Chapter Text
Mike whined through the envelopes clasped in his teeth. Sorry to whatever intern would receive the letter with his bite mark in it, but frankly, he was more preoccupied with finding the right damn key.
His cross-body bag had fallen down, and now it was a useless belt around him. The books tucked to his side were about to slip from his grip, and the latte in his hand was about to spill onto the floor and splatter up the matte white painted walls, and if it did, he’d never hear the end of it from the building manager. He once again whined through his teeth, his keys ‘tinging!’ and ‘clanging!’ together as he fumbled desperately with one hand for the right key. Usually, the key to his front door would have a skateboard sticker on it courtesy of Max, but he’d had to get the damn thing replaced recently after losing it, and now it looks the same as every other key.
Finally, after the third attempt (you know what they say about the fourth time being the charm), the key to the front door slid into the lock like a knife through butter or a correct piece falling into place in a jigsaw puzzle. Mike could’ve cried as he twisted the key and his door creaked open.
“Yshh!” He cheered through the mail in his mouth and burst into his apartment, hurriedly placing his books and latte onto the kitchen island and spitting out the envelopes. He locked the door, dropped the keys in the bowl and cast his bag away with a good kick for being useless. He’d suffered the climb up six flights of stairs with the thing restraining him oddly. Sure, he could’ve put his latte and his books down, but by the time he’d gotten up the second set of stairs, Mike was committed and determined to make it regardless. Really, it was the building manager’s fault for his tardiness in fixing the elevator. It had been out of order since the middle of his first year at college.
Mike bet it’d still be broken once he graduated.
A dull ache in his back from the exertion, Mike groaned as he pried off his brown Converse and then collapsed on his plush beige sofa. It had cost almost as much as his deposit, but it had been so worth it. Mike smiled contentedly as he rolled into a snug ball on the cloud-like cushions.
There was nothing better after a day of back-and-forth across campus than coming home and napping on the sofa, unless he had to work. He gets paid a decent wage for freelance writing; short stories, articles, blogs, things like that, but he’d taken a month off to focus on midterms.
Head on his arm, Mike closed his eyes. He saw a pale red tinge, his eyelids bright with the hot sun seeping through the shutters. He had a few hours before he’d be meeting the party for dinner. They hadn’t seen each other in over a week, all too preoccupied with their midterms, but now that they were over, things could settle for a bit.
A thud interrupted his resting. Mike shot up, his heart skipping a beat. The noise had come from his room. Was there someone in his apartment?
Mike glanced at the door, locked by only the chain, and slowly stood, weighing his options. He was in a random apartment on a high floor, so he doubted it was a robbery. It was more likely that one of his friends was being intrusive. God only knows Max loves to barge in like she owns the place. Mike had come home once to find his pantry raided, and Max, Lucas, and Dustin were watching TV.
“Hello?” Mike called and waited for an answer. Aside from some shuffling sounds, there were none. He clenched his fists, his stomach coiling and crept forward, advancing toward the bedroom. Cautiously, he grabbed one of his hefty books.
Quiet as a mouse, Mike shuffled to the bedroom door. Partly feeling silly, but after all that’s happened, paranoia felt justified.
Gripping the door handle, Mike took a breath and swung the door open. A figure stood in his room, and he jumped in surprise before realising who it was.
Mike’s jaw dropped. He met eyes with the man standing in front of his bed, running his gaze over the brown sugar hair and the colourful cross-body bag, painted by the owner. He clutched the door handle as if the surprise threatened to buckle his knees. “Will?” He whispered.
“Mike.” Will breathed like a man finding water in a desert. His hair was longer now, down to his eyes like Jonathan’s had been once upon a time, and his clothes were dishevelled as if he’d been sitting for a long time. Had he taken the train?
“Y-You’re here?” Mike stammered, bewildered and stepped into the room, his brain slowly catching up.
Will smiled, “Finally finished my project. Sorry it took so long, I had to capture the essence of my home in a painting,” He said theatrically, mocking his eccentric art professor, “But the Hopper-Byers cabin is just a building, I left my home here.”
Mike dropped his book and surged forward, sending Will stumbling back into their mattress. Their bed squeaked quietly under their weight, and continued to squeak as Mike manoeuvred himself on Will’s lap, his knees on either side of Will’s hips, and their lips meeting in a desperate tangle.
Will chuckled, his happiness ticklish on Mike’s soft lips. Their breaths mingled, hot and sweet tasting like the apple and cinnamon tea Will always gets or the caramel in Mike’s lattes. The artist’s hands gripped Mike’s waist and pulled him closer, keeping him close in a snug embrace, and he felt Mike’s smile against his lips.
Mike’s shoulder-length curls fell, creating a cocoon of heat around their faces and worsening the red in their cheeks. Mike’s blush descended to his neck when Will reached up mid-kiss and tucked the strands behind Mike’s ear. His calloused, painted fingers brushed Mike’s jaw and cupped the back of his neck, deepening the angle of their lips.
Mike’s arms around Will’s neck were secure as if he were afraid Will would pull away. They kissed as if they’d never get to again, and only parted when their heads spun and thirsted for air.
Mike could’ve evaporated right then and there. Will looked positively kissed, and Mike’s sure he looked worse.
“That’s all I’ve been thinking about.” Will panted, his hands sinking down Mike’s back until they reached his hips. At the contact, Mike shivered, and Will grinned, his thumbs swiping side to side just barely dusting Mike’s waist.
“Same,” Mike whispered. Their gaze was unbreakable, and after a few moments, they dived for each other at the same time, hungry for a second taste.
Mike planted his hands on Will’s chest and pushed until Will lay down with his light weight on top of him. Hands roamed over Mike’s back, up his spine and into his hair, and then Will flipped them. Mike yelped in surprise, and Will laughed cheekily, his arms coiling snugly around Mike.
Pressed into the pillows, Mike wrapped his legs around Will as if they were in a who-can-hold-the-other-closer competition with no ability to lose. Their laughter interrupted their kiss, but if anything, it made it better. They must have looked daft.
Head spinning, Mike could’ve been floating. In Will’s embrace, he was weightless; he was treasured.
He tugged Will’s shirt until they were both lying on their sides, tangled in limbs and lips and duvet sheets. When they finally parted for air, both sported a charming blush and telling red lips.
Mike’s inky fingers traced Will’s jaw, “You can’t leave for that long again.” He pouted, “It was the longest two weeks ever.”
“I’m sorry. I had to start over twice.” Will apologised and brought one of Mike’s hands to his lips to kiss, smirking smugly when his boyfriend fidgeted, flustered. “I don’t know what I was thinking. What’s an artist without his muse?”
Mouth opening in a fish-like gape, Mike squeaked, “Will!” And smothered his hands over his face, trying and failing to roll away to the other side of the bed. His boyfriend had him in a vice grip, but he didn’t mind.
This was his favourite place to be.
“You can’t just say things like that!” Mike scolded him, his false outrage severely undermined by the rosy tint to his cheeks, making them look like strawberries with his copper freckles.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Will nodded earnestly, wrestling weakly with him until Mike was snugly returned to his arms. “How dare I flirt with my boyfriend?”
“Yes.” Mike sniffed haughtily, “I don’t know where you get the audacity. Joyce usually raises such polite kids.”
Will rolled his eyes, but his smile was so wide his cheeks ached. At the reaction, Mike giggled and combed his hand over his light hair.
“It grew so much in two weeks.” He commented, “Did Joyce not cut your hair?”
Will shook his head, “I kinda like it longer.” He said, “What do you think?”
Mike answered with an approving kiss. After a moment, they pulled away and shuffled until Will was on his back and Mike lay his head down on Will’s chest, listening to the soothing drum of his heart. Sleeping alone had been so hard after two years of living together.
Mike pressed impossibly closer, digging his cheek into Will’s collarbone as if he could crawl into his ribcage and stay attached to him forever. Out of the blue, a small, stony lump swelled in his throat, and Mike’s knuckles whitened as he grasped handfuls of Will’s clothes.
Will’s arms tightened around him in response, and had Mike not been swarmed by emotion, he probably would’ve begun to drool over them. Will had filled out during California, the natural result of having been able to eat more with Joyce’s new salary, but since he’d joined Lucas in the gym, he’d even put on some muscle. It had become an excellent outlet for his mental health, and a bonus was that Mike couldn’t get enough of him.
Mike had tried not to show it, but Will picked up on his ogling fairly quickly and made a point to up his weights in the gym. He wasn’t as muscular as Lucas had become, but he looked pretty fit.
He thoroughly enjoyed the added arrow in his quiver of things that can make Mike blush.
“Mike?” Will looked down. He couldn’t see Mike’s face over the crown of buoyant ringlets, but he could feel the sudden trembling breath.
Mike waited for the pebbles in his throat to fade away before he mumbled, “We haven’t been apart that long for ages. I didn’t like it.”
Will snickered fondly, dropping into cheeky laughter when Mike looked up and frowned, offended, his comfy cushion shuddering with giggles, “I’m sorry.” He cupped Mike’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheek until the frown smoothed out, “I missed you too. I should’ve taken you with me.”
Mike nodded, “Stupid midterms.”
Will agreed, “Stupid midterms.”
Mike settled back down onto Will’s comfy chest with a contented sigh. “Do you know about dinner tonight?”
Will hummed, “Dustin called me yesterday. He said I'd better hurry up home because you were moping.”
“It’s true.” Mike shrugged shamelessly, “If I blew my midterm, it was because of the pain of your abandonment.”
Will scoffed and rolled his eyes, jabbing Mike’s ticklish waist in retaliation and smirking when his boyfriend jumped and yelped, “You’re so dramatic.”
“Pfft.” Mike huffed, “You’re just as bad without me.”
Will grinned and agreed. “You’re right.” He swept a hand down Mike’s back, his fingers parted over the baggy brown flannel Mike was wearing as if he were strumming a guitar, “Is that why you’re wearing my jacket and jeans? Because you missed me?”
Mike’s radiant blush was answer enough. Will cackled, and Mike had finally had enough. Wrestling out of his boyfriend’s hold, he rolled over and crossed his arms childishly, pouting despite showing Will his back, who was still laughing!
“I take it back!” Mike exclaimed, “I didn’t miss you at all!”
He sat up, trying hard not to catch a case of Will’s giggles. Before he could stand, Will launched forward, still laughing and wrapped his arms around Mike’s waist, keeping him sitting on the bed, “No!” He managed through his laughter, “It’s cute, Mike!”
Mike giggled, “You’re laughing at me!”
“Because you’re just too cute!”
“Will!” Mike whined, stomping his feet lightly on the ground, “You can have your clothes back, I’m never wearing them again!”
“Aw,” Will pouted, “But you look so good in them!”
Debatable. Mike thought. Will looked good in his clothes, but on Mike, the jeans were gaping at his waist and legs, and short, barely reaching his ankles. The flannel looked okay; it was long on Will, so on Mike it just looked like a huge jacket.
“Whatever,” Mike grumbled, allowing Will to drag him back onto the bed, but of course, not making it easy. He whined childishly, limp like a ragdoll as Will pulled him around, laughing, and soon he was encased in Will’s body, his back to his chest.
Mike intertwined their fingers, gazing at the lingering streaks of paint, pencil, and ink on Will’s hands, likely from drawing on the train home. They both always had a pen of some kind in their hands. Mike smiled at the thought, at the countless nights spent side-by-side just making art in their respective forms. More recently, they’d been working on comics together. They’d actually finished one in their first year of college and were working to get it published. The agent they were working with had said their story was ‘promising.’
Imagine it, spending their days side by side working on stories together. Mike’s stomach stirred blissfully at the prospect. It was then he remembered the letter he'd chewed between his teeth. It had the publishing agency’s address on it, hadn’t it? They were supposed to hear back any day now with an answer on whether they were being published.
Mike bit his lip nervously and decided to wait on telling Will and opening it lest they not be bummed out over dinner if it’s bad news.
Warm breath tickled his ear, “What are you thinking about?” Will asked, pressing a kiss to the base of his neck.
Mike’s eyes fluttered happily, “Nothing. Just happy you’re home.”
“Sap.” Will teased him, but it carried no weight when the man sounded like it was the happiest day of his life. With Mike, though, Will always sounded that way. They both did.
A chill swept through the apartment, a final breath of winter in the midst of spring. Mike shivered, then shrugged his jacket off. It was a coupleof hours until dinner, and spending that time wrapped up with his boyfriend and catching up sounded perfect.
“Let’s cuddle till dinner.” Mike said, stripping out of his socks, “Tell me everything. How is Joyce and Hop?”
Will followed suit until they were snug under the covers for warmth, their outer clothes cast aside. Heads on separate pillows to look into each other's eyes, their fingers intertwined and their legs entangled, the next few hours were spent talking. Mike caught Will up on the party’s drama that he hadn’t heard over the phone; how Max was going crazy over her social work degree, and only El had managed to pull her from her work, if only because she needed her own break from Dustin. He’d gone to visit Suzie a few weeks ago and still hadn’t stopped talking about it. Respectfully, there were only so many times they could hear about sharing straws and staying awake talking before it got boring.
Will hadn’t missed Dustin’s storytelling. He caught Mike up on how Joyce and Hopper were doing. They missed having their kids at home. It had taken nearly a month of arguing, pleading, bargaining, and begging until Hopper had let El move to college with them. El, unfortunately, couldn’t join the party in college, having only received minimal education, but she was thriving while living independently. Well. As independently as you could with Dustin. She spent most of her time with Max anyway.
Over Will’s visit, though, he’d had the amusement of hearing about Hopper’s shifts. Hawkins had been a quiet town once, and now that it was again, the worst thing on average that Hopper had to deal with within a week was a barfight or an accident of some kind; however, during Will’s visit, Hopper had been called away night after night for a guy who would get drunk and then sleep on top of the luminous sign for the twenty-four hour burger joint.
Mike’s stomach ached with laughter picturing poor Hopper getting dragged from his sleep to deal with some guy curled up on a luminous burger.
“Hopper still doesn’t know how he was getting up there.” Will chuckled, amped up by his boyfriend’s laughter, “That thing is taller than the building.”
“Aw,” Mike pouted pitifully, “Was Hop exhausted?”
“Eventually, he just stopped answering the phone.”
Mike cackled. Oh, he can’t wait to bring this up next time he sees the man. Maybe he’ll even pose in front of a similar restaurant with a similar sign and take a picture to send home.
Will squeezed his hands, “There’s another thing.” He said, his voice more serious than it’d been before.
Mike frowned, “What is it?”
There was a hesitance that worried him. Will bit his lip, his eyes flicking from Mike to their joined hands.
“I saw Holly,” Will said gently, like placing down a fragile ornament. Goosebumps swam up Mike’s body, and despite being cocooned in warmth, he shivered, his smile falling and his body stiffening.
Will paused for a long moment. He gave Mike time to brace himself, while also focusing hard for any signs that he wouldn’t want to hear it. Holly was a sore subject, as was most of his family—well, blood relatives were. His family was here, in the same apartment building. Their family was the party. It was Joyce, Hopper, Steve, Robin, Eddie, and Erica.
But Mike had always been wracked with guilt over leaving Holly. They hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Nancy only went ‘home’ for their little sister, and she kept Mike updated on Holly, but Karen had ensured Holly had no contact with Mike, even when the little girl would scream and cry for her older brother.
They hadn’t spoken for years, not for a lack of trying. Mike had wanted to find her in town, but she was always at Karen’s side, and truthfully, Mike was too scared to talk to her. What if she believed the same things their parents did? Hearing the same vitriol spilt from her lips might just kill him.
Will pressed a long kiss to his hands, “She misses you.” He said, “I was at the mall for paints, she must’ve been there with Karen and managed to slip away because she found me in the store. She said, "Tell Mikey I love him.”
Mike’s eyes stung. Everything hurt, but it wasn’t the sting of a fresh wound or the burn of a new bruise. It felt more like the ache of a healed bone that still throbs when it gets too cold.
“Mike?”
Mike smiled weakly, “I haven’t seen her since she was seven.” He whispered, grief in every letter, “She’s ten now. I’ve missed so much, and I’m only going to miss more.”
“You don’t have to. She wants to have a connection to you.” Will said, “I gave her our number. She’ll call whenever she can if that’s something you want.”
“Of course, it is.” Mike sniffled, “I miss her so much, but calls in the night and rushed goodbyes because our parents can't catch her talking to me isn't what I had in mind.”
Will sighed and moved one of his hands to Mike’s arm, stroking soothingly. “I know.”
Mike shook his head. He’d been so happy a few moments ago, he wanted that back.
He wriggled forward and curled into Will, the two magnetising together until there wasn’t a sliver of space between them. There, in Will’s arms, the clouds were chased away, and Mike felt warmth again. This is where he was safe, where everything was right and good.
“Tell me more about Hopper’s plights.” He mumbled and closed his eyes like he was settling in for a bedtime story.
Will was more than happy to oblige. If a safe embrace and his voice were what Mike needed to feel okay, Will would make up the most fantastical stories.
“Well, the drunk-burger-sign guy came back the next night…”
***
“I could have driven,” Mike argued as Will parked their car. The restaurant was a nice Italian place that they frequented. Not nice enough for suits or formal wear, but nice enough that Mike wasn’t wearing Will’s paint-speckled jeans or a pair of his own ripped, skinny black ones. He was in comfy, oversized jeans that dragged at his feet and a blue Star Wars graphic tee under a black hoodie.
Will wore a blue hoodie and brown corduroys, and he leaned over to squeeze Mike’s thigh in the passenger seat, “You fell asleep mid-storytime and walked in zigzags out of the apartment.”
Mike grumbled, “I was awake by the time we reached the car.”
Will chuckled, “Well, you can drive back. How's that?”
“Good!” Mike chirped and unbuckled his seat belt, “Now, let's go inside before Max decides to stab us with breadsticks. We’re already late.”
They left the car and walked closely. The sun was setting, and a honey gold hue oozed warmth over them, fending off the nipping cold. Inside, they were swarmed with heat and the mouth-watering smell of tomato sauce, garlic, and cheesy pasta. Mike’s stomach grumbled, and they made their way to their usual table, a booth at the back corner of the restaurant where the others were already sitting.
“About time you two showed up!” Max huffed as she shimmied out of the booth so everyone could stand.
“Byers!” Lucas cheered as he and Dustin yanked Will into a tight hug, “Thank goodness you’re back, man. I was about to come get you myself.”
“Next time you leave, take Mike with you.” Dustin quipped.
“Hey!” Mike squawked. He hadn’t been that bad, had he?
Will’s cheeks were flushed with laughter, and by the time El had hugged him and made jokes of her own, Mike was sporting a matching red complexion and sulking off to the side. Cloaked by their friends, Will squeezed his hand, and the pouty lips and furrowed brows gave way to a smitten smile. Max gagged.
“Oh, whatever.” Mike scoffed as they filtered into the booth, sat between Max and Will, he shimmied into her, squishing her against Lucas and grinned mischievously.
“Hey!” Max exclaimed, nearly forced onto her boyfriend’s lap, “Scooch up, Wheeler! You’re not cute!”
“Oops.” Mike snickered and gave her space.
“When you guys stop bickering like children, can we please order?” Dustin whined.
“Yes!” El cheered, “I want mozzarella sticks.”
Mike’s mouth watered. He had maybe never been so hungry in his life, but he felt like that every time he came here. Finding this restaurant had been a stroke of genius by El. The party had been looking for somewhere nice to go to catch up during their first semester of college. It had been hard to see each other, too busy with classes, and then one night, El had dragged them here and they’d eaten their weight in mozzarella sticks and garlic bread.
They ordered practically the entire menu, and their plates came quickly; regulars benefit.
“Oh, m’ go’ff.” Dustin moaned around his food, speaking again when he swallowed, “They outdo themselves every time.”
The party laughed with him, nodding agreeably. El took a bite from a breadstick loaded with cheese, and Lucas bit into his garlic bites. Mike started on another slice of his garlic pizza bread, topped with cheese, and sighed happily.
Dustin slurped up his spaghetti, and Max gagged, “You’re putting me off my food.” She groaned, kicking him under the table.
Dustin yelped, spaghetti hanging from his mouth, “Mmghhgh!”
Mike nudged Will, and the two laughed hard. In retaliation, Dustin slurped his food louder, and Max picked up a breadstick to throw at him, stopped only by Lucas restraining her.
“Hey!” She wailed, “He started it!”
“We cannot start a food fight in a public restaurant,” Lucas said, sitting like a shield between Dustin and Max.
“But-”
“Don’t worry.” El grabbed a breadstick and hit Dustin with it, “I gotchu.”
Dustin threw his hands up, “Can’t a man eat his dinner in peace?”
“Only if he’s not making the rest of the table lose their appetites." Max snarked.
Mike rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly and taking a sip from his soda. Under the table, Will’s hand landed on his thigh, thumb swiping side to side, and something tender in his chest hummed happily, like a cat purring.
“How did your midterm go, Max?” Mike asked.
The redhead lit up, “Actually, really well!” She’d been worried to death that she’d do poorly, spending hours up every night studying material she’d already studied until Lucas would drag her to bed, “I’m passing that social work final, bitches!”
Lucas beamed proudly.
“That’s great!” Mike cheered.
Max nodded. It’d been Mike who encouraged her to take this course. She’d been graduating with no idea of what to do next, and Mike had told her to come to college with the rest of them and be a psychology major. Whether she’d graduate and use what she’d learned, she still wasn’t entirely sure. Whether she wanted to be a therapist or a social worker, she didn’t yet know, but she was happy.
“Have you heard back from the publishing agency yet?” Max asked.
Mike shook his head, “No. Not yet.”
Will nudged him, “Well, don’t worry.” He said, “It can take a while.”
The hand on his thigh squeezed reassuringly, and Mike dropped a hand below the table to intertwine their fingers.
“How were mom and dad?” El asked.
Will smiled, “They’re doing fine. They miss you, though.”
“I would’ve come home too, but I only have so much time off from work,” El said. She worked in an arts and crafts store. It was nice because, between customers, she sits on a stool at the register and gets to make stuff. She knits, puts together Legos, or assembles tricky structures. The pay is nice too. With Dustin’s tech job, they manage to live quite comfortably.
So why they’re constantly raiding Mike’s pantry, he doesn’t know.
Especially Max and Lucas, with the Sinclairs supporting them. Stubbornly, they work part-time at a cafe, but Lucas’ parents send them enough each month to be comfortable. They do, however, often bring snacks over and leave them behind to restock Mike and Will’s pantry. It’s not necessary. Mike makes enough as a freelance writer, and Will does with art commissions and his job as a library assistant—the best part of that job is that he always finds the best books for Mike and him to read, but Mike isn’t going to turn down free Pop-Tarts.
“We should get dessert,” Dustin said.
Max scoffed, “You haven’t even finished your dinner yet.”
Dustin cocked an eyebrow, “You’re telling me you don’t want a fudge slice?” He asked, and Max pursed her lips. “Exactly.”
Max rolled her eyes. Once they’d eaten dinner, they did indeed order dessert. Mike and Will split a chocolate sundae. Mike let Will have the cherry, and in return, he got to eat the last of the dessert, where all the fudge had seeped to the bottom.
“I’m in a coma.” Dustin mumbled, slumping onto El, who rolled her eyes but allowed it, “El. You gotta carry me.”
“Or you could just leave him here.” Max snickered.
Dustin squawked, shooting upright, “You are so mean today!”
“She’s no meaner than usual,” Lucas said, and Max scoffed at him, her brows furrowed. Lucas shrank away, “I-I say with love! I love how mean you are.”
“Careful, man.” Mike laughed, “Another word and you’ll be sleeping on Dustin’s sofa.”
Lucas put on his best puppy dog eyes and smiled widely. Max sighed, but tucked herself into his side, “I am not that mean.” She grumbled.
Lucas nodded, “Of course you’re not.”
They split the bill and left the restaurant. The night’s cold nipped at their cheeks, and Mike shivered, shuffling closer to Will. The party said their goodbyes before retreating to their cars, and Mike rushed into the driver’s seat, smirking smugly at Will.
Will chuckled, “I said you could drive home.”
“I know.” Mike shrugged.
***
Mike dropped the keys into the bowl and kicked off his shoes. He grinned mischievously and turned to pounce on his boyfriend, but Will had the same idea, and he was immediately swept into an embrace.
Back to the wall, Mike laughed as Will kissed him. Hands on his hips, tingles raced up and down in Mike’s skin, and he curled his arms around Will’s shoulders. It had only been two weeks, but Will kissed him like it had been two years. A hand crawled into his hair, cupping his head, and Mike could taste the cherry that had been on their dessert.
Pushing away from the wall, they shuffled further into the apartment, tangled in limbs and lips. Past the entryway and the kitchen island, Mike suddenly remembered the delivery from earlier and broke the kiss, his breath trembling and fast.
“Wait.” He mumbled, eyes fluttering and head dazed as Will’s thumb brushed side to side over his cheek, the other firm on his waist—the mail. Mike thought to himself, trying to stay on track.
“A letter came today.” He said, “From the agency.”
Will’s eyes widened, the heat in them dissipating some, “It did?” He exclaimed excitedly, “Well, what did it say?”
Mike shrugged, “I don’t know. I wanted to wait for you to be home to open it.”
Will kissed him again, softer, this time. Loving and sweetly, and when they parted, Mike’s knees were jelly.
They sat on the stools at the kitchen counter, and Mike thumbed through the envelopes he’d dumped there earlier until he found the one with the publishing agent’s dress on it. Will brushed their legs together. Mike took a deep breath and pried the envelope open, unfolding the letter inside.
“To Mike Wheeler and Will Byers… blah blah blah… your work impressed us all… blah blah blah… your comic is stunning to the eye and touching to the heart… blah blah blah…”
“Mike!” Will laughed and nudged him, “Get to the point.”
Mike chuckled, reading the following line, and his jaw dropped, “We’d like to meet with you at your earliest convenience to discuss your publishing contracts.”
With the excitement that flooded through him, Mike could’ve grown wings and soared into the sky. Jumping into Will’s arms was better.
“We did it!” Will cheered as they swayed joyfully in place.
“We did!” Mike laughed. This was everything they’d wanted since they were kids. Living together, being together, making stories together. How had he gotten so lucky?
Mike pulled away, staring into Will’s eyes and melting under all the love he could feel through his gaze. For a minute, he just took it all in. The fact that he was even here, that he had Will in his arms. He’d lost him once, losing himself not long after, and it had taken a very long time to pick up the pieces of himself and resemble them.
Smiling tenderly, Mike brushed Will’s tousled hair out of his eyes. “I love you.” He said.
Will smiled wide and toothy, “I love you too.”
Mike joined their lips, combing his fingers through Will’s hair and down the arms wrapped around him to keep him stable on Will’s lap. The kiss started tender and slow, but small pecks grew into long, deep kisses. Heat engulfed them, but just as they stood, the phone blared on the hook.
Mike cupped his face, turned it away from the phone, and back to him. “Ignore it.” He grumbled.
“Mike,” Will tilted his head down before Mike could kiss him again. He bit his lip, conflicted, “It could be Holly.”
Cold anxiety flooded Mike’s stomach. He clung to Will tighter, shrinking away from the phone. A couple of years ago, when the past would slither in, Will would whisper sweet things in Mike’s ears until the darkness faded away. Now, Will cupped his face and kissed his cheek, “You don’t have to answer, Mike. You don’t owe anyone anything.”
Mike shook his head, “I’ve been thinking about her for years. Wondering how she’s doing… if she’s okay, but,” His eyes burned and he trembled, “What if she hates me?”
Will pursed his lips. He couldn’t see Holly ever hating Mike, but a parent’s influence is undeniable. He brought Mike in for another kiss, short and sweet, and pressed their foreheads together, “I don’t think she will, but no matter what, you’ll still have us.”
Mike took a deep breath, taking in all the love Will had to give. No matter what, by the end of the night, he’d be cocooned in his boyfriend’s arms, and that’s all he needed.
“Okay.”
Will squeezed his shoulders, “I’ll be in the bedroom.” He said, waiting for a moment to see if Mike would’ve preferred him to stay. When the door to their bedroom closed, Mike sat on a stool beside the phone on the counter and gave himself a moment before picking up.
The line crackled as it connected, and Mike opened his mouth, but he couldn’t get a word out.
He didn’t have to speak first; a girly, young voice barreled out of the phone with all the excitement of a child waking their parents on Christmas morning.
“Mikey!”
Warmth filled Mike, along with the relief of a dozen weights tumbling off his back. Holly cheered his name like there’d been no time apart at all. She’s still the little girl who wants him to braid her hair and play dolls with her. Who was learning to play DND to hang out with him more, and who drew half of the art on his wall--often, of his and Will’s DND characters.
“Hey, Holly.”
Maybe it’d be okay.