Murrayed

Chapter Three || ILY <3

"Mike?" He was crying. Crying. In front of Will. Because of Will.

No. No, not because of Will. Because of himself. Because of his own broken, horrible, abnormal self.

"Yeah?" He sniffed, wiping the tears from his eyes and rubbing his splotchy face in a desperate attempt to seem like hadn't just been sobbing because of a balding old man.

God. Mike thought, trying his very best not to show his face to the silhouette standing in his doorway.

God, why can't I just be fucking normal? God, oh my god. Will was standing in his doorway, looking incredibly confused, in his hoodie. And oh my god he looked adorable.

He couldn't even stop himself from thinking about it, but it kind of made Mike not want to be normal.

"Are you okay?" Mike's face was still a splotchy red, obviously from crying, but in the dim light, it almost looked blush red.

Nope! No, he's not! He was actually just crying! Will moved out of the doorframe, fully aware that Mike's eyes were still trained on him as he went to sit down.

"I- um, yeah! Of course, I'm fine Will." The butterflies crept up his throat, heating it red. Will was just...

"Hey," -Will gestured vaguely to the floor next to Mike's bed- "my bed's not there. I thought you were gonna make it for me." It wasn't existent, so obviously, Mike hadn't, but Will didn't really mind. Obviously, something else had happened that was a bit more important.

"Oh, sorry," Mike replied sheepishly, fidgeting with his blanket. "I got a bit... um... sidetracked"

"No, it's okay." Will grabbed the blankets lying on the floor, beginning to make himself something that he could call a bed.

They were both quiet now, not quite comfortable, but normal, and Will let his mind begin to wander.  What could be so bad that Mike Wheeler, of all people, was crying?  He couldn't even remember the last time that had happened.  Mike never cried, something must have happened while he was in the shower. Will finished setting up his bed, sitting up on top of his comforter.

"Mike?" He sat cross-legged facing Will, looking up from his comforter as he heard his name.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I...I'm sure. Let's just go to bed. Today was shit. I'm really tired."

If he didn't want to talk, Will couldn't make him. "Okay. Yeah, sleep."

"But Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened? You were crying. I don't even remember the last time I saw you cry." 

There is silence.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Will was probably worrying more than necessary, but he couldn't help it. That was his best friend, and clearly, something wasn't right.

"Um..." Mike wasn't going to lie, not again. He was just going to... avoid the truth. "No! No, it's fine." He couldn't tell Will, not now, not ever. Mike knew he couldn't bear to lose him again. "I guess... it's just been a lot lately, you know? With El, and Eddie, and Max, and... and all of it."

A lot? That might be an excuse enough for Will, but for Mike? Something else was going on here, and he knew it. He had been through so much without a single tear, why would he cry now?

"Mike, that's not the truth," Will's voice softened as he stood to sit on the bed next to Mike.

Shit shit shit. "I guess you're right. But it's stupid, Will. It really is." It was so much harder to talk now, with Will so close to him, the heat radiating off his body. "You've got enough problems, you don't need mine too."