Ṡṁëḷḷṡ Ḷïḳë Ṫëëṅ Äṅġṡẗ (M. Wheeler)

Ch. 5 | Dig Dug

Hey! Good news! Some cute, fluffy Dylan/Mike goodness up ahead!

WARNING: This chapter is incredibly fucking long. Please forgive me for the word vomit.

Either way, I hope you enjoy!

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Dylan roamed around Will's room in silence. He let Mike and Will converse, not wanting to intrude on their conversation. The two of them had a deep, heartfelt bond, he could sense it, and talking to Mike seemed to elicit the only slither of serenity that Will must've not felt in days. Plus, Dylan breathing seemed to irritate the shit out of Mike alone, so he didn't want to bother the boy more than he already did by existing.

Besides, it wasn't like it was too hard to occupy himself; the intrinsic drawing that was plastered all over the house made for good distraction, unsurprisingly enough. And believe him, he needed the distraction. Being near Will felt like a truckload of ptsd to that dreaded day on the field, along with a heck of a lot of evil; and although Dylan wanted to help Will, he couldn't bear to get to close—not without feeling the need to scream.

So instead, he occupied himself by tracing the drawing across the boys room. Ms. Byers had explained that Will described hem as vines, something Dylan had picked up on the minute he laid eyes upon them. When he looked at them, he didn't see a drawing of tunnels; he saw the tunnels. Themselves for what they really were; evil, and cruel, and something that just simply did not belong.

No wonder the essence of the Upside Down could be senses here—it was the vines that gave it off.

Speaking of his Sense, he'd explained as much to Ms. Byers, who honestly took the news much better than anyone else he'd ever told; specifically Mike, who didn't seem at all impressed at the smug glee Dylan had displayed on his face when Ms. Byers had instantly assured him that she believed him. And with everything she's endured, why wouldn't she?

That same question applied to Mike, although with a bit more emphasis. With everything that Mike had experienced, including a telekinetic lover for Christ's sake, how on earth would a boy with Sense be difficult to fathom?

Dylan sighed idly. He'd just blame it on the fact that Mike hated him. Even though he didn't exactly know the reason for that either.

"At first it was like I remembered if I concentrated really hard. But now it's like.... I remember. All, the time," Will said on a fragile tone. Dylan frowned. Poor thing. He was talking about the "now-memories" as Mike liked to phrase it. Dylan knew they weren't memories thought; not his own at least. Thy were simply the thoughts, the feelings, the mind of the evil motherfucking entity inside him.

Mike looked at Will with a pitying, but thoughtful expression. Sighing, he shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe that's a good thing," he suggested and Dylan gaped at him. Good?? Was he out of his fucking mind?!?!

Will seemed to think the same thing as he inquired Mike, giving him an incredulous look. Mike was persistent though. "Think about it Will," he placated. "You're like a spy now. A superspy." Dylan scrutinized him. A spy?

Mike smiled. "A superspy on the shadow monster," he told him proudly.

Dylan—he just facepalmed. Mike was a complete idiot. Was he seriously trying to make his best friend feel better by giving him a "cool" job with the most unfortunate description in the fucking earth?

"Mike, what the literal fuck," he muttered tiredly into his palm. The boy in question turned to glare at him. "What?" He snapped, detecting the judgement in his tone. Which, honestly, he should.