Why was he holding his hand (when he's supposed to be mine?)

Chapter 19 - I've been big and small and big and small and big and small again -

Will had been thinking about the sleepover for the rest of the weekend. Mike's letters. Love mike. Love mike. Love mike. Why would he write love mike? Friends said I love you he supposed, but he and Mike had been so weird lately. Many times Will had tried to pull his focus away from this train of thought. He had even tried to draw but that had been worse. Every drawing was Mike.
MIKE. MIKE. MIKE. MIKE. MIKE
The longer he spent thinking about it the more frustrating it became. By afternoon he was becoming agitated. This wasn't fair. Why did it have to be him? What had he done? He was pacing by this point.
It was three in the afternoon on Sunday, and Will was now reflecting on his childhood. God, he had turned out just how his dad had said. He remembered his dad yelling at his mom. "God, Joyce. I leave for a day and come back and he's playing with your makeup? I will not have a fucking faggot for a son." Will hadn't known what it meant at the time, but he knew it was bad, knew he wasn't supposed to be that. He was now thinking of how his dad had dragged him away from the kitchen table when he had said he thought Mike was pretty.
"Be a man!" He had yelled, throwing him by the shoulder into his bedroom. Joyce had thrown him out that night. He had been 4
Again Mike, Mike, Mike. Everything came back to Mike fucking Wheeler.
Now Will was sitting on the floor unable to move. He just sat there and to any bystander it would just look like a teenage boy sitting on the floor of his bedroom. However, Will was really stuck. It was like he was trapped in his own mind, stuck on a small island surrounded by rocky waters getting closer and closer, then.... Drowning him. In his mind he was gasping for air struggling to breathe as one bad memory after another were unearthed.
Things he hadn't remembered for years were suddenly flowing through his brain like a flood. The floodgates tore through all the delicate structures he had built in his mind for the last couple years in a desperate attempt to bring some form of normalcy to his life. His world was collapsing around him.

Absentmindedly Will noticed that tears were flowing down his cheeks as his brain unlocked a new portion of memories.

Mike and Eleven, beloved couple adored by all.

"Because I love her, and I can't lose her again."

"El's not stupid."

"It's not my fault you don't like girls."

"She's, my girlfriend!" No, he managed to whisper as if begging his own mind to stop. The tears flowed freely as he remembered how Mike could barely speak before the recent repair to their friendship. That's always how it had been. The repair and then again, back to the secret pining.

A sudden turn in his memories again. Castle byers. Now just ruins. He knew because he had checked when they moved back. It hadn't survived no thanks to him and his stupid tantrum. God he was so useless. Why was the party even friends with him? His brain helpfully supplied the idea to him that if he hadn't gone missing, they probably would have stopped being friends with him years ago.

He could barely breathe now he was crying so hard. He had to get control of himself. God this was pathetic.

"I hate who I am"

The thought rang through his brain so often he barely even noticed it in the back of his mind. He managed to after much focus pull back on the floodgates.

That was all he had to do, release them every once and awhile and allow himself to feel for a while. If he actually thought about his feelings and allowed himself to spiral for a few days every couple days, he could handle the rest of the time. He could handle the suppression and the longing stares and hopefully gasps as a shoulder brushed his or someone smiled specifically at him. He choked back another sob as he crawled into bed trying to soothe himself enough to sleep.