Alternative Byler Fight Scene (Will's pov)

⚠️TW!!! Slurs, Period Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia⚠️

A/N i do not own any of the characters from Stranger Things nor am i claiming to, all rights are reserved to the Duffer Brothers and any other creators involved with creating this glorious universe. i am simply using these characters for entertainment purposes.

"It's not my  fault you don't like girls!" Mike spat, eyes cold like the freezing rain falling around us. Those eight awful words rang in my ears and I flinched at his tone. Trying to erase the memories that had begun to flood my brain. Lonnie screaming in my face, calling me a fag. I began blinking, I refused to cry. I would not give Mike the satisfaction in knowing how much his words hurt me. But that didn't stop a few stubborn tears from leaking out of my eyes. I quickly looked down avoiding eye contact, looking at the ground was easier. I felt Mike move closer to me, he started to speak but I cut him off. I was done putting up with his bullshit. "Not your fault?" I asked, tone soft but furious, finally looking up to make eye contact; entirely disregarding the tears streaming down my face. I didn't even care anymore. "Not your  fault?!" I stepped closer to him. "That's the problem Mike, it's absolutely your fault." I spat.

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. "What are you-" Oh my god. How much more obvious did I have to make it? I continued to step closer and he stumbled back, startled. "It's absolutely your fucking fault. You. Mike Wheeler. You with your stupid charcoal brown eyes." I poked his chest every time I said 'you'. As all the things I had been holding inside me for so long began bubbling up in my chest and spilling out my lips. "You and your stupid messy freckles. You and your perfectly messy black hair. You with your stupid, stupid crooked smile and your perfect lips. You. With your heart of gold. You with your insane loyalty to everyone you care about. You and your obnoxious need to always be right. You who thinks you have to be the one to save everyone. You." His eyes widened slowly in realization as he began to figure out what I was getting at, and my voice broke as I finished. "So yeah, Mike, it is your fault I don't like girls. And I should hate you for it. But I just hate myself. Because how could you a boy as perfect, and stupid and loyal and smart and full of yourself and funny as you ever like a fag like me." I finished breathing heavily, voice cracking at the oh-so familiar term that I had been constantly rereferred to as my entire life.

Suddenly, I became aware of the extremely close proximity of the idiodic boy in front of me. Mike stared at me, lips parted slightly, and he stared intently at me as if frozen in time. And for a split second, I allowed myself to enjoy how he looked, the silver lighting of the rain causing his skin to glisten, the way his eyes were like pools of chocolate that I found myself slowly sinking into. I breathed in slowly, intaking the scent of his faintly familiar lavender laundry detergent that his mom constantly used, much to his dismay. I almost got completely lost in the moment, forgetting entirely that only a moment ago I had been screaming at him. "Will-" He breathed, and the way he was looking at me is what broke me. He looked so torn. I tried to read him, something I used to be able to do effortlessly, now it didn't come so easily. His eyes looked so broken, but they were filled with something else too, something I couldn't quite decipher. It almost looked like. . . no that was impossible.

I waited for a moment, desperately, selfishly hoping, waiting, that maybe just maybe he'd say something; but it never came. My eyes fell back to the ground in disappointment at his silence. I don't know why I expected him to say something. Anything. What was I expecting exactly? An apology? That was childish to wish for. And we weren't kids anymore. I was so stupid to think he'd say something, to think he'd apologize. To think he could possibly. . .