#uhh early 20th century homophobia warnin

[kuumara]

A turn of events

"Thank God you're here,"

"No problem."

"I don't- I don't know how to make him normal anymore, or what to do to make him eat- he doesn't even eat! He's just down there all the time, I'm telling you it's because-"

"It's alright, miss. I advise you to wait here, we never know what can happen while dealing with people like him,"

"Oh, alright- Do you need anything? Water?"

"No, no thank you, miss. We better get this over with quick."

"Alright. It's down the hallway, third door on the left and down the stairs,"

"Thank you, miss."

"No, thank you- and be careful, please,"

He smiles calmly. "I'm a professional,"

The miss smiles back, nervously, and he's already halfway down the stairs. His suitcase is heavy, a Holy Cross tied to it, clanging.

As he gets to the bottom of the stairs, to the basement, he holds the cross in order to stop it from making noise.

The basement is a stark contrast from the rest of the traditional, well-kept manor. It's filthy, grey, and the ceiling is full of metal pipes.

There's only one closed door at the end of the hallway he's standing in. The other rooms' doors appear to have been taken off.

He carefully and quietly makes his way to the door, highly alert in case the patient comes from one of the dark rooms with no doors. He halts right before the door and pulls out a spray bottle, filled with Holy Water.

He slowly starts opening the door, heart pounding loudly. He's done this numerous times, yet he's never gotten used to this feeling.

This feeling? He thinks about this feeling, and realizes: this feeling is now much more intense than any time before. He has felt very violent, negative energy from some other patients, yes, but this is different. The energy here is melancholy, sad, desperate, more than anything he's ever felt before. And it fills him with sadness as well.

He finally opens the door, and in the small room there's only one candle lit and a lot of books. A lot.

As his eyes get used to the darkness, he sees, in the corner, surrounded by walls of books, the patient.

He hasn't attacked him, or even lifted his head from his hands for that matter. He's just sitting there, long hair blocking his face in a filthy room with his rich, bourgeois clothing.

He steps closer to the patient, he can see that he's shaking. He crouches to meet his eyes, but the patient is scared more than anything.

"Hello," he whispers softly, not wanting to scare him more.

"Hi." The patient, much to his surprise, answers. His voice is hoarse and weak.

"I'm here to help you."

"Everyone says that." The patient replies, voice and the energy getting angrier.

"Who is everyone?" He asks, sitting down and facing him. He needs to let him know he isn't trying to hurt him.

"The doctors. The priests. The scientists." The patient shivers. "They wanted to electrocute me, drill holes in my head- I barely made it out alive,"

His breath catches, and the patients lifts his head, revealing his face. His eyes are curious now, but still wet and red.

"What's your name?" he asks the patient.

"You first."

"Will Byers."

"Michael Wheeler," the patient says, and Will thinks it suits him. Michael was an angel, and this one isn't far from that, he thinks. But- he's getting distracted, by Michael's dark eyes and strong nose, making his lips curl into a calm smile.

"Mister Wheeler, I'm not here to do anything those people did."

Michael's expression eased a little, humming.

"What are you going to do, then," he asked, never breaking eye contact.

"Well... your mother called me to perform an exorcism... But I doubt that will be necessary..." he said, careful not to scare Michael.

"You're troubled, and not because of a literal demon," Will tried to make him feel safe, and it was succeeding, since he was no longer trembling. Michael's eyes lit up.

"So. Tell me about this."

"About what..."

"How did you end up here?"

Michael shifted, carefully to not knock over the towers of books.

"They want to kill me, that's how," he whispered. "They don't want me to feel better- they just want me to..." he trailed off, and Will looked at him with understanding.

"To be like them," Will hummed. Michael looked at him again, surprised, and huffed a laugh.

"Yeah." He smiled.

They sat like that in silence for a while, all until the little bit of candle that was still there went out. They both felt like they finally found someone to trust. And it was true.

"You still have to eat." Will said, as the candle flickered out.

"I'm not eating their food." Michael groaned, and Will felt him getting mad again.

"What about someone else's food?" he suggested.

"Well- I- I can't just leave, if that's what you're implying..."

"I can tell them you're- dangerous, or not sane, whatever you want." Michael looked at him, disbelieving.

"I'm a professional. They will believe me." He smiled reassuringly.

"But... how do I know you're not going to hurt me after you take me away? Or actually put me in a facility?"

"I won't. I swear," Will eagerly explained. He will do anything to rid people of their demons, literal and metaphorical- especially Michael. They're alike, and he would regret not helping him for the rest of his life.

"Michael," Will said quietly, after a moment of silence and Michael thinking.

"Listen... They could kill you here," he lifted his gaze to Will's now, eyes wide.

"I know," he matched Will's tone. "I know, I-" and then his breath hitched. His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, trying to catch his breath to finish his sentence. But he couldn't, all he could get out his throat was sobbing.

Will scooted closer, and leaned on his hand on the floor next to Michael's legs. With the other, he held his arm, dragging his hand up and down soothingly.

That only made Michael cry more, mostly because Will understood him.

He's been soothed by his mother before, after the electro-shock therapy, but she didn't understand that he was crying then because he didn't want to change, not because he wanted to. She cried with him because she desperately wanted him to be a heterosexual, whereas he cried because he was being held tightly by a person that only loved a version of him she had made up in her head.

Michael threw himself at Will, leaning forward and sinking his face into the fabric of his coat. And Will held him just as quickly as he came close, hugging him firmly.

Eventually, Michael stopped. Will didn't know how much time had passed; feeling Michael's whole being so close to him made him feel dazed.

"I'll go with you," Michael said, not pulling away.

"Okay." Will whispered into his ear.

However, neither of them wanted to pull away, so they stayed like that all until they heard mister Wheeler walking down the stairs, presumably wanting to check if something had happened.

Will explained to him that he'd talked to Michael about the demon, but unfortunately couldn't get it out and said he wanted to study Michael and his demon at his own residence.

Mister Wheeler of course agreed, he would try everything without hesitation in order to cure his son of homosexuality; his own words. And so, Michael had escaped his manor prison and begun a new story.

At least Argyle and Jonathan, the manor's gardeners say so.

And Max, whom Will and Michael met when they had first changed location in order for Michael's family to not find them

And El, the owner of a house they stayed at once when running from mister Wheeler's hired hunters.

And Dustin and Lucas, the owners of a pub they sought safety at.

And Jonathan and Joyce, who...

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blahbla blha 20th or 19th or 18th century byler blahblah bla exorcist will but really he's just a therapist looking for people in need blahblablha mike being rejected by his rich family for his homo tendencies blablahbla them running away together lbablaalbabla i love it sm

annnyway in this fic i intended mike to actually be possessed and then he falls inlove wit will and fluff and menace mike but it turned out angsty but anywwway 😋