? Because it's the only way you'd give me it.

Oh, sorry. You would also give me attention if I reached for my neck and said "He's back"

But not the attention I'm looking for. Because after you realized I was lying, you'd go back to your devices and pretend I didn't exist, like you always do.

Admit it, I'm just the person you go to when something is fucked up in Hawkins. And I don't even live there anymore!

So have fun defeating this thing without me. It's you against the world, Mike.

-Will FUCKING Byers.

Mike felt tears streaming down his face, blotching the ink on the paper, creating little tears where Mike was gripping onto it.

He looked up, onto the sleeping boy in front of him, before continuing onto the next letter.

You talked to me today.