Archive of Our Own ^beta

Will was sketching in his notebook, tucked into the far corner of the Wheeler basement while some of the others argued loudly over film choices and others were upstairs gathering snacks. He liked sitting apart - not far enough to seem weird, but far enough that he could draw without anyone looking over his shoulder. The coloured pencils scattered beside him were still new. Jonathan had bought them for him as a “you saved the world, dude” gift.

He was halfway through shading a soft line along the edge of a figure’s jaw - definitely not Mike Wheeler’s jaw, absolutely not, thank you very much - when Robin suddenly plonked herself onto the sofa cushion beside him. Hard. The whole seat bounced.

“Hey!” Will yelped, his pencil flying out of his hand and skidding across the carpet.

Robin leaned in, whispering, “I think it’s time we talk about your crush on Mike.”

Will’s entire soul left his body.

He stared at her. She stared right back.

“I… what? Robin!” he hissed, snatching up his pencil as if it were a weapon he could use to defend himself from the conversation and glancing around to make sure no one had heard. 

Three weeks.

It had only been three weeks since they’d defeated Henry. Three weeks since Will, El and Kali had combined their powers in one blinding, terrifying, world-ending burst of energy. Three weeks since Will had felt the storm build inside him - anger, fear, love, all of it - and then felt it break apart and vanish as the Upside Down died. His powers had flared like wildfire and then gone out forever.

Three weeks since life had returned, impossibly, to normal.

And Robin was choosing now to interrogate him.

“I don’t… I don’t have a crush on… what? No.” Will’s voice cracked like he was twelve again.

Robin raised one eyebrow, unimpressed. “Will. You were literally drawing him just now.”

“I WASN’T!”

He slammed the sketchbook shut so fast it made a whip-crack sound.

Robin nodded very slowly. “Uh huh. And that isn’t his messy hair or his stupid perfect nose or his ridiculous pouty mouth?” Her voice was so soft that even Will could barely hear her. 

Will wanted the universe to open a hole in the floor so he could drop straight into it.

“I don’t… Robin, please, can we not-”

She softened, her shoulder bumping gently against his. “Look, I’m not judging you. Trust me, if anyone understands falling for the wrong person, it’s me.”

Will blinked. Robin grimaced.

Will let out an unwilling, tiny burst of nervous laughter.

Robin leaned closer, voice gentle. “All I’m saying is, it’s okay to like him. And it’s also extremely, painfully obvious.”

Will froze. “…to who?”

Robin’s grin stretched slow and wicked. “Only to me. Because I understand. He doesn’t know, don’t worry. Because that boy? Dense. Like, heroically dense. Historically dense. Scientists are going to study him.”

Will huffed, cheeks burning. Will’s eyes darted involuntarily to the centre of the room. Max and El were squished together on an armchair. Mike was sprawled on the carpet with Dustin and Lucas, waving his arms around dramatically as he argued about which Star Wars film was objectively the best. His hair was a mess. His cheeks were flushed. He was smiling.

And Will felt that stupid expanding warmth in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried.

“Look,” Robin continued, nudging Will’s shoulder with a surprising amount of gentleness for someone who usually moved like a human hurricane. “All I’m saying is that if you want to talk about it. About him. About… all of it. Then I’m here, okay? No judgement. No pressure.”

Will let out a tiny breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

Robin was staring at him with this open, earnest expression. No teasing, no smirk, no over-the-top commentary. Just kindness.

“Yeah,” Will said quietly, giving her a small nod. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Robin.”

Her face softened. “Anytime.”

Before Will could say anything else, Steve’s voice boomed down the stairs.

“We got the snacks!” he announced with dramatic flair, tripping his way into the basement with three bags of chips tucked under one arm and a bowl of popcorn threatening to spill over the other. Nancy and Jonathan followed behind him like a chaotic parade.

“Finally,” Dustin groaned. “If we waited any longer, Mike was about to start a riot.”

“I wasn’t-” Mike started, then froze the second he spotted Will and Robin sitting together, heads close. Something flickered across his face - Curiosity? Panic? Annoyance? - and Will’s stomach swooped.

Everyone began piling onto the mismatched sofas and beanbags, arguing over which film they were all definitely not going to agree on, when Will felt eyes on him.

He looked up.

Mike was sitting on the couch and there, right next to him, was an empty space. A very obvious empty space.

Mike tilted his head slightly, gesturing to the spot with a small, sheepish smile. It was barely a smile at all, really, more like an invitation disguised as one.

Will felt his heart do a somersault.

He stood and crossed the room, and the second he reached the sofa Mike shifted aside, not away from him, but for him, making just enough space for Will to slide in beside him. Their thighs brushed. Their shoulders touched.

Static raced down Will’s arm.

Mike pulled his leg in a little closer, letting their knees knock. “Hey,” he said softly, too softly for anyone else to hear.

“Hey,” Will whispered back.

They sat like that as the room descended into bickering and laughter, the film finally being chosen (after far too much complaining). When the lights dimmed and Steve shushed everyone for the tenth time, Mike’s arm brushed Will’s again, accidentally, except not really. Not with how Mike lingered there, warm and steady.

Will felt himself melt back into the cushions, a tiny smile tugging at his mouth.

For the first time since the world had ended - and then hadn’t - everything felt calm.

Safe. Right.

And as the opening credits rolled, Mike leaned a fraction of an inch closer, shoulder pressed firmly to Will’s, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Will didn’t move away.

*****

Look, Mike wasn’t an idiot.

He might have been hopeless at reading most people, but he wasn’t blind. And it was blindingly obvious that Will had a crush.

Will had been… different these past few weeks. And not just because Henry was dead and the Upside Down gone and life was returning to normal. Will had been happier. Softer around the edges. He smiled more. He laughed more. He got that little scrunch around his eyes whenever something amused him, and Mike felt like he was going to explode every time he saw him smile.

It was brilliant. It was perfect.

Will deserved to feel that light. Especially after everything he’d gone through - over the years, and especially recently. He’d survived hell, actual hell. And now they were all free. Hawkins was healing. The world was normal again.

Will was alive. Will was safe. Will was… glowing.

And he had a crush.

Mike just wished it wasn’t on Robin.

Because what else was Mike supposed to think? Will and Robin kept slipping off to talk together, whispering and giggling in corners, their heads close, shoulders bumping. Robin would nudge Will’s knee and Will would blush - blush - and Mike would feel something cold and sour twist in his stomach like he’d swallowed a battery.

Will didn’t crush on people. Mike knew that. They’d been best friends their whole lives. Will never looked at anyone like that.

But now? Seeing Will with Robin… it was obvious. Painfully obvious. And Mike had no right to be… upset. Or annoyed. Or whatever the hell this feeling was clawing at his chest.

It was just…

It was weird. Seeing Will look like that at someone who wasn’t him. Not that Will had looked at Mike like that, ever. But Mike… Mike wanted to be the centre of Will’s world. But now… now Will liked Robin and spent time with her and shared looks with her and Mike couldn’t stop the feeling of wrong clawing at his chest. 

And Robin was older. And funny. And chaotic in a way that somehow made sense. She was clever and quick and had that stupidly charming smile and…

And she was… pretty. Objectively. Even Mike could admit that.

Mike didn’t know her well enough to hate her. But he did. Just a little. Or… a lot. Because every time Will smiled at her, Mike felt something inside him curl up and whimper.

And he really, really didn’t want to think about what that meant.

He glanced over at the desk beside him. At Will. 

Honestly, sharing classes with Will was both the best and worst part of Mike’s school day. Best, because Will was there. Within reach. Within breathing distance. Worst, because Will was… well.

Will was Will.

Quietly radiant. Soft and focused and so stupidly beautiful that Mike felt like he was being punched in the ribs every five minutes.

Will sat hunched slightly over his exercise book, pencil tapping thoughtfully against his lip, his hair falling across his forehead in that way that made Mike want to reach over and brush it back. He concentrated so hard when he worked, brow furrowed just so, the faintest pout appearing on his mouth and Mike had to wrench his eyes away before he started openly staring like a creep.

He tried, really tried, to banish the thought from his mind.

Don’t think he’s beautiful. Don’t think he’s beautiful. Don’t think he’s-

It didn’t work.

Because Will was beautiful. Not in an abstract way. Not in a “Mike’s being dramatic again” way. No. It was a fact. A universal, undeniable truth.

The earth was round.

Gravity existed.

The sky was blue. 

And Will Byers was the most beautiful person Mike Wheeler had ever seen in his entire, miserable life.

Will shifted slightly, their knees almost brushing, and Mike felt his pulse jump like he’d been plugged into a socket.

Yeah. Sharing a class with Will was torture. Really lovely, heart-racing, slow-motion torture. And Mike wasn’t sure how much longer he could survive it.

The bell rang, jolting everyone out of their daze. Chairs scraped, bags rustled, and the classroom quickly dissolved into noise. Mike was still shoving his books into his bag when he felt, rather than saw, Will turn towards him.

“We going to yours?” Will asked, slinging his rucksack over one shoulder.

Mike’s heart did that stupid hop-skip-jump thing it always did when Will said anything that implied permanence. Togetherness. Automatic assumptions that included Mike. He loved it. Loved that after everything - monsters and near-death and California and all the awful, quiet distance - they were back to being them.

Best friends. Always gravitating towards each other. Always choosing each other.

He loved that even though Joyce had bought a house just last week, Will was still spending most of his time at Mike’s. With Mike. 

“Yeah,” Mike said, trying very hard not to beam like an idiot and only half succeeding. “Obviously.”

Will rolled his eyes affectionately. “Obviously.”

They walked out into the corridor together, shoulder to shoulder, occasionally bumping. In a normal way. A totally normal, platonic, completely unimportant way. Except Mike’s brain was malfunctioning every time it happened.

“So,” Will said as they moved with the crowd. “English homework. Did you understand any of that?”

Mike snorted. “No. Absolutely not.”

Will huffed a laugh. “You were taking notes.”

“I was doodling or pretending to. There’s a difference.”

Will nudged him. “You’re useless.”

“And yet,” Mike said with a dramatic sigh, “you still hang out with me. Interesting.”

Will flushed, smiling down at the floor. “Yeah, well. Someone’s got to make sure you don’t fail out of school.”

“Wow,” Mike said. “I can feel the love.”

Will choked on a breath. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean…”

Mike laughed, even though his face was on fire too. “Relax, Will. I know what you meant.”

They stepped out into the cool air, making their way to the bike racks.

“You staying for dinner?” Mike asked, trying to sound casual and not like he desperately wanted the answer to be yes.

Will hummed. “Probably. Your mom said she was making pasta tonight.”

“Oh, you’re only here for the food. I see how it is.”

“Well,” Will said, grinning now, “your mom does make better pasta than mine.”

“My mom makes better everything.”

“True.” Will unlocked his bike. “Including you.”

Mike’s brain blue-screened.

“I… what?”

Will froze, eyes widening as he replayed his own words in real time. “I MEANT, she, she MADE you. Like, literally. Birth. Biology. Not, I didn’t mean, oh my gosh, Mike, please stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Mike lied, very badly.

“You are!”

“You said my mom makes me better!”

“I meant differently! Differently better!”

Mike snorted. “You’re adorable when you panic.”

Then Mike’s brain short circuited because he had just called Will adorable. To his face. 

Will buried his face in his hands. “I’m going home.”

“Nope,” Mike said quickly, grabbing his handlebars. “Too late. You committed to coming over.”

“I rescind my commitment.”

“Denied.”

Will groaned but followed Mike anyway, their bikes clattering side-by-side as they started the ride to the Wheeler house.

They cycled close enough that their arms occasionally brushed, close enough that Mike could hear Will’s soft humming under his breath, close enough that anyone watching would just assume they were… something.

And Mike couldn’t stop smiling.

Because Will had asked, without even thinking: We going to yours?

Because Will had blushed at him.

Because Will had joked, accidentally or not, about Mike being better.

And because spending the afternoon with Will - just the two of them, reading comics or playing games or doing nothing at all - felt like the safest, happiest version of the world.

By the time they reached Mike’s driveway, Mike felt warm all over.

Warm with hope. Warm with longing. Warm with something he was desperately trying not to think about. 

Will hopped off his bike and grinned at him. “Race you to the basement?”

Mike grinned back. “You’re on.”

And just like that, they were off, laughing, shouting, and tripping over each other as they barrelled into the house.

Exactly how they were meant to be.

*****

“I hate him,” Will announced, then promptly collapsed into one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs.

Robin blinked at him from her seat, where she’d been pretending to read a magazine that had been left in the waiting room since 1978. “Well. That’s an entrance.”

They were in the hospital’s side waiting room. The one with the humming fluorescent light and a vending machine that ate quarters for sport. It was blessedly empty. No nurses, no visitors, no beeping machines. Just them.

Mike had dragged Will along to visit his dad, still recovering upstairs, and Will had been fine, really, totally fine… until he’d spotted Robin in the corridor waiting for Vickie to be finished with work.

He’d needed to talk to her.

Immediately.

Because if he didn’t talk to someone soon, his feelings were going to explode out of his chest like a horror-movie alien.

Robin slowly lowered the magazine. “Okay,” she said cautiously. “Do you… want to give me a name, or am I meant to guess which him we’re hating today?”

Will groaned, pressing both hands over his face. “It’s,” He let out a pained little whimper. “It’s Mike.”

Robin stared for a beat. “As in… Mike Wheeler?”

“No,” Will snapped. “As in Mike the other one. Yes, Mike Wheeler!”

Robin put her magazine aside. “Right. So we’re doing this.”

She scooted her chair closer, lowering her voice. “Okay, Byers. Tell me why you ‘hate’ your very not-platonic best friend.”

Will slumped even further down his chair. “Because he’s… he’s just so pretty.”

Robin made a small, sympathetic noise.

“So pretty,” Will continued, fingers splayed over his eyes as if shielding himself from the memory of Mike’s face. “So stupidly handsome. It’s honestly horrible.”

Robin nodded. “Devastating.”

“And he has those eyes,” Will said helplessly, dropping his hands. “You know the ones.”

“I do not,” Robin said flatly. “But go on.”

“They’re… brown, but not regular brown. They’re warm. Like… like when you shine a torch through amber and everything glows. And they’re huge. And when he looks at you it’s like he’s seeing something important, even when he’s not.”

Robin blinked. “…That’s disgustingly poetic. Are you okay?”

“No,” Will said truthfully.

He dragged both hands through his hair, exasperated. “And his stupid hair! It’s always messy but it always works. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t. And then his smile. Robin, his smile.”

Robin leaned forward. “What about his smile?”

“It ruins me,” Will whispered.

Robin bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Will ignored it.

“He smiles at me all the time,” Will went on, spiralling. “Like I’ve said something funny even when I haven’t. And then he leans in when he talks to me, and he pushes his hair back, and he gets all shy sometimes and I want to scream.”

He actually did scream - a tiny, strangled squeak smothered into his palms. It wasn’t loud, not really, more the sound of a kettle finally letting off a bit of steam before it explodes. But it felt good.

Will dragged his hands down his face, trying (and failing) not to smile like an idiot. Robin was was grinning like she’d just been given the best gossip of her life. And she kind of had. Because for the first time in what felt like years, Will was actually saying the words out loud - how he felt, what he wanted, the way Mike’s smile made something molten and terrifying and wonderful unfurl in his chest.

And it was freeing. It was so freeing.

He’d kept everything inside for so long. Years of swallowing emotions before they could slip out. Years of pretending he didn’t look too long, didn’t care too hard, didn’t love Mike Wheeler with all the quiet, aching hope of a boy who thought he’d never be allowed to say so.

He’d been convinced the truth would ruin everything. That if he spoke it, even whispered it, the whole fragile, precious thing between him and Mike would shatter.

But here, Robin just listened. She joked and nudged him and raised her eyebrows in that ridiculous way she did, but she listened. And she didn’t judge. Didn’t tell him it was wrong. Didn’t tell him to stop feeling the way he felt.

Will’s chest loosened. Actually loosened. Like he’d been carrying around a lead weight he didn’t know he could set down.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he muttered, half-horrified, half-thrilled. “Robin, I… I actually said it out loud. About Mike. About… everything.”

Robin bumped her shoulder against his. “Yeah, and shockingly, the world did not end. Proud of you, little Byers.”

Something wobbled in Will’s throat. Relief, sharp and overwhelming. He blinked hard and looked down at his hands, twisting nervously in his lap.

“It’s just…” His voice cracked, embarrassingly soft. “I’ve been holding this in for so long. And now that I’ve said it, I feel like I can… like I can breathe.”

Robin softened. Really softened, in that rare, gentle way Will had learned she saved for the people she loved most.

“That’s because you’re not alone anymore,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

Will swallowed past the lump in his throat. For a moment he thought he might cry, not the painful, lonely kind of crying he was used to, but the warm, relieved kind that came when something finally stopped hurting.

“He’s so beautiful, I might die,” Will mumbled. 

Robin patted his knee sympathetically. “Crushing is a nightmare, huh.”

“It’s torture,” Will moaned. “Pure, inescapable torture.”

Robin waited a moment. Then, “So, let me get this straight. Let’s go back to how this conversation started. You hate him because he’s… beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“And wonderfully kind?”

“Yes.”

“And he smiles at you in a way that makes your heart do stupid things?”

“Robin,” Will warned weakly.

“And he leans in close and makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room?”

Will let out a strangled noise into the hospital air.

Robin sat back. “You don’t hate him, Will. You’re, how do I put this delicately, obsessed with him.”

Will covered his face again. “I know.”

“Like, Shakespearean tragedy levels.”

Will groaned louder. “I know. I’ve known that for ages. I… Robin, I…” Will couldn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t bring himself to say out loud what he’d only admitted to himself. 

I’m in love with him.

“Look,” Robin added. “I don’t know how Mike feels about you. I don’t know if he feels the same way you do. What I do know is that that boy adores you.”

Will whipped his head up. “He… what?! No. No, he’s, he’s not-”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Will. He looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Will opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“I, he… that doesn’t, he doesn’t-”

Footsteps echoed in the hall - Mike’s footsteps, unmistakable.

Will’s breath caught.

Robin smirked. “Don’t worry, loverboy. Your secret is safe with me.”

Will straightened up so fast the chair squeaked. He attempted to look normal. Casual. Totally unstressed.

Mike appeared in the doorway, smiling the exact smile Will had been ranting about - the soft, warm one that lit his whole face.

“Hey,” Mike said. “You good?”

Will, who was absolutely not good, somehow managed, “Yeah.”

Robin mouthed, Hate him, huh?

Will kicked her ankle.

Mike blinked. “Everything okay?”

“Perfect,” Will said. And blushed. “Everything’s perfect.”

And Robin just smiled knowingly, leaning back in her chair as if settling in for what was clearly going to be a long, entertaining disaster.

******

Mike was quiet after the hospital.

Too quiet.

Will kept glancing at him as they cycled home, brows drawn together in little flickers of worry that Mike pretended he didn’t see. He couldn’t deal with those eyes right now. Not when his brain was chewing itself apart.

Because all he could think about - obsessively, repeatedly - was the hospital waiting room.

Will and Robin.

Laughing.

Smiling.

Blushing.

Will blushing.

At Robin.

Mike had known Will had a crush, obviously. Will wasn’t subtle. Will never had been. He went soft-eyed and pink-cheeked and giggly whenever Robin spoke to him, and Mike wasn’t blind - he saw it, all of it, every stupid, agonising second.

But now he was thinking… what if Robin liked him back?

Robin was cool. And clever. And funny. And older. And she and Will got along so well. Will lit up around her in this free, easy way that made Mike’s chest ache like he was swallowing glass.

What if Will liked Robin? What if Robin liked Will? What if Mike was three seconds away from losing the person he loved more than air?

He tried to breathe, but it felt tight. Sharp. 

Loved?

Mike shut that thought down so fast it almost hurt. He couldn’t think like that, not about Will. Not about his best friend. Not about a boy.

He wanted to scream. Or punch a wall. Or tear his own hair out. Anything to stop the flood of feelings that had been clawing at him for months. Because he wanted, shit, he wanted-

No.

No. He couldn’t let his brain go there. Couldn’t let himself think about the things he wanted, the things he had always wanted but refused to name. The stupid, impossible dreams he shoved down and buried every time Will looked at him with those eyes.

It had been easier when he’d still been with El. When he could redirect everything - the longing, the heat, the ache - into something safe. Into someone he genuinely cared about, even if it wasn’t the same. Even if it wasn’t the right kind of wanting.

But he and El were over now.

And they were better like this, so much better as friends, both of them relieved to stop pretending a future that didn’t fit.

Only… without her, Mike had nowhere to hide from the truth creeping into the corners of his thoughts. It was harder to stop his brain from wandering down the one path he absolutely couldn’t take.

The path that led straight to Will.

They reached his house, walked upstairs, and Mike didn’t say anything. Not even his usual sarcastic greeting to his own bedroom door. He just stepped inside the room that always felt too small when Will was in it - like the air changed, like everything pressed in warmer and closer - and he stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at the carpet like it might offer answers.

Will closed the door behind them with a soft click.

“You okay?” Will asked gently. “You’re quiet.”

Mike’s heart thudded. Shit, Will sounded so soft, like he’d happily wait forever for Mike to speak. Like he cared.

Mike swallowed hard. He didn’t look up. Couldn’t.

“Yeah,” he said, badly lying. “I just - thinking.”

Will stepped closer. Mike felt it like static under his skin. “About what? You’re dad?”

Mike’s throat worked. He tried to force something out, anything that wasn’t the truth, because the truth was: I’m jealous. I’m stupidly, ridiculously jealous and I wish you’d look at me the way you look at her.

Instead, he shook his head and muttered, “Stuff.”

“Stuff?” Will repeated, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Mike wished he’d stop smiling. Or never stop. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything except that his chest hurt and his palms were sweaty and Will was looking at him like he mattered.

Will tried again, quieter. “Mike… did something happen?”

Mike finally met his eyes. And it was a mistake.

Because Will looked worried, concerned, his brow creasing in that way that made Mike want to protect him from absolutely everything in the world, including Mike’s own feelings.

Mike breathed out shakily. “It’s nothing. Really. Just, you know. Life. People.”

Wow. Deep, Wheeler. Very articulate.

Will stepped even closer. Close enough that their elbows could brush if Mike moved a millimetre. “Mike,” he said firmly, “you can talk to me.”

Mike’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure Will could hear it.

Yeah. That’s the problem, he thought desperately. I want to talk to you. I want to tell you everything. I want to tell you that you’re the only person I think about, even when I’m trying not to. That I get jealous when you smile at anyone else. That I want you to look at me the way you looked at Robin today.

But what he said was, “…I’m just tired.”

Will studied him for a moment, eyes soft. Searching.

Then he nodded. “Okay. If you want to talk later, I’m here.”

He smiled at him - that warm, devastating, Will Byers smile - and Mike felt his stomach twist into knots.

He forced a weak smile back.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”

And he did.

That was the worst part. Will would always be there. Mike just wasn’t sure if he’d be there for Mike.

*****

Mike was being weird.

Will couldn’t pinpoint what exactly - Mike was still Mike, still lanky and dramatic and earnest - but something in the way he moved lately, the way he looked at Will, felt… different. And sure, the last eighteen months had been hell. Honestly, the last four years had been hell. Trauma upon trauma, monsters upon monsters, endless dread and waiting for the next awful thing to happen.

So maybe it made sense that Mike was acting strange now that everything was finally over. Maybe it was the relief. Maybe it was the shock of normal life returning. Maybe it was his dad still being in the hospital recovering.

Will didn’t know. He just knew something was off.

Which was why he ranted to Robin about it whenever he had the chance. She listened with that sharp-eyed, amused look she always had, asking questions, poking fun, making him think.

And then there was another thing Will couldn’t explain: Mike seemed to suddenly, silently, hate Robin. Which was weird. Very weird. Especially because Robin liked Mike, and Mike hadn’t even interacted with her much until after the whole Vecna mess was over.

But now?

Mike got stiff whenever Robin walked into a room. He scowled. He sulked. Once, he’d physically hovered between them like a guard dog.

Will thought maybe it was stress. Or exhaustion. But then Mike would look at him.

He’d look at him like that - with this softness, this intensity, this quiet want that made Will’s stomach flip and his chest go warm.

It gave him hope. Dangerous, bright hope. Hope for things Will had never allowed himself to imagine.

He kept thinking of what Robin had told him in the hospital, when he’d falsely casually brought up Vickie and how Robin had known she liked her back.

A brush of the knee. A bump of the elbow. A shared look.

Signs that someone wanted to date you. Simple as that.

But Mike had always been affectionate. Always. From the day they met on the swings. From the D&D marathons. From every sleepover. From every battle and escape and moment in between. Will had always leaned into it - absorbing every touch like a plant searching for sunlight.

Like now.

They were lying side by side on Mike’s bed, silent. A comic in each of their hands. Their shoulders pressed together, legs brushing every so often. Mike’s room was quiet except for the turning of pages and the soft hum of the desk lamp.

Their arms were touching from wrist to elbow. Their thighs pressed together every few seconds when one of them shifted. It was so natural. So easy.

But tonight, it felt different. Charged.

Will could feel Mike’s warmth everywhere they touched. Could feel Mike glance at him - quickly, then away - like he was afraid of getting caught.

And Will’s heart thudded, hope curling through his chest like smoke.

Maybe Robin was right. Maybe these weren’t just friendly signs. Maybe Mike’s weirdness, his staring, his - jealousy? - over Robin…

Maybe it meant something. Maybe it meant everything.

Will forced his eyes back to his comic, even though he hadn’t read a single panel in the last five minutes.

Beside him, Mike shifted and their hands brushed. Just barely. A spark shot through Will’s palm. Mike didn’t move away. Neither did Will.

“Hey,” Mike murmured suddenly, voice soft enough that it barely carried over the rustle of pages. “Are you actually reading that, or are you pretending?”

Will blinked, staring down at the same panel he’d been stuck on for what felt like hours.
“…Pretending,” he admitted, cheeks flushing.

Mike let out a quiet huff of laughter  and his foot nudged against Will’s. A gentle press. A warm slide. Not an accident. Definitely not an accident.

Will’s heart skittered.

“What about you?” he asked, forcing his voice to stay steady.

“Oh,” Mike said, closing his comic with one finger holding his place. “I read this issue, like… eight times. So really I’m just staring at the pictures.”

He turned his head, looking directly at Will. Close. Too close. Close enough that Will could see the tiny freckles on Mike’s nose he always pretended weren’t there.

“…Are you okay?” Mike asked, barely above a whisper. “You’ve been quiet.”

Will swallowed. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He paused. 

Mike nodded slowly like he didn’t quite believe him. Then, so casually it made Will’s breath catch, Mike shifted his hand closer. His fingertips brushed against Will’s wrist.

A second. A pause. Then Mike’s fingers stayed there.

Will felt the warmth like a brand. Was this… was this something?

“You sure?” Mike murmured.

The concern in his voice made Will’s chest ache.

Will took a breath. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“About?”

Oh, shit. Oh no. Nope.

Will forced himself to smile. “Stuff.”

Mike rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re so mysterious.”

He nudged Will’s shoulder. A soft bump, gentle, lingering. Will’s mind immediately flashed to Robin’s list: A brush of the knee. A bump of the elbow. A shared look.

And Mike’s eyes stayed on him. Warm. Open. Hopeful?

Will couldn’t be sure.

Mike shifted again, lying on his side now, facing Will fully. His knee brushed Will’s thigh and stayed there like it belonged there.

Will’s heart was going to explode.

“You don’t have to talk,” Mike said. “Just… I dunno. If something’s wrong, I wanna know.”

Will stared at him — at his earnest brown eyes, at his stupidly soft hair, at the tiny crease between his brows he only got when he was worried.

“I know,” Will whispered. “Thanks.”

“Always,” Mike said, and his fingers tapped softly against Will’s wrist. A tiny rhythm, quick and nervous.

Will felt every tap like a lightning bolt. Did it mean something? Was it just friendly? Was it just Mike being Mike?

He didn’t know. He didn’t trust himself to guess. But he wanted to lean into that touch so badly his whole body ached.

Mike’s voice came again, even softer. “I like hanging out like this.”

“Me too,” Will breathed.

Mike smiled. One of those small, private smiles he only ever showed Will.

His knee pressed in again, firmer this time. Will didn’t move away. Neither did Mike. Will didn’t know what any of it meant. But he hoped it meant something.

******

It all came to a head a few days later.

Mike had stayed after class to talk to his English teacher about an essay rewrite. Something he barely remembered now because the moment he stepped out of the building, the world stopped.

There, a few metres away by the road, stood Will.

Will, laughing at something Robin had said.

Will, tipping his head back, hair catching the late-afternoon sunlight.

Will, smiling in that bright, open way he only ever did when he felt safe.

And Robin, leaning against her bike, grinning like she had front row seats to her favourite sitcom.

Mike froze.

The sound of Will’s laugh drifted toward him, soft and warm, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. A hot, ugly coil of jealousy twisted in his stomach so abruptly he actually staggered.

What? Why was she she here? Why did she get to be the one making Will smile like that?

Robin said something else, nudging Will with her elbow, and Will shoved her back lightly, still smiling, still glowing, and Mike felt something inside him snap.

Anger - sharp, fast, ridiculous - flared through him, burning behind his ribs.

He’s mine, a voice in his head snarled before he could stop it. He’s mine to make laugh. Mine to look at like that. Mine to-

Mike’s heart lurched painfully.

What? Yours to what, exactly?

And then the thought landed. The thought he’d been skirting around for months, maybe even years. The one he’d buried under the mess of El breaking up with him, and Vecna, and the world ending, and Will nearly dying, time and time again. 

His to love.

Mike’s breath left him in one violent rush.

Love.

Holy. Shit.

He… he loved Will.

Not the way he loved Lucas or Dustin or Max. Not even the way he’d loved El - that strange, complicated, pressured kind of love that had never quite fit right on his skin.

No. This was different. This was terrifying. This was huge. This was him.

He loved Will.

He loved Will so much it made his chest ache. He loved Will so much he couldn’t think straight when he smiled or blushed or brushed his knee against Mike’s by accident - or not by accident. He loved Will so much that the idea of someone else liking him made Mike’s vision go fuzzy at the edges.

He’d known. Somewhere deep down, he’d known for a while. Every time he looked at Will and felt that flutter he pretended was nothing. Every time he imagined pulling Will closer on the couch, or wondered what it would feel like to kiss the corner of Will’s mouth. Every time he caught himself staring at Will’s hands, Will’s hair, Will’s stupidly gorgeous eyes.

But naming it… saying I’m in love with Will Byers inside his own head…

It was like stepping off a cliff with no parachute.

Someone bumped into him from behind, jolting him back to reality. He blinked, realising with horror that he was still standing halfway out the school doors, frozen and gawking like an idiot.

Will still hadn’t seen him.

Mike swallowed hard. Tried to catch his breath. Tried to shove the panic back down where it belonged.

Nothing worked.

But Will was still there, close enough that Mike could reach out and touch him if he wanted to.
Close enough that Mike could hear the soft rumble of his voice. Close enough to remind Mike exactly why everything inside him felt like it was cracking open.

Robin nudged Will’s arm again, and Will rolled his eyes affectionately before laughing again, and Mike thought he might actually pass out.

Move, Mike ordered himself. You have to move.

With legs that felt like they belonged to someone else entirely, Mike stepped forward. Slowly. Cautiously. Heart thundering so loudly he was shocked Will didn’t turn around at the sound.

He forced his feet to carry him across the pavement, toward them, toward Will. Toward the boy he’d just realised he was hopelessly, unconditionally, unbearably in love with.

And he stopped a few feet behind them, just close enough for Robin to notice him first.

Just close enough that Will was about to turn around.

Just close enough that everything was about to change.

******

Robin had been teasing Will about his feelings for Mike for the last five minutes straight. It was gentle teasing. Light, warm, the kind that made something in his chest unfurl rather than clamp down.

Will blushed at every comment, smiling helplessly at every eyebrow wiggle she sent his way.

It felt good. Shit, it felt so good. So normal. Like being allowed to have this, to feel this. Like his emotions weren’t embarrassing or pathetic or wrong. Like liking Mike - loving Mike, if he was being honest with himself, brutally, painfully honest - wasn’t some shameful secret he had to bury.

Robin bumped his shoulder with hers. “You’re obvious, you know,” she whispered, grinning. “In a cute, tragic, poetic way. Like a Victorian novel.”

He groaned, face hot, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “Shut up.”

She nudged him again, this time with more intent, her chin jerked over his shoulder. “Speaking of obvious…”

Will turned.

And there was Mike.

Mike, standing a few feet away, like he’d materialised out of thin air. Mike with red cheeks and wide, startled eyes. Mike who looked like someone had just dropped the plot twist of a lifetime on his head. He was staring at Will like… like he’d never seen him before. Or maybe like he was finally seeing something that had always been there.

Something Will had never let himself hope for.

Will blinked, breath catching in his throat. “Mike?”

Mike didn’t answer. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. He looked wrecked. In shock. Like Will had said something earth-shattering when all he’d been doing was laughing with Robin.

A tug of fear twisted under Will’s ribs. “Are you okay?”

Mike swallowed, hard. His bag strap slipped off his shoulder, dangling uselessly at his elbow, and he didn’t seem to notice. He just kept staring at Will with that dazed, almost frightened expression.

Robin glanced between them, eyebrows shooting up. “O-kay,” she whispered under her breath, stepping back like she was quietly exiting stage left.

But Will didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not with Mike looking at him like that. Not when it made a flutter of impossible hope spark to life in his chest.

“Mike?” he repeated, softer this time. “What’s wrong?”

Mike blinked, finally seeming to snap back into his own body. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m… fine. Just… long day.”

But his voice cracked on the last word.

And Will didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t know anything, except that his heart was pounding so hard he thought Mike might hear it. He didn’t know whether to reach out or stay still or run.

All he knew was that the look in Mike’s eyes wasn’t normal. It wasn’t neutral. It wasn’t friendly. It was something else entirely.

And Will was suddenly, terrifyingly aware of how close they were. How the sun caught on Mike’s hair. How his eyes were soft brown and bright at the same time. How Will never wanted to look away.

He swallowed. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, because Mike still hadn’t stopped staring.

Mike nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yep. Fine.” He dragged in a shaky breath. “Just… ready to go home.”

Will nodded, even though he didn’t believe a single word of it.

He didn’t push. He never pushed Mike.

But as he said goodbye to Robin and they started walking together, his hand brushed Mike’s - just barely.

And Mike flinched like the touch had set him on fire.

*****

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Mike was screwed.

It had only been a couple of days since he’d finally admitted it - silently, privately, in the deepest, most humiliating corner of his brain - that he was in love with Will Byers.

His best friend. His boy best friend. His boy best friend who, as far as Mike knew, had a crush on Robin of all people.

Mike didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with that information. He didn’t know how to carry it around inside him without bursting. He didn’t know how to look at Will without feeling like his skin was on too tight, or like he was going to combust if Will so much as smiled at him.

And Will had definitely noticed that something was wrong. Of course he had. Will noticed everything about him. Always had.

Even now, they sat opposite each other at the table in the basement, like always. Will sketching something in his notebook, Mike pretending to work on a new D&D campaign while really staring at the same half-finished map for the past twenty minutes.

He could feel Will glancing at him, little flickers of attention he kept pretending not to see. It was torture. Wonderful, unbearable torture.

Then, suddenly, Will’s foot nudged his under the table - light, tentative.

And Mike reacted as if Will had stuck a live wire to his leg.

He jolted back so fast his knee slammed into the underside of the table with a loud thunk.

“Shit!” he hissed, half in pain, half in pure panic. He grabbed his knee, rubbing at the throbbing spot, face burning.

Will blinked at him, startled, then frowned. “Okay… what was that about?”

“Nothing!” Mike blurted, voice embarrassingly high. “Nothing’s wrong!”

Will gave him a look. The look. The I-know-you’re-being-an-idiot look. The I-know-when-you’re-lying look. The look that had always, always managed to unravel him.

“I know you, Mike,” Will said softly, closing his sketchbook. “I know when something’s wrong.”

Mike opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He shut it again. Tried once more. Still nothing.

What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to say?

Oh, yeah, Will, everything’s fine. Except I know you like Robin, and also I know I’m a boy, but I’m completely, stupidly, hopelessly in love with you and it’s ruining my actual life. Do you maybe want to date me? And kiss me? And hold my hand? Please and thank you?

Yeah. Sure. That would go over great.

And Mike wasn’t stupid. This was Will. Impossibly kind Will. Who would no doubt feel bad that he didn’t like Mike back. Who would probably be all sympathetic and promise it was okay and try not to let Mike see him flirt with Robin so as not to upset him. Will would be so good about the whole thing and Mike would want to die. 

His throat closed up, panic buzzing under his skin like static.

Will’s expression softened. Concerned. Warm. Too warm. “Mike…” he said quietly, reaching out like he might touch his hand.

Mike snatched his hand back on instinct, knocking over his pencil in the process.

Will froze.

Mike’s heart stopped entirely. And the silence between them grew heavy, full of all the things Mike couldn’t say, and all the things Will didn’t understand yet.

Will’s voice was small when he finally spoke. “Did… did I do something wrong?”

Mike’s breath caught. “No,” he managed, too fast, too desperate. “No, Will, you didn’t do anything. It’s me. I’m just, being weird.”

Will huffed a tiny laugh. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’d noticed.”

Mike winced.

Will nudged his foot forward again, not touching this time, but close. Close enough for Mike to feel the warmth radiating from him. “You can talk to me, you know,” he said. “You always can.”

And Mike wanted to. The words were right there, pressing against his teeth, begging to be spoken.

But he swallowed them back down. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t brave enough. Not yet.

So he forced a smile - wobbly, pathetic. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m… I’m getting there.”

Will stared at him a moment longer, something like worry and something like hope flickering in his eyes.

Then he nodded and went back to his sketchbook.

But Mike didn’t move.

He just sat there, heart racing, staring at the boy he loved and wondering how much longer he could keep pretending he wasn’t completely falling apart.

*****

Will was panicking.

Not outwardly. Outwardly he was still, quiet, staring down at his sketchbook—but inside, everything was spiralling.

Because something was wrong. Mike was acting strange - stranger than usual - and Will couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t piece it together, couldn’t make sense of the sudden flinches, the jerky movements, the way Mike practically leapt backwards at the slightest touch.

And Will had a horrible thought. A cold, nauseating one.

Maybe Mike had noticed.

Noticed the staring. The blushing. The lingering. Noticed all the feelings Will had been trying, and failing, to hide.

Maybe Mike had figured it out. Maybe that was why he looked so uncomfortable. Why he wouldn’t meet Will’s eyes. Why he kept pulling away like Will was… contaminating him.

Will swallowed hard, forcing his gaze back onto the half-finished drawing in front of him. His pencil hovered above the page. His hand wasn’t steady anymore. He felt exposed, raw. Like Mike had peeled him open and then recoiled from what he found inside.

He tried to breathe normally. Tried not to let his face show anything. Tried to pretend that everything was fine.

But he could feel Mike glancing at him the way you glance at something you don’t understand, something that maybe scares you a little. Will’s chest squeezed painfully.

He shifted back in his seat, putting a little space between them, just in case that was what Mike wanted. Just in case the closeness had been the problem all along.

Will’s fingers tightened around his pencil.

You’re being stupid, he told himself. Just focus. Draw. Don’t look at him. Don’t make it worse.

The lines on the page blurred. He blinked hard. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, drowning out everything else.

Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.

He looked at his sketch - some forest scene he’d started earlier - but the shape of the trees no longer registered. It was just dark lines and smudged shading and a reminder that his hands were shaking.

He dared a tiny glance up.

Mike wasn’t working on his campaign map anymore. He was staring at the table, jaw tight, brow furrowed like he was in pain. Like he was fighting with himself.

Will’s stomach twisted.

He looked away quickly.

He knows. He knows and he hates it and now you’ve ruined everything.

The thought hit him like a blow, knocking the air from his lungs.

He curled inward, trying to make himself smaller. Trying to disappear into the drawing he could no longer see. Trying not to feel the ache building in his chest.

He didn’t know how to ask Mike if he’d done something wrong. He didn’t know how to fix whatever this was without revealing every secret he’d buried.

So he just sat there, quiet and still, praying Mike couldn’t hear how hard his heart was beating.

But after a few more minutes, Will couldn’t take it anymore.

The silence. The tension. The feeling that Mike was slipping away from him, inch by inch.

It pressed down on him until his chest felt too tight, until his breath came too shallow, until his pencil snapped between his fingers with a tiny crack.

Mike’s head jerked up at the sound.

“Will?” he asked softly. “Hey, are you-?”

“I’m sorry!” Will blurted.

Mike froze.

Will clutched the broken pencil like it might hold him together. “I’m sorry I… I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or if you don’t want me to,  to touch you, or sit next to you anymore, or… or if you don’t want to hang out as much-”

“Will, what-?”

“And I know I’m weird sometimes,” Will rushed on, voice cracking. “And I know I get… clingy, and emotional, and-”

“Will.” Mike’s chair scraped loudly across the floor as he pushed it back. “What are you talking about?”

Will kept going, unable to stop the words falling out of him. “I’ll stop, okay? I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. Just… just don’t look at me like that. Like you’re scared of me. Like you’re trying to get away.”

Mike stared at him, stunned.

“I’m not,” Mike whispered, voice rough. “Will, I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me.”

That made Will finally look up.

Mike’s eyes were wide and shining, like he was standing on the edge of something huge and terrifying.

And then Mike whispered, “I’m scared because… every time you look at me, I want to,” He broke off, shaking his head. His voice trembled. “I want to touch you. All the time. And I don’t know how to stop.”

Will’s breath caught.

Mike pressed a shaking hand to his forehead. “I… I’m scared of me. Because I…” Mike looked at him, eyes wide and lips trembling. “I love you. So much. And it terrifies me.”

Will’s heart flew to his throat. “Mike…”

Mike looked down, fingers tugging at the edge of his jumper. “I don’t expect you to love me back. Okay? I know… I know it’s…” he sighed heavily. “I just…”

“I do,” Will said. Barely a whisper. “I do, Mike. I… I do.”

Mike’s head snapped up.

Will’s hands were shaking so badly he had to grip the edge of the table. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to ruin everything. But I… I love you. I’ve loved you forever, I think, and I was trying to hide it, but I can’t, I can’t pretend I don’t anymore.”

Silence. One breath. Two.

Then Mike let out a strangled sound and stood so fast his chair toppled over. He crossed the small space between them in three steps.

He cupped Will’s face in both hands like he’d been dying to do it. His thumbs trembled against Will’s cheeks. His breath shook.

“Will,” Mike whispered, forehead pressing to Will’s. “I love you.”

Will felt something inside him crumble, then rebuild itself all at once. His eyes stung. His breath hitched.

“Mike-”

“I love you,” Mike said again, firmer this time, like he needed it on record. Like it was the truest thing he’d ever said. “I love you so much it’s been driving me insane.”

Will’s hands came up, grabbing gently at Mike’s wrists, grounding himself. “Mike,” he breathed, dizzy with joy.

Mike was shaking and smiling through it, and Will didn’t know who leaned in first, but then they were kissing.

Not perfect. Not smooth. The angle was awkward - Mike standing and Will still sat down. Their noses bumped and Will’s hand knocked over the pencil tin, but Mike’s lips were warm and soft and desperate, and Will kissed back with everything he had.

After a few seconds of kissing at that uncomfortable angle, Mike let out a frustrated little groan and tugged Will up with him. Will went easily, eagerly, his hands finding Mike’s collar, pulling him in. Mike tilted his head, adjusting the angle, and the kiss deepened instantly, turning warm and urgent.

Will’s fingers slid up into Mike’s hair - Mike’s stupid, soft, perfect hair that he’d imagined touching a thousand times - and he gave a gentle tug. Mike gasped, a quiet, helpless sound, and pushed even closer, like he never wanted to stop.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, both smiling, both looking at each other like their whole world had rearranged itself in the best possible way.

Mike laughed, shaky and disbelieving. “You love me.”

Will grinned, cheeks flushed. “Yeah. I do.”

Mike kissed him again. 

*****

Mike was in heaven.

He was kissing a boy.

No, he was kissing Will. Will.

It was messy and perfect and a little desperate, and Mike never wanted it to end. He was dizzy with it. Dizzy with want, with relief, with the fierce, aching desire that had been clawing him apart for months. He wanted to devour Will whole, keep him close, make him his. Make it so Will never wanted anyone else again. Never wanted-

Robin.

Robin, who Will laughed with, smiled at, blushed around.

Mike jerked back like he’d been slapped.

“What about Robin?” he blurted, breathless.

Will blinked slowly, dazed, pupils blown wide, his cheeks flushed pink, hair mussed, lips wet and swollen. Mike’s brain promptly short-circuited. Will looked so beautiful Mike genuinely thought he might pass out.

“Robin?” Will repeated, startled, his hands sliding from Mike’s hair to his shoulders, steadying him.

“You… your crush on her?” Mike managed, heart thundering. “You’re always laughing and blushing and… and…”

Will stared at him for a beat. Then he dissolved, absolutely dissolved, into laughter. Bright, startled, delighted laughter that hit Mike square in the chest.

“My crush?” Will gasped, giggling.

Mike frowned, confused and helpless and very much in love.

Will grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. “Mike. Oh my gosh. I love you. Robin knows I like you. She’s been teasing me about you, you absolute idiot.”

Oh.

Oh.

Something warm and explosive unfurled in Mike’s ribs. “Oh,” he whispered.

Will tugged him closer by the collar.

They crashed together again, kissing hard, breathless and clumsy and perfect.

“I love you,” Will giggled against Mike’s lips. 

And Mike didn’t think he’d ever feel happier than he did at that moment. 

“I love you, too.”

*******

Mike walked into the WSQK radio station to meet Will. His boyfriend.

Will was his boyfriend.

Mike had been smiling since he left the house, he was smiling as he crossed the car park, he was smiling as he pushed open the door. He honestly wasn’t sure the grin had left his face since Will had kissed him breathless in his basement two nights ago.

He stepped into the recording room and found Will and Robin laughing together, heads close, shoulders knocking. No one else was around - just them, sunlight through the dusty windows, and Robin waving her hands as she told some dramatic story.

Mike knew Will didn’t have a crush on her. He knew that. Still, a tiny flicker of jealousy curled in his stomach. And something else - warm, fierce possessiveness that he didn’t even try to hide.

Robin knew about Will. And Will, after asking Mike if it was okay, had told Robin about them. That they were together. That they were in love. 

So Mike didn’t hesitate.

He walked straight across the room, slid his arms around Will from behind, and pulled him back against his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Will’s neck, right where Will had always gotten his Upside Down related feelings - and then rested his chin on Will’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Mike murmured, voice low and warm.

Will froze for half a second, and then his entire body melted. Muscles uncoiled, shoulders softened, and he leaned fully, completely, into Mike’s arms with a tiny breathy sound Mike felt more than heard.

“Hey,” Will echoed, shy and glowing and perfect.

Mike nuzzled closer, unable to help himself, and pressed the softest kiss to the warm skin of Will’s throat. Will shivered, just slightly, just enough for Mike to feel it, and Mike’s heart stumbled in his chest. Shit, it felt good. Better than good. It felt right in a way that made something deep inside him loosen, made everything else fade until the only thing that mattered was Will in his arms.

He had always loved touching Will, even before he’d allowed himself to understand why. Small things. Bumping shoulders, leaning close during campaigns, brushing knees under desks, they had always been second nature. But now he didn’t have to hide it, didn’t have to pretend it didn’t mean anything. Here, in this small room with Will pressed against him and Robin the only other person who knew, he could be freer. Softer. Braver.

He sighed happily and gave Will a gentle squeeze, not possessive, just grounding, just I’m here, I love you, I’ve got you. Will relaxed even further, curling into him, and slid his hands over Mike’s where they rested on his stomach. Their fingers intertwined without effort. Will hummed contentedly, a quiet, pleased sound that vibrated through Mike’s chest and made him want to hold him even tighter.

Robin threw her hands up. “Holy fucking shit, thank you for finally snogging each other senseless, because I swear, for a while there, I was going to lose my mind. Like, actually, I was going insane. Do you know how long I’ve had to listen to Will sigh dramatically and pine like some Victorian romance novel? And Mike? You have this pathetic, puppy dog stare. And the jealousy? Not cool, man, but also, so adorable. Like, the anger in your eyes whenever I get near Will? You are so gone on each other. If I had to hear one more ‘he’s so pretty and his hair and his eyes, I’m in love”’ from you-”

Mike kissed Will’s cheek just because he could. Just because he wanted to. Because Will’s face was turning red with Robin’s ramblings and Mike wanted to smother this beautiful boy in love and kisses forever. Mike pressed another kiss to Will’s cheek to stop himself from grinning too hard. Will giggled. Actually giggled. Mike squeezed him tighter.

I love you. I love you, I love you. 

Robin kept going, undeterred. “And now you’re cuddly. Look at this. This is disgusting. I’m really happy for you both but also, gross. Revolting. I’m going to get a cavity from all this sweetness.”

Will laughed again, soft and bright, and turned his face slightly so Mike could nuzzle his cheek properly. Mike didn’t care how ridiculous he looked. He was holding Will. He could do this forever.

Robin groaned dramatically, but she was smiling. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds before you start making heart eyes at each other again. Honestly. I need to go bleach my brain.”

She wandered off, muttering, while Mike stayed where he was, arms wrapped securely around Will, chin tucked into his shoulder, breathing him in.

Will let go of Mike only long enough to turn around, stepping out of his arms for a fraction of a second, but the moment Mike’s hands fell empty, he felt a ridiculous spike of panic. He opened his mouth to complain, to whine, to say something terribly undignified like come back…

But Will was already moving, facing him again, eyes warm and bright, cheeks flushed pink. Before Mike could even breathe, Will reached out and tugged him in by the front of his jacket, pulling him close with the kind of certainty that made Mike’s knees go weak. Will wrapped both arms around him in a full, tight hug, the kind that made Mike feel like he was being held together.

Mike melted instantly, arms sliding around Will’s waist, gripping him back like it was instinct. Like it was easy. Like he’d been waiting his whole life to hold him exactly like this.

“Hi,” Will whispered again, softer this time, like the word was meant only for Mike.

Mike let out a shaky laugh, unable to stop the way his hands skimmed up Will’s back, unable to stop the warmth blooming in his chest. He leaned in, just a tilt forward, an angle he knew by heart, and pressed his lips to Will’s. A soft kiss, slow and lingering, their mouths moving gently together. Just a moment. Just enough to make Mike feel like the world had narrowed to the space between them. Enough to make Will sigh against his lips and tug him closer still.

When they parted, Mike’s breath hitched. He rested his forehead against Will’s, their noses brushing, their breath mingling in the few inches of air between them. Will’s eyes fluttered shut, and Mike couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth.

“I love you so much,” Mike whispered, the words tumbling out - uneven, earnest, reverent. Like a confession and a promise and a prayer all at once.

Will’s eyes opened. Mike had seen him smile countless times. Small smiles, nervous smiles, hopeful smiles. But this grin… this one was huge and bright and unrestrained, like Will had finally let go of every fear he’d ever carried. It was radiant. Beautiful. It was Will, happy.

And it hit Mike so sharply he almost laughed at the force of it: I get to make him look like that.

“I love you, too,” Will said, voice steady, sure, glowing.

Mike pulled him in again, burying his face briefly in Will’s shoulder, laughing quietly in pure disbelief and joy. Will wrapped his arms tighter around him, swaying them a little, like neither of them was ready to let go. Not now, not ever.

Outside the window, the lights of Hawkins flickered in their usual, ordinary way. Cars hummed down the nearby street. The everyday world carried on, blissfully unaware that everything had changed.

But inside the room, held safely in each other’s arms, Mike and Will stood in the quiet warmth of something new, something precious and steady and finally, finally theirs.

And for the first time in years, the world felt perfectly, wonderfully right.