Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

“Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.”

- James Baldwin

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

Mike’s had a lifetime of experience pretending to be chill.

From a young age he’s learned that the easiest way to get by in life is by acting completely unaffected by everything. When you grow up in a small, judgmental town with the parents Mike has, it kinda comes with the territory.

Never let people guess how you truly feel, that way, nothing they do can hurt you—that’s the motto he always used to repeat to himself, especially back in middle school when the bullying was at its worst. 

So yeah, Mike is a very chill person. He can be calm. Cool, collected . 

Except when he’s not. Which is basically all the time, because he’s never chill , and never has been, really. But he really, really wants to be.

All of that seems to go out the window whenever it comes to Will.

It’s been that way for as long as Mike’s known him, ever since that day in the park when they were 5 years old. It’s like without even knowing, everything he does seems to get under Mike’s skin, to drive him crazy, to send his senses into overdrive. 

There’s a part of Mike that has the urge to always keep Will close to him, to shield him from the world and fight anything and anyone who tries to hurt him, a feeling that only intensified the week after Will got kidnapped all those years ago. Where Mike has difficulty being vulnerable with other people, with Will, it’s hard to shut off that part of him that wants to tell him everything, to lay out his soul for Will to do whatever he wants with it. 

With Will, all Mike ever does is care , perhaps too much, and that’s what scares him. He’s only felt that way one other time in his life, with El, and that didn’t end well. 

So Mike does what he does best and tries to keep Will at an arm’s length, to keep him close but not that close, so that Will won’t be able to see through his poorly concealed thoughts and get scared off.

This time it’s different, though. Mike can’t explain when it all happened, or even why. 

It’s just— things have changed , somehow, for some reason.

 It’s happened all of a sudden, or maybe it’s been changing for a long time now and Mike just hadn’t noticed. 

But whatever it is, Mike sees it now—the tension, the divide that hasn’t been there before. Like one, or both of them, are pulling away from each other, like they both know there’s a secret hanging in the air between them but neither wants to be the one to address it first. 

If Mike has to guess, he’d say he realized it about a week ago—though he’d assume things were set in motion at least three years before, if not the summer before they started high school, when Mike thought he lost Will for the second time.

Mike’s mind has been stuck in a loop since Will told the party, thinking about how much he’s fucked up over the years, thinking about how shitty of a friend he’s been. He’s only been focused on himself, on figuring out his own shit, to see how much Will was suffering on his own right beside him. 

Will had told them that he was gay, and while everyone was supportive and happy for him, Mike included, he also felt angry and ashamed. Not at Will, of course– at himself . 

This whole time, Will had kept this all to himself, had to deal with all this on his own without telling anyone, not even Mike, who knew him better than anyone else—or at least, used to. 

Has he really been that selfish? 

Has he really made Will feel that afraid, that he felt he couldn’t even talk to Mike about this?  

Did he really think Mike wouldn’t care? Worse, that Mike would hate him for his sexuality?

Once, Mike would’ve pushed bullies twice his size for teasing Will about being gay, even though he would never dare to stand up for himself. Now, he’s not even someone Will felt comfortable coming out to. How much of that is his own fault?

Flashes of a time Mike worked so hard to push out of his mind come rushing back without warning, leaving Mike with an aching sensation in his ribs. His own words invade his mind like a punch in the throat—

“ El’s not stupid. It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

The moment the words left his stupid mouth, Mike’d regretted ever saying them. He’d regretted seeing the hurt look on Will’s face, a look of betrayal, like he’d never expected Mike to be the one to say something like that. Mike hadn’t realized just how close to home that line had been for Will until now.

He hadn’t meant it. It had all been a defense mechanism, words borne out of anger and fear, because Will was right. He was always right, and Mike couldn’t accept it, because he knew that knowing Will better than anyone meant Will knew him better than anyone else, too.

Will knew Mike, and yet he felt too scared to tell him.

“But when you’re… when you’re different, sometimes you feel… like a mistake.” 

Was that really how Will had felt this whole time? Like a mistake?

Now everything made sense. How he’d turned his back so Mike wouldn’t see him cry, all the fake smiles that never quite reached his eyes, all the vacant stares like his mind was a million miles away, how when they hung out as a party again it never quite felt like how it used to. 

He had chalked it up to growing pains, that they were just adjusting after not speaking for the better part of a year, but it was more than that. Will was carrying something that heavy on his own for what was probably years. 

Mike wishes he would’ve noticed sooner, that he would’ve hugged him and said something to let Will know that it was okay, that he would understand. 

He would do anything to go back in time and take that weight off Will’s shoulders; carry it as his own. Then maybe, everything would be different, and he wouldn’t catch Will looking at him from across the room, like Mike was someone he’s never met. 

A week ago, Mike would’ve said he knew everything there is to know about Will—his favorite color, favorite movie, even where he liked to hide as a kid when he wanted nobody to find him. But now, he’s not sure he does. He doesn’t think he ever knew Will at all.

“Mike?” Will asks, voice so quiet that Mike nearly misses it at first. 

It’s nearing 3 a.m. There’s school tomorrow, and Mike can’t seem to fall asleep for the third night in a row. Apparently, neither can Will. 

Will’s sleeping in his bed with his back turned to Mike, who’s on a mattress on Will’s floor as per his own insistence. He’s staying over at Will’s house for a few nights, almost like old times but not quite the same. Nothing is ever the same, and they can’t go back to the way they were before. Mike wishes there was something, anything, he could say to fix the rift between them, but it’s not as simple as a magic phrase that can erase every mistake he’s made the last 3 years. 

“Yeah?” Mike breathes out, only realizing from the way his lungs seem to be screaming at him that he hasn’t been breathing for a long time. 

Will is silent for so long that Mike questions if he really has gone crazy, if along with having a complete mental breakdown almost every day he’s also started hearing things, until Will finally says, “I can feel you staring at me.”

Mike feels his face turn red.“Oh,” he squawks. His mouth feels oddly dry, and he swallows. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, you didn’t,” Will says quickly, still facing the wall and not Mike. “It’s just…can you, maybe turn around? I think it will be easier for me to say this if you’re not looking at me.” 

Mike nods even though he knows Will won’t see it and rolls over so he’s facing away from Will. “S-sure, I promise not to look at you. Whatever you need to say, you can say it.You can talk to me, you know that,” he assures Will, sounding more desperate and nervous than he’d care to admit. 

“I know. I know I can, but…” Will seems to hesitate, and Mike can hear his voice quiver when he starts to speak again. “Can this be one of those, ‘listen, don’t speak’ moments?”

Mike didn’t forget this. He may have been the world’s worst best friend in the past, but he still knows that whatever Will has to say, it’s serious. He keeps his mouth firmly shut, bites down on his tongue until he can taste blood, and waits. He won’t give Will any advice or anything, not unless Will wants him to.

As if reading his mind, Will takes Mike’s silence as an agreement and lets out a sigh of gratitude. “Okay, cool.” 

“Cool,” Mike echoes, but it’s more out of instinct than anything else. 

If he were being honest with himself, his thoughts are more along the lines of “ Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Fuck me, what the fuck is happening right now”  on repeat. 

“You remember… the painting? The one I told you El commissioned?”

Mike almost doesn’t respond at first, too busy trapped in his mind to come up with a coherent sentence. When he realizes that Will is waiting for him to answer, Mike clears his throat and nods his head again, “Yeah, I remember. Why?” 

He says it so plainly, so nonchalant, as if it would ever be possible for him to forget. It’s still hung up on his wall, right next to his bed, along with several other of Will’s artworks that he’s kept over the years.

Will shudders again, and Mike’s heart breaks for the third time tonight. 

“I… El never asked me to paint that,” Will starts slowly. “I don’t think she ever even saw it.” 

Mike’s body stiffens, and his breath catches in his throat. He figured as much. El never quite so much as said the words, but Mike just knew, even though he would never let himself think it. 

It’s never been like Will to lie, especially not about something this important. He just doesn’t get why Will wouldn’t have just told him. 

Then again, there’s a lot that Will doesn’t tell him now, apparently. That never used to happen.

“Oh,” is all Mike manages to get out.

“I never meant to lie.” Will explains in an anxiety-riddled word vomit. “I mean– I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you. It’s just… I just thought…” Will takes another deep breath before continuing. “You needed someone. It felt wrong to take advantage of that. So I gave you the painting to reassure you, because I knew you wanted to hear that El needed you. And she does, I didn’t lie about that. I would never lie about that.”

Even as Mike remains silent, Will plows on, increasing in both intensity and speed that Mike’s concerned that he’s not pausing enough to breathe. “I’m sorry. I understand if you’re mad at me, or if you don’t want to be friends anymore, I just had to get this off of my chest because…because—shit.”

Mike barely stops himself from flinching at the sound of Will cursing. Will rarely curses around him unless he’s really mad. 

“Because, Mike, I need you, damnit,” Will finishes, voice determined and unwavering. 

Despite himself, Mike rolls back over to glance at Will, only to find his friend already staring back at him. His eyes are unnervingly green when Mike looks at them, as if he’s holding back tears. He’s got his arms folded protectively around him like he’s trying to hide the tremble in them, but Mike notices. He always notices.

Mike does his best to keep his face straight, even though every muscle in his body is on fire and the only thought in his mind is still very much “what the actual fuck is happening right now.”

El needs you, Mike. And she always will.

That was what Will had told him in the van all those years ago, before everything fell apart. The way he had tried to stop himself from crying back then is the same way he’s looking at Mike right now, and suddenly it all clicks in Mike’s head.

And I always will.

Will had been talking about himself, and Mike was too stupid, too blind, too scared to see it. 

Fuck, he really is an idiot.

“Will-” he begins, but Will quickly cuts him off. 

“Don’t,” Will tells him, almost pleading. “Please don’t say anything. I don’t want to make it a big deal, just… I hate hiding things from you. I had to get it out there somehow.”

Mike nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. For some reason, the dizziness won’t go away, and he thinks he’s going to be sick. 

“Can we just…?” Will trails off, but Mike still understands what he’s trying to ask. 

“Right. Of course,” Mike agrees, pulling the covers over himself once more. “Night, Will.”

“Good night,” Will says in a sickeningly sweet whisper. Mike thinks he’s actually fallen asleep until he hears, “Mike?”

“Y-yeah?” 

A pause. And then, “Thanks. You know, for listening. And for not, judging me and, like,  freaking out or whatever.”

Mike coughs down a sardonic laugh. It’s good to have confirmation that Will isn’t a mind reader, at least. If he was, he’d have realized by now  that Mike is most definitely losing his ever-loving shit right now.  

But Mike says none of that; instead, he barks out a tiny, “Of course.” After a bit of hesitation, he adds, “I would never judge you. You know that, right?” 

Will smiles at Mike in the way that never fails to make him want to cut himself open and hand Will his still-beating heart, but with whatever restraint he has left, he decides against it.

“I know,” Will confirms. Then the two boys fall into silence, likely both processing the gravity of the feelings Will has just left out in the open. 

Mike’s pretty sure he hears Will fall asleep shortly after, probably feeling relieved after having yet another load off his shoulders. 

Not Mike, though. The luxury of sleep never comes for him. 

Instead he lies there, on Will’s bedroom floor, silently and motionless, staring up at the popcorn ceiling as he tries to figure out what this all means for their friendship.

[₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ]

Chapter Text

June 1985

(Three Years Earlier)

Will’s POV

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?”

- James Patterson, The Angel Experiment

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

When Mike invited the party to hang out in his basement, Will’s initial reaction was excitement. 

None of the other boys had wanted to play DND ever since they’d (Lucas and Mike, more specifically) gotten girlfriends, all their recent conversations quickly turning to complaining about how confusing girls were and how they would never understand how their minds worked. 

Every time Will would ask to start a new campaign, they would each create a new excuse—something about the girls not being interested in the game, or being busy making plans to go on romantic dates, or Mike’s personal favorite: El’s “curfew”, which was strictly enforced by her new adoptive father, Chief Hopper (“He’d tear my head off if I didn’t bring El back home by, like, 7,” Mike would sigh).

When Will would bring up the fact that El wouldn’t want to join anyway and offer that they could just play without her, Mike always would point out that the only time he gets to really see her was at her dad’s cabin and she’d be disappointed if he didn’t show up. Then he and Lucas would apologize and suggest that they play another time, and Will would reluctantly agree and forgive them, even though what he really wanted to do is roll his eyes and snap at them, “what about me? Does anyone even care how I feel anymore?”

He knew he was being childish, that it was stupid of him to get so worked up about some dumb board game they used to play when they were naive kids who had yet to learn how the world works, who were yet to be exposed to the horrors of alternate dimensions and man–eating monsters and girls with telekinetic powers. 

But DND wasn’t just a game to Will.  It was the last remnants of his childhood, the last echoes of a time where he still felt somewhat normal and not so much like a freak.

 It was a reminder of when the party actually felt like a party, and his friends weren’t all obsessed with talking about girls all the time. 

He didn’t understand why they had to grow up. 

He didn’t understand why everything had to change.

He didn’t understand why he was always the only one getting left behind.

It’s not like he wanted to be girl-crazy with the rest of his friends. He never really saw what they saw in them anyway—when Lucas and Dustin were fighting over who got to talk to Max first, that was the first time he realized that he really was different, that even though they were all “freaks” in everyone else’s eyes, he was still the outlier among his friend group. 

He still welcomed Max into their party of course, because Dustin and Lucas clearly seemed to like her, and she seemed nice enough. He thought going along with it would make everyone happy—that was until she joined them for Trick-or-Treating during Halloween of ‘84, and Mike got mad at Will for not telling him first. 

Besides, Will already had someone else that he liked, but he’d vowed to keep his feelings buried deep inside for as long as possible, to hide his affection like a secret that he’d take with him to his grave and never tell anyone about. 

He wasn’t sure how everyone else would react if they knew that Troy and his bully friends were right—he was a disgusting, good-for-nothing faggot, and he was going to burn in hell for all eternity. 

He didn’t want to see the look in their eyes when they found out, if they would pretend to accept him but secretly be uncomfortable or ashamed to be seen with him, or if they would curse him out and abandon him just like his dad did when he was eight (“No son of mine will be one of those rainbow-wielding ‘queers,’” Lonnie would spit at Will and his mother whenever they would fight, before Joyce kicked him out and he never came back). 

He could handle the teasing and the kicking from the other kids at school, but he was sure he would actually die if Mike were to ever look at him like that. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Mike hated him once he knew the unnatural feelings Will harbored for him for the last 2 years.

All he wanted was to play DND and distract himself, from the shame of his love for Mike, from the growing sensation of darkness that’d been eerily forming in his chest for the last year, and finally feel like his old self again. All he wanted was to pretend that everything was normal, that they were still those dumb kids who’d fell in love with this game since Dustin moved into town during the fourth grade, even if it was the last time they touched the board before they all went to high school and transitioned out of childhood and into adulthood,  forcing them to inevitably grow out of this awkward in-between. 

But sitting with his arms folded in his lap on Mike’s old worn-out armchair, listening to Lucas and Mike drone on about their girlfriends for the millionth time, Will’s hopes of things returning to how they used to be were immediately dashed. 

“Max broke up with me,” Lucas groaned theatrically, crumpling onto the old sofa with his arms outstretched by his sides. He placed one arm on his forehead to shield his closed eyes, sweat trickling from under his forest-green-and-white camo bandana which framed his dark curls.

It was a particularly sweltering summer day, probably one of the hottest in Hawkins in years, and Will wasn’t sure if it was their relationship troubles or the unforgiving June sun that was setting everyone on edge. The boys had been holed up in Mike’s basement for what must’ve been hours now, and even with the AC on full blast the room remained intolerably stuffy. 

Dustin sat up and pulled the cherry popsicle out of his mouth with a loud pop, staring at their friend with wide-eyed disbelief. “Dude, seriously? Again?” 

“Yes!” Lucas exclaimed, slapping his palms over his face and dragging them down until the tips of his index fingers were clasped between the furrow of his brows. “Except I don’t get what I did this time! I’ve apologized, like, a million times and she still won’t talk to me!”

Mike shifted from his perch on the sofa arm to awkwardly wrap a lanky arm around Lucas’s bare shoulder and gave him a pathetic pat on the back. “That sucks, man,” he said sympathetically. He wasn’t the best at comforting people, but he showed that he cared, in his own endearing way. “I’m telling you, girls never make any sense. But at least you don’t have to deal with her over-protective dad breathing down your neck every time you’re in a room together. I swear, Hopper’s got it out for me and I didn’t even do anything!” He rolled his eyes and shook his head indignantly, as if imagining the Chief of Police’s disapproving scowl in his head. 

“Is he really still giving you trouble?” Lucas asked, peering at the pale boy from behind his fingers. “You’ve been dating for what, six months already.” 

“I know!” Mike grumbles, blowing hair out of his eyes. “But he still hates me. I think he thinks I’m going to hurt El or something, which I would never do. I just wish he’d get off my ass already.” 

Dustin let out a loud sigh, chomping down on a bag of nacho chips. “God, your love lives sound so exhausting. Lucky me and Will don’t have to deal with that, right, Will?” 

Will tensed as everyone looked at him expectantly, and he shifted his gaze between the three of his closest friends. Dustin stared at him with a look of hope, as if expecting him to take his side. Lucas raised a questioning eyebrow, while Mike’s expression remained bored and mildly annoyed. 

“Uh,” Will stammered, strategically avoiding Mike’s eyes. “Y-yeah. Right,” his face flushed as he answered, and Mike groaned again.

“Easy for you to say,” he accused, open palms raised in a defensive gesture. “You guys never even had girlfriends!” 

“That’s because we’re cooler than you! We’re saving ourselves for the perfect people,” Dustin retorted, sticking his nacho dust-stained tongue out at Mike, who recoiled in disgust. 

Though Will’s heart was still pounding furiously in his chest at the sudden attention from earlier, he let out a small, nervous giggle at Dustin’s comment. The crimson of his cheeks deepened when he caught Mike glancing at him with curiosity.

“Yeah, whatever, man,” Mike sighed and threw his head back against the couch. “Consider yourselves lucky, I guess.”

When the party went their separate ways at the end of the evening, Will felt a wave of relief wash over him, followed by a twinge of guilt from allowing himself to think that way. 

Dustin had to leave earlier than usual that day (he was heading off to camp in Fort Wayne the next morning and still had a lot more packing to do), and then Lucas’s mother wanted him to be home before late to help prepare for dinner.

Which meant the next time the whole party would be together wouldn’t be for another month. 

It wasn’t that Will didn’t want to spend time with Lucas and Dustin, but if he had to hear about El and Max and pretend to be interested in the other boys’ girlfriend drama for one more hour he might’ve actually lost it. 

And the thing was, he was interested. 

He liked Max, and while he didn’t really know El that well, he knew enough to understand why Mike was so obsessed with her—she was the coolest girl on the planet and saved the world—saved Will—twice. 

El made Mike happy, and Will was happy for him. It was just… it got to a point, especially when it was practically all they seemed to care about lately. 

So sue him if he wanted just one day free from anything to do with girls.  

But deep down, buried even further behind the relief or the guilt of finally having a moment of peace, a feeling of nervous excitement tugged gently at Will’s heartstrings at the thought of being alone with Mike, in his basement, with nothing, not even the topic of girls (hopefully), spoiling the vibe between them.  

Will sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor while Mike was sprawled out on the couch, nose buried in the latest edition of the Uncanny X-Men.

(Will kept all of his comics in mint condition; he saved up for months to buy them so he took care of them as if they were his own children—Mike’s, on the other hand, were all worn and worse for wear, with pages dog-eared and annotations in the margins, a trait that Will found strangely adorable.)

In front of them, a pile of snacks was spread out on the table, empty chip bags and soda cans scattered haphazardly and popsicle wrappers spilling onto the floor, and it reminded Will of a time when this place— this basement—felt like home, like their own private bubble where they were safe, untouchable.

He couldn’t remember the last time it was like this, when it was just the two of them, just Mike-and-Will against the world. 

Probably not since they got the Mind Flayer out of Will when he was possessed a year ago. 

Now that the room was mostly silent, spare the cassette player playing somewhere in the corner of Mike’s basement, Will’s relief faded as he realized he had no idea how to talk to Mike anymore without the security of other people being present to distract him from his feelings, which were, much to his chagrin, growing increasingly more inconvenient by the day. 

He instead focused his efforts on steadying his erratic heartbeat, drowning out his racing thoughts as he hummed along to the familiar tune coming from the cassette player. 

All the things that you say, yeah

Is it life, or just to play my worries away?

You’re all the things I’ve got to remember…

Even with his eyes trained on his comic, Will could sense Mike shifting beside him as he rolled onto his side to face him, propping his head up with one elbow. Will didn’t even have to look over at him—he could already picture the toothy, mischievous grin that he knew currently tugged at his friend’s lightly freckled cheeks, and he knew exactly what Mike was thinking before he’d even said the words out loud.

“Hey, Will,” Mike drawled in a soft voice he used only around Will, which always sent sparks of electricity through his veins.

“Mm-hm?” Will responded in a cautious whisper.

“I was wondering,” Mike said slowly, his smile fading into a more thoughtful expression, “why is it that you’ve never had a girlfriend before?”

There it was, Will thought. It’d only taken 15 minutes for the topic of girls to come back up again, and Will would’ve laughed if he didn’t feel so uncomfortable. 

“Um,” he tugged at the collar of his shirt as he tried to come up with a reasonable answer. 

You’re shyin’ away

I’ll be comin’ for you anyway…

Suddenly Will felt exposed and Mike’s eyes on him felt heavy. He made a conscious note of all of his mannerisms, as if with one wrong word or one poorly masked expression Mike would see right through him. The last thing Will needed right now was Mike prodding him even further with more intrusive questions.

“I dunno,” Will decided finally, shrugging one shoulder half-heartedly. “I never had the chance, I guess? I mean, I doubt anyone would ever see me in that way.”

Mike frowned and shook his head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “Nope, I call bullshit on that.”

Will tilted his head in innocent confusion, and Mike clarified, ”There’s no way that's true. I bet, like, you have a whole harem of girls tripping over themselves to get with you; you just don’t know it yet. Remember Jennifer Hayes? When we thought you were… dead, she was crying at your funeral. She totally was into you.” 

Mike tugged at his fingers as he listed all the instances of girls showing interest in Will, and Will felt his face burn again. 

“And then there was that other girl, at the Snow Ball? The one who came up to you, asked if you wanted to dance.”

“You’re wrong,” Will blurted, aware that he was full-on blushing now, and the embarrassment made him turn even redder. “It wasn’t like that. They were just being nice.”

Mike stared at him with an unreadable expression, then sighed pensively, leaning back on the couch with his hands clasped behind his head. He closed his eyes, his long, curly lashes dusting gracefully against his cheeks, and Will’s heart soared in his chest. 

His eyelashes are so pretty, Will thought, before reminding himself that he was wrong for having such thoughts about his straight best friend and pushing those feelings back down where they belonged. 

“Hmm,” Mike mumbled. “I’m just saying, it’s not that hard to believe that someone would want to date you.” 

Will swore that he nearly felt his soul start to ascend to heaven right then and there.

He coughed violently, choking on his own spit, and stared at Mike with his eyes wide and mouth agape. The taller boy didn’t seem to notice though, somehow still lost in thought. 

For a minute, Will almost wanted to let himself believe Mike, to believe he wasn’t totally unlovable, that someone like him could have a happy ending after all, even though he spent his whole life hearing only tragedy after tragedy of gay people either getting beaten to death or dying alone from AIDS. 

He almost let himself wonder, of what it would be like to be liked back, of a world where a boy like Mike actually returned his feelings and they could love out loud, unafraid and unabashed by what the world would think of them, and it nearly brought him to tears. 

Then Mike brought him back to reality by adding, “If you were a girl, you might actually be my type, I think.”

If you were a girl, Mike had said. 

Like it was just a passing thought. 

Like it was a completely casual thing for a boy to say about his best friend, who also happened to be a boy. 

That’s right. Mike liked girls. Girls who weren’t Will. Girls like El.

Will already knew that even if there was a world where Mike felt the same way about him, it would never be this one. Yet hearing the confirmation straight from the other boy’s mouth hit him like an arrow through the heart, and he felt sick. 

He tucked his face into his shoulder to hide the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes and said nothing.

“Anyway, I’m actually glad you don’t have a girlfriend, Will. None of the girls in Hawkins deserve you.” Mike’s gaze found Will’s again, and the look in his eyes was oddly sincere, sad even, but Will told himself he was just imagining it. “You’re too good for this town. This world, probably.”

If only Mike knew the truth, the voice in Will’s head taunted him. 

Will didn’t deserve better. 

He didn’t even deserve to be alive.

[₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊]

Chapter Text

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

"Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. 

'Pooh!' he whispered.

'Yes, Piglet?' 

'Nothing,' said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. 'I just wanted to be sure of you.'"

- A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

“Mike? Mike. Hellooo? Earth to Michael Wheeler!”

“Dude, I don’t think he can hear you, he’s completely zoned out,” Lucas is saying, when Mike decides to finally get his head out of the clouds.

“Huh? S-sorry, what were you saying?” He asks, blinking twice, still in a tired daze. When he comes to, his eyes focus on Dustin, who’s waving a hand in front of his face in an effort to catch his attention. 

Dustin and Lucas exchange worried glances, before Dustin turns back to Mike. “Are you sure you’re okay, man? You’ve been staring at nothing for the past, like, 5 minutes.” 

“Oh,” Mike says, stifling a yawn, which makes Lucas and Dustin even more concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” He’d been too busy thinking about the last thing Will had said to him before he fell asleep, and before he knew it he had to get ready for school. 

El needs you, Mike.

I need you.

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, as if trying to rub the memory away.

Dustin nods, unconvinced, but thankfully, he doesn’t question any further. “O-kay… well, anyway, have you done the homework yet?” 

Mike stares at him blankly, then looks at Lucas, who simply shrugs. “Homework… We had homework?” 

Dustin’s eyes go wide, and he throws his hands up in the air, disapproval and frustration clear as day on his face. “Dude!” He yells, his voice coming out shrill and whiny, and Mike winces. “Mrs. Kowalski always gives us homework in class! Did you seriously forget to do it again?”

“Um, yeah?” Mike chuckles humorlessly, and Dustin groans. “Oops.” 

Lucas, the only one of the boys at the lunch table who doesn’t have Math class with the other two, quickly pushes back in his chair and stands to his feet, lunch tray in hand. “Sorry, guys. I can’t be here for this.” He chugs the rest of his milk before tossing the carton into the trash can as if shooting a basketball into a net. It goes in perfectly. “Mrs. Kowalski is literally evil. You’re in deep shit, man.”

Mike curses under his breath as Lucas–that traitor–abandons his friends at the lunch table, turning to Dustin for support, rescue, literally anything, but one look at his curly-haired friend tells him that he’s not going to get any. Instead, Dustin sighs, “He’s right, this is the third time you forgot the homework in a week. Mrs. Kowalski’s gonna murder you in cold blood, then hang your head on a pole to set an example for the rest of the class.”

Mike gives him a lopsided grin and says, “Nah, she wouldn’t do that, she loves me.” He makes what he hopes is his most convincing puppy dog eyes, causing Dustin to scoff. “And besides, I’ll have it done before class starts, because you’re gonna let me copy yours, right?”

Dustin doesn’t budge or even begin to crack a smile, his face remaining completely rigid. “Wow, Mike. Is that really the extent of our friendship? Just someone who covers for you when you fuck shit up?” 

“Aww, come on, Dustin. You know I wouldn’t ask just anyone. You’re my best friend, and like, the only one in that class who has more than just two working brain cells.” Mike claps his palms together in a praying gesture, and his heart jumps with satisfaction when he sees his friend’s hardened expression melt, the corner of his mouth turning up ever-so-slightly. “So, will you help me out here? Just this one time?” 

Dustin rolls his eyes and pretends to think about it for a second, but Mike already knows he’s managed to win him over. Playing to a math whiz’s borderline superiority complex surely is the way to go. “Fine,” he relents, but puts a finger up to silence Mike before he can celebrate this small victory too soon. “But on one condition: you have to ask Will if he can join our campaign on Thursday.”

Mike shrugs, surprised that Dustin was going along with this for what seemed like a pretty straightforward request. The DND campaign was important to Dustin, important to all of them—it was the first time Dustin would be acting as Dungeon Master, a fairly recent development since Hellfire lost its club leader, Eddie, a couple years back. It had taken Dustin a while to get back into the game after grieving the death of his mentor, friend, and second father figure (after Harrington, of course), and with the threat of Vecna’s return and the end of the world, none of them felt it right to keep the club going when the possibility of dying loomed over them like a giant storm cloud. 

But that was all in the past now. They defeated Vecna, Hawkins is safe, and pretty much everything has returned to normal again. 

Will never got the chance to meet Eddie while he was alive, but he knew of him from all the stories the boys told him and wished he had stayed in Hawkins so he could have been part of Hellfire, too (“Eddie sounds like he was a pretty awesome guy,” he’d lamented, to which they’d all agreed).

There’s only one tiny problem, though. “Doesn’t he have that art thing on Thursday?”

“After the art thing,” Dustin clarifies, and—okay, Mike can do that, easy.

 “Deal,” Mike accedes, relieved when Dustin pulls out his completed worksheets and slides them over to him. Mike quickly copies the answers Dustin wrote and finishes the last question just as the bell rings, signifying the end of the lunch period.

“Thanks, man, you’re a lifesaver,” he calls out over his shoulder as he shrugs on his backpack and makes his way to the trash to dump the contents of his tray. “Catch you during Kowalski’s class.” 

“Mike!” Dustin yells after him, and Mike stops in his tracks, turning to give Dustin a confused look. “Don’t forget–the campaign. Ask.”

Mike rolls his eyes and gives him two thumbs up, still facing Dustin as he backs out of the cafeteria.

Mike decides to look for Will straight after the lunch period, since he knows that both of them have a free period next block and Will always spends those in the same place: the art classroom. As expected, it doesn’t take him long to find Will—he’s hanging around by his locker, probably getting some of his books for his next class. 

Mike smiles as he begins to make his way towards his best friend, whatever nervousness he’d expected to feel after Will basically confessed his love last night immediately evaporating upon seeing him, but someone has already beaten him to Will, and what he sees sends his feet and his heart into a staggering halt.

Mike clutches the strap of his bag with a trembling hand, his mouth pressed firmly into a thin line as he watches and waits. 

The strange girl runs up to Will and taps him on the shoulder excitedly, causing Will to jump slightly—he’s still as skittish as ever, Mike notes—before turning to face her, and he relaxes and smiles back politely as she starts chatting him up. 

She throws her head back, laughing at something Will has said, and Mike nearly has an aneurysm from how hard his eyes roll back into his skull. Will is funny, and he’s glad someone besides him appreciates his sense of humor, but it’s so painfully obvious that this girl is overreacting to whatever joke Will may have made. 

Mike chooses to watch Will’s face closely instead, noticing the light pink tint in his cheeks as he sheepishly smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that he managed to make this girl laugh so hard. Then the girl says something, and Will’s nodding to whatever she’s saying, and the girl throws her arms around Will in a hug and Will doesn’t pull away, and the girl lets her hand linger on Will’s shoulder a little too long as she smiles and waves at him before dashing away, and something in Mike’s stomach drops. 

Since when did they get so close for this girl to act so shamelessly bold around him? Since when did Will even talk to girls who weren’t already part of their friend group? 

Since when did Will make friends with other people that Mike knew nothing about?

Once Will turns back to his locker and Mike is sure he’s not going to have to fight anyone else off to talk to him, he makes his way towards his oldest and closest friend, putting an arm around the small of Will’s back. He’s barely touching him, his fingers light as feathers against Will’s sweater, but he selfishly relishes the way Will’s face reddens, hyperaware of Mike’s hand on his waist. 

“Mike,” Will breathes, and his eyes are wide as he stares up at the taller boy in astonishment. They’ve never really done stuff like that before, at least not at school, where other people can see them. “What are you doing here?”

Mike hums, still staring in the direction that the strange girl walked off in. “Who’s your… friend?” He asks, trying to play it off as innocent and uninterested. 

“No one,” Will answers curtly, but when he sees Mike’s face, he quickly corrects himself, “Rayna, she’s just a girl in my art class. She wanted to ask if I could give her some pointers for her art project.” 

Mike nods, still wary—the way she looked at Will did not seem just friendly, but he trusts Will and if he says it was nothing it probably was, so he pushes the thought aside for now. “That’s smart of her, you’re the best artist I know.”

Will smiles softly, cheeks still rosy, and averts his gaze as he tries to change the subject. “Um, so, did you want to talk about something else?” 

Mike leans against the lockers, hands stuffed in his pockets as he looks down at his scuffed black Adidas Sambas. “We missed you this morning,” he says quietly. “You weren’t in homeroom. We were supposed to walk to class together, remember?” 

Will bites his lower lip and folds his arms across his chest, still lowering his gaze. “Sorry, I had to talk to my teacher about making up a History quiz I missed. I would’ve told you, but–”

“You weren’t at lunch either,” Mike cuts him off, failing to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I’ve been waiting all day to talk to you, but you weren’t there.” 

Will freezes for a brief second, an emotion Mike recognizes as anger flickering in his eyes before he closes them and sighs deeply. When he looks back up at Mike, his hazel eyes are devoid of any light, and he looks as tired as Mike feels. 

“I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want me to say?” His voice wavers, and Mike wonders if he somehow screwed things up again. “I’ve been busy doing things outside of you. I’m not the same scared, defenseless kid I was 4 years ago; I don’t need you hovering over me 24/7 anymore.” 

Mike flinches as if he’s just been shot, hurt and betrayal written all over his features, and Will’s face falls once he realizes what he’s just said. 

“Mike,” he blurts, anxious to explain himself. “I didn’t mean–”

“No,” Mike interrupts, crossing his arms. He turns his face away from Will, embarrassed at the fact that he’s literally this close to crying over something so unbelievably stupid as Will saying he’s not a kid anymore. “You’re right. I’m sorry for caring so much.” 

“No–”

“Dustin wants to know if you’re joining our campaign on Thursday,” Mike mentions, making sure to emphasize Dustin’s name. Dustin, not me. I don’t care.

Will’s shoulders deflate, and he looks so small, so defeated. Mike almost wants to apologize and take it all back until he speaks up, “Um, I told you guys about the art exhibition on Thursday. I have to be there or my grade will be tanked.”

“I know,” Mike responds, desperation creeping into his voice anyway, betraying how much he actually does still care. “But the exhibition ends at 6, right? You can still join us after, if there’s still time.” 

Will pauses to think about it, placing a hand on the back of his neck. “Okay,” he agrees, and Mike lets out a small sigh of relief. “I’ll think about it.”

Weird. Will would never have turned down an opportunity to play DND in the past, at one point being the only one of their friend group who remained adamant about playing, but Mike tries not to dwell on that fact too much. 

“Awesome,” Mike says, pushing himself off the lockers. “See you at home? I’m going to beat Super Mario Bros this time, just watch me!” 

He flushes faintly at the fact that he’d just called Will’s house “home” even though he’s only sleeping over for a few days, and hopes Will doesn’t notice this Freudian slip. Thankfully, Will doesn’t call him out or tease him about it; instead, he just laughs and says, “Sure, keep dreaming, Wheeler,” and that’s that.

Mike smirks, glad to have finally gotten rid of the awkwardness between them, and disappears down the hall in search of his next class. 

When Mike makes it to Pre-Calc after the bell rings, he tries to sneak his way to the back of the classroom without drawing too much attention to himself, but Mrs. Kowalski has the eyes of a hawk and holds a personal grudge against Mike (and only Mike, apparently), so he gets caught almost immediately.

“Mr. Wheeler,” She demands, just as Mike is about to reach the second-to-last row, and Mike mutters a curse through gritted teeth as he turns around to face her. 

“Yes, Mrs. Kowalski?” He asks, though he already knows what her next words will be—he’s heard them too many times to keep count. 

“When the bell rings, that means you’re supposed to be in class and already at your seat. That makes you, my friend, late.” Mrs. Kowalski crosses her arms, hip jutting out as she raises an arched brow. “What’s your excuse this time?” 

Mike contemplates making a joke about getting abducted by aliens on the way to class or having to save the world from interdimensional monsters again (which he has done before, thank you very much), but he doubts the math teacher is in a joking mood, so instead he simply says, “No excuses, Miss. I take full accountability for my actions and will try to do better next time.” He puts two fingers to his temple in a salute for emphasis, and Mrs. Kowalski looks less than amused. 

“‘S alright, just go find your seat if you don’t want to be written up again.” Mrs. Kowalski glares pointedly at Mike before picking up the piece of chalk and writing an equation on the board. “You know, one more write-up, and you’re looking at double detention with me. I think we can both agree that neither of us wants to be stuck with each other for an extra hour on a Saturday, isn’t that right, Wheeler?”

Mike yelps and scratches his head nervously, dropping his hand to his side. “Yes, ma’am,” he resigns, taking a seat behind Dustin, who’s snickering at him and really, Mike has got to find better friends. Traitors, all of them.

The rest of the class lulls by slowly, and Mike catches himself on the verge of falling asleep two times within the first half hour. He glances anxiously at the clock every 10 minutes, as if staring at the time would make the period go by any faster. Math is, to nobody’s surprise, Mike’s least favorite subject, besides maybe Spanish—all the numbers and equations make literally no sense to him, and he still has no idea why he needs to find x, y should figure out its own relationship problems and leave Mike the hell out of it. He’s about to doze off yet again when he hears Dustin knocking on his desk. 

“Psst. Mike,” he whispers, turning around in his seat. 

Mike, who couldn’t give less of a shit about derivatives but can’t be bothered to talk to Dustin right now, ignores his friend, staring right ahead of him as if he’s gained a sudden interest in listening to the lesson. 

“Mi-ike,” Dustin tries again, leaning towards Mike, blocking his view of the front of the room. 

“Dustin, stop. I can’t see the board–Ow!” Mike scolds, pulling his leg back when the curly-haired boy kicks his shin. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Have you talked to Will yet? Can he make it?” Dustin asks, clearly not at all sorry for causing his friend pain. Asshole.

Annoyed, Mike shakes his head and turns his attention back to the teacher. “I don’t know, man. Ask him yourself if it’s that important.” 

Dustin frowns, but instead of turning around, he presses on. “No, because I asked you to do it. We had a deal, remember?” He points to himself and then to Mike to accentuate his point, his eyes practically screaming the words, ‘you owe me.’ “I let you copy my homework, for Christ's sake.” 

“Fine,” Mike sighs with reluctance, leaning forward, gesturing to Dustin to do the same. In a low voice, he admits, “I talked to him. He–”

“What’d he say?” Dustin perks up, impatient. 

“I’m getting there, genius. He said he’d think about it.”

Dustin pulls back to study Mike’s face, his shoulders drooping just a little, and Mike can tell he’s disappointed even if he won’t show it. “Seriously? That’s it?”

Mike opens his mouth to speak, but the words die on his tongue when he hears his name called from the front of the class.

“Dustin Henderson and Michael Wheeler,” Mrs. Kowalski’s stern voice booms, bouncing off the walls and hitting Mike like a punch, and he winces. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?” 

“No, Mrs. Kowalski,” Dustin answers quickly, sitting up straight as an arrow. “Mike just had a question about the homework.” 

The math question eyes the two of them suspiciously, mouth pressed in a firm line. It’s no wonder she looks so much older than she is. Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen her smile. “If you have any questions, you can direct them towards me. Otherwise, no talking during class.” 

Mrs. Kowalski turns to the rest of the class, continuing the lesson. “Now, who can tell me the answer to the next problem? Anyone?” Her eyes scan the sea of raised hands and narrow in on Mike, who very obviously does not have his hand raised—seriously, she’s out to get him—and he can pinpoint the exact moment she decides to make him her target. “Mike?”

“Uh,” he stalls, glancing at Dustin for assistance, who mouths the words ‘number 5’ at him. Mike checks his homework sheet for the answer and announces, “x equals 7?” 

Mrs. Kowalski narrows her eyes for a brief second, and Mike prepares to scold Dustin for giving him the wrong answer until the teacher nods in approval. “That is correct. Nice work, Wheeler.” 

Relieved, Mike feels himself physically relax in his seat. Crisis narrowly avoided. He’s got to remember to thank Dustin after this. 

“You heard Mrs. Kowalski. No talking during class,” he repeats when he sees his friend look back to him expectantly. Dustin just sticks his tongue out, blowing raspberries at him before turning around properly in his seat, and the class thankfully eventually ends, setting them all free to leave.

“Has Will left yet?” Mike inquires, holding onto his bike’s handlebars with a grip so tight his knuckles turn white. 

“Uh,” Lucas stalls, mounting his own bike, brows furrowed in apprehension. “Huh. Y’know, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him all day, actually, have you?”

Dustin shakes his head in agreement, wearing a matching uneasy expression, and Mike’s anxiety levels instantly sky-rocket. 

Fine, he knows that technically Will is probably safe and he’s completely capable of looking out for himself, something he’s made abundantly clear when he spoke to him after lunch, but Mike can’t shake the feeling that perhaps something bad’s happened, like a bully caught up to him before Mike could.

 Even though there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for Will not meeting up with his friends in the courtyard after school. He might have already left before everyone else, or maybe he’s staying behind for some reason. 

Still, he abandons his bike in favor of searching for the soft-spoken boy without saying another word to Dustin or Lucas, the blue bike careening to the ground as Mike sprints back inside, pushing his way against the current of students exiting the school as they prepare to go home for the day.

Mike searches for Will among the bodies of students and teachers that have begun to flood the halls, looking for any sign of a yellow, collared-shirt or green jacket or a head of shaggy, brown hair, but none of the people he comes across have Will’s distinct mole above their lip or his clear, hazel eyes. He tries stopping by every class he knows Will has to see if he’s hanging around there. Again, no such luck. He’s almost about to give up, telling himself that Will’s fine and he might have just gone home without telling his friends after all, before he stumbles across the Art room. 

The door remains wide open, so it’s not like Mike would be interrupting if he were to just walk in. He takes a step closer, peering around the doorframe, and sure enough, there’s Will, working away at what Mike presumes is an art project. 

But that’s not the thing that catches Mike off guard. It’s who’s sitting beside him.

The urge to protect Will at all costs bubbles up inside Mike, and he does his best to bite it down, reminding himself that it’s not his job anymore, and Will told him he had nothing to worry about. But doesn’t he, though? He’s not sure, not when the girl from earlier (Layla, or whatever Will said her stupid name was) is leaning over Will’s shoulder, practically sitting on top of him, like there aren’t a dozen other seats completely open and available for her to sit in. She looks far too happy to be pressed up against him, staring at Will in wide-eyed wonder as if he hung the stars and moon in the sky. 

To Mike’s credit, he doesn’t immediately storm in there and drag Will away from this witch’s evil clutches, despite how badly he wants to. It’s only when Leia’s hair brushes briefly against Will’s face as she scoots even closer to him, leaning down to look at the artwork Will is showing her and nervously tucking a blonde strand behind her ear, that he chooses to interrupt, letting himself into the room unannounced. 

“There you are,” he exclaims, eyes shifting between the only two other people in the room. Will glances up at him, the surprise on his face an interesting contrast to Rayla’s, who all but jumps out of her seat like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t (which, Mike thinks a bit smugly, at least she knows she’s wrong). “Thought I might find you in here.”

“Mike,” Will exhales, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. “I thought you’d have left already.” 

Mike unfolds his arms and waltzes over to him, intentionally putting his body between Will and Reya’s, forcing her to move her chair to make space for him. “Nope, I decided to wait for you, so we can go home together.”

“Um, excuse me,” Laney interjects. She wilts when Mike turns to glare at her, and her voice comes out tiny and shaky when she opens her mouth again. “Who are you, exactly?”

“I’m Will’s friend ,” Mike spits, his lips curling in a small smirk as if to say, that’s right–I’m his best friend, not you. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Mike, I told you about her already,” Will explains, clearly anxious to break up whatever tension he’s sensing between the other two. “This is Rayna; Rayna, this–” he points to Mike, and Mike wags his fingers in a small wave– "this is Mike. Now you guys know each other, so please, for my sake, try not to maul each other to death.”

Turning back to Mike, he asks, “Why are you here, Mike?” 

Mike smiles and pulls up a seat from another desk, sitting backwards so he can rest his arms on the top rail. “Well, I heard you made a new friend,” he starts, tilting his head curiously, “so I thought it would only be polite to introduce myself properly.” 

“Consider yourself introduced,” Will retorts, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “Happy now?”

“Oh very,” Mike nods his head in agreement. “Although I have to say, you’ve surprised me, Will. She’s not the type I’d expected you to go for.” 

Mike notices Will stiffen, having caught on to the silent part as he’d intended: I didn’t think you were into girls. 

 He punctuates this remark by casting a sideways glance in Rayna’s direction, feeling oddly proud when she takes the bait. 

“What type does Will usually go for?” she inquires, her mouth forming a little “o” as she stares at Mike. 

“Ignore him, Rayna,” Will begs, worry clear in his voice and his wild eyes. 

At the same time, Mike responds, listing the traits he knows Will to like, “Curly black hair, brown eyes, and…” Mike notices Will subtly shake his head, urging him to stop, but he continues anyway. “A few inches taller than him.” 

Rayna’s face reddens to match her blouse as she chokes out, “O-oh. I see.” 

“He’s just joking, don’t listen to him. Mike,” Will stands, grabbing his friend by the arm. “I need to talk to you. Outside.” 

Mike lets himself be dragged out of the classroom, and Will doesn’t let go until he’s certain they’re no longer within earshot of Rayna. He winces and rubs his arm once Will drops it—he bruises easily, so Will’s fingers are sure to leave a mark. 

“What the hell , Mike.” Will’s voice is low but full of fury, and Mike doesn’t think he’s ever heard him like that before. “What was that just now?”

Mike laughs dryly. He doesn’t believe it. “Don’t play dumb, Byers. You know why I did that.”

Will’s expression remains cold, unperturbed. “What do you mean?” 

Mike’s demeanor softens a fraction, eyes frantically searching Will’s for some understanding. Did he seriously miscalculate? Was it all just in Mike’s head? “You shitting me right now?”

Will pulls back and sighs. “I don’t have time for your mind games right now. Can you please just tell me what is going on with you?”

“That girl likes you, Will. I just know she does,” Mike reveals finally, pointing in the direction of the classroom where he’s sure Rayna is still waiting. 

“That’s ridiculous, Mike,” Will objects, running a hand through his hair. “She’s not like that. Like I said, she–”

“Just wants help with an art project. I know,” Mike finishes for him, waving the thought off as he closes the distance between himself and Will. “I know what you think, but I’m telling you, I know flirting when I see it, and she was definitely flirting with you.”

When Will hesitates, Mike groans and sinks to the floor against the lockers, beckoning Will to join him. The brown-haired boy slides next to him, watching Mike closely as he waits for an explanation, and he lets everything spill out, words filling the air between their warm bodies—even now, Will can make Mike confess all his secrets, all his worries, fears, and concerns, with just one look.

“You probably didn’t want to believe it because you always see what you want to see in people,” Mike confides. “It’s one of the reasons we all adore you so much–your ability to see the good in everyone, no matter what. But most people aren’t like that. Sometimes they have… ulterior motives.”

“Okay, so say you are right, and she does have a crush on me,” Will squirms, his nose scrunching as if he’s just eaten something sour, and Mike resists the urge to laugh. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m–” 

“Gay, exactly. But does she know that?” Mike points out, and Will shrinks, pulling his knees closer to his torso.

“I-I don’t know,” he admits. “You guys are the only ones I’ve told.”

“See? That’s what I mean,” Mike gestures emphatically with his hands. “She doesn’t know you’re gay. What if she finds out and tells other people? You get it now?”

Will says nothing, still looking anywhere but at Mike, and Mike tentatively wraps an arm around his shoulder, squeezing for good measure. Relief washes over him when he feels the tension in Will’s arms dissolve.

“I know you hate being treated as fragile, like you can’t defend yourself, but I think a part of me is always going to want to protect you. It’s like there’s this… voice in my head that constantly yells at me to keep you safe, and when you’re not right by me, I kinda go into panic mode or something? I don’t know.” Mike sighs again, burying his head in his hands. “I can’t turn it off, either. All I know is, if you get hurt again and I’m not able to do anything about it, I’d…” He lets his voice trail off, unable to find the right words. Or rather, he knows the words, but he’s too terrified to say them out loud, to make them feel real . 

“Hey, Mike,” Will says, tilting Mike’s face up to look at him. He’s kneeling now, staring down at Mike with an expression so pure and so full of love that Mike thinks he might actually cry. He doesn’t deserve someone like him. “I know. I get how you feel, I feel that way, too.” 

Mike sniffs, the tears already stinging his eyes. “Yeah?”

Will smiles, his eyes also noticeably shinier. “Yeah.”

A beat passes before Will stands to his feet, offering a hand to help Mike up, which he accepts. “We should probably get outta here now,” he reasons, still holding onto Mike as he leads them out into the courtyard. 

“Yeah, sounds fair,” Mike obliges, picking up his bike while he waits for Will to unchain his own. 

“Mike.”

“Hmm?”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?” Will confesses, a faint smile spreading across his lips. “No matter how many friends I make, that will never change. You’re irreplaceable.”

It’s something so simple, and yet the words sound oddly familiar.

“What if you want to join a new party?” 

“Not possible.” 

Mike beams, his grin stretching from ear to ear. 

“Let’s go, idiot,” Will ruffles Mike’s hair as he passes him on his bike, gaining momentum as he pedals away. “Last one home has to do the dishes for the entire week!”

Oh, fuck right off. “Hey, that’s cheating!” Mike complains, pedalling as fast he can to catch up, and Will giggles. 

Sure, maybe there are still a lot of things that Mike hasn’t figured out yet. Like why he wants to envelop Will in his embrace and never let him go, or why his heart seems to pick up its pace whenever he’s around him, or why it irritates him to see Will hang out with other people. 

Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t want to get left behind—yeah, that’s gotta be it. Gotta be.

But none of that matters right now, so he lets the wind whip him in the face as he presses harder on his bike pedals, leaving the confusing feelings behind in the school parking lot. Right now, all that matters is that Will still wants to be his best friend. 

Will’s okay. They’re going to be okay. 

[₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ]

Chapter Text

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

“Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident.

Just do it and eventually the confidence will follow.”

 - Carrie Fisher

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

Mike has got to do something about this insomnia problem of his. 

Sure, a little restlessness and a few sleepless nights every now and then aren’t going to kill him. He’s survived much worse, although it would be so on brand for him to make it through an apocalypse and narrowly avoid dying a gruesome death, only to get taken out by fainting from exhaustion and hitting his head on a rock, or something.  If the thought didn’t depress him so much he might’ve even found it funny.

Anyways, Mike has not slept a wink since… since Will told him about the painting. That was on Sunday—Tuesday night is beginning to bleed into Wednesday morning, and he’s still wide awake. He honestly doesn’t know how he hasn’t combusted into flames on the spot yet.

That’s not even the worst part of this whole situation—if it was, Mike probably wouldn’t find it nearly as bad; after all, it’s always been a struggle for him to fall asleep at a normal time and not constantly wake up in the middle of the night. Staring at his ceiling until 1 a.m. while he waits for the respite of sleep to find him is such a common occurrence that it might as well be part of his nightly routine by now. For some reason, at night when he should be getting ready for bed seems to be the time that his brain decides it wants to fuck with him the most, tormenting him with thoughts of how much of a nobody he is and fears about the Upside Down and not being able to save his friends. 

It's gonna take patience and time, mmm

To do it, to do it, to do it, to do it

To do it, to do it right, chile

Even now that the Upside Down and Vecna are (hopefully) no longer a threat to Hawkins, the barrier between their world and the other dimension being sealed for what they believe to be for good (though Vecna had disappeared for a year before and came back, so Him still being alive and dormant for another year would be unlikely but not impossible), his mind still wanders almost every night thinking about what could have happened if they had failed, if their plan had backfired and Will or El had actually died this time, and it would’ve been partially his fault for not doing enough to protect the two people he cared about the most. 

But even more troublesome than his mind being his own worst enemy (seriously, Vecna had nothing on him, he had enough source material for self-inflicted psychic torture in his arsenal already on his own) was the attention it was getting from his family. His mother seems to have figured out something was wrong with him, and even if she lets Mike lie and tell her he’s fine and even if she agrees not to bring it up, Mike could see it in her eyes that she’s worried. 

It’s in the way she would casually drop in vaguely supportive coded messages during conversations—”If something is bothering you, you know you can always come to me. I’m here for you,” she’d say after asking what he wanted for dinner. 

It’s in the way Mike walked in on an argument between Karen and Ted once and overheard her talking about scheduling an appointment with a psychiatrist, then his mom denied it when Mike inevitably asked what they were talking about. 

And this time I know it's for real

The feelings that I feel…

If Mike’s parents knew just how bad things were getting at school, with him falling asleep during class or playing hooky when he’s supposed to be studying or taking an important quiz, he’s almost certain Ted would threaten to send him away to Pennhurst with all the other ‘crazy’ people. 

And it’s not like he could tell them what’s going on, not when he’s not even sure, either. Plus, as open-minded as his mother is trying to be these days, he doubts his parents would even understand. 

I know if I put my mind to it 

I know that I really can do it…

God , he misses Nancy. She always knew what to do in times like this.

Mike tosses and turns in his makeshift bed again, adjusting the pillow before settling on lying on his side. He stares at the boy who's currently fast asleep in his own bed next to Mike, looking so peaceful in a way Mike never gets to see much anymore, so safe, and it's all it takes for Mike to decide. He knows something has to be done about his problem, whatever it is, before it eats him alive. He needs to figure this out, even if the answers he’s looking for are ones he’s spent half of his life trying to run from, even if it means digging up the uncomfortable truth and staring it at its ugly face. 

I’ve been a victim of a selfish kinda love…

Even if he’s not sure that he’ll like what he’s going to find.

He owes it to Will, and perhaps more importantly, to himself.

It’s time that I realize…

So he makes up his mind to talk to Will about this tomorrow, and by some miracle, when the clock reads 1:59 and George Harrison’s “Got My Mind Set On You” transitions into “Man in the Mirror” by MJ, Mike’s eyes drift shut, and he dreams of sun-kissed skin against the vibrant watercolor backdrop of Lovers Lake during the sunset.

He’s going to do it.

He would’ve talked to Will about it this morning when they woke up, but then he slept through his alarm twice and by the time he finally dragged himself out of bed, it was already 7:30 and they had to be at school within thirty minutes, and then Mrs. Byers lost her keys again so obviously they all had to help her look for them, and then Hopper offered to drive them to school so that they wouldn’t be late and Mike couldn’t exactly talk to Will about this with his stepdad in the car, so he just chose to wait. After all, there would be plenty of opportunities at school, so he wasn’t that worried.

Like right now, when he sees Will at lunch. Mike is going to pull Will aside and ask to talk about that night, and they’re going to have a heart-to-heart and hash out their feelings, Mike is going to let Will know that he’ll love him no matter what, and they’re going to hug and perhaps ugly cry all over each other’s shirts, and then they’re going to be the bestest of best friends again and go back to normal.

Sounds simple enough. 

All he needs is to find the right moment. Find an opening where he can get Will alone and they can have some privacy.

He can do this. He can do it, right?

…

Is he really about to do this?

“Will,” Mike huffs as he races to the table where Will is seated, already halfway done with his sandwich. He dives into a seat right next to Will’s, his tray landing with a resounding “ thump ” where he carelessly drops it onto the table.

Thank God, the others haven’t arrived yet. Being early finally paid off for once. 

“Will, I’m so glad you’re here. Listen, I need to talk to you about something–”

“Heyyy, Will! Mike!” Dustin calls out to them, waving with a toothy grin on his face. Lucas smirks over their cap-wearing friend’s shoulder. “You guys having a party without us?”

“Dustin, Lucas!” Will giggles, his face glowing. Mike notices that Will’s looking a lot happier and healthier after coming out to the group. His face has gotten that natural bright-eyed and bushy-tailed charm that Mike hasn’t seen in him since he was kidnapped by the demogorgon. “No, we’re not having a party. Just hanging out.” 

“Sick,” Dustin clucks contentedly, pulling up a chair opposite from Will, and Lucas claims the seat right next to him. “Then we can discuss Operation R.O.C.K.” 

Lucas groans, nearly face-planting into his pasta. “Oh, God. Not this again.”

“What? It’s a cool name!” 

Great, Mike thinks. Now Dustin and Lucas are squabbling. This may be a slight speedbump in his plan to get Will away for a bit, but this could still work. 

Trying to be as discreet as possible, Mike nudges Will slightly with his shoulder and watches as his face instantly blooms with color (seriously, how did he not realize Will’s feelings sooner? He really wants to scold his 14-year-old self for having his head stuck so far up his own ass) when Will’s head snaps toward him. 

“Hey, Will,” Mike whispers, leaning in a little to prevent the others from eavesdropping accidentally. “Do you wanna… can we go somewhere to talk?” 

Before Will can respond, the moment is rudely interrupted once more by Dustin’s loud, painfully self-unaware squawking. 

“Isn’t Operation R.O.C.K. a good name?” Dustin prods, staring at Mike and Will with an intensity that can only be rivaled by how angry Holly gets when someone tries to wake her up early.

“I think you’re thinking way too hard about this, dude,” Lucas sighs listlessly. 

“What’s Operation R.O.C.K.?” Will, as sweet and as curious as ever, bless his soul, wonders aloud.

“Don’t get him started,” Mike and Lucas warn in unison, not wanting to hear another lengthy speech about how Dustin came up with the new campaign name, but they’re too late.

“It’s what I’m calling the D&D campaign. The Resurrection of the Calamitous Kas, but nicknamed Operation R.O.C.K. ‘cause it just flows off the tongue better,” Dustin explains, then takes a bite of his sandwich, talking with his mouth full of bologna and cheese. “Whadd’ya shink, Will? Choesn’t ish chus rock ?”

“Please close your mouth when you’re eating,” Mike chides, pretending to gag, and Dustin responds by flipping the bird at him.

“I like it,” Will murmurs approvingly, and everyone looks at him in surprise. “I think it’s pretty clever.”

Dustin throws his hands up. “Thank you! At least someone appreciates my creative genius!” 

Mike and Lucas both roll their eyes. “We never said it was a bad name,” Mike argues. “We’ve just heard every detail of the plan a million times since last week.”

“Well it has to be perfect,” Dustin insists. “It’s a campaign created to honor the legacy of Eddie, hence the name R.O.C.K., I want it to be the most epic campaign Hellfire has ever seen.” 

Dustin chews another mouthful of sandwich, making sure to swallow first this time before speaking directly to Will again. “Speaking of Hellfire, Will, have you made up your mind about joining us tomorrow?” 

Will tilts his head thoughtfully as he considers, chewing on his lower lip. Mike would never admit this to anyone out loud, but he’s almost as eager to hear the answer as Dustin is, though he would bet actual money that he’s slightly more ecstatic than him when Will says, “I’ll come.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Will nods, laughing. “I mean, it would depend on how early I can sneak out of the exhibition, but, yeah, I want to join you guys.”

“Yes!” Dustin cheers, pumping a fist through the air. “See? Told you guys this is gonna be epic!”

Mike grins, heart racing amidst all the excitement, and he nudges Will once more, both out of gratitude and out of curiosity, wanting to know what finally changed his mind. Will beams at him in a way that almost causes Mike’s heart to melt, and he shrugs one shoulder as if he’s read Mike’s thoughts.

“Will,” Mike starts, his heart catching in his throat. Now’s the time, he can feel it. “I have something I want to ask you.”

“What is everyone yelling about?” A familiar voice chimes in nearby, and Mike wants to tell whoever it is that they’re ruining the moment and to get lost before he realizes who the voice belongs to.

"El?" Will says.

“Max?” Lucas whispers, awestruck.

Max?!

“Yeah, I’m here, now can you guys please stop gawking at me like I just came back from the dead?”

The whole table goes dead silent for a second, and Max laughs sarcastically. “I may be partially blind, but I can still sense your eyes on me, losers.”

Lucas stands up, walking over to his girlfriend to hug her. He has to bend down to accommodate her being in a wheelchair. “Babe, what are you doing at school? I thought you weren’t supposed to return until Monday,” he recalls. “Did your doctor say it was okay for you to be here?”

Max hugs him back and nods to El, who comes over to help Lucas get Max out of her wheelchair. She willingly leans on her boyfriend and best friend’s shoulders as she slowly makes her way to the lunch table. 

“Thanks,” Max tells the two of them, then to the group as a whole, she explains, “I got discharged early. When I woke up from the coma last year, they wanted to do some tests and keep me in the hospital for a bit until they thought I recovered enough to release me.” 

This Mike already knows. He remembers getting the call in the fall of ‘87, or rather, he remembers his mom getting the call and then telling Mike about it after. Apparently, Max had finally woken up after being in a coma for a year and a half, but she wasn’t completely herself yet. Since she was asleep for so long, the doctors advised her to remain in the hospital for further treatment so her body and mind could catch up to each other, given that she understandably was still confused and unaware of what was going on. Lucas was in the hospital when she came to, so at least she was able to see a familiar face who could explain everything to her, and he knew the situation the best because he got to visit her the most out of the whole Party. 

From what Mike understood, after the hospital was sure she was mentally stable enough, Max was then referred to another hospital for physical and occupational therapy to regain her ability to do everyday activities and get her life back on track. She would probably never be able to skate or see properly again, but at least she would be 60% her old self again. Everyone had expected her to complete her rehabilitation by February at the earliest, but here she is now, about a week early. 

“Anyway, being in rehab was getting depressing, so I wanted out. I expressed feeling ready to return to my life, and the doctors didn’t see any reason to keep me there, so they let me go.” Max continues. “Plus, I’ve already fallen behind so much that I thought leaving now or waiting another week wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

“I have been helping her to get caught up with her assignments while she was out of school,” El adds on, perching on the edge of the table beside Max. “We have been doing a lot of studying together. It’s actually been kind of fun.”

“Wait, is that why I see you at Max’s so much every time I go over there?” Lucas questions, and El nods. 

“Yes, I have been considering coming back to school since Max woke up, too. Dad wanted me to wait until everything died down first, so Joyce agreed to homeschool me a bit in the meantime now that Jonathan is in college, though Mike and Will have been some help, too.” She pauses to give them a grateful smile, which Mike and Will both return. “Other times I would go over to Max’s and read to her sometimes since her vision is still impaired.”

“So Hopper finally gave you the okay to switch back to public schooling?” Will asks.

“Took a bit of convincing, but eventually, yes,” El’s eyes twinkle gleefully. “Since the government doesn’t seem to see me as a threat anymore, Hop figured it would be safe for now.” 

“You guys, this is awesome,” Dustin squeals, sniffing as tears stream down his face. “The whole Party back together again. All in one place! I kinda wanna give you all a hug right now.”

Mike expects Max, who infamously hates being emotionally vulnerable and calls any and all kinds of affection “cringey”, to laugh and tell Dustin to stop being so sappy. Instead, he’s surprised when she’s the first to offer that they do a group hug. 

“Then why don’t we? C’mon, bring it in, boys.” Max stretches her arms wide, indicating that she was in fact not joking, and Lucas, Mike, Dustin, and Will all glance at each other in shock before diving in, wrapping their arms around each other. El joins in, too, putting her arms around Max and Will, her best friend and her step-brother.

“This is nice,” she says, and the others express their agreement in their own unique ways.

“Alright, that’s enough, weirdos. Get off of me,” Max says, causing Mike to snort as he pulls out of the hug. Now that’s more like the Max they know.

Max makes another gesture to El, who immediately places the lunch tray in front of her, and it amuses Mike to find that in the time they’ve been together since Max got out of the coma, they seem to have developed their own psychic connection, communicating in a language that only the two of them understand. Max eats one bite of the hamburger and makes a face. “Wow,” she comments, chewing slowly. “I did not miss this. I forgot how bad school food could be.” 

“Wouldn’t it be pretty much the same as hospital food?” Dustin speculates.

“See, you would think it would be better than hospital food at least, but no, not really,” Max disagrees. “At least hospital food is supposed to be somewhat edible, sometimes.” 

“I can attest to that,” Lucas contributes. He’s been in the hospital almost as much as Max has, spending every free hour he could at her bedside.

“Will, could I have some of your PB&J?” Max points to the half-eaten sandwich in front of him, and Will happily pushes his lunchbox towards her. 

“You can have the rest, I’m pretty much done eating,” he offers, and Max makes no arguments as she digs into the food.

“I have a question for Will, also,” El speaks up, head tilted as she addresses her step-brother. “Your art exbi- exhibi-” 

“Exhibition?” Will suggests, and El nods eagerly. 

“Yes, that word. Is it open to the public?” 

Will pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, thinking it over, and answers, “Yeah? I think so,” he decides after a minute. “I don’t know, I’d have to check, but it should be free entry for students, friends, and family.”

“We should all go, then,” Mike proposes, glancing around the table to gauge the others’ opinions. “You know, to support you. If you want us there, of course,” he quickly adds.

“I like that idea,” Lucas expresses, and Max and El nod to showcase their own approval.

“Obviously I want you to come,” Will says. “What about Operation R.O.C.K., though?”

They all turn to the boy in question for an answer, both being the one behind the campaign and the only one who hasn’t said anything yet, and Dustin responds by clasping his hands together and resting his chin on them, tapping his jaw with his thumbs. 

After what feels like an hour, but in reality must have been 10 seconds, Dustin declares, “I guess I'm gonna have to let everyone know we’re starting late, then,” and the party erupts with cheers. 

“Thanks, you guys,” Will chuckles, eyes glossy. “That really means the world to me.”

“Of course.” Mike places an arm around his friend’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “That’s what you do for the people you love.” He can hear the implications in his words as he says them, but he chooses to ignore them anyway, praying nobody else catches on. 

“And if you decide you no longer wanna be there, we can help make an excuse to get you out,” Max jokes, thankfully shifting the conversation away from the serious tone it seems to have taken, and Will laughs. 

“Noted.”

Will is staying behind after school to finish up the last touches on his project, so Mike decides to go back to the Byers’ without him, just to get the rest of his stuff before returning to his own house.

Which means, he realizes, that he’s probably not going to be able to have that conversation with Will after all, at least not until tomorrow. 

So his plan has pretty much failed. Well, it might be more accurate to say it’s been temporarily postponed, for now. But Mike still feels like he’s failed.

Maybe he should cut his losses and take it as a sign from the universe to keep this inside, to respect Will’s wishes to pretend like Sunday night never happened, even though Mike doesn’t know how possible that’s going to be when it’s all he’s been able to think about, when there are still so many unanswered questions he has that he can’t continue to ignore or he might actually go insane.

Maybe Mike should listen to the voice in his head that’s telling him it’s not worth it, that there’s nothing wrong with chickening out on his plan and pretending that there isn’t something completely unnatural about how attached he is to Will, that just because Will might be in love with him doesn’t mean he has to pay attention to the strangely warm and weirdly pleasant feelings he gets when he’s around him, and that he should just go back to pushing them down and denying their existence like he always does. 

But is that really the kind of life he wants to live anymore? Always running, always hiding from the world, from himself? 

Frankly, Mike has no idea, and it’s frustrating.

It’s scary, and it’s life-changing, but the alternative would be just as horrific, because it’d mean he’d have to keep this act up forever, the always looking over his shoulder, the always second-guessing everything he does, the pretending like it doesn’t bother him when his father makes subtly homophobic comments so casually at the dinner table. The pretending that bullies mocking gay people by dropping slurs and making harsh jokes at their expense and calling things “gay” as an insult doesn’t always feel so… so targeted.

He doesn’t want that. Honestly, he thinks he might rather die than have to continue living like that. 

But then El walks out of the school and he remembers that maybe he may not have to. 

“El,” he approaches her, walking his bike over to where she’s standing. “Um, hey.”  

Mike winces, embarrassed at how awkward it is to talk to her now even though they’re still technically friends after the break-up, but this is about her step-brother, he’s allowed to be nervous. 

“Hi?” El echoes, eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“Uh, do you need a ride home?” Mike offers, though he’s not sure if she has her own bike or if Hopper even taught her how to ride after all these years, but he’s relieved when El’s face relaxes into a smile. 

“Sure,” she says, climbing on behind him and placing her arms on his shoulders for stability. 

“Hang on tight,” Mike tells her as he pedals in the direction of the Byers’ residence. 

The Byers (now Byers-Hoppers) family lives further into town than Mike does, so the whole bike ride there is about 30 minutes of silence, though surprisingly it isn’t unpleasant; in fact, it’s a bit comforting to know that even though they may have ended things on a rough note (they were in the middle of The End of The World when everything went down, after all, so emotions were obviously a bit heightened) the friendship didn’t have to dissolve between them, they could still act normal around each other. If Mike had to tell the truth, it was almost a relief when El suggested that they break things off, though he still feels like part of him will continue to love her, and he’s sure she feels the same way. They both knew, however, that a relationship between them was never going to work and that there was no point in forcing it. 

Mike sometimes wonders what would’ve happened if things didn’t go down the way they did, if El had never lost her powers or gotten arrested and taken to the Nina Project or if she hadn’t lost to Vecna the first time around, if they would still have come to that conclusion, but deep down he knows that it would’ve been inevitable regardless of the circumstances. 

Maybe that’s for the best. At least this way he gets to keep her in his life.

“Ah,” Mike clears his throat, braking once the Byers-Hoppers’ front door comes into view. “We’re here.” 

“Thank you, Mike,” El says as she dismounts the bike, withdrawing her arms from where they’re wrapped around Mike’s shoulders. 

As soon as she starts walking towards the house, though, Mike calls after her, stopping her in her tracks.

“El, wait.”

The aforementioned girl turns to give him a puzzled look, her shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair whipping in her face from the movement, and Mike swallows hard, nerves bubbling up once again. 

“Uh,” he starts, wringing his hands as she blinks up at him slowly. “Can—can we talk for a sec?”

Thursday, Jan 1988 (Present Day)

One day later 

Will's POV

Will’s paintbrush glides across the canvas for the millionth time today, adding layer after layer of paint to what should technically be an already finished artwork given that he has less than an hour to turn the project in. He’s already sacrificed sleep, his lunch hour, and most of his sanity trying to get it done, and he’s still not gotten to the hardest part yet: having to talk about his art and why he chose to make this piece in front of a whole group of people. 

Sure, his art is pretty decent. But until he started high school, it had always been, for the most part, private. Just his. How’s he supposed to explain the most personal, intricate parts of his mind to people who, honestly, could probably not care less about what he has to say? It would be like asking someone to read their diary out loud to total strangers. 

Never mind that, if he doesn’t stop being so indecisive and adding more strokes every time he looks a little too closely at the painting and thinks it could be just a little bit better, he won’t even have any artwork to present in the first place. 

Exhaling deeply, he adds a few finishing touches here and there: a little more shape to the wispy clouds, a few more details on the tree leaves, a little more shading to make the tiny figures stand out against the lush, green terrain. Before he can convince himself that there’s something else missing, he puts down the paintbrush and slowly backs away, his hands folded so they won’t be tempted to pick it up again.

He takes a good look at his creation and nods with satisfaction. It’s not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but it should at least get him a passing grade. 

“Woah,” Rayna says from behind him, and Will almost loses his balance with how hard he flinches. Rayna flushes, looking both amused and concerned by his reaction. 

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to take a look, but maybe I should’ve asked first,” she apologizes, fiddling with a strand of her hair, something Will’s noticed she does when she’s nervous. “It looks beautiful, by the way. Oh, and–” She turns around to grab something from the desk behind her. When she faces Will again, she has a huge grin on her face as she reveals a huge painting of a bird mid flight, its multi-colored feathers gliding through the wind. 

“Tada! I took your advice, and it turned out pretty great! Thanks again for the help, Will.” 

Will scratches the back of his head, not used to being complimented in this way. “It was nothing, really, you should give yourself more credit. Glad my advice was helpful, though.” 

“It was! You should be more confident, you’re such an amazing artist,” Rayna insists, bouncing on the heels of her feet. She looks away for a second and chews on her lip, and Will starts to remember what Mike said about her being obviously into him and wonders if he should just reject her off the bat before she can embarrass herself, but then she says, “Um, so about the other day, when your friend came in here–”

“Oh, yeah,” Will laughs anxiously. “That’s Mike for ya, you can never take anything he says seriously. Sorry if he offended you, he may be a jerk sometimes but really, he does mean well.” 

“Oh, yeah. No, I get that,” Rayna waves her hands as if trying to clear the air, and Will realizes he might have misunderstood her. “He didn’t offend me at all, trust me. I actually think it’s really sweet how much he cares for you, to look after you like that.”

Will’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “You… do?”

“I mean, yeah. You too seemed super close. I was honestly a bit jealous of you guys,” Rayna averts her eyes again, blushing. “I don’t think I have anyone like that.” 

“Oh. Well,” Will frowns, not sure he understands what she’s trying to imply. Clearly she seems to have noticed that his relationship with Mike is… not typical of normal platonic male friendships, at least not in Hawkins, but unlike the likes of Troy Walsh or his dad, she doesn’t seem weirded out or disgusted by it. “We’ve kinda known each other our whole lives, and we’ve been through a lot together,” he says slowly, “so, I guess we are close, yeah.”

Rayna gives him a thin-lipped smile, brows upturned in a way that suggests she doesn’t fully believe him. “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?”

Will’s heart rate spikes, and he wonders just how much she was able to get from that one conversation. What does she know? Has he been that easy to read? “How–” he pauses, swallowing to ease his suddenly dry throat. “How so?”

Rayna shrugs. “Well, you know. I just feel like– ah,” she catches herself, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, it’s nothing. It’s really not my place to say. Yeah, I should probably go now, but I’ll catch you later, yeah?” Without waiting for a response, she grabs her stuff and dashes out of the art room, leaving Will alone with his thoughts. 

Rayna didn’t say it, in fact, she seemed to avoid bringing it up completely, but Will already knows what she was talking about because he’s had that thought before. He’s had the thought that his friendship with Mike has always blurred the lines between just friends and something more, that Mike was always a little too touchy, spoke a little too softly, was a little too protective for him not to feel the same way, and he’s always been aware that from the outside, that was sure to turn some heads, raise some brows, fuel some rumors. 

It’s not like he’s never allowed himself to believe that it was possible. There were several times when they were younger that Mike would look at him a little too long and Will’s heart would pick up its pace, the possibility of his best friend and the boy he loved wanting the same things he did creeping into his mind. Mike would hold his hand and he’d wonder if he was also thinking how well their hands fit together, like one was made for the other. 

But every time he dared to let himself hope, every time he gave into that dream, Mike would say or do something to send it all crashing down. 

So no, Rayna is wrong; there’s nothing between them, and there can never be. Mike has made it more than clear that he and Will are not the same, and there’s no point in pretending that there’s any world where that might change. 

With a heavy heart and misty eyes, Will looks at his painting for the final time, the once bright and bold colors looking muddy and muted, and all the mistakes become apparent again. He sighs and packs up his stuff, following Rayna out of the classroom.

“Will!” 

At the mention of his name, said boy glances up from where he’s setting up in preparation for the art exhibition, a bit of the tension in his arms melting away when he turns towards the sound to see Mike sprinting towards him. 

It’s now 20 minutes before the exhibition starts, and the gym is closed off in the meantime to give the students time to put up their pieces and get into place. Yet here Mike is, somehow managing to have bypassed that rule to see Will. 

“How’d you get in here? Nobody’s allowed into the gym right now,” Will smirks, hands placed on his hips. He stifles a giggle when Mike puts a finger to his lips and makes a “shh” sound.  

“I just walked in and nobody stopped me,” he explains, shrugging. “So if I get dragged out by men in uniform for trespassing, then it isn’t my fault. Anyways, I wanted to bring you something; thought you could use a mood booster.” He hands Will a cup he didn’t even notice he was holding, and Will places the plastic straw into his mouth gratefully, taking a small sip. 

The second the sweet liquid hits his tongue, Will’s face brightens. “Iced macchiato, extra syrup with soy milk,” he recites, pleasantly surprised that Mike remembered his order. “This is just what I needed, how did you know?”

Mike grins, placing his two index fingers to both temples and fixing Will with an intense stare. “I’m telling ya, psychic powers.”  When Will arches a skeptical eyebrow, he laughs and corrects himself, “Okay, fine. I just figured you’d be nervous and wanted to cheer you up somehow.” 

Will sighs and nods. “You’ve got that right. Thanks, Mike.” 

Mike takes a few steps closer, putting his hands on Will’s shoulders, which causes the shorter boy to look up at him curiously. “Hey, don’t worry, you’re gonna do great,” Mike assures him. “I kinda got a chance to peek at the other students’ work, but I don’t need to see them to know yours is probably the best.” 

Will laughs self-deprecatingly and shakes his head. “You don’t have to say that, there are plenty of students who are leagues better at art than me.” 

Mike watches him silently for a minute, probably pondering what to say next. Then, with his voice low and a sincere expression on his face, he says, “Maybe. That’s probably true, but it doesn’t matter because none of them are you.” 

Will curses himself internally when the tears start to sting at his eyes again. He has no idea who Mike thinks he is, saying things like that with a straight face like it’s so easy for him without realizing what it does to Will, without knowing that every time he does it makes it harder for Will to get over him. 

If he wasn’t sure before, now Will knows for certain: he’s a goner. 

Fuck.

“And that’s why they all suck,” Mike jokes, and Will has to cough to hide the fact that he just burst out laughing. 

“Hey, you can’t say that!” He slaps Mike gently on the arm, wiping his eyes. “That’s so mean!” 

“If it’s mean, then why are you laughing?” Mike points out, wiggling his brows, and Will playfully rolls his eyes.

“Ms. Frazer is coming over here, just go before she sees you,” he scoffs, but his tone carries no malice. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.” 

Mike gives him a small salute–seriously, what a nerd—before sneaking out of the gym, looking cartoonish as he scans the room to make sure nobody is onto him.  

It’s not long after that the first few attendees trickle in, circling the gym in groups as they stop by each exhibit and nodding politely as they listen to the students explain the choices behind their artwork. Will’s nerves are still catching up to him, but they’re more bearable now, the encouragement from Rayna and Mike playing on loop in his mind each time he has to give the same spiel over and over again like a broken record. 

He immediately relaxes, though, when he sees his friends among the crowd, and the rehearsed speech he prepared no longer seems boring or monotonous but actually starts to mean something to him knowing that they’re listening, that they care. 

“This piece represents to me why friends are so important,” he explains, staring directly at his. “They’re constant, they’re with you through good times and bad times, and even though they change, it doesn’t feel like they’re growing away from you, but with you. They make you stronger. They keep you anchored. It's like the roots of a tree: without them- our roots, our friends- we'd never survive.” 

The small audience he’s gathered snaps respectfully, and he’s not sure how many of them actually were paying attention, but it doesn’t bother him. Because once everyone else moves on, his friends draw closer to him, whooping with applause. 

“That was brilliant!” El squeals, hugging her brother tightly. 

“Yeah, who knew art could be so exciting?” Dustin adds. “You’re amazing, man.” 

“Thanks. I’m just so glad it’s over,” Will groans, shedding his professional smile for a disinterested scowl. 

“Your teacher can’t get mad at you if you leave now, can she?” Mike asks. “I mean, do you really need to stay?” 

Will shrugs, too tired to think about that right now. “Hell if I care. Let’s get the fuck outta here,” he announces, receiving a chorus of excited “yeahs” from his friends as they rush out of the gym together.

“You are tired, you are wounded, you are slowly losing hope,” Dustin booms in the most dramatic Dungeon Master voice he can muster. The others sit around the table, leaning in as they listen with a palpable sense of anticipation. “And yet you refuse to give up, the fate of the world resting upon your heavy shoulders. With your comrades defeated, and the lives of the townsfolk in danger, you have only one chance to stop Vecna before he breaks the barrier between this realm and the Upside Down, but it requires the help of the one who was once Vecna’s ally and the only one who has been able to put an end to Vecna once before.”

“Kas the Bloody-Handed,” Mike whispers, his eyes full of determination, and Dustin nods. 

“Only problem is the ritual requires the Sword of Kas, which has been sealed away since the fight, and nobody knows its final resting place–nobody but the cult of Vecna,” Dustin explains. “The goal is to find the sword, revive Kas, and with his help, use the sword to defeat Vecna once and for all. Mike, as the leader, what is your first course of action?”

Mike, deep in thought, purses his lips, a finger resting on his chin as he tries to come up with a plan. “I say we search our surroundings,” he decides, eyes darting around the room as he glances at each of his party members. “We should try to find clues so we’re not completely going into this blind.” 

“That’s a sound idea,” Lucas affirms, then turns to Dustin. “Well, Chief, what’re we dealing with here?” 

“You enter a dark cave of labyrinthian complexity, the only source of light being the flame of your torches,” Dustin describes, painting them a picture with words. “Your eyes take a minute to adjust, but once they do, you notice a winding path which appears to be mostly clear. You do not sense any immediate danger, but still something seems… off.” 

“What is it?” Will asks, voice hushed. His heart is racing from both excitement and apprehension. 

“Would you like to make a Perception Check?” Dustin simply asks. “Or do you choose to put your trust in fate?” 

“We should probably proceed with caution,” Mike suggests. Will sneaks a glance at him, taking note of the furrow of his brows and the tight, thinly-pressed line of his mouth. He doesn’t remember ever seeing Mike get this serious about anything other than a D&D campaign before, and it’s just one of the many things Will finds endearing about him. “We can’t afford to take any risks right now.” 

“Go ahead and roll, then,” Dustin offers, waving a hand in the direction of the dice. Will hesitantly picks up the d20 and shakes vigorously with both hands. Once he feels satisfied it’s a good roll, he tosses the die and watches with wide eyes to see what it lands on. 

It’s a 3. 

Shit. 

He hears a few groans from around the table and feels his own shoulders slump, but he looks towards Dustin and waits for him to make the call anyway.

“You ignore your suspicions, thinking that you’re probably just being paranoid. So, do you choose to proceed, or look for another way out?” 

“Let’s just go with this path, I guess?” Lucas shrugs, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Unless anyone else has a better idea.”

When nobody contests, Dustin clears his throat and continues. “You continue down the path with no problems, using your light as a guide through the twisting curves of the cave. You stop when you come across a split in the path, one path taking you to the right, the other leading to the left. Only one of these paths holds the answers you seek.” 

He pauses for suspense, his eyes twinkling with a sick form of glee. He’s clearly having a great time with this new role. “If you should choose the other path though, you will be met with your demise. Which path does your heart guide you to?” 

Will sits up straighter in his chair, suddenly all in. So much is on the line here, the entire outcome of the campaign potentially riding all on this one decision, and if they make a wrong move, Vecna wins. His eyes wander on their own accord, landing on Mike without thinking. He’s the bravest out of all of them, and he knows that if anyone is capable of getting them out of this conundrum, it’s him. 

As if on cue, Mike’s the one who speaks up first, remaining confident as ever as he proclaims, “We’ll take the right. What lies beyond that path?” 

Dustin nods, biting down a manic grin. He’s not the best at hiding his expressions, though, so Will can tell that something sinister is about to go down, and he wonders if Mike just sold them out somehow. “You take the right path, and everything seems to be normal at first.”

“But?” Lucas snaps impatiently. His eyes seem bored, annoyed, but his voice gives away the hesitation behind his words, as if he can also sense that something bad is coming. 

“Shh,” Dustin scolds, and Lucas rolls his eyes. “Do you hear that? There’s a sound coming from nearby, a scream, and it doesn’t seem to be coming from anyone in your party. It’s coming closer, closer… until the Demogorgon appears before you!” Dustin yells over the frustrated cries of the party members. 

“Quick, Will the Wise, your action?”

Panic bubbling up his throat, Will scours his mind for an answer. He could always just choose to play it safe and flee, or to cast protection for his team. 

But he doesn’t want to be afraid, not anymore. He wants to fight.

“I’ll cast Fireball!” Will blurts, rolling the d20. 

Time seems to slow down as the die tumbles onto the table, everyone watching closely to see what number it will land on. They only need a 13 or higher to finish the demogorgon off and then they can continue their journey. 

Will actually starts to hold his breath by the time the die eventually stops rolling, the number 14 visible on the face pointing towards them. All around him, people are cheering, relieved that they were able to beat the monster with minimal damage to the party, and a proud smile spills out across Will’s own face as he allows himself another glance in Mike’s direction only to find the dark-haired boy already smiling back at him. 

“Crit-hit! You cast Fireball, and your attack lands!” Dustin announces, grinning from ear to ear. He’s taken to kneeling on the seat in all the excitement. “The demogorgon hisses in pain as it lunges at you one last time before crumpling to the ground. You watch as it writhes around for a minute until it finally stops, its whole body going limp on the floor in front of you.”

“Where the Demogorgon once was, you now find a wolf approaching you. You brace yourself for another fight, but the wolf merely opens its mouth, revealing what appears to be a scroll. Do you wish to read it, or do you proceed forward?”

“We’ll read it,” Will answers for the group, still riding a high from their latest victory.

“You pick up the scroll, the wolf disappearing under the cover of darkness before you have a chance to fully react. You examine the contents of the scroll: it is a hand-drawn map depicting and describing every room of Vecna’s lair and what takes place there, along with instructions for the ritual to raise Kas from the dead. It’s not clear who made this map or why, but you can only assume it was the work of a druid who wishes to see balance restored to the world.”

“Alright,” Mike mutters with satisfaction, a far-away look in his eyes. “That’s perfect. We could really use that information later on.” He comes back from wherever his mind had wandered off to and hardens his gaze when it lands on Dustin, who returns his stare with a smirk. “Whadd’ya got for us next?” 

⚔︎

With the added morale boost of beating one of the strongest monsters so early on in the game, the party breezes through the next few challenges: at the very end of the cave, just before they make it to the exit, they are attacked by an army of undead creatures from a nearby graveyard. Hordes of zombies and the skeletons of their fallen soldiers reanimated and placed under a spell (probably the cult of Vecna’s work, if Will had to guess) start an ambush on the characters, their only mission to distract the travelers and wear them down before they even reach Vecna’s lair. Dealing with these monsters is simple enough, and Will the Wise manages to successfully use Turn Undead, destroying all of the zombies and skeletons closest to him that fail the saving throw. As a result of winning that battle, Dustin has the party come across a travelling merchant who conveniently happens to have information about the cult’s whereabouts and offers to sell them some magic items for a hefty price. 

When, on their way to Vecna’s lair, the party is forced to wander through a twisted forest known as the Veil of Whispers, Dustin tells them, “You come across a haunted castle that appears to have been abandoned for hundreds of years. You can tell that a vampire lives here because of the twisted, thorny shape of the nearby plants and the creeping fog that surrounds the castle, seeming to beckon you towards it.” 

“We should go inside then,” Mike immediately decides, earning some weird stares from his friends. 

“Um, hello, Mike the Brave, have you officially lost it?” Lucas berates him, palms pressed together and pointed towards Mike in a disapproving gesture. “We don’t even know how many vampires are in there, and you just expect to waltz in without a second thought?” 

“Hello yourself, Lucas the Pragmatic,” Mike retorts. “Have you forgotten that in order to complete the ritual, we need the venom of a vampire? How else would we get it if we don’t kill them?”

Lucas frowns and leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. He seems to acknowledge, however, the truth behind Mike’s statement when he resentfully mutters, “If this plan doesn’t work and you guys get me killed, so help me God…”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Will butts in, wanting to deescalate so they can stay on task. “We’ve got your back. Now c’mon, let’s do this.”

Sure enough, upon deciding to invade the castle, they face off with a Vampire and its spawn. The Vampire and vampire spawn, Dustin clarifies, are the undead versions of former allies of the party, who were slain and brought back to life by Vecna in exchange for full allegiance to his cause. Defeating them ends up being a close call—one of the vampire spawn manages to bite Lucas the Pragmatic (leaving him with so few hit points that he has no choice but to retreat for the rest of the fight, which subjects Mike to a long string of curses from Lucas) and Mike the Brave fails a saving throw and gets charmed by the vampire—but Will the Wise casts Sunburst on his turn, blinding the creatures and making them more vulnerable against attacks. When the vampires run out of hit points, the party collects some of their venom for part of the ritual. 

By the time they reach the suspected hiding place of Vecna, the campaign has long surpassed 4 hours, and yet Will and the others are so immersed in the game that this passage of time feels like nothing to them. 

“You continue along the path described to you by the merchant, asking commoners and other friendlies you encounter about any rumors about Vecna and the cult’s recent activities,” Dustin describes once the battle against the vampires finishes. “And you end up at the mysterious ruins of an ancient citadel, where, sure enough, the cult of Vecna are hiding in an underground fortress. You manage to locate the entrance, but your journey isn’t over yet. ” 

“Can’t we just charge in there and use sneak attack?” Lucas challenges, overeager to jump straight into the action. One of the other party members, a level 15 halfling warlock, had cured his character shortly before, and now he’s acting like he’s invincible again. 

“Are you serious?” Dustin retorts, scoffing as if unable to understand why Lucas would ask such a stupid question with such an obvious answer. “No, you cannot just sneak in!”

“Uh, why not?” Mike inquires. 

“Why not? Why–-God, it’s like I’m surrounded by a bunch of idiots!” Dustin throws his hands up, choosing to abandon his seat in favor of pacing the room back and forth. “Because, dumbass—” Dustin shouts at Mike as he comes to a halt, his voice raising so high everyone else, even Lucas, flinches—”the entrance is being guarded!”

The table falls silent, the energy shifting and becoming more charged as the realization dawns on them.

“Oh no,” Will breathes, and he feels his shoulders tense as if bracing for impact. “Please don’t tell me it’s–” 

“The Thessalhydra!” Dustin confirms, slamming his hands onto the table. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Lucas deadpans.

“C’mon, no more wasting time,” Dustin snaps, patience wearing thin. “What’s your course of action?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Mike asks. “We came here to find the sword and defeat Vecna, and that’s what we’re gonna do.” 

“Mike’s right,” Will agrees, relaxing his shoulders, oddly comforted by the lack of reaction on Mike’s part. He seems to be confident that they can get past this, so there’s no reason for Will not to be, either. “We choose to attack.”

⚔︎

The real challenge starts once the party manages to slay the monster and break their way into the fortress, as now they not only have to defeat the occultists but also get them to reveal the location of both the Sword of Kas and Vecna. Luckily Will has enough room for one more spell slot. He rolls an 11, casting imprisonment, and his target, unable to avoid the spell, is restrained by chains as the party tries to get him to give up the information they need. Thanks to Lucas’ Insight check, they find out that the sword is kept in one of the fortress’s many shrine rooms, giving them the final puzzle piece to complete the ritual.

Placing the sword and the artifacts they collected on the altar, adding the Vampire venom last, Will the Wise performs an incantation, channeling the spirit of Kas through his magic: 

“Am jylqyofd aly, vywzrahyr ao sardvw, voruwy,” Will recites, carefully pronouncing the Infernal words as he had practiced many times before. He picks up the d6 to determine if the ritual is successful, and the roll lands on 6. The party all look at Dustin to declare the outcome.

“You wait patiently to see if the ritual works, or if all your efforts end up being in vain,” Dustin narrates, speaking in a low and hushed tone. “At first, nothing seems to happen, and you start to feel discouraged. But then–” Dustin slowly rises from his seat again, his voice crescendoing  in volume and urgency as he continues describing the scenario–”You hear a noise–almost as if someone was whispering–as the world shakes below your feet. One arm appears from the altar, then another, until before you stands Kas the Betrayer in all his vengeful glory.”

“Yes!” Mike cheers, hands clenched in fists. “What do we do now?”

“Well, you aren’t gonna defeat Vecna by standing around and looking dumb, are you?” Dustin points out. “Convince him to join you!”

“Use Persuasion,” Lucas urges Mike, handing him the d20. “Go on, roll!”

“Fine,” Mike says as he snatches the die from Lucas, shaking with both hands. After three firm shakes, he tosses the d20 onto the table, and everyone leans in closer to see what number it lands on. 

“10,” Mike announces, looking up at Dustin. “So?”

“Hmm. You make a good case, Sir Mike,” Dustin declares. “Kas the Betrayer shall aid in your quest, so long as you return to him what’s his.” 

“He can have the sword,” Lucas obliges, cutting Dustin off before he can bore them with another monologue. “Let’s go find Vecna and kill the son of a bitch.”

“That was awesome,” Will says to Mike once the campaign is over. It’s a little past 10 p.m. and the Hellfire members are all heading home for the night, talking amongst themselves about the campaign and what they think should happen in the next one. “I haven’t had that much fun in, like, ages.”

“Yeah,” Mike says absentmindedly, his mind clearly somewhere else. He shakes his head as if to dispel his thoughts and looks over at Will with a grateful smile. “Yeah, me too. But as much as I’d like to give credit to Dustin–no shade to Eddie, though, he was a great DM, too–I think a huge part of it is thanks to you, Will.”

Will stops walking as they turn a corner down the hall, stunned in place by an overwhelming sense of shock. “Me?” he puzzles, pointing to himself doubtfully. “I mean, thanks, but I don’t really think I did much.”

Mike shakes his head. “No, you have. You’re amazing, Will,” he pushes. “Don’t you get it? I mean, sure, yeah Hellfire is a great club, and all the party members are fun to play with, but today really made me remember how great things used to be. You know, when all of us—the core four—were together. We’re stronger when we have our Cleric,” Mike continues, smiling a bit more genuinely now. “We make a pretty good team, Will the Wise.” 

“I–I…” Will stammers, his mouth falling open and closed as he strains his mind for the right way to express what he’s currently feeling. It’s as if, with one word from Mike, Will’s brain turns to mush and he forgets all the words in the English language. “I feel the same way, Mike. I’ve really missed you guys.”

Mike starts to say something else, but stops himself when he hears someone laughing a little too loudly nearby. “Will,” he whispers, trying not to draw any attention to themselves. “We need to talk.”

“Oh…” Will squeaks, his heart thumping in his ears when he sees the look on Mike’s face. “Um, okay?”  

Mike seems to hesitate for a fraction of a second before grabbing Will by the arm, his hand wrapped gently around his wrist as he leads Will to the bathroom. 

“Is this really necessary?” Will asks, bewildered, but Mike doesn’t seem to have heard him. Instead, he checks the stalls to make sure nobody else was in there before entering one of them, pulling Will in with him and locking the door.

“Sorry,” Mike apologizes, his eyes wide with concern. “Just a precaution. Can’t have anyone overhearing this.”

“Mike,” Will says, trying to make his voice sound firm and not as frightened as he so obviously feels. “What is going on? Is everything okay?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Mike laughs, his voice strained by nerves, and Will’s gaze softens. 

“Of course I’m okay,” Will answers, placing a comforting hand on Mike’s forearm. “I told you before, didn’t I? You don’t need to worry about me.”

Mike shakes his head again, tears welling up at the corner of his eyes, and the sight shatters Will completely. “How can I believe you when you’re still lying to me?” 

Startled, Will draws back slowly, retracting the hand on Mike’s arm and settling for stuffing them in his pants pockets. “I’m not lying,” he denies quietly.

“Then why haven’t we talked about it yet?” Mike raises his voice, taking care to keep his voice calm and soft so as to not scare Will, and Will feels guilty at the fact that even though Mike seems to be mad at him he’s still remaining so considerate of his feelings. “What you told me on Sunday. I’ve been refraining from bringing it up out of respect for you, because I thought you were just not ready yet. But–” he pauses, licking his lips, his breath escaping in a long, deep exhale. “Ever since you’ve just been avoiding it, as if you just expect me to act like it never even happened! Don’t you get how unfair that is? Don’t you know how confused I’ve been, thinking I’ve just made it all up in my head?”

“Well, what did you want me to say, Mike?” Will snaps, screaming so loud that Mike winces, and the pool of guilt in his belly claws its way up to his throat, tasting like bile and regret. “That I’ve been in love with you for the past 4 years, and I’ve never said anything because I knew you could never feel the same way?” 

He pays close attention to Mike’s face as he barrels on, noticing the way his eyes widen with each sentence but he never cowers, never backs down or recoils with revulsion at Will’s admission. “That there were moments when I would watch you and El be all happy and disgustingly in love, and I would hate her for stealing you away from me, which made me hate myself because what right did I have to be mad at my sister, for God’s sake, for being your girlfriend when you were never really mine to begin with? Is that what you want to hear?” 

Mike stares at him wordlessly for several minutes, looking so small despite being the taller of the two boys. He’s got concern and fear written all over his face, but it isn’t Will he’s afraid of. That Will is sure of, especially when he finally speaks again, “Will, I… I had no idea. I’ve been so caught up in pretending to be normal and wanting to fit in that I didn’t even notice.” He slumps down against the stall door, bringing his knees up to his chest and hugging them. Burying his face in his arms, his muffled voice says, “I feel terrible, I’ve been such a bad friend.”

Will sighs and sits down across from Mike, ignoring how cramped it feels with both of them in the small space. “Don’t blame yourself Mike,” he murmurs, wishing he had never gone off on his best friend like that. At least Mike doesn’t seem to hate him, not yet anyway. “I kept it that way on purpose. You were never supposed to find out, especially not like… not like this.” 

“But I still should’ve noticed!” Mike argues, lifting his head to look at Will. “I should’ve realized you were hurting so much. Instead I said those horrible things to you, and I treated you like shit! I ignored you and made you feel like you were worthless!”

“You said it yourself, didn’t you?” Will shrugs, plastering a fake smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You were dealing with your own issues. It’s not your fault.”

“You don’t have to pretend to be fine all the time,” Mike averts his eyes, a pink tint spreading across his freckled cheeks as he drops his gaze to the floor. “You have every right to be mad at me, to cuss me out or something.”

“Mike.” Will says adamantly, his voice low yet clear. “I don’t hate you. I just…I don’t want this to change things between us.” This gets Mike to finally look up again, and Will can see white streaks where the tears have already dried on his face. “You’re my best friend, and it would kill me to let something like this ruin that. I promise I’ll try my best to get rid of this crush, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.”  

The light in Mike’s eyes flickers imperceptibly as something in his expression shifts, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Let’s just drop this, okay?” Will begs, steeling himself for the moment where Mike refuses, where he realizes just how much of a freak Will is and distances himself from him, and Will not only loses the boy he’s in love with but his best friend since kindergarten. “Please.”

Mike opens his mouth to argue, but thinks better of it, probably just wanting to be nice for Will’s sake. Will, unable to read the look on Mike’s face, wishes he could understand what the raven-haired boy is thinking, but he’s not sure he could handle knowing the truth. He can only imagine how uncomfortable Mike feels with the situation Will has just put him in, and the shame nearly threatens to swallow him alive. 

He doesn’t even feel relieved when Mike nods, a slow, halfhearted movement as he avoids looking into Will’s eyes again.

“Sure,” Mike whispers, his voice cracking slightly. “We can do that.”

“Mike?” A voice calls on the other side of the door, followed by knocking. Both Mike and Will stare at each other as they hurriedly scramble to their feet. “Is that you, man?” 

“We’re in here!” Mike shouts once they recognize the voice. He glances at Will with big, round eyes, who only shrugs and shakes his head. 

“We?” Lucas repeats, sounding confused. “Is Will with you? Are you guys decent in there?”

Mike unlocks the stall door and bursts out, face bright red from embarrassment, and Will sheepishly follows him. “Of course we’re decent,” Mike spouts, fuming. “What kind of weird shit are you picturing, dude?”

“Dude, relax,” Lucas raises his palms in defense, but he looks seconds away from bursting out laughing. “It was just a question. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t walking in on anything I shouldn’t have.” 

“You–” Mike starts, rolling his eyes. He pushes past Lucas as he makes his way out the bathroom, bumping his shoulder as he does. “Just move.” 

Lucas stands with his mouth agape, his hand on the spot where Mike’s shoulder collided with his, and he stares at Will as if looking to him for an explanation, one that Will is unable to give. 

Mike is an enigma, they both know that. Nobody understands why he acts the way he does, other than himself. 

More than being gay in conservative, small-town Hawkins with a crush on a boy he very obviously can never have, that’s what pains Will the most about being helplessly in love with someone like Mike Wheeler.

[₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ]

Chapter Text

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."

-Kahlil Gibran

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

Wednesday, Jan 1988

(Yesterday) 

“Can we talk for a sec?” 

El’s eyes widen in surprise, and tilting her head slightly to the side she asks, “About what?”

Here we go, Mike thinks, inhaling sharply through his teeth as he tries to steel his nerves. “It’s about Will.”

El blinks twice and smiles, giving Mike a knowing look. “Okay,” she agrees. “We can go up to my room. For privacy.” 

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” A surge of gratitude flows through Mike, easing his worries. He isn’t sure how he expected El to react, seeing as they had broken up just a year ago so the wound might still be fresh for the both of them. He’s just glad that she hadn’t chosen to interrogate him with a bunch of questions that he’s not sure he could even answer. 

El leads him into the house and through the kitchen, where Mrs. Byers and Hopper are preparing for dinner. They pause whatever conversation they were having when they see El, Mike tailing close behind, and Mrs. Byers breaks out a welcoming smile as she says, “Hi, El, Mike, it’s great to see you again!” 

“Hi, Mrs. Byers,” Mike greets her shyly, and El grabs his arm as she drags him upstairs. 

“We’ll be in my room,” she calls out to her parents, while Mike throws a nervous glance in Hopper’s direction, fully expecting to be yelled at or lectured again about keeping the door open 3 inches. El seems to notice his hesitation because she says to him, “Don’t worry, Hop knows we are just friends now. He won’t bother us anymore.” 

As if to prove El’s point, Hopper nods at them over his cup of coffee and mutters something about having fun before turning his attention back to his wife. Mike lets out a sigh of relief.

When they reach El’s room, Mike takes a seat at her desk while El perches on the edge of her bed, looking at him expectantly. 

“So?” 

“Huh?” Mike stutters, stalling as he tries to figure out where to start. Anxiety is starting to kick his scrawny ass again as the reality of what’s about to happen sets in. 

“You said you wanted to talk,” El reminds him, her mouth moving around the words slowly as if she can already guess where this conversation is headed. Her eyebrows are raised in a way that make it seem like she's almost daring Mike to say the words, setting Mike’s entire face and chest ablaze. “So let’s talk.” 

“R-right,” Mike nods, shifting in his seat as he gathers all the confidence he can muster. “So— well—”

“Do you love Will?” El interjects, and Mike winces. He’d forgotten how direct and straight-to-the-point El can be sometimes.

“What?” Mike gawps. His face is probably an incriminating shade of red right now. 

“This is about Will, isn’t it?” El guesses, referring to what Mike had told her earlier. “Do you love him?”

“No!” Mike blurts out immediately before she even finishes repeating the question. “I don’t—I mean, I don’t know. Maybe?” When he ventures a glance at El’s face, she’s staring at him blankly, as if not buying Mike’s hasty denial, and he sighs. There’s really no point in lying to her, not when— 

“Wait, how did you know?” It was true that for a while he’s been… questioning his feelings towards Will, but he doesn’t remember ever hinting as much to El before now. 

El simply smiles, evacuating her spot on the bed in favor of standing next to Mike, and he looks up at her in confusion as she leans back against her desk. She takes Mike’s hand in hers, her beaded bracelets rattling, and Mike realizes that her fingernails have a shiny coat of purple paint on them. He’s never seen her with painted nails before—Max’s doing, he supposes. If he’s being honest, it really suits her. 

“Mike, I'm not stupid. I know how he feels about you, and I know you also care a lot about him,” she starts, giving him the same look she gave him when they had the conversation that led to their breakup, which he’s also just realizing was the same way she looked at the Surfer Boy’s Pizza, right before she went into the freezer to fight Vecna for the first time. Mike didn’t know it back then, but now he’s pretty sure she was about to break up with him then, too. “I saw it. In the van, when we were on our way back to Hawkins after you found me in Nevada, I saw the painting Will had made.” 

The painting. He figured she knew about it, after all, she’d written in her letter that Will had painted it, supposedly for a girl he’d liked. He just never wanted to ask her because he’d been afraid of the truth, afraid to confront what it really meant. 

“When I saw he’d given it to you, I knew the person he was in love with was you. And I could sense that you felt the same way,” El goes on to explain, but she doesn’t sound mad or hurt, or like she’s accusing him of something, just understanding. Caring. “That is part of the reason I brought up ending our relationship. I didn’t want to come between you two and your happiness, and I knew the only way I would be happy is if I went my own way and figured out who I was without you.” 

“El, I’m…” Mike hesitates, guilt gnawing at his insides at the way he had treated both El and Will when he was younger. El didn’t seem to hold it against him when they had the talk, but he knows they’re both aware of how awful of a boyfriend he had been to her. If he could go back and do everything over again, he would, starting with never kissing her when she was 12 and vulnerable and unaware of what love meant in the first place. It would’ve saved all of them a lot of pain and heartbreak. 

“I’m sorry. For everything, especially for never being honest about what I was going through when we were together. For not telling you I loved you as often as you wanted, even though I guess I thought you knew. But now I see I was bad at showing it.” 

El nods and says nothing, her eyes glossy as she smiles reassuringly at him. 

“I want you to know, when I told you I loved you during your fight with Vecna, when we thought you were gonna die,” Mike swallows, his eyes darting across the room as the fear and embarrassment from remembering that day creep into his mind—I feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods—why would he say that? “I meant every word I said. I really did. I guess, now I’ve realized that it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, and I was just projecting onto you because I wanted to believe Will when he told me that was how you felt about me, that you would always need me. I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” El sighs, dropping her gaze. “I don’t blame you at all. I said a lot of things that I regret, too. I should have never lied to you about California.” Then her smile reappears, but this time there’s a playful twinkle in her eyes. 

“I guess… girlfriends lie all the time, too. We were both awful when it came to dating, weren’t we?” she laughs, easing the tension in Mike’s shoulders. “We’re much better as friends.” 

“That we are,” Mike chuckles, thankful for this metaphorical olive branch. It’s good that they’ve been able to find some common ground after all was said and done. “Then I guess we’re even.” 

“Do you want to know what I think?” El asks, changing the subject rather abruptly and almost giving Mike a feeling of whiplash. 

“About?” he says quietly, not quite sure where this conversation is going. 

“If you love Will, and I think you do,” El is saying, and Mike wonders why he’d thought she would let them escape that topic. “You should give him a bit of space. At least until you understand your own feelings.” 

“I’m not saying to avoid him forever, or anything like that,” El adds quickly when Mike opens his mouth to speak. “I just want you to avoid making any promises or grand gestures when you don’t really mean it. Will doesn’t need you to profess your eternal devotion to him. He doesn’t need you to tiptoe over his feelings because you feel like you have to love him back. He just needs you to choose him out of your own free will. If you aren’t sure, there’s no point in forcing it. I love you Mike, but Will is my brother, and I don’t want him to get hurt anymore than he already has.” 

“I… I get what you mean,” Mike whispers, taken aback. He hadn’t thought of it like that, and now he’s starting to wonder if he’s going about this all wrong. If bringing up what Will had told him about the painting would just reopen a wound that Will has been wishing to close, if it was better to just leave the Band-Aid on and pretend the both of them weren’t hurting because of this. “I don’t want to hurt him either.” 

“Then you know what you have to do, right?” El asserts, a clear expectation in her voice, and Mike nods solemnly. “Great. I’m entrusting Will to you, Mike, so take good care of him, ‘kay?”

Yeah. So, that went about as well as Mike expected.

No pressure at all, right?

The more Mike thinks about it, the more he decides that El is right: he probably shouldn’t rush into making a move just because he feels guilty for not noticing Will’s feelings sooner. He needs to wait for the right moment, to comb through his own convoluted emotions towards Will and what they might mean, whether he sees him as just a friend or perhaps something more. 

The only problem is, other than El, he has no real example to compare Will to, since he doesn’t really know what actual love is supposed to feel like, much less being in love with another boy.

He guesses he could just ask Nancy how she knew she was in love with Jonathan, but he throws away that line of thought almost instantly—the last thing he needs is his sister prying into his relationship drama and coming to conclusions on her own. 

He can’t exactly ask his friends, either. Lucas would just give him that knowing smirk he always has when Mike brings up anything related to Will, and he always denies it and says it’s nothing if Mike dares to ask; Dustin—well—Dustin means well, but he’s not exactly the person Mike wants to go to for advice on something like this, and Max is out of the question, for obvious reasons. She was annoying enough before she ended up in the coma, now that she’s survived Mike’s afraid she won’t hold back on bullying him to the point of tears. 

Then there’s Robin and Vickie, who are actually in a happy lesbian couple and know what it’s like to be gay in Hawkins, but Robin lowkey scares him for reasons Mike can’t really explain, plus he’s pretty sure that if he brought it up they would automatically assume Mike is gay, which… he’s not sure how ready he is to grapple with that possibility yet. 

And Will, well Mike supposes he could ask Will about this, seeing as Will is also gay. But would Will feel comfortable explaining what it’s like to be in love to the person he’s currently in love with? Mike’s no clairvoyant but…something tells him the signs point to no. 

But it’s fine, right? It’s not like the end of the world if Mike doesn’t figure it out right away, and he doesn’t want to lead Will on if he’s wrong. It’s as El said—the best thing Mike can do for Will right now is just be there for him as a friend, even if it’s not quite enough. Mike wants to give Will everything he wants, but there are obviously things that are going to be out of his control. If at the very least he can try to be a better friend than he has in the past, then he’s going to try the fucking best he can to do that.

So he shows up almost half an hour early to Will’s art exhibition to give him some encouragement (because he knows Will well enough to know he’s likely going to be nervous about showing off his art to other people) and makes sure Will knows how much he’s appreciated, hoping that for now that could be enough, even though he wishes he could do so much more.  

And for most of the day he gets by without bringing up last Sunday—until he sees how happy Will is playing with Hellfire, how he blossoms into someone so fearless and sure of himself and altogether more like the Will from before all the bullshit with the Upside Down happened, something Mike hasn’t gotten to witness since ‘83—and suddenly he can no longer hold back the words building up in his throat and taking up every inch of his mind. 

He loves Will. 

He’s sure of that now, and now that he knows, he doesn’t want to keep it in. He wants to run up to Will and hug him, to hold him and to kiss him until all the air leaves his lungs. He wants to scream it from the rooftops—to tell anyone and everyone who would listen, to talk about how much he loves Will until all his friends and family get bored of him and beg him to stop. 

He has to talk to Will, he has to. If he doesn’t he think he might explode—

“I just don’t want this to change things between us.” 

What. 

Mike's head snaps up as he looks at Will, his face splotchy and warm from crying (god, how embarrassing is he?) 

Will keeps talking, but the words barely register to Mike, his whole world crashing to a staggering halt when he realizes that he’s too late. 

“I promise I’ll try my best to get rid of this crush, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings.”

Mike wants to say I don’t want you to get rid of your crush or I love you too, Will or literally anything, but he just—can’t. He can’t speak. Tears sting at his eyes, threatening to fall, but he holds them in, even though it feels like he’s just been shot in the heart. 

Even now, he’s still being so selfish. How could he ever let himself believe that this could end any other way? Even if he did confess his feelings to Will, what did he expect would happen after that? Would they be, like, dating? Holding hands in public, hugging, kissing like other couples? Could people like Will, people like him, even do that? 

Maybe in other big cities, things like that can go unnoticed, but here, in small-town Indiana, where they’ve been bullied and subjected to homophobia since they could even talk, people would suspect something’s off about them. Rumors would spread like wildfire, and the whole school, the whole town, potentially even their friends and family, would turn against them. They’d be cast out of society, just like Eddie was for being a “freak”. The likes of Lonnie, Will’s father, and their middle school bullies Troy Walsh and James Dante would have a legitimate reason to hate them. 

And let’s say they were able to date and not be outed to the whole school— there’s still the fact that, even though they’re best friends, they may not work together as boyfriends: Will could realize that Mike doesn’t hold up to whatever image he has of him in his head, or Mike might find a way to mess everything up somehow. There’s no telling if the reason Mike’s relationship with El was a disaster was that they just weren’t right for each other or if it’s because Mike is just a terrible boyfriend, period. 

Will’s right—they’ve been friends for so long that any divergence from that, even if they were to enter a romantic relationship together, would change their whole dynamic to the point that they would never be able to go back to the way things were before. 

Will means too much to him for Mike to lose him as a friend, too. 

El’s words from yesterday ring in the back of his head, but this time they sound more like a threat. Will’s already been through hell and back, and Mike doesn’t want to be the one to cause him anymore suffering. He’s already hurt Will more than he’d like to admit. 

If Will says that he wants them to remain just friends, that he’s trying his best to move on, then who is Mike to deny him that right? It’s not like he can just expect Will to risk everything for him, not when Mike’s not sure he’s even good enough for him. 

Will is someone who deserves the world, yet the world failed him way too many times. He should be with someone who can give him what he needs, not someone like Mike, who’s not even brave enough to say the words “I love you” out loud. 

Will is an angel sent straight from heaven. Mike is just nobody special.

“Let’s just drop this okay? Please.” 

Mike’s heart is outside of his body now, still beating weakly despite the gaping hole that is now draining blood from it. He feels like he’s dying, but that’s okay. He’s willing to bleed out in silence if it means that he can make Will happy just this once. 

He nods slowly, avoiding Will’s eyes. He’s not sure he can do what needs to be done if he sees the look Will is giving him. 

“Sure,” Mike whispers. “We can do that.”

“MIIIIIIKE!” 

“Go away, Mom!” Mike yells back, pulling the covers up further over himself. “I’m not in the mood right now!” 

About a minute later, there’s a knock on the door, Karen’s muffled voice coming from the other side. “Michael, you need to eat something. You’ve been holed up in your room all day. Have you even taken a shower yet?” 

Mike pauses, taking a cautious whiff of his smell, and frowns. He hasn’t showered, but it’s not like he smells that bad. “I’m fine,” he mutters to his mom. “I’m just not feeling very well.” 

“You’ll feel better if you eat something,” Karen urges, and Mike can hear in her voice that she wants to ask him what’s going on but doesn’t want to overstep. “Mike, you’ve missed school, and you’ve been sleeping all day. It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but… I’m worried about you.” 

Mike doesn’t answer.

“Mike?” his mom asks. “Michael, honey, can you hear me?” 

“Go away, Mom,” Mike repeats, turning over in his bed. “Just leave me alone. Please.”

Karen doesn’t say anything else after that, and enough time passes that Mike assumes she actually has left. He sighs and sits up on his bed, guilt eating away at his conscience. He feels bad about pushing his mom away like that, but he’s not ready to face her right now. Not when he still feels like a part of him has died, a sliver of childlike innocence he can’t get back. 

He’s not the same son she knows and loves, and Mike wonders how she would react if she knew who he really was, if she would still accept him regardless, if she would tell him that he’s her son and no matter what she’d love him just the same. 

Maybe she would, but. Mike really doesn’t think that he deserves that anymore.

A knock comes from the other side of the door again, and Mike nearly falls off his bed with how hard he jumps. 

“I said I don’t want to talk to you!” Mike moans, throwing a pillow at his door in frustration. 

“Mike, open the door before we bust in there and drag your sorry ass out,” Max warns, and Mike shudders.

The hell? “Max, why are you here?” Mike says plainly, annoyed. 

“We’re here to rescue you from yourself,” Dustin adds. “Your mom told us you’ve been rotting at home all day.” 

Sometimes Mike regrets having so many people who care about him. 

“I’m busy mourning,” Mike waves them off. “Just leave me here to wallow in self-pity.”

He barely gets to finish his sentence before the door unlocks on its own and swings open, an audible “what the fuck?” escaping his mouth as he leaps to his feet. The culprit becomes obvious when his gaze lands on a straight-faced El, eyes focused and nose bloody from exerting her powers, and the question dies on his lips. 

“As much as I’d love to do that,” Lucas smiles smugly, “we promised your mom that we’d try our best to get you out of the house. Something about making sure you’re not attempting to kill yourself in here.”

“I’m not gonna—” Mike starts to argue, then rolls his eyes and covers his reddening face with an embarrassed groan. “Why would she say that? Whatever, it doesn’t matter, because I’m fine. So you can all just— go have fun without me.” 

“Okay,” Lucas nods, then glances over at Dustin. “You wanna get his legs?” 

“I call dibs on his right arm!” Max chimes in, rubbing her hands together like a movie villain with a nefarious plan. 

“N-no! Wait, guys, stop!” Mike wails, backing away as his friends inch closer. Once his back hits the wall, he resorts to swatting their arms away. “Fine, I’ll-I’ll come with you, just— I can walk by myself.” 

“Yay, Mike is coming to a party with us!” El claps excitedly, while Max grabs his arms and pushes him towards the door from behind. 

“You didn’t tell me you were dragging me to a party,” Mike whispers to Lucas through gritted teeth. He hopes the way he’s glaring at him would be enough to convey how desperate and betrayed he feels right now. 

“I know, I know. I’m the worst,” Lucas laughs and claps him on the shoulder twice, as if that was supposed to be a joke. “Relax, it’s only going to be a few of my friends there, and maybe some other people.” 

He tacks that last part on as if it were just some passing thought and not at all relevant, but Mike’s too caught up with the “friends” part to even care. “You mean, like, your basketball friends? Who you still hang out with, for some reason?”

“Like I said, relax,” Lucas instructs. “They’re cool now, I promise.”

As soon as they arrive at the party, Mike immediately regrets letting his friends force him to come. 

The entire house is full of people, bodies packed close together and leaving barely any room to pass through without walking right into someone else. From the second he steps inside Mike’s already been bumped into by at least 3 people on their way out, likely to projectile vomit into the bushes. The living room reeks of alcohol and sweat, and Mike starts to feel queasy breathing in the musty, stale air. 

A song Mike doesn’t recognize is blasting throughout the house, and he has to shout to be heard over all the noise. 

“This what you call a ‘few of your friends’?” he turns to Lucas, putting air quotes around the latter half of the sentence, and Lucas just shrugs.

“Onwards, soldiers,” Dustin resounds, mechanically extending an arm in front of him like a trooper leading his army to war. In his best robot impression he says, “Get ready to mingle,” then disappears into the crowd with El and Max close on his heels. 

Mike heaves a sigh and starts to follow them, but a group of pea-brained jocks choose that exact moment to toss a ball around. One of them crashes into Mike as he chases after the ball, almost knocking him over. 

“Yo, dude,” the jock laughs, giving Mike a once-over. “Sorry man. You okay?” 

“Yeah, dude,” Mike stares him down with a sardonic smile. “I’m like, so pumped right now.” He means for it to come off as sarcastic, but his words fall flat. 

The jock either doesn’t notice his failed attempt at irony or doesn’t care, because he whoops along with his friends and punches Mike in the chest, hard. “You’re funny. This one’s not half bad,” he tells Lucas, squeezing Mike’s shoulder. When he lets him go, Mike winces and rolls his shoulder to ease the pain. “You two have fun. See you around, Lucas.”

He bends down to pick up the ball and gives it one last bounce before jogging off with his friends, and Mike, unamused, casts a judgmental glance in Lucas’s direction.  “‘Not half bad’, huh?” 

Lucas’s face falls, eyes softening with remorse. “Mike–”

“It’s cool,” Mike brushes him off with an eye roll, his jaw still wound tight. Feeling a bit wired, he rakes a hand through his hair to release some of the tension. “I need a drink.” 

Mike makes his way towards the kitchen, grabbing any of the unfinished bottles and pouring their contents into a red solo cup. He’s not really much of a drinker so he just mixes things together experimentally until he’s satisfied with the concoction he’s made and takes a small sip. He frowns, making a face at the bitter taste, but he forces himself to drink the rest anyway and pours himself another. 

It doesn’t take long for the alcohol to work its way through his nervous system, and Mike feels it almost instantly—feels the way his muscles loosen as his stress melts away, feels the way his mind clears and his thoughts slow down. It’s a pleasant feeling, Mike thinks, finding himself craving it more and more as fills his cup again and looks out into the crowd of people. 

For a second, Mike wonders if he’s dreamt him up or willed him to appear (it’s true, Mike’s heard that if you think about someone long enough they might actually show up in front of you), but like an apparition Will’s figure stands out amongst the crowd, his signature floppy brown hair framing his face as he huddles against the wall in a less busy corner of the room.  

Everything else fades into obscurity as Mike’s vision hones in on Will’s pained expression, memorizing every detail as if trying to take a picture with his mind to save for later: the way his eyebrows pinch together in the middle as he stares at the rambunctious group of partygoers, the way he crosses his arms protectively over his chest, the vacant look in his eyes that says that he, like Mike, would much rather be anywhere else but here. 

Mike bounces his leg anxiously to prevent himself from going over to Will, his fist clutching the solo cup so hard that he crushes it. Mike doesn’t take his eyes off of Will though, not even when tiny droplets squirt up from the cup and land on his face and clothes, not even when one of Lucas’s basketball friends approaches Will and the two strike up a conversation, the varsity jacket-clad boy leaning against the wall and Will tilting his head to look up at him. 

Mike can’t make out what they are saying from this distance, not when the music is so loud and there are probably a hundred separate conversations overlapping each other in an incomprehensible buzz, but he finds it hard to imagine that Will, an artistic nerd, would have anything interesting or meaningful in common with a dumb athlete whose only remarkable personality trait is being able to throw balls into hoops.

 Still, Will doesn’t pull away and mumble some excuse to leave like Mike expects him to; instead his shoulders relax a little and he looks genuinely relieved to be talking to someone. Mike even notices the hint of a smile beginning to form across Will’s lips, seemingly immersed in their discussion. 

Tearing his eyes away, Mike screws the cork off the nearest bottle and drinks directly from it, ignoring the annoyed groans and curses spat at him by people around him, some already drunk off their asses and desperate for more alcohol. His stomach rejects the liquor and he pushes past them to reach the sink, knuckles white as he grips the edge while he retches and pukes until all he can’t get anymore out. 

Wiping his mouth with his free hand, Mike stumbles towards an unoccupied couch to escape the noise. His head is still pounding, but at least the music isn’t as loud and there are less bodies threatening to invade his personal space. His vision turns fuzzy and unfocused, so he squeezes his eyes shut until colorful shapes start to form behind his eyelids. 

“Mike, wake up.” 

Mike’s eyes fly open when he feels a hand shake his shoulder. He stares ahead as the two figures morph back into one. 

“Are you okay?” The person asks, and Mike groans as he rubs his eyes. 

“Will,” he breathes, leaning back against the couch. “Thank God you’re here.” 

El presses her lips together, confused. “Mike. Are you drunk?”

“I missed you so much,” Mike’s eyes fall shut and he smiles. He feels strangely giddy, but he doesn’t hate it. It’s nice. “I almost didn’t think you were real.” 

“You know what’s funny?” His words slur together in an unintelligible mess, making less sense the more he continues to ramble. “I was thinking about you before you came in, and then poof—” he gestures with his hands, mimicking an explosion— “there you were. It felt like magic.”

“Can someone get him some water?” El calls, hands still resting on Mike’s shoulders. “He’s delirious. I think I saw him puking in the sink earlier.” 

“Delirious,” Mike frowns. “That’s a strange word.” 

“Here,” Dustin pants, out of breath from running to and from the kitchen to get the water. He hands the cup to El. “Is he okay?”

“He seems to think that I am Will,” El informs him, and the two of them share a worried look.

“Will,” Mike echoes. His hands reach for El’s, who tenses under his unexpected touch. “I’m sorry, Will.” 

“Yeah… I’ll go get him,” Dustin decides, anxious to escape this awkward situation. He spins on his heels and takes off to look for Will, while El sits on the couch next to Mike. She still hasn’t taken her hands off of his shoulders. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so awful towards you,” Mike mumbles, pulling El closer. “I’m sorry that you had to suffer so much because of me.” 

“Mike…” El starts, but she hesitates, unsure of what to say. 

“I know you said you just wanted us to remain friends,” Mike continues, biting his lip as salty tears stream down his face. “And I thought I could do that for you, but— I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

El gives him a sympathetic look and pulls him to her chest, placing a gentle hand on his back as she hugs him. “It’s okay, Mike. I am here.” 

“I’m in love with you," He confesses. "I’ve always known that, but I’ve just been so scared. Then you told me how you felt, that I made you feel like you’re better for being different, and I realized that I wasn’t alone.” 

Mike tugs at El’s shirt, soaking up her warmth. His whole body is trembling and his heart is racing in his chest, but having someone steady to hold on to helps him calm down a bit. “But by then I was already too late. I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry that I can’t make myself stop loving you.” 

“...Mike?” Will asks meekly, staring between the drunk teen and his step-sister, who still has her arms around Mike. “What happened, El?” 

“Will, Mike had too much to drink,” she explains just as Mike passes out again, and she props him up by putting his head on her shoulder. “Can you please help him get home?” 

“I…” Will grimaces, and he stares at his unconscious friend as he contemplates what to do. “Okay. Give him to me.” 

“Thank you,” El sighs with relief. “Perhaps it will be best to take him to our house. Mrs. Wheeler will be worried if Mike shows up to his place like this.” 

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Will nods and helps Mike to his feet, the taller boy groaning as Will grips his arm and steadies him so neither of them fall. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him home safe. I have to figure out what I’m gonna tell Mom, though.” 

“Maybe don’t mention the alcohol?” Dustin suggests, giving Will a nervous smile. 

“She’ll probably still realize something is wrong, though,” Will sighs. “It’s fine. If she asks, I’ll just take the blame.” 

“Will,” Mike stirs, frowning in his sleep, and the chestnut-haired boy chuckles. “Yep, that’s me.” To El and Dustin, he says, “Um, catch you guys later, I guess?”

“You sure you don’t want me to help you?” Dustin offers.

“It’s fine. I got it, but thanks.” 

Will struggles a little dragging Mike’s body outside, but the taller boy is surprisingly light so he’s able to get him in the car with ease. It’s not his car, it’s Jonathan’s, though his brother sometimes lets him borrow it every now and then ever since Will got his license, which is how he ended up with it tonight. 

He crams Mike into the passenger seat before climbing in on his own side and starting the car, but his hand falters when he goes to shift into gear, and he glances over at Mike briefly, watching the rise and fall of his chest while he sleeps soundly. 

Before he can think too much about it Will reaches over the center console and places his hand on Mike’s forehead, letting it linger there for a second as he brushes the hair out of Mike’s face. His hand falls slightly, tracing the pale boy’s features; first his eyes, then the bridge of his nose, then the scatter of freckles that dot Mike’s flushed cheeks. 

When he reaches Mike’s mouth, Will freezes, placing a tentative finger against Mike’s lips, his touch feather-light, and he lets up as soon as Mike’s mouth opens slightly and his tongue peeks out. 

With a heavy sigh, Will pulls his hand away and rests it on the wheel, trying to regain his composure enough to focus on driving. He shifts the gear into drive and ignores the way his heart flutters in his chest as the car sputters into motion. 

[₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ]

Chapter Text

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

"There ain't no way you can hold onto something that wants to go, you understand?

You can only love what you got while you got it."

-Kate DiCamillo

Mike wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache and a weird taste of vomit in his mouth. 

He doesn’t get up right away; he remains in a state of limbo between being awake and wanting to go back to sleep, his eyes refusing to stay open even as they try to adjust to the brightness of the room. 

It takes a good 15 minutes for his body to catch up to his mind—more specifically, for him to even remember that he has a body and is in fact not dead yet—and that’s when he realizes that he has no idea how he’d gotten home last night.

Come to think of it, this isn’t his room at all. The sheets of his bed look different, and as comfy as it is, the bed feels different. The color of the walls is different, too—they’re yellow, while his are blue, and the posters on the walls aren’t his either. He knows exactly whose posters they are, because he’s seen the inside of this room enough times to recognize that it belongs to—

“Will?” Mike blinks repeatedly, rubbing his eyes to clear the sleep from them, before it finally dawns on him that he fell asleep in Will’s bed. 

Will must’ve already been awake, because he rolls over onto his side to face Mike and smiles nervously. His hand is so close to Mike’s that if Mike moved his pinky finger just an inch to the right, they’d be touching. Mike’s hand twitches desperately at the thought, wanting to reach over and take his friend’s hand in his, but he doesn’t. 

“Good, you’re awake,” Will whispers, his voice gravelly and low, and Mike sucks in a deep breath.

 It’s been nearly a decade since Mike and Will shared a bed, something they stopped doing completely once they got older. Even when the Byerses and the Wheelers were living under the same roof after they returned from California, they usually slept in separate rooms, with the occasional sleepover anytime Will had nightmares and couldn’t sleep. 

Now, lying next to each other with their faces mere inches apart, it reminds Mike of simpler times, but still somehow the context feels so different. Mike never used to notice the way Will’s skin glows even after he’s just woken up, the morning sun hitting his face in all the right places, and he looks so beautiful even with his hair mussed and dried saliva stuck to the corner of mouth.

He certainly never used to wonder what it would be like to just lean forward and kiss his best friend, either, but that seems to be the only thought running through his mind this morning. 

He can’t do that though. Even if Mike’s skull feels like it's been cracked open and he still feels like he hasn’t fully regained consciousness yet, that would be crossing a line he’s not ready to cross, and he doesn’t want Will to be uncomfortable around him. 

With a wince, Mike pushes himself off the bed with his forearms, his stomach growling hungrily. It was a stupid idea to drink so much after not eating anything for practically the whole day. 

“Are you okay? You were pretty out of it last night,” Will asks.

“How… Why am I in your room?” 

“Oh… you passed out at the party, and we didn’t want you to get in trouble with Mrs. Wheeler for being drunk,” Will explains. “I was gonna let you have the bed and I’d just sleep on the floor, but you got really upset and wouldn’t let go of me until I got in bed beside you. I didn’t realize you could be so clingy.” He says that with a chuckle, but Mike can’t help but feel horrified by his own behavior. He’s never letting himself drink around Will again. 

A wave of nausea chooses to hit Mike at that moment, and he gags, a hand over his mouth as he leans his body against the wall to steady himself.

Unsure what’s going on but still surprised by Mike’s reaction, Will sits up and stares at him with concern. “I was just joking,” he clarifies. “Hey, what’s wrong, Mike? Do you feel sick again?” 

“Bathroom,” is all Mike manages to get out, before he’s stumbling out of Will’s room in search of the nearest toilet. Kneeling in front of the seat, Mike retches, nothing but bile and water spilling into the bowl, and he wipes his mouth in embarrassment as he flushes his guilt down the drain. 

There’s a knock on the door just as Mike finishes washing his hands. “One sec, I’m almost done in here,” he tries to say, though it hurts a bit to speak. His throat feels raw and hoarse from all the acid reflux and his headache hasn’t gotten any better. 

“Can I come in?” Will’s voice sounds so small and timid on the other side of the door, as if he’s scared to intrude on Mike’s privacy without explicit permission. Mike doesn’t have the heart to turn him away. 

“Okay,” he croaks, taking a seat on the tiled floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. 

Will waits a few seconds before opening the door, holding a mug in one hand. “I made you some tea. You should try to stay hydrated, especially since you’ve lost a lot of fluids.” 

“Thanks.” Mike takes the mug from Will’s hand, lifting it to his mouth and breathing in the hot steam as it wafts through the air around his face. The taste of ginger clings to his tongue as the tea hits the back of his throat, and it helps to soothe his aching esophagus a little bit. 

He’s almost afraid to ask Will about last night. He doesn’t remember much after Will showed up at the party, other than, in a mortifying moment of great weakness, he had way too much to drink and may or may not have confessed his undying love to Will before blacking out. That might have just been a dream or hallucination, though. He really, really hopes it was just a dream. 

Will hasn’t brought it up yet, so that has to be a good sign, right? 

“Hey, so uh,” Mike begins, anxiously tapping the mug with the tips of his fingers. He tries to keep his cool as Will removes his hands from his pockets and lowers himself to the ground so he’s sitting at eye-level across from Mike. “I didn’t, like, say anything weird to you last night, did I?” 

“Weird how?” 

Mike shifts uncomfortably. “Like…did I talk in my sleep at all? Say anything that sounded too personal or didn’t quite make sense?”

Will laughs. “If you’re asking if you accidentally revealed your deepest, darkest secrets while under the influence, then no, you didn’t do anything like that,” he says. “You did at one point try to hog the covers and almost kicked me off the bed when I tried to steal them back.”

“Oh, thank God,” Mike sighs, relieved. “Thanks, by the way. For not telling my mom about this. And…I’m sorry.” 

“For?” Will frowns. 

For being such a pathetic coward, Mike thinks. For wanting to kiss you so badly, even if it means ruining our friendship. For pulling away from you for all these years and still not being able to let you go. 

“Just, you know…for making you have to drag my drunk ass home,” he lies easily, shifting his gaze away from Will’s scrutinizing stare. “And, uh, for hogging the covers. It couldn’t have been easy putting up with that.” 

“Hey, it’s fine. You don’t have to apologize,” Will shakes his head, smiling softly. “It wasn’t all that bad. It was kind of, um, nice. I don’t think I’d ever seen you drunk before.” 

Mike groans, his head hitting the wall as he leans back. “Well, don’t get used to it because it’s never happening again.” 

“Aw, first time dealing with a hangover?” 

“Yes, and it’s total hell. I don’t know why anyone would do that to themselves willingly.” 

“Well, pretty sure Mom’s almost done making breakfast,” Will says. “Do you want me to bring something up for you?”

“Um,” Mike places a hand on his stomach, which has started growling again as if begging him to fill it with food. “It’s fine. I’ll join you downstairs in a minute.” 

Will’s face lights up as if he hadn’t expected that response. “Okay, I’ll make sure to set the table for 6, then.” 

“You sure the others won’t mind?” 

“Of course not,” Will assures him, his cheeks rosy and his eyes shining, and gosh—Mike still can’t believe he’d never realized sooner just how gorgeous he is. “You’re an honorary member of our family now, remember?”

—

At school the next week, Mike really tries his best to pretend like Friday never happened. 

So he slipped up and almost made a mistake he might’ve ended up regretting. Maybe that’s true, but what’s new? He’s used to messing things up without meaning to. And, if Will wasn’t lying to save face, it’s not like he actually said those things to Will. 

It was just a dream, and Mike’s feelings remain safely locked up in the vessel that beats rigidly behind his ribcage, the key thrown away so he’s not tempted to expose them ever again. 

Turns out when Will said he didn’t want things to change, he meant that shit literally. The two of them fall back into their old rhythm fairly easily, dancing around the line between close friends and the potential to be more, just like they did before Mike started dating El, before their relationship was damaged almost beyond repair. He sits next to Will during lunch period and study hall, he waves to him when they cross paths in the hallway on their way to their respective classes. They bike to school together, and when school’s over, they bike home together. 

Everything is normal. Things are good. They’re good.

And yet Mike has never felt more miserable. 

He’d expected that, once they’d finally talked things through and he understood his feelings, he wouldn’t feel that tension, that distance, between them anymore, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

He can still sense Will trying to avoid making direct eye contact with him whenever they are in a group setting, as if trying to rid himself of any false hope that Mike might feel the same. As if just meeting Mike’s eyes would be enough to make him second guess everything. 

He can still catch Will tensing up ever so insignificantly any time their bodies make the slightest contact, shifting away any time Mike’s hand brushes against his for too long or their knees accidentally bump against each other when they sit together at the lunch table.

Mike has to remind himself not to take it personally. As much as they might pretend that things can go back to how they used to be, it still doesn’t change the fact that they’ve changed. 

None of them are the same people they were when they were kids. They’ve been through too much shared trauma, too many self-discoveries and realizations, and heck, they’ve even survived the end of the world. It would be impossible to act like physical closeness doesn’t hold a completely different connotation now, especially with these unnamed feelings lingering in between them. 

He should be grateful. He should be happy that at least Will even wants to still be friends after everything, but being this close to Will and not being able to intertwine their fingers whenever Will’s panic attacks get out of control feels like being trapped in a purgatory of his own design. 

Now that he’s aware of Will’s feelings, Mike doesn’t know how he’s going to survive without accidentally letting his desires get the better of him. He can’t imagine how Will managed to do it for over 4 years. 

“Alright, Wheeler. Spill.” 

Mike looks over at Steve from where he’s browsing the Horror section of Family Video. “What?” 

Steve exhales a sharp laugh before tossing his legs over the front checkout. “You’re obviously not here to rent anything, and you’ve been staring at the same spot for like, what, 20 minutes?” he observes, his hands on his hips as he shoots Mike a quizzical stare. “So whatever it is that’s bothering you, just come out with it already. You look like a ghost, man. It’s bad for business.” 

“I don’t—know what you’re talking about,” Mike blusters, grabbing a random movie off the shelves and bringing it over to Steve. Steve takes a look at it and nods in amusement. 

“Rock ‘n’ Roll Nightmare,” he reads, holding up the cover for Mike to see. It’s got a buff, muscular man holding a guitar while shirtless, and Mike feels his face become warm. “Interesting choice.”

Seething, Mike grits his teeth and reaches over to snatch the film from Steve’s hands. “It was an accident!” he cries defensively. “Just– give me that.” 

“Hey, I’m not trying to yuck your yum. This is a judgement-free zone; you’re allowed to like what you like.” 

“I don’t like this movie. I told you, I grabbed it by mistake,” Mike protests, shuffling away to put the film back on the shelf. 

He pauses, turning to look back at Steve, and after a moment of trepidation, he slowly walks back up to the front checkout just as Steve mumbles something under his breath about the film never being rented out since they first added it to their stock. 

“Um,” he starts, his leg bouncing up and down as he works up the courage to speak, and Steve glances up at him patiently. “About… what you said, about me being allowed to like what I like?” 

Steve smiles and nods, deliberately choosing to remain silent as he waits for Mike to ask his question. “When Robin first told you that she liked girls… how did you respond to that?” 

As if not expecting this to be the direction the conversation was going, Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, and he purses his lips thoughtfully. “Huh…That was what you wanted to know? Well, okay.” 

Mike watches as Steve reminisces about that day on the bathroom floor, a sentimental look softening his features. “It’s a little embarrassing looking back on it now, but I had just confessed my feelings to her. At first, I don’t think I really understood what she meant, but when it hit me, I guess, more than disappointment that she just wanted to be friends, I felt relieved, y’know?”

It was like, that was the first time anyone ever trusted me with something like that. Though I didn’t know what it was like being gay, I could tell she was scared that I would judge her for it, and that made me realize the importance of being a good ally,” Steve says. “It was hard having to explain why we weren’t dating without outing her, but I think that moment really brought us closer. We were able to laugh about it, too, which probably helped.” 

Mike lets that sink in for a minute, Steve’s words resonating more than he’d care to admit. He’d felt similarly when Will came out to the group, before all the other feelings of guilt and regret forced themselves into the mix.

“Wait, is this you trying to come out to me? Because if you are, I’m honored you feel comfortable telling me this, and I totally support you either way—”

“What? No!” Mike stammers, his jaw flying open. “I’m not—this isn’t about me, it’s Will—” 

 “Oh, I see. You have a crush on Will,” Steve guesses, his face lighting up as if he’s just discovered something important. “That… actually makes so much sense now.”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant!” Mike groans and buries his head in his arms. He wants so badly to disappear and not have to be part of this conversation anymore. “Just kill me now.”

“Listen, kid. If you want my advice, I can try to help,” Steve offers. “But you’d probably be better off asking Robin about this. This is her area of expertise; I’m mostly just here for emotional support.”

“I don’t wanna bother her on her day off,” Mike supplies, a lazy excuse to hide the fact that just the mere idea makes his hairs stand on edge. “Nevermind, I’ll just come back another time.” 

“I mean, it’s up to you. You can either continue to sigh and mope around all day, or just give her a call. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to hear from you,” Steve returns to organizing the returned movie rentals on their proper shelves. “Just a heads up though: unless you’re planning on renting a movie tonight, I’m gonna need to kick you out of my shop now.” 

“By the way, what did you mean when you said me having a crush on Will makes sense?” 

Steve’s eyes flick to Mike only briefly, and he snorts as he pushes the VHS tapes around half-heartedly. “I plead the 4th.” 

Mike rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn’t push the matter, deciding to heed Steve’s warning and leave him to finish closing up. 

“It’s the 5th,” he murmurs to himself, the cold air hitting his face as he makes the trek back to his house.

☏

“Yellow? Who’s this?” Robin’s voice trills over the telephone.

“Um…” Mike twirls the wire of the basement telephone around his finger, glancing upstairs to make sure his mother isn’t eavesdropping on the other phone. “It’s me. Mike.” 

There’s a faint rustling on Robin’s end, as if she was changing positions to hear better. She pauses whatever movie she was watching before saying, “Little Wheeler! I thought you’d lost our home phone number; you’ve never called us before.” 

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, how’s things going with Vickie?” 

Robin waits a second to answer, and Mike can practically hear her trying to connect the dots in her head. “Things are going splendidly, my strange fellow hooman. Vickie’s not home right now, though; would you like me to let her know you called?” 

“Uh, no. No, that won’t be necessary,” Mike declines politely. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Oh? Do tell.” 

“So… there’s this… ‘friend’ of mine who’s having relationship problems—” 

“Alright, stop right there, buddy.” Mike’s jaw snaps shut, the whimper he makes almost comical. “You can’t seriously have called after a month of no contact to tell me about some ‘friend’s’ relationship problems. Does this friend of yours even exist?”

This is precisely the reason why Mike has been so afraid to call Robin, and tonight was almost no different. Robin has this strange ability to see right through all of Mike’s lies, even when he doesn’t realize that he’s not telling the truth. The first time it happened, he was genuinely convinced she could read his mind.

“Fine,” Mike sighs. “I’m the one with the relationship problems.”

“There ya go. Was that so hard?” Robin teases. Mike contemplates hanging up the phone and actually trying to go to bed. “Go ahead, you may continue your story.”

“R-right. So I recently broke up with my girlfriend—”

“Eleven. Yes, I know this. Does that make you sad?”

“Um, no?” Mike admits. “We both realized we weren’t actually in love with each other, so there were no hard feelings.”

“That’s good,” Robin says. “So what’s the problem, then?”

Mike swallows hard. “Will told me he’s been in love with me since we were in middle school.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Mike almost wants to play it off as a joke just to make the moment less awkward. 

“I… can see why that might be a problem,” Robin finally says. “So you’re worried about losing him as a friend?” 

“I don’t know what to do,” Mike agrees, wiping the traitorous tears that leak from his eyes without his permission. He’s never been more glad that he and Robin can’t see each other through the phone. He doesn’t know what would be worse: being made fun of for crying over something so banal, in the grand scheme of things, or being met with a pitying look and forced attempts to comfort him. “I think… I think I might love him, too. But I’m not sure if I’m even cut out for love. I don’t want to mess things up.” 

Another pause. This time Mike is grateful for it. 

He can’t stand people giving him empty words of encouragement like “everything will be okay” or “you just need to follow your heart”, all disgusting cliches he’s heard too many times before. Those phrases have only ever been used to write off his concerns, to make people feel like they’re helping without having to put in any real effort to listen to what he’s actually saying. 

If there’s one thing he appreciates about Robin, it’s that she’s great at solving riddles and putting things into perspective in a way Mike would never have considered otherwise. 

“Permission to speak freely, Little Wheeler?” Robin asks. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“This is gonna sound a bit crazy,” she cautions, and Mike holds his breath in anticipation. “But I think you should just go for it.”

“Oh.” Mike lets out his breath, his shoulders slumping. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. “Wow.”

“I know, I know. Not what you wanted to hear from me, but trust me on this one, okay?” Robin advises. “I’m speaking from experience. I’ve been in Will’s position before. When you’re like us, true love is hard to come by. You’ll think you’ve finally met the one, and you’ll take every positive interaction between you two as a sign that you might have a legitimate chance, but then you catch them looking at someone else and wish that it was you instead. Then you find it hard to trust anyone at all, because you don’t want to make that mistake again. You don’t want to show yourself to the wrong person, because in a town like Hawkins, that’s basically a death wish.” 

“Thanks, now I feel like shit,” Mike laughs dryly. 

“That wasn’t my intention. I’m just trying to get you to see things from Will’s point of view. I’m sure he doesn’t hold any of this against you, otherwise I doubt he would’ve told you how he felt.” 

“How do you know… how do you know if you’ve actually met the one?” 

“Good question. Most people would just tell you, ‘when you know, you know’, but if you ask me, that’s a load of bull. In my experience, you don’t know. At least not in the moment. But over time you realize that you’ve gotten so used to being around them that you don’t know where you end and they begin, and you can’t remember how you managed to get through life before you met them,” Robin describes. “It’s like, even when so much shit is happening around you, they’re the one constant in your life that you can always count on to be there for you. They make the darkest days brighter, and the happiest days just a little bit sweeter. And even when you fight—and you will, because it’s inevitable—it doesn’t feel like the end of the world, because you know you’ll find a way to work things out, and you’ll come back stronger than before.” 

“Woah,” Mike whispers, suddenly deep in thought. His mind races with a million different questions, not the least of which is wondering how Robin’s able to explain how Mike feels about Will better than he ever could hope to. “No offense, but I’d never taken you to be the romantic type. Is… that how you feel about Vickie?” 

Robin chuckles. “Vickie… Vickie is an interesting one. You know, when I first met her, I was terrified. It was like, ‘here is this absolutely drop-dead gorgeous girl who actually has similar interests to me and doesn’t think I’m an absolute loser. And she laughs at my stupid jokes!’ I was in love instantly. But I was afraid to even hint at my feelings because I wasn’t sure if she was like me, y’know?”

“Then when I found out she had a boyfriend, I was crushed,” she continues, and Mike can hear her sigh over the static of the phone, as if the memory is still fresh in her mind. “I wanted to swear off of love for good, especially since we had bigger problems to worry about at the time. It seemed like I only ever fell for ‘straight’ girls, which I mean, was like, yeah, no shit, this is Hawkins and not some big city like—I don’t know—San Francisco, but I would never have gotten the courage to ask her out until she made the first move. I think you know where I’m going with this.” 

Mike hesitates, a cloud of dread pooling up in his chest. He wishes he didn’t know what she meant, but he does know. Maybe too well, even. “But… What if I try, and it doesn’t work out? What if he never wants anything to do with me again?” He wouldn’t be able to handle it, he thinks, but he leaves that part unspoken. 

“‘Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.’ That’s Sydney J. Harris, by the way.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Meaning that there’s no guarantee that things will be perfect, or that you won’t make mistakes, but if you really love Will, then that’s a risk you’re gonna have to take. You’ll never know what could happen unless you try, and if you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering,” Robin elaborates. “Besides, you guys have been friends for, like, your entire life. If things don’t work out, I’m sure you guys will find a way to hold on to that, even if it’s awkward at first.”

When Mike doesn’t answer, Robin asks, “Mike? Still there, buddy?” 

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, just… thinking.” 

“Oh, okay. Did that help? I’m not the best at this advice thing yet, so if it doesn’t make sense or I get some things wrong—” 

“No, it’s not that,” Mike says quickly. He knows Robin has a tendency to overthink things. “You helped a lot. It’s a lot to process, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m still here, so if you ever need to talk more about this, you can always just give me a call,” Robin assures him. “But good luck, okay? Um, I believe in you?”

Mike smiles. “Thanks, Robin. Talk to you later.”

“Bonne nuit, Little Wheeler,” Robin says before hanging up the phone. 

☏

The five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. 

Mike cycles rapidly through all of these stages for the next several weeks. 

First it’s denial. He’s probably spent the majority of his life here. When he was younger, it was denying that he had a crush on El. Then he denied that he didn’t love El. All the while he was refusing to even consider that maybe it wasn’t El he was in love with but rather the idea of her, that maybe he was just using her as a cover to hide his feelings for Will. 

And now he’s in denial that he's the reason that Will won’t talk to The Party anymore. 

If you ask anybody else, they’ll probably tell you that it’s just Mike being an insufferable jerk as always, and he needs to own up and apologize. If you ask Mike, though, he’ll say it’s not that simple. 

Here’s the true, unfiltered, unbiased story: 

It’s Tuesday afternoon. Mike had spent the whole night before thinking about what Robin and Steve told him, and he’s finally decided to take Robin’s advice and just “go for it.” He’s mustered up all his courage to say three words he’s always been afraid to utter out loud: 

“I love you.” 

“Aww, thanks buddy. I love ya, too!” Dustin skips up to Mike, flashing him a toothy smile. 

The locker door reverberates as Mike slams it closed. “Wha— Dustin! What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?” 

“Excuse me, you’re the one standing here talking to yourself. I should be asking you what you’re doing.” 

“It’s—nothing. You didn’t hear anything.” 

“Why? Are you practicing what you’re gonna say to win El back?” Dustin wiggles his brows knowingly. 

“No, me and her are done for good this time,” Mike frowns. 

“Oh? Has Mike & Ike already found a new sweetheart to crush on?” 

“Ew, gross. First of all, don’t call me that. Second of all, you’re making it sound weirder than it actually is.” 

Dustin shrugs, rubbing his belly. “Sorry, man. I guess I’m just hungry. Thank God it’s almost lunchtime.” 

Dustin walks alongside him as they head for the gym, where they’re going to meet Lucas so they can walk to lunch as a group. Will usually meets the rest of them there. 

“So who is she?” 

“Huh?”

“The person you like, what’s her name?” Mike stops walking, causing Dustin to accidentally bump into him. “You okay? Why’d you stop?” 

Mike ponders telling Dustin that the “she” he likes is actually a “he” and that he already knows his name, but when he opens his mouth to speak, they’re interrupted by a voice calling their names. 

“Dustin! Mike!” Lucas yells, jogging to catch up to them. “Sorry, had to get changed. What’re we talking about?” 

“Nothing,” Mike blurts, shooting a look at their curly-haired friend before Dustin can run his mouth about Mike having a “crush”. “Where’s Will, and uh, Max and El?” 

“Max and El went to the cafeteria early, I believe,” Lucas informs them. “Courtesy of Max being wheelchair-bound. Says it’s a special perk of almost dying—they let her do whatever she wants.” 

“And Will’s not joining us today. Says he’s gonna hang out with his other friends instead,” Dustin adds helpfully. 

“What.” Mike’s vision goes red. “I’m sorry, did you just say he’s ditching us for ‘other friends’ ?” 

(Beware of jealousy—it can often give way to anger.)

“That’s exactly what I said!” Dustin throws his hands in the air emphatically. “Why does he need other friends when he has us? We’re, like, the coolest people on the planet!” 

“Yeah, it’s like, he went to California for one year and suddenly he comes back and everybody loves him now,” Lucas shakes his head in disbelief. “You know, sometimes I even hear girls talk about how hot he’s gotten. These are the same people who called him Zombie Boy and bullied him for being gay. Such fakers.” 

Mike tightens his grip on the strap of his bag, his jaw tensing as he bites down on his tongue. Of course Will is allowed to have other friends. Mike's not that possessive. If he wants space, Mike’s willing to give it to him. It doesn’t make it hurt any less, though. 

“Mike? Where are you going, man?” 

Without realizing it, Mike’s legs are already carrying him away, and he’s walking in the opposite direction from the cafeteria and his friends. “To find Will.” 

“We’re coming with you,” Dustin starts, but Mike gives him a glance that says not to follow. 

“Sorry. You guys go ahead. There’s something I need to talk to him about.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, before he turns back around, he sees Dustin and Lucas exchanging worried looks.

⭑

Mike spends half the lunch period searching for Will in all of the spots he’s usually known him to be: in the cafeteria, in the art room, the courtyard—hell, he’s even considered the possibility that Will decided to skip the rest of school and go home or something—but after 30 minutes of looking all over the school and in every other nearby place he can think of, he gives up. 

He’s on his way to the cafeteria to tell his friends that Will’s missing again when he crosses paths with him in the hallway near the boys’ locker room. Before he can think twice about it, he throws his arms around Will in relief, breathing in his scent. 

“Um, hi?” Will chuckles softly, taken aback by the sudden contact. 

“Will, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mike sighs as he pulls away. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said last Thursday, and—” his voice cuts off, and he frowns once his eyes land on the jacket Will’s wearing. “Who’s jacket is that?” 

“Oh, this?” Will shrugs, pulling the jacket over his chest defensively. “It’s nothing. I’m just borrowing it.” 

“Borrowing it,” Mike echoes, trying not to let his disappointment show in his voice. “From… who?” 

Will tenses, and his eyes dart around frantically as if he’s afraid to upset Mike with his answer. “I was cold this morning, so Dennis gave it to me.” 

“You should’ve asked me then.” Mike hates how whiny he sounds, but he can’t help it. “I would’ve let you have mine.” 

“You were late to homeroom, and… it’s fine. I didn’t want to bother you.” 

“You wouldn’t have been bothering me,” Mike insists. He can feel his anxiety levels rising, drowning him. “I would’ve wanted you to have it.” 

“Well, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize it was such a big deal.” Will rolls his eyes, but Mike notices the corner of his lips twitching irritably. 

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t care.” A lie. 

“Okay, then why are we still talking about this?” 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t.” 

“Good,” Mike says. “I don’t either.” Another lie. 

“Good,” Will shrugs again. “I’m starving.” 

Mike watches Will walk away for a few seconds before his curiosity gets the better of him. “This… ‘Dennis’ guy, is that who you’ve been spending all your time with?” 

Will spares him a glance over his shoulder, but otherwise doesn’t move. “Mike, what are you talking about?”

“Is that why you’ve been ditching us? To hang out with him?” The jacket, the locker room—it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. “Is he your friend now?” 

Will’s eyes glaze over, as if he’s already mentally checked out of this conversation. “Why does that matter?” 

“Of course it matters!” Mike’s practically yelling now, unable to control his tone or the words that leave his mouth. “I don’t trust him, and neither should you! Don’t you remember what they did to Eddie? How they made Dustin’s life, our lives, a living hell after defacing Eddie’s grave? And you expect me to just be okay with that?” 

“They’re not all like that!” Will argues. “Dennis is nice, and kind, and he actually cares about what I have to say. What happened to giving people a chance?” 

Mike scoffs. “Nice? He’s just some stupid jock. He probably doesn’t even know how to spell nice.” 

“He’s not stupid! He’s actually pretty smart!” Tears start to well up in Will’s eyes, but he blinks them back and turns away from Mike. “Never mind. I should’ve known you’d be like this.” 

Mike knows he should back down and just let this go. He knows he shouldn’t try to follow Will, because he’ll only make things worse if he does. Things are heating up way too quickly, and Will is already visibly upset. He needs to say he’s sorry and move on. 

But he doesn’t. He’s already hurtling towards Stage Two: Anger. 

“Be like what?” he demands, grabbing Will’s arm. It can’t end like this. He won’t let it. 

Will yanks his arm away and glares at him. “Like this! Every time I show interest in anyone else, you always get so overprotective and passive aggressive, then you take it out on me and make me feel like I’m the one in the wrong. It’s like you want my life to only revolve around you, but you’re more than eager to cast me aside whenever it’s convenient for you!” 

“That’s not true!” Mike spits out the words, even as he realizes the truth behind Will’s accusations, and he hates himself for it. “You’re allowed to have other friends. I’m just trying to look out for you!”

“Really? You’re sure the word you’re looking for isn’t ‘jealous’?” Will’s harsh comment cuts like a knife, and Mike can’t even say he blames him, not when Will might be right. “Because you don’t act like this around anyone else besides me. I don’t know what you want from me anymore! Everything is so confusing!” 

Unable to speak or move, Mike just stares at him, his heart breaking in his chest as the tears break free from Will’s attempts to hold them back. 

“First you act like I’m the only person you see, then you treat me like I don’t even exist,” Will cries. “And I just have to watch you choose El over me time and time again and act like it’s not killing me inside, but when things get hard, you always run back to me like you suddenly remember I’m your friend, and I have to pretend to care about your relationship and help you fix things when you should be able to fix them yourself. It’s exhausting.”

“Will, I don’t—” 

“Stop. Just stop!” Will begs, so Mike keeps his mouth shut. “Can’t you see I’m trying to get over you? Why do you have to go and make things worse? Why can’t you just be mean and make it easier for me?”

I love you. This would be the perfect time to say it. This is the moment where Mike should hug Will and wipe his tears as he tells him that it’s him and it’s only ever been him. That Will is the one he chooses, and no one else. 

But instead, like an idiot, what leaves his mouth is, “Do you like Dennis?” 

Will sniffs and shakes his head in confusion, as if unable to understand Mike’s question. “What?”

“I mean, do you… want him to be your boyfriend, or something?”

“So what if I like him? Does that bother you?” Will’s eyes are cold and unfeeling, and Mike almost doesn’t recognize the person before him anymore. 

“Will, please. I don’t want to lose you, not like this.” Bargaining. “If you want to date him, then fine, but I don’t want this to ruin what we have.” 

“What, like you didn’t ruin things when you decided to run off with El? When you made me feel like a kid for wanting to play D&D, then the minute I was gone, you started playing again with someone new?”

“It wasn’t like that! This—this is different!” 

“No. It isn’t,” Will retorts. “You just don’t like that somebody actually might be interested in me for once and it isn’t you.” 

“Okay, fine! I don’t!” Mike confesses, his voice climbing several octaves in exasperation. “Fuck, Will. I don’t want you to be with him. Happy now?” 

Will searches Mike’s face as if looking for something that will satisfy him, but the words don’t seem to register, and he remains emotionless. “No. I’m not happy.” 

Without the light of his best friend to guide him, Mike doesn’t think he’s ever felt more alone in his life.

[₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ]

Chapter Text

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

"...For love casts out fear, and gratitude can conquer pride." 

-Louisa May Alcott, Little Women 

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ 

“Mike, what did you say to Will when you went to look for him yesterday?” 

Mike shrugs, poking around on his tray with his fork. “Just wanted to check on him. Make sure he was okay.” 

“Was he?” Lucas asks, eyebrows furrowed skeptically.

Mike drops his fork and looks up at him. “I mean, yeah? I don’t know, man. He seemed like he was doing just fine without us.” 

“Oh dear God,” Dustin sighs, covering his face with his hands. 

“Mike,” Lucas says slowly, his eyes stern. “What did you do this time? Did you two get into a fight again?”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight,” Mike answers, crossing his arms defensively. “You say it like we’re always fighting. We only had a minor disagreement. That’s all there is to it.” 

“I don’t think Will would skip school over a ‘minor disagreement’, dude,” Lucas disagrees. “You definitely must’ve fucked up somehow. I don’t care whatever dumb shit you said to piss him off this time, you need to make it right, like, now.” 

Mike scowls and throws his hands up, both confused and also a bit hurt. He can’t believe Lucas right now. How dare he try to pin this on him as if he’s the only one at fault here? “Wait, why is this on me? I didn’t do anything wrong!” He protests. “How do you know Will isn’t just sick and couldn’t make it to school today?”

“Because he told El, and she’s not at school either,” Lucas points out. “And obviously if El isn’t coming, then neither is Max. Max won’t do anything without El; sometimes I forget which one of us she’s actually dating.” 

“This is bad. Like, really bad,” Dustin chimes in. “It feels like I’m 9 again and my parents are in that weird stage where they’re fighting and they won’t tell me because they don’t want me to know they’re planning on getting divorced. Swear on Mews’ grave, if I have to choose between you and Will, Mike, I’m with Will on this one.” 

“Okay, first of all, you’re exaggerating,” Mike huffs. “This is nothing like your parents. We’re not getting divorced! Uh- I mean,” he babbles, blood rushing to his cheeks when his friends eye him suspiciously, “All I’m saying is, it’s not like I’m asking you to pick sides; me and Will are fine! I’m sure soon enough he’ll realize that I didn’t mean it in a bad way, and when he does, he’ll come around. Then we can act like this never happened.” 

“Look, Mike, not to burst your bubble, but I don’t think you understand what we’re saying.” Perplexed, Mike glances over at Lucas, his body tensing with unease as his eyes scan Lucas’ serious expression. “This isn’t just about you and Will, alright? Max is literally refusing to talk to me because of what happened. She’s mad at me, and I had nothing to do with this.” 

“That’s just Max being Max. She’s bluffing. How many times has she almost broken up with you again? 10? 15?” 

“Hey, now that’s a low blow. Seriously, what’s gotten into you, Mike?” 

Mike jumps to his feet and slams his hands on the table. “Nothing, Dustin. Nothing’s gotten into me! You guys just need to lay off, alright? This is none of your business.” 

Wow, Mike. Way to play it cool. He sits back down slowly as realization sets in that he’s just made himself appear even more suspicious with his overreaction. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

Dustin looks at him like he’s just been slapped, and guilt crawls up Mike’s neck and burrows under his skin as he turns his attention back to Lucas. “It sucks about Max, man, but the state of your relationship isn’t my responsibility. If she’s mad at you, that’s between you and her, not me.”

Lucas nods curtly, unsurprised by Mike’s response. He’s so uncharacteristically calm that Mike almost fears what he’s going to say next.  

“Okay, sure. You’re right, it’s not your responsibility, but Will’s the glue that holds The Party together, so if you have even a shred of self-awareness, Mike, please for our just sake talk to him,” Lucas urges. “The sooner you two kiss and make up, the sooner we can all be happy again. Watching you dance around each other like this is giving me an ulcer.”

 Mike grimaces, face bright red. “Sure, whatever. But did you have to put it like that?” 

“What? It’s a genuine concern,” Lucas says. “Ulcers are no joke.” 

“That’s—okay. Well, there goes my appetite.” Mike stands up again, carrying his tray with him. “You know what? I’m gonna go. See you guys in class.”

Mike’s pride aside, he knows that Lucas and Dustin have a point. He does historically have a terrible track record of saying the wrong things when it truly matters. But he’s realizing now how he’s taken for granted how good his friends are, because until now, they’d always been able to move on when they had an argument—there was no time to hold grudges when their lives were constantly on the line, he guesses.

What Lucas and Dustin don’t know, though, is that this time isn’t like all those other times. This is far different from when Mike snapped at Will outside his house that night when it was raining, or that argument they had at Rink-o’-Mania after not talking to each other for a year.

Even though Mike had felt like he’d lost Will when the Byers’ moved to California, it was nothing compared to seeing the heartbreak on Will’s face when he looked at him yesterday, how his eyes went dead after Mike interrogated him about his relationship with Dennis, as if that was the moment he’d decided to rid himself of whatever feelings he had towards Mike. As if he’d realized for the first time that Mike wasn’t even someone worth shedding tears over. 

Mike’s sure that, at one point, he would have been able to figure out a way to come back from this. After all, Will has been the only person who, despite everything, chose time and time again to stay by Mike’s side even when all Mike has ever done for the last few years was push him away. Even when Mike and El were together and he had to listen to the boy he loved complain about his failing relationship. 

Mike has always found it easy to be honest with Will, to admit he’s wrong and apologize after a fight, though Will was the only one he never really needed to do that with. Will had always understood. He’d always been quick to forgive and forget, because there was nothing Mike could say or do that would change the way Will saw him, even though Mike doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone who’d love him that unconditionally. 

What do you do when the person who made you feel the most seen, who loved you at your most unloveable, wants nothing to do with you anymore?

After pacing back and forth for the last 10 minutes in front of the Byers-Hopper house, trying to figure out what he’s going to say when he sees Will, Mike's hand gravitates towards the door, stopping just short of knocking as he loses his resolve once again. 

Okay, so he’s here because he wants to apologize to Will, explain himself and perhaps say that he wants them to be friends again. That sounds easy enough, but what will he do if someone else answers the door? If Will refuses to talk to him? If somehow Will isn’t mad at him anymore but he manages to open his annoying, big mouth and make things even worse? 

Mike doesn’t know how things could possibly get worse than they already are, especially now that the Party is at risk of falling apart because of him, but he’s been surprised before. 

At one point he’s considered just climbing to Will’s window or throwing stones until Will notices him, but he’s pretty sure all that would achieve is pissing Will off and getting himself escorted off the premises by Hopper. He wants to see Will, but he’d understand if Will needed space for a while, and he’ll do his best to respect that. 

Still, he’s here for a reason—he promised his friends he’d try to make up with Will, and at the end of the day he just wants his best friend back, even if he still deep down wishes they could be something more. Will is more important to Mike than his hurt pride, and he can’t believe he was insecure enough to almost throw away 11 years of history over some random guy Will had just met. He can only hope now that Robin is right that their friendship is strong enough to survive this. 

When Mike finally does get the courage to knock, it’s El who opens the door, looking tired and fed up. “What do you want?” 

“Can I come in?” Mike asks, trying to walk past her, but El sticks her arm out to block him from entering.

“No. Not until you answer my question. Why are you here?” 

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” El’s eyes narrow, but her demeanor otherwise does not change. “I said some things I shouldn’t have said, and I feel like shit. Can I just—please, let me talk to Will. I have to—I need to make things right.” 

“You broke your promise,” El says sharply. “You said you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Will, and I trusted you.” 

“I know. And you have every reason to be upset with me,” Mike acknowledges. “After this I’ll give Will as much space as he needs, and if he still hates me I’ll try to accept that. But I just need him to hear me out this once, okay? If I don’t tell him how I feel, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

“El?” Will’s voice travels from around the corner, and Mike’s breath hitches as both he and El turn to look at him once he appears in the doorway. He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts, and he’s got sleepy eyes like he’s just woken up from a nap. “Who’s at the door?”

“Mike's here,” El responds. Surprised, Will’s eyes dart from El to Mike, who smiles as he holds Will’s gaze. 

“Hi.”

“Hi?” 

Mike can see the question floating around in Will’s head, but he’s hyperaware of the fact that they aren’t alone yet.

“If he makes you cry again, let me know. I’ll handle him next time,” El half-whispers to Will, hand on his shoulder, and Will cracks a faint smile. 

“Thanks, El, but I think I’ll be fine.”

The second his step-sister walks away, Will’s smile fades. He looks at Mike skeptically, waiting for him to explain what he’s doing here at his home. 

“I deserved that, didn’t I?” Mike jokes, but Will doesn’t laugh or even offer much reaction beyond a disinterested shrug. “Um, care for a walk?”

⭑

The two of them walk silently, and Mike sneaks glances at Will every so often, observing the downwards slant of his friend’s nose as he keeps his eyes trained on the ground. Will drags his feet across the pavement, kicking rocks around with his shoes, but his mind seems to be elsewhere. Mike almost wants to ask what he’s thinking about. He doesn’t, though. 

After a while Mike stops pretending that he’s not looking and openly stares at the way Will’s arms, folded tightly over his chest, tremble ever so slightly and his breath forms a puff of frigid air as he exhales deeply. His lips are raw and peeling from anxiously chewing on them. 

“Are you cold?”

Will looks at him and shakes his head, dropping his arms at his sides. “I’m fine.”

“Will, you’re literally shivering,” Mike observes, taking off his coat. “Here, put this on.”

“Keep it, Mike. I don’t need it.” Will tries to push Mike’s hand away, but Mike simply drapes the coat over his shoulders anyway. Sighing, Will reluctantly tugs the sleeves over his bare arms and stuffs his hands in the pockets. His cheeks are blooming with color, either from blushing or the cold weather (or maybe both), and Mike feels strangely warm despite having one less layer of clothing on. 

All he can think about is how cute and cuddly Will looks in his coat. God, he’s so pathetic. It’s not like this is the first time he’s seen Will in his clothes, but still—it’s unfair how adorable he is.

“Thanks,” Will mutters, avoiding Mike’s eyes. Mike makes a strangled noise in turn, suddenly incapable of comprehending the English language.

“So… what did you want to talk about?” Will asks him, and he has to pause to remember what he actually came here to say. 

“I—about yesterday, I-I’m sorry. What I said to you was messed up, and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“Mike, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.” Will runs a hand through his hair. “I really don’t want to even think about it anymore. I just want to forget it.”

“Really?” Mike wonders aloud, something akin to hope and a little bit of doubt swelling up inside his chest. “So, that means you’ll forgive me?”

“I…”  Will falters, unsure of what to say, and Mike’s heart threatens to drop to his feet. “I don’t know. I mean, I know I will eventually, because I always do, even though you’ve hurt me so many times that I should know better by now. I keep setting myself up to be disappointed again.” 

He laughs, but it comes out forced and there’s a hint of bitterness to it. “But… at least for now, I don’t think I can. I really, really just want to be mad at you for once. What you did was shitty, Mike.”

“I know.”

“You really made me feel like—like I was betraying our friends just because I didn’t think all the basketball boys were bad. And I get that you don’t trust them and you wanted to protect me, but that’s not your job. I can look after myself, you know?”

“I know.” 

“You know you guys will always be my best friends. I told you that, remember?” Will continues. “It’s just—I can’t spend all my time with just you. It’s a bit… suffocating.” 

Mike would be lying if he said that one didn’t hurt, but he thinks he understands. “Sure. I get it. And I want that for you. You deserve to be—to be happy.” 

This gets Will to finally smile at him. “Thanks, Mike. You do, too.” 

You do, too.

There it is. Mike’s chance. 

He doesn’t know when he’ll get another one, or if there even is another one. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to hide anymore. 

“Will.” 

Mike grabs his best friend by the hand and pulls him closer, catching him by surprise. There’s a question on Will’s parted lips as he looks up at him with a puzzled expression. 

“This is probably, like, the last thing you want to hear from me right now,” Mike says breathlessly, the words tumbling out like he’s been holding them in for centuries, and once he starts he doesn't think he can stop. “But when I said I didn’t want you to be with Dennis, I- I meant it.” 

“Mike–”

“I should’ve explained myself better back then, and this doesn’t excuse what I said or how I said it,” he continues, and Will falls silent as he lets Mike ramble. “It's just that I—I don’t know. I think… I was scared because I never felt this way for someone before, especially another guy… And you’re like, my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend, but I also couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else. That sounds so selfish, I know. I just—I love you so much, a-and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“You’re just saying that,” Will whispers. “You don’t really mean it.” 

‘No. No, I’m not,” Mike insists. He cups Will’s face in his hand, his fingers brushing the hairs on the nape of Will’s neck. “I’m in love with you, Will. I always have been.” 

Will laughs and shakes his head disbelievingly, tears sprouting from his hazel eyes. “You have the most horrendous timing, Wheeler.” 

“I know,” Mike huffs a laugh of his own. Without thinking, his eyes drop down to Will’s mouth, and the chestnut-haired boy must notice because when Mike looks into his eyes again, they’re wide with anticipation. He swallows, leaning a bit closer to whisper in Will’s ear. “Um. Can I…kiss you?”

It’s so small that Mike almost misses it, but Will nods, and Mike wraps his other arm around Will’s waist to bring their bodies even closer. Will closes his eyes and leans in, and Mike can feel Will’s warm breath and his long eyelashes against his cheek as he does the same. 

Instead of Will’s lips, though, he feels two hands pushing against his chest. His eyes fly open to see Will looking at him apologetically. Will turns his head slightly to the side so he doesn’t have to meet Mike’s eyes head-on.

The distance between them has only increased by a few inches, but it feels more like Will’s built a giant brick wall to prevent Mike from climbing over it. Before Mike can open his mouth to ask what’s wrong, Will’s already pulling away. He takes off Mike’s coat and hands it to Mike, who’s too stunned to do anything other than grab it without another word. 

“I’ll see you around?” Though it’s meant to be a statement, it sounds more like a question, like there’s some uncertainty behind Will’s words.

“Y-yeah. See you.”

With a sad, tight-lipped grin, Will takes off in the direction of his home, glancing back once before closing the front door behind him.

__

Over the following weeks at school, Mike and Will act normal around their friends. Lucas, Max, Dustin, and El all think everything is fine between them, and they have no reason to convince them otherwise. The last thing Mike wants is for his friends to pester him about why he and Will aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.

So, yeah. Everything is fine. At least Will isn’t completely isolating himself anymore, and the Party can talk and laugh about things like they used to. If Mike looks past the lasting tension and awkwardness from their most recent exchange, which was mostly his fault anyway, things might even be good. Not great, but he’s happy to have Will back in his life regardless of what that may look like. 

He just has to ignore the way his heart picks up its pace and his mind is bombarded with unwarranted thoughts of tasting cherry limeade every time his eyes accidentally drop to Will’s plump pink lips when they are together. 

It’s proving to be harder than he expected, though, and it’s made even worse today by the way Lucas and Dustin won’t shut up about making plans for Spring Break next month. 

“So what do you guys think, should we go camping or head to the beach?” Dustin proposes, chomping down on a ketchup-dipped french fry.

“Is it not a bit cold to go swimming this time of year?” El tilts her head thoughtfully. Max reaches over to steal a bite of her waffles, and El pretends not to notice.

“But that’s exactly why we should go. Less people will be there,” Lucas reasons. 

“Both very good points,” Dustin contemplates. Turning to Mike, he asks, “How about you, Mike? Which do you prefer?” 

Mike shrugs and sips his Coke through the straw. “You guys can choose whatever you want. I’m not going.” 

“What? What do you mean you’re not going?” 

“I’m just not interested, okay? That’s all there is to it.” 

Unintentionally, Mike finds himself peeking over at Will, only to find him already staring at him from across the booth. Will lowers his head and busies himself with his hands, embarrassed at being caught. 

Dustin looks like he’s about ready to argue, but Lucas jumps in, holding a hand up to stop him. “I’m sorry, we did not spend over a month talking about this for you to suddenly realize you’re ‘just not interested’.” 

“First of all, I never agreed to the idea of going on a group vacation,” Mike counters. “That was all you guys.”

“Yeah, because God forbid we want to enjoy our Spring Break together after all the bullshit we put up with for the last four years!” Dustin raises his voice, and he’s so loud that it catches the attention of a few other people at the diner. Mike wants to die when he sees some of them casting sideways glances in their direction.

“Stop being such a contrarian. Everyone else is going. I’m going, Lucas is going—Max and El, are you going?” Dustin asks the girls, who both nod “yes”. “See? You’re the only one who’s not going.”

“Not necessarily. You still haven’t asked Will,” says Mike.

“Will is coming, too,” El says quickly. “Right, Will?”

Will, having not spoken more than a few words all night, flinches at El’s question, and the entire booth glares at him as they wait for him to give an answer. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Lucas grumbles when Will doesn’t immediately agree. “You, too, Will?” 

“I’m sorry.” Will looks so guilty and uncomfortable that it makes Mike feel bad. Just a tiny bit. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Okay seriously, what the hell is up with you guys? You’ve both been acting weird ever since we went to that party.”  As if struck by a sudden realization, Lucas stops mid-thought. His expression shifts from one of disappointment to one of wry amusement. “Hold on a minute. This doesn’t have anything to do with that night, does it?”

“No!” Mike and Will say at the same time, and they exchange a look.

Max snorts. “Geez, you two. That’s not suspicious at all.”

“Shut up, Max, you’re not helping!”

“Alright, Mike, calm down. You wouldn’t dare hit a girl in a wheelchair, would you?”

“Give me a fucking break. You can walk perfectly fine without that wheelchair.” Mike sighs and slides out of his side of the booth. Thankfully he’d been sitting on the outer edge. “I have to go pick up Holly from dance practice.”

“This conversation isn’t over!” Dustin yells after him, squeezing past Lucas to follow him out. “Mike? Did you hear me? Mike!”

“Let him leave, Dustin.”

Mike stops and whips his head around to see Will standing a few feet away from them, his features unreadable as his gaze lingers steadily on Mike. There’s a painful silence while Dustin, confused, glances back and forth between them. Eventually he mutters something under his breath and walks back inside.

Mike expects Will to go in with him, but he remains where he is. 

“Why aren’t you going?” Will says quietly. 

“Why aren’t you?” 

“I’m not sure,” Will admits. A beat passes. “You should still go, though.” 

“Maybe.” 

Mike wishes the moment would last for a bit longer. There’s still so much he wants to talk to Will about, preferably about that time they almost kissed outside of his house after Mike told Will he loved him. 

He doesn’t get his wish, though. Will turns to reenter the diner, ending the moment way too soon.

Friday, March 18, 1988

(1 Day before Spring Break) 

“Mikeeeeee! Have you seen my necklace?”  

“Holly! No yelling from across the house,” Karen yells from downstairs like a total hypocrite. 

“Mom, I can’t find my lucky necklace! I need it!” Holly whines.

Woken up from all the noise, Mike blearily turns over in his bed to check the time on his alarm clock. 6:35. He’s about to go back to sleep when Holly barges into his room. 

“Shit!” Mike curses under his breath, then realizes he should probably watch the language he uses around his baby sister. “What is it, Holly?” 

“Can you help me look for my necklace?” Holly asks.

“Which necklace?” 

“The one Will made for Holly the Heroic. It has the little D&D charm on it.” 

“Uh, okay. I’ll help you find it, okay?” Mike assures her, crawling out of bed. “Don’t cry.” 

Holly sniffs and turns her head, crossing her arms defiantly. “I’m not crying!” 

“Where did you last see it?” 

“I had it when I went to school, then last night I put it back in my jewelry box, but it’s not there,” Holly explains, leading Mike to her room. “I looked everywhere. It’s not in my room or Mom’s room, either.” 

Mike checks the jewelry box and searches Holly’s entire room, even under the bed and her pillows, but like Holly said the necklace was nowhere to be found. He walks over to her and gives her a look that he hopes is sympathetic. “Not here.” 

Holly’s bottom lip juts out and her eyes glisten, a second away from bursting into tears. “What if it’s gone? What if I never find it?” 

She’s fully wailing now, shoulders trembling as tears stream freely down her face, and Mike watches the scene with a frenzied discomfort. He’s not sure how to help Holly when she’s this upset; he’s notoriously bad at dealing with his own emotions, much less other people’s. 

It’s usually only Will who’s able to cheer her up, like when he promised to make a figurine of Holly’s D&D character after she started seeing the monsters in her nightmares. She’s taken the charm with her everywhere she's gone since then, believing that it would help protect her from the evil forces that were following her around.  

It’s the most important thing in the world to her. Without it, she felt scared, helpless. Vulnerable. It was even more special coming from Will, who knew that feeling better than anyone else. 

Maybe Mike hadn’t been able to protect Will from Vecna’s curse, but… he can probably still protect Holly. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Holly. We’ll look for it together, I’ll help you.” Mike rests his hand on Holly’s shoulder, bending down slightly to be at her level. “It’s gonna be alright, I promise. Just think, what would Holly the Heroic do?” 

“She’d cast Locate Object to guide her to the necklace,” Holly blubbers. 

Mike frowns. “True… but we can’t exactly do that, can we?” Holly’s face darkens as if she’s about to cry again, so he quickly adds, “B-but that doesn’t mean we can’t try! Come on, which way should we go first?” 

Holly hums and makes a thinking gesture. “That way,” she decides, pointing downstairs. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Mike follows his sister down the stairs and gestures towards the living room. “I’ll look over here, and you check the kitchen?” 

Holly nods, and Mike continues his search in the living room, overturning couch cushions and looking behind the T.V. He even checks his father’s La-Z-Boy. 

Shortly after, Holly returns from the kitchen, the dejected hunch of her shoulders suggesting that her own search efforts have proven to be fruitless. “Not there. Did you find it?” She asks. 

Mike shakes his head. “No. I’m really sorry, Holly.” 

His sister stares at the floor glumly for a second, but she seems to get over it quickly. Her face lights up and she grins widely at Mike, clapping and jumping up and down in excitement. Apparently, all hope is not lost yet. “I know where it is! One second.” 

Holly takes off in the direction of the stairs, and after a few minutes Mike hears the thump of her tiny footprints on the carpet as she runs back down to the living room. In her hands, she’s holding a necklace and the charm attached to it, a clay figurine painted yellow and blue. 

Holly’s D&D persona is a cleric, which she’d proudly chosen because “Will the Wise is a cleric” and she wanted to be like him. It’s a little weird to be jealous of your own 8-year-old sister, but Mike can’t help it if something inside of him wants to tell her to back off and stop stealing his best friend from him. Will never seemed to mind, in fact he was always eager to spend time with her, so Mike couldn’t complain. 

“I dropped it when I went to the bathroom last night,” she explains as she hands it to Mike, who helps her put it on. Holly turns around and throws her arms around Mike, her cheek pressed to his chest as the two share a warm embrace. “Thanks, Mike.” 

“Of course, Holly. I told you you’d find it,” Mike chuckles. “You’re Holly the Heroic, after all.” 

Holly doesn’t say anything, but Mike can feel her shaking against him, and soon after a muffled sniveling sound causes him to pull back.  

“Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Holly uses the sleeves of her shirt to wipe her tear-streaked face. “I miss Will. He never comes over here anymore.”

Mike’s face falls. Of course that’s what this was all about. Why didn’t he realize sooner? 

There he goes again, never understanding that the consequences of his actions affect other people, not just himself. He had no idea Will had left such a lasting impression on his sister, let alone one strong enough to make his absence not only noticeable but also distressing, but in hindsight it makes sense that it would. In the year and a half that Will and his family had been living with the Wheelers, he could see Will’s influence on Holly in the way bits of him were passed on to her, personality-wise and appearance-wise. 

When Holly is happy or excited, Mike sees Will, age 12, cheering enthusiastically after he’d rolled a 14 and killed the demogorgon, his radiant smile stretching from ear-to-ear as he hugged Lucas. 

When Holly cries, Mike imagines Will’s terrified face as he hid from the demogorgon in the Upside Down, alone in a place so similar to home yet so unfamiliar. She reminds him of a younger him, too, the way he’d biked home crying and hugged his mom after he’d seen what he’d thought was Will’s dead body being pulled out from the quarry.

It’s not fair to Holly that, because of his own stupidity and obliviousness, she loses a person she’s grown fond of after everything she’s already faced over the last few months.  And if he’s really being truthful with himself, it’s not fair to him, either. 

“I know. I miss him, too,” Mike confesses. “I miss Will, too.”

Because of this morning’s fiasco with Holly’s missing necklace and Mike’s sleep being disrupted (not that he’d even slept much, anyway), he shows up to school already drained before the day’s even truly begun. 

That doesn’t bother him, though. He lets his friends do most of the talking as they walk to and from their classes, one of the few times he’s grateful for Dustin’s loud mouth and ability to talk a mile a minute and Lucas and Max’s incessant bickering. It gives him time to think while the others are so absorbed in whatever topic they’re discussing that they barely notice him not talking. 

Will’s been silent, too, for the most part, but he supposes the rest of the Party chalks it up to his usual quiet, non-confrontational temperament. Mike isn’t so sure. Though he’s smiling, Mike can tell he’s just as distracted as he is from the way he’s fallen behind the rest of their friends. Out of habit, Mike slows his pace to match Will’s, gravitating subconsciously to his side. 

“You okay?” He whispers, and Will looks at him and nods. 

“Yeah. Just tired, I guess.” 

“Long week, huh?” 

Will giggles. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Thank God it’s almost over.” 

“Just one more class to go,” Mike agrees. It’s more for himself than it is for Will, but he’s content when Will smirks at him.

“Science class. Should be fun.” 

“Yup.” 

...

It was, in fact, not fun. 

“Everyone take your seats,” Mr. Whittaker orders just as the late bell rings. “Got something fun planned for today.” 

“Ooh, a movie?” One student whoops hopefully.

“Nope, pop quiz. Pass the papers back, please.” Mr. Whittaker hands each student in the front row a stack of papers to pass to the student sitting behind them, and the entire class lets out a collective groan of displeasure. 

“But sir, it’s Friday,” another student protests. “It’s almost Spring Break!” 

“Has the final bell rung?” The science teacher asks. 

“...No?” 

“Then Spring Break hasn’t started yet. Eyes on your own test, anyone caught cheating gets a zero.”

Mike, Lucas, Will, and Max all exchange a nervous glance, and El looks utterly horrified as she stares blankly at the slip of paper in front of her. Dustin, the science nerd he is, is the only one in the class who looks remotely happy, scribbling away at his own quiz sheet. 

Mike heaves a long, deep sigh as he looks over his quiz, a pencil in hand. At least it’s science and not some other boring class he couldn’t care less about. This he has a winning chance at passing. 

He reads the first question. Which of these best explains the chemical properties of sodium bicarbonate (NAHCO3)?

See? Not that bad. He circles A. NAHCO3 is a weak base (pH ~ 8.3) that is non-flammable and releases CO2 , H2O , and NA2CO3 when heated above 50℃ and moves on to the next question. 

⭑

“How do you guys think you did?” Dustin asks cheerily after everyone’s turned in their quizzes. Mike and Will shrug. 

Lucas says, “Pretty good, I think.” 

When El glumly states that she’s sure she failed, Max replies, “Whatever, who cares? Screw that stupid quiz, it’s Spring Break!” The two of them giggle hysterically as they run off arm in arm, chanting “Spring Break” over and over again. The rest of the Party watches them with wistful smiles.

“Those two are awfully chummy,” Dustin observes, elbowing Lucas. “Watch out, man. El’s coming for your girl.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Dustin. El and Max are best friends, doesn’t mean I have to get jealous anytime they’re together.” 

Okay, that sounded a bit targeted, and Mike does not appreciate being called out like that. He glances briefly at Will, who’s not-so-subtly laughing at Lucas’ comment. 

“Wow, that’s very noble of you, Lucas. Wish we could all be that cool.” 

“Fuck all of you,” Mike scowls, walking away. 

“What? We didn’t say anything!” Dustin laughs, picking up his pace until he’s next to Mike. “I was talking about myself, no hidden meaning there. Lucas, bro, back me up here!” 

“Right, right,” Lucas chimes in, joining them. “No hard feelings, bro. It’s an art not everyone can master.” 

“Okay, sure. I was gonna say I changed my mind about coming on the trip tomorrow, but never mind.” 

“Wait, really?” Dustin exclaims, taking a few strides ahead so he can face Mike. “You’re coming? That’s awesome, man! I take back my previous statement then. You are cool.” 

“So you admit you were talking about me, then?” 

“No comment.” 

“That means everyone’s in,” Lucas says. “Since Will’s coming, too. This is gonna be awesome, guys!” 

“Yeah,” Mike seconds. Like being pulled by a magnetic force, his eyes are drawn to Will once more. “Can’t wait.”

“Mike! Your friends are here!” Karen announces from the kitchen. 

“Okay, I’m coming!” 

Mike finishes packing his suitcase and forces it shut before lugging it down the stairs and to the front door. His mom comes up beside him to plant a kiss on his temple. 

“Mom,” Mike groans. 

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“Uh, no. I’ll just get something on the way there if I feel hungry.” 

“Okay. You’ve made sure you packed everything, right?”

“Yes, mom, I double-checked. I’ve got everything,” Mike answers impatiently. 

Just then, Holly runs up to them and jumps on Mike, who instinctively catches her. “Do you have to leave? Take me with you!” She begs. 

“Holly, you can’t go with him, he’s going with his friends,” Karen explains, trying to pry her youngest daughter off of Mike, but Holly refuses to let go of him. “And you’re still in school, remember?” 

“Screw school! I hate school, I don’t wanna go!” Holly waves her hands around indignantly.

Karen’s jaw flies open, and her face turns red with shock and anger. “Holly! Who taught you to use such foul language?” 

“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll handle this,” Mike intervenes, struggling to hold in his laughter. He puts his sister down and crouches to look her in the eyes. “Listen, Holly. I have to go now, but I’ll be back in about a week, okay? If you’re good and do what Mom says, I’ll even bring back a souvenir.” 

“And I can see Will again, too?” Holly’s eyes are so big and innocent that it’s hard to deny her what she wants, and Mike has no doubt she’s aware of this and uses this to her advantage as much as possible. Still, he willingly gives in. 

“Of course, I’m sure he’d love that. What do you say? Do we have a deal?” 

“Okay,” Holly says softly. A single tear trickles down her cheek. “You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Holly hugs Mike again, and he places a calming hand on the back of her head. 

“Holly, it’s time for him to leave,” Karen reminds her. 

Holly whines and shakes her head furiously. Karen sighs.

“You can walk him out, okay?” 

Finally, Holly lets go, beaming at her mom. “Really? Yay!” 

Grabbing Mike’s hand, she skips towards the door. “Come on, Mike!”

Mike and Holly walk out to find a brown Dodge Caravan parked in their driveway. The car belongs to Lucas' mother; Mrs. Sinclair is letting him take it because it has the most seating space and fits the whole Party in it. They both wave as they approach the car, and Lucas rolls the window down. 

“Ey, Mike, come on in, man,” he says before noticing the little girl standing beside Mike. “Oh, hey, Holly!” 

“Hi, Lucas! Hi, everyone!” Holly squeals. 

Mike opens the back side door and climbs over Dustin’s legs as he squeezes his way into the backseat. As luck would have it, his seat is directly next to Will’s. 

“Hey,” he breathes once his seatbelt is fastened. 

“Hi,” Will replies. 

“Will!” Holly’s voice snaps them back to reality, and Mike turns to see his sister climbing into the back seat after him. She plops herself down on Will’s lap and hugs him.

“Holly, what are you doing?” Mike groans, embarrassed, but Will simply laughs. 

“Hey, Holly! Good to see you,” he says. 

“Okay, you’ve seen him, that’senoughnowgetoutbye!” Mike nudges Holly and hopes she’ll take the hint. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Will says to Holly as she climbs back out of the car. 

“Bye, Will!” 

“Don’t I get a goodbye, too?” Mike jokes. Holly glares at him and sticks out her tongue. 

“Your sister seems well-adjusted,” Max, sitting in the front passenger seat, leans back and peeks around the headrest at Mike once the car starts moving. “We’d get along, don’t you think?” 

“Dear God, no. Stop trying to make all the girls in my life as crazy as you.” 

“Oh, so are you calling me crazy, now?” El accuses, but her tone conveys she’s not as mad as her words suggest. 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Mike corrects himself.

El throws her head back with laughter. "I know what you meant, Mike. I am just teasing you." 

The drive to Indiana Dunes National Park takes about 4 hours, which the Party passes by playing games to deal with the boredom of a long car ride. Max and Lucas fight over who gets to be in charge of music, while Dustin chimes in from time to time with random state trivia every time they spot a car with an out-of-state license plate (“Did you know that the United States bought Alaska from the Russians in 1867?” he’d mentioned after they drove past a car with an Alaskan license plate). 

As for El, she spends the whole ride gushing about being excited for her first ever vacation, talking at great lengths about the new bathing suit she’d pressured Hopper into buying for her. From what she describes, it’s a purple three-piece set with a floral halter top and a matching skirt. Max makes a casual remark about how she’s sure El's bathing suit would look amazing on her. 

And Mike—well. It’s not like he’s not at all interested in his friends’ conversation, though they can drone on about nothing, and he sometimes finds it easier to just tune them out. It’s more so that he finds it difficult to concentrate on anything with Will’s leg pressed so closely against his. He’s done his best to put as much distance between their bodies as he possibly can without making it obvious, but his legs seem to have a mind of their own from the way they keep pointing towards Will despite his conscious efforts. All he can do is pray Will doesn’t notice the way his skin is burning whenever their limbs accidentally graze each other. 

⭑

“Mike, we’re here. Wake up.” 

Mike mumbles in his sleep when he feels a hand nudging him awake, and he slowly squints his eyes open. He doesn’t know when or how he’d fallen asleep, given how noisy and cramped the car is, but he must’ve underestimated just how tired he was. He rubs a hand over a kink in his neck and stares at Will, who’s peering down at him with curious eyes. It’s then that Mike realizes he’s been resting his head on Will’s shoulder. 

“S-sorry,” Mike blushes, sitting up quickly. Gosh, hopefully Will doesn’t think that he did that on purpose. 

“It’s okay,” Will says softly. 

“Hey, Mike, can you and Will go in first and check us into our rooms?” Lucas twists back to face them from the driver’s seat. “I was just thinking about driving around to see if there’s anywhere to stop for food nearby.”

Mike grumbles, irritable from having his nap cut short. “There are six people in the car, why do we have to do it? You don’t need three people to help you if all you’re doing is driving around.” 

“Well, Max just got out of a coma and is partially blind so she gets a free pass, and I would like to have at least one other person’s opinion,” Lucas says. “You two just happened to draw the short end of the stick because you were the last ones who agreed to come.” 

Before Mike could clap back with his own witty rebuttal, Will grabs his arm to get his attention. “It’s no big deal, Mike. Let’s just go inside, yeah?” 

“Fine,” Mike sighs, climbing out after Will. 

Mike goes to open the trunk and pull out the luggage, but Lucas tells him to just take his and Will’s because, “We’ll bring our own stuff in when we get back.”

Mike doesn’t think much of this, already pissed enough that he’s been relegated to check-in duty while the others get away with having to do basically nothing, and he shrugs. He brings out his duffel bag and his suitcase—he packed pretty light for this trip—and waits for Will to get his suitcase from the trunk before closing it shut. 

“Ready?” Will asks once Lucas drives off. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Mike deadpans, and the two of them enter the hotel together. 

“Excuse me,” Mike says to the woman at the front desk. The lady, a petite middle-aged woman with big blond hair and way too much makeup, gestures for them to wait a minute while she finishes with the call she’s currently on. 

“Thanks for your patience. How can I help you today?” The woman recites with a cheery smile. 

Mike clears his throat. “Um, yes, we’re here on a trip—it’s Spring Break—and we’re looking to check in to our hotel rooms.” 

The woman nods and clicks away at her computer. “And what’s the name?” 

“Uh– Sinclair? S-I-N-C-L-A-I-R,” Mike guesses and waits while the woman types the name down. Finally, she pulls out a room key and hands it to him. “You’re all set! You’re in room 209. Let us know if you need anything else.” 

Mike casts a glance at Will, who looks just as confused as he is. “Wait, I’m sorry. You only gave us one key; there are six of us.” 

“I’m sorry, there’s only one room booked under that name.” 

“That can’t be right,” Will butts in. “There has to be some sort of error. Can’t you try again? Maybe the name was wrong?”

Mike goes through all the possible names Lucas could’ve used to book the rooms, and as they wait a second time for the Front Desk Lady to double-check the system, his heart beats so fast that he thinks he might be sick. She shrugs unhelpfully and shakes her head. “As I said, this is the only room that shows up on our end. Whoever booked the rooms only requested one.”

“That’s bullshit!” Mike explodes. Is he dreaming? This has to be a dream, right? There’s no way Lucas would do something like that. “You’re wrong! Check it again!” 

“Mike, calm down,” Will presses his fingers to Mike’s forearm, and Mike takes a deep breath, feeling some of his anger dissipate.

“You can take it up with our customer service representative if you feel there’s been a mistake, otherwise there’s not much I can do. Unless, would you like to book another room right now? I can’t guarantee there will be any available on such short notice, though.” 

“No, it’s okay. Thanks anyway.” Will nods at Mike. “C’mon, let’s just go. We can figure it out when the others get back.” 

Mike follows Will’s lead as they take the elevator up to the second floor. “Let’s just hope there’s at least two beds.” 

…

Mike wants to retract his earlier statement. This is not a dream. In fact, it’s something much worse. 

“Are we being pranked right now?” He complains once Will unlocks the door to their hotel room.

As if the universe heard him talking about wanting two beds and finds it funny to mess with them, there’s only one queen-sized bed in the middle of the room and a sofa in one corner. 

“I’m going to kill Lucas when he comes back. I’m going to kill all of them. Those little shits.” 

Will drags his suitcase into the room and leaves it beside the bed. “This is… small,” he agrees, looking around. “What are we going to do?” 

“What else can we do? We’re stranded here all alone with nowhere to go.” 

“I know, but…” Will plops down onto the bed and sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. This fucking sucks.” 

Mike licks his lips, thinking. Other than the lack of a second bed, the room doesn’t look too bad. There’s a T.V. and a mini-fridge, and at least he’s pretty sure the hotel offers room service. It’s not ideal, but it should do for now.

“Okay, well, you can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” 

Will stares at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Definitely not. You should take the bed, I’ll sleep on the sofa. You’re taller.” 

“It’s fine, Will. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Mike insists. “I’m used to it. I slept on your floor countless times, remember?” 

“That’s—that’s different,” Will stammers, and his face turns bright red. “I don’t want you to do that for me.” 

“Well we’re not gonna get anywhere if we keep arguing about it,” Mike points out. 

Will looks down at his hands in his lap. He looks as nervous as Mike feels. “Then—I mean, we can share the bed. I-if you don’t mind, of course.”

Mike blinks, feeling his own face grow uncomfortably warm. “I– uh, yeah. I don’t mind. Do you?”

“No.” 

“Okay,” Mike says. “Cool.” 

“Cool.”

Neither of them move for what feels like an hour but is probably more like 2 minutes. All Mike can do is stand awkwardly next to the bed and stare at Will, his heart pounding loudly in his ears and drowning out any coherent thought. 

Will also shifts nervously from where he’s seated on the bed, running his hands over the freshly-made sheets. Then, “So… are you….?” 

Mike blanches. “R-right. Um,” he squeaks as he mechanically draws nearer to the bed, unsure of his own limbs and where they are spatially-geographically, and he almost bumps into things a couple of times. “Sorry.” He wants to feel embarrassed for how pathetic he’s being, but then Will laughs, and Mike forgets how to be ashamed. 

Will settles himself under the covers, and Mike climbs on top of the bed, leaving ample space between them. He glances over at Will, laying on his back with his arms at his sides, and does the same. 

They don’t speak at first. Two friends who’ve known each other for longer than they haven’t, who used to always talk about anything and everything, even things they couldn’t tell other people, who’ve until now never run out of things to say, and yet, for the first time, they have no idea what to say to each other. 

Mike can finally hear himself think, but none of the thoughts running through his mind right now are appropriate for this situation. You couldn’t force him to reveal that information even if you threatened him at gun-point. So he just lies there, silent and motionless, internally pleading for Will to be the one to break the silence first. He catches Will sneaking glances at him once in a while (only because he was looking first, causing both of them to quickly tear their eyes away), so he figures there must be something on his mind.

“What is it?” Mike utters, tapping his thumb against Will’s. 

“Huh? Oh. Nothing.”

“You’re shaking. Are you cold? Do you need the heat turned up? Or should I ask for more blankets?” Mike makes to get out of the bed to look up the number for room service, but he’s immediately stopped by Will grabbing his arm. 

“No, you don’t have to do that. It’s just…” Will trails off, and he lifts his shoulders in a hesitant shrug. “It feels weird. Being here, with you, like this. You know, after– after everything.” 

“Yeah,” Mike nods. “I know what you mean.” 

It would only be a half-exaggeration for Mike to say that he feels like there’s a hole in his lungs, out of which oxygen is escaping at an alarming rate, and even breathing feels like a laborious task right now. The air in the room feels heavy, suffocating, as if there’s literally a weight hanging over them growing bigger and bigger the longer they avoid talking about it. 

“I’m sorry—” Mike blurts, at the same time Will says, “I have to tell you something,” and they both look at each other and laugh. 

“You first,” Will says, gesturing to Mike. 

“Oh, um, sure. I just wanted to say, sorry for making things so awkward between us. I know I was completely out of line about the whole Dennis thing, and I shouldn’t have shown up at your home unannounced and dropped such a huge bomb on you out of nowhere like that. It was unfair of me to put you in such an uncomfortable position when you were still mad at me,” Mike rambles, heaving a sigh of relief once he’s said everything he’s been needing to for ages. He turns on his side to face Will, and his features soften into a contemplative, meaningful stare. “It wasn’t a lie though. Everything I said was true, I did and still and always will be in love with you, Will, even if you no longer feel the same way.” 

Will sits up straight, his face slightly obscured by the hair falling into his eyes, and Mike gets the panicky feeling that he’s screwed up again. “Mike, I…” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mike interrupts, not wanting to hear the words from Will’s mouth. “It’s okay, I get it. You’re with Dennis now. Sorry, this was so inappropriate of me.” 

“Mike, I’m not dating Dennis.” 

Mike blinks. “What?” 

“I’m not dating Dennis. I-I never was,” Will confesses, hanging his head in shame. “I wanted to, trust me, I did. I really tried to make something work. But I—” he sighs— “I just wasn’t feeling it. Feeling him. I thought if I pretended hard enough, I could make myself like him, but I was just trying to force myself to get over you.” 

“Will—”

“Just— please, don’t interrupt me,” Will puts up a hand, shutting Mike up. “Let me finish, please. I was mad at you, at least at first, but then I realized it was pointless. I knew you weren’t saying those things to hurt me. I just didn’t want to let myself think it meant what I thought it meant. So I didn’t tell you the truth. I let you believe I was in love with Dennis instead of saying that we were just friends. I wanted you to hurt like you hurt me, and I feel awful about it.” 

He looks up at Mike through his lashes, analyzing the expression on his face before continuing. “Dennis really is a good guy, though. He’s funny, too, and he’s nice to me. The only thing is, he isn’t you. So.” Mike gulps, his throat constricting as he listens intently. “Yeah. I’m sorry, too, Mike. I… don’t think it’s possible for me to stop loving you.” 

“You… Do you mean that?” Mike asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “You still love me?”

Will nods, his eyes wet with tears. “I do, yeah.” 

All Mike’s blood rushes to his face, just as the air returns to his lungs. “Can– can I kiss you?” 

Will’s face is equally as red. “Please.” 

Carefully, Mike brings his hands to Will’s face, and as he lifts his eyes up to Will’s, he silently asks, “Are you sure this is what you want?”, as if giving him another out, another chance to pull away and change his mind. 

His brain is still struggling to process the fact that any of this is real, that this is really Will sitting in front of him, that Will loves him, that Will wants to kiss him. It’s almost too good to be true.

Will puts his hands on Mike’s arms, pulling him closer, and nods his head eagerly. One word, the only word Mike’s been wanting to hear for so long, the first word Will ever uttered to him and the one that’s brought them together ever since, escapes his mouth in a hushed whisper, almost more like a breath: “Yes.” 

Yes. Mike thinks that might be his new favorite word. 

Mike uses one hand to lift Will’s face to his and presses a tentative kiss to his lips, if only to give him some relief from the static in his head. His other hand, which had been resting on the mattress, wanders to Will’s hip, desperate to gain purchase. He pulls back only for a second, just to look at Will again, and he already feels breathless from how pretty Will’s eyes look this close up.  

Growing impatient, Will takes it upon himself to pull Mike’s face down into another quick kiss, this one more sure than before now that they both know the feeling is mutual. Will removes his hand from Mike’s cheek only to grab Mike’s hair, his fingers working their way through his soft, dark curls, and something inside Mike’s brain finally clicks into place. 

Mike scoots even closer until Will’s practically sitting on his lap and deepens the kiss, fueled by a sudden urgency and need that he hadn’t felt before. He uses his tongue to part Will’s lips so he can really explore his mouth to his heart’s content, and he thinks he tastes a hint of cherry. It’s so much better than he’d expected. 

Will moves closer, impossibly closer, so close that he’s straddling Mike’s lap now. He runs his tongue over Mike’s teeth, and Mike swallows the hot breath of air that comes from his mouth. He loses himself in the sensation, in the way Will holds him like he’s water that could slip away through the gaps of his fingers if he isn’t careful, in the way he kisses him like he’s the last slice of a tasty dessert that he’s trying to savor for as long as possible, in the way neither of them show any signs of ever stopping. 

Will’s teeth clink against his a couple times, and he accidentally bites too hard on Mike’s lip, drawing a tiny bit of blood. He pulls back, horrified and deeply embarrassed. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” 

Mike chuckles and shakes his head no, reaching up to his lip to wipe away the blood. He inspects his finger to see the extent of the damage. There’s only a little bit of blood on the tip. He licks the rest of the blood off his lip. “You’re okay.” 

“Should we slow down?” Will asks.

“Not unless you want to,” Mike responds. “Do you?” 

“No.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t either.”

Mike uses his hand on Will’s hip to flip him over and lower him onto his back so that he’s hovering over him, and he positions himself in between Will’s legs. They end up making out for a good 30 minutes before pulling apart and gasping for air, though it seems way too short and not nearly enough to make up for the 4 years they spent denying their feelings instead of just doing this sooner. 

Kissing is all they do at first; neither of them feel quite ready for anything more than that yet. Even still, Mike wants to burrow here and make his home between Will’s legs, to spend the rest of his life doing nothing more than cuddling Will and exchanging hot and heavy breaths between each other’s mouths.

They don’t realize just how much time has passed until they hear a loud knock on the door, followed by Dustin’s voice: “Hey guys, you in there? Open up!”

Shit. Mike looks at Will like he’s just remembered where they are, and the two of them proceed to have a wordless conversation with their eyes. 

Mike’s say something like: Damnit, I forgot they were here. What should we do?

Will shrugs. I don’t know. Should we open the door?

Mike: Do we have to? Can’t we just wait for them to go away? 

Will: Of course we can’t, this is Dustin we’re talking about. He’ll find his way in one way or another. 

Mike hums discontentedly, falling backwards onto the bed. “Fine, but you’re the one opening the door.” He closes his eyes. “I’ll pretend to be asleep.”

Will snicker and shoves Mike’s shoulder. “You’re impossible, Mike.” 

Opening one eye, Mike smiles. “You love it, though.” 

He means it as a joke, kind of. But it doesn’t change the fact that when Will blushes and says, “Yeah, I do,” Mike’s heart stops for a concerning amount of time.

[₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ]