Little League (Byler)

Xl

(AKA, "Call me morbid, call me pale
I've spent six years on your trail
Six long years on your trail." -Half a Person, The Smiths)

A desperate Will clutched onto handfuls of woven blankets, struggling to catch a break from sobs and wails. Dustin had been patiently listening for hours as the boy tried his best to cut down the stream of tears and allow himself some time to rest, which Dustin claimed was insanely important and that it would help him feel better.
But how could anything make him feel better?
He would still try, though. For Dustin. Despite the hiccups that caught in his throat and arms that tightened around anything they could reach. That blanket was pleading for a break, it was soaked with tears and snot- look.. Will was too shattered to cry prettily. And the lisped friend of Byers was sat on the sofa perpendicular to where he was huddled up. Dustin's Walkman was softly sending music into his ears and he attempted to block out the sound of his best friend caught between wheezes. Mike had called, and Will heard fragments. But those fragments only made him feel worse, because now he felt like he was damaging Mike too. Even though that was not at all what Wheeler meant by ringing the Henderson house, Will too sympathetic in every scenario. If somebody was upset and the topic revolved around him, he flooded into a storm of apologies and gut wrenching heart drops. It was just how he was. Despite the cruel words Mike had said to him, he still felt wrong for how he reacted. Even though he was in the right.
It was just Byers, and now he was lying in a sad pool of tears and useless sobs.
He was angry.
So angry.
With a deep breath, the blanket was slipped onto the floor and he crawled out. His friend was already snoring, the music must've lulled him to sleep despite Wills speaks and spilling tears. The boy crept out of the room and to the door, his shoes lifting onto his feet.
He needed some fresh air.
The door clicked shut behind him and he gently placed his body onto that old bike which was already growing tired of its owners antics. The wheels squeaked when he kicked off, tires seaming down the path despite their worn stature. Will didn't know where he was going but his legs seemed to, pedaling and pedaling quickly through the dimly lit roads.
He was so mad. He had wasted six years, six years of his life loving Michael. Some kid who ended up punching him directly in a bruise. A giant aching bruise that had been there since he was three. A toddler with a bruise. A pulsing purple spot that his best friend decided was good target area. The more he thought, the more his pedaled.
It was was around four in the morning, a time at which Will had only imagined staying up to see. But here he was, seeing the sun peak from over the horizon and.. it was so refreshing. So he kept his gaze there, still pedaling. Will overestimated his talents.
He crashed onto the empty streets. His knee skimming across the pavement and tears refreshing their spot. But he sat there, and put his smile on as the light in
the morning star shifted just a tad when a cloud passed by.

And in his deep trance, he could see a figure of Mike Wheeler running towards him. But he was tired and hazy and injured. He just looked away from the shape approaching.
"Will?!" The voice was heartbroken. And Will just rolled his eyes and tried to get up before he let this hallucination get to him. But he stumbled back, wincing then that paved street in printed his back once  more.
***
"Holy shit. Holy shit." Mike stumbled through words when he very clearly saw it was Will. A very tired Will with bags around his eyes and a dazed smile on his face, staring at the sunrise, which was lightly beginning to appear. Wheeler had gone home after the phone call, exhausted and upset. He missed his best friend so badly, wanting nothing more than to hold him. And here his was. Someone that was just a shell of the Will he knew. Someone who was exhausted and emotionally calloused.
"Will. You're- you're hurt.. can I help? Please? I don't want you to have to get back to Dustin's house like this.. uh." And it was like the boy finally believed that it was in fact Mike leaning over him, concerned. That it was in fact not an illusion.
"No! Get away from me. I'm not a total baby.. I can make it." He shakily breathed, struggling to get up. But he did. Because he was Will and he was amazing.
"I'll leave.. I don't want to upset you anymore. I just don't think you're going to be able to bike back. You're knee is pretty scraped up." Mike tried to put his hand on Will's scratched shin, he immediately winced away.
"Get away from me, please. I don't want to talk to you right now. It was stupid for me to go out this late anyway." Byers quickly shot back. He limped towards the bike and vouched to simply guide it back to the Henderson house. Mike gulped.
"Will. Please- I uh.. I'll leave you alone after but you're hurt and I don't want you to go back like this. I don't want anything to happen to you."
"Since when do you care about me?! Stop acting like I'm a kid, I'm fourteen- and you said yourself 'we aren't kids anymore.' I can handle myself, Mike." Venom spat through the older boys voice when he spoke.
"Will.. I do care about you. A lot more than you think. Can I just help you with the scratch and get you back? I don't want it to get infected, you don't deserve that. I don't deserve you." Wheeler murmured the last part.

"Fine. If you'll stop pretending like I mean something to you afterwards. I don't need any stupid lies right now."
Mike sighed desperately.
"Will-"
"Just get this over with, Michael."

***
Authors note- look.. I'm trying to make the plot line up so I can do a cute chapter for Valentines Day, okay? Don't judge my classic fanfic trope I'm following. If I can't have a fulfilling Valentines Day, my fictional characters can! Ahah! Problem solved.

(* Casually edits with a screenshot I took earlier: IM SORRY, WILL- SIR. WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT)
Words- 1092