Chapter Text
The snow had finally eased enough for them to go outside without being swallowed whole by it. The trees were still heavy with white, the ground still partially buried under a thick layer of snow, but the blizzard had passed and left behind a world that looked like it had been dipped in icing sugar.
School was, thankfully, still cancelled. Will’s mom didn’t think they’d go back this term, with the holidays so soon anyways.
Which meant that Mike and Will were trudging through the woods on their way to Hopper’s cabin to visit El, boots sinking deep into untouched snow.
They’d left their bikes at home. Even Mike Wheeler’s stubbornness wasn’t enough to get them through drifts this thick. Instead they walked side by side, breath puffing in little clouds, scarves wrapped up to their noses. The forest was quiet in that beautiful winter way, everything muffled, soft, as though the world had lowered its voice.
They were deep in the trees, no one in sight, when Mike reached out.
No hesitation. No checking. Just… reached for Will’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Will’s heart gave one of those dangerous swoops. He tried, truly tried, to keep his smile small. Failed completely.
“Hi,” he said, which was ridiculous, because they’d been walking together for twenty minutes.
Mike beamed anyway. “Hi.”
They walked like that, hand in hand, gloved palms nestled together against the cold air, boots crunching rhythmically in the snow. Every few steps Mike would swing their hands just slightly, like he couldn’t hold still from happiness, and Will felt fizzy inside. Light and fluttery and embarrassingly gooey.
After a minute, Mike nudged him with his shoulder. “Remember when we were like… eight? And you tried to make a snow fort, but the roof collapsed on you and you started yelling that you were trapped in an ice tomb?”
Will let out a shocked laugh. “Oh my gosh, Mike, you promised you’d never bring that up.”
“I promised nothing,” Mike said proudly. “And you looked like a very dramatic baby seal. You were flapping your arms.”
“I was trying to dig myself out!”
“Uh-huh,” Mike said, nudging him again. “Very flappy.”
Will rolled his eyes, but his cheeks hurt from smiling. “Well at least I didn’t try to ski down the driveway and faceplant into the front door.”
“That was a tactical experiment!”
“You broke your wrist.”
“Still tactical.”
Will laughed, breath fogging the air, warmth blooming through him that had nothing to do with the layers he was wearing.
They kept walking until Mike abruptly stopped. Will blinked up at him. “What?”
Mike grinned, boyish and mischievous and impossibly fond. “We should build a snowman.”
“Right here?” Will asked, glancing around the middle of the woods.
“Yes,” Mike said, completely serious. “Right here. In the wilderness. A majestic snowman. A pioneer.”
Will snorted and then Mike tugged at his hand, pulling him into a little open patch beneath the trees where the snow was piled thick and powdery.
And just like that, they were both dropping to their knees in the snow, the cold and damp seeping through their jeans while they laughed like little kids. Will scooped up handfuls of snow, shaping it between his palms until it started to stick, and Mike did the same, though his first attempt immediately crumbled apart.
Mike groaned dramatically. “Why does yours look like a snowball and mine looks like… mashed potato?”
Will snorted. “Because you’re doing it wrong.”
“Oh, I’m doing it wrong? Alright, William, show me the proper snow technique.”
Will rolled his eyes, grinning, and reached for Mike’s wreck of a snowball. Their gloved fingers brushed and Mike smiled like that tiny touch mattered.
“It’s all about pressure,” Will said, pretending he wasn’t flustered. “You can’t squeeze too hard. Just… gently shape it.”
Mike raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. “Squeeze. Gently. Got it.”
Will choked on the icy air and Mike patted him on the back while laughing hysterically.
Mike tried to make the snowball again. This time the snow clung together better, forming something more snowball-like. Mike lit up. “Ha! Did you see that? I’m basically a professional now.”
Will laughed, the kind of laugh that made his whole face warm despite the cold. “Sure, Mike. You can put that on your CV.”
“Oh, I will,” Mike said, solemnly. “Skills, saving the world and snowball craftsmanship.”
They kept at it, their movements easy, playful, bumping elbows as they worked. Will rolled his finished sphere farther through the snow until it was big and heavy, big enough to be the base of their snowman. Mike cheered him on like he was pushing a boulder up a hill.
“Look at that! Look at you!” Mike announced loudly, as if anyone besides the trees could hear. “That is the best snowman that has ever been made.”
Will shoved the snowball into place. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
And Will didn’t. Not even a little.
Mike crouched beside him to start the middle section. Their gloves were soaked by now and they were cold and shivering, but Will also couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t care about the cold. Didn’t have a knee jerk reaction to it, didn’t feel consumed by memories or fear. Will felt happy. Ridiculously, indescribably happy.
When he lifted more snow onto the snowman, he accidentally bumped into Mike. Mike slipped, landing on his elbows in the snow. Will burst into laughter, and Mike shoved snow at him in retaliation, which only made Will laugh harder.
By the time the middle and top pieces were stacked, the snowman was crooked, lumpy, and absolutely perfect. It was also missing a face.
Mike stepped back and admired it with his hands on his hips. “He’s beautiful,” he declared. “Like a Picasso painting. Slightly wrong in every way, and yet… a masterpiece.”
Will nudged him with his shoulder. “You’re comparing our snowman to a Picasso?”
Mike turned to him with a grin so bright it made something warm bloom in Will’s chest. “Well, yeah. We made him together.”
Will felt that. Felt it deeply, quietly, in a place inside him he didn’t always let people see. Mike noticed that too, because he always noticed, and his grin softened into something gentler. Something that made Will’s breath catch.
They stood there for a few seconds, admiring their crooked creation, snowflakes catching on their eyelashes and jackets. Mike shifted closer, their arms brushing, and neither of them leaned away.
“Come on,” Mike said, eventually. “We should get to El’s.”
Will nodded. They turned to walk when Will accidentally bumped into Mike and he slipped on the icy snow. Mike yelped, nearly fell, and Will grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him upright and suddenly they were close, stray flakes of snow falling softly around them, breaths mingling in the cold air.
Mike’s nose was pink. His curls that peaked out from under his hat were dusted with snowflakes. His eyes so full of warmth Will felt like he could melt straight through his boots.
“Hi,” Mike whispered, still smiling.
Will squeezed his arm. “Hi.”
They didn’t speak after that. They just… stayed there, standing in the middle of the woods, snow drifting lazily around them, Will’s hand still on Mike’s elbow. Will felt his heartbeat climb into his throat. Mike was looking at him like he was something precious, something fragile and brilliant all at once, and Will didn’t know how he was supposed to stay upright under that kind of gaze.
He licked his chapped lips without thinking.
Mike’s eyes flicked down - quick, instinctive, longing - and then back up again. His breath hitched. His cheeks flushed pinker than the cold alone could manage.
The question was written all over his face. Soft. Hopeful. Terrified. Wanting.
Will nodded. A tiny, helpless movement. Barely more than a breath. He felt like every part of him was trembling, vibrating with something overwhelming and wonderful.
And then… Will leant forward. Mike dipped his head. The world held its breath.
Their lips met in the gentlest brush. Soft, shy, impossibly sweet. A featherlight kiss, like they were both afraid to press too hard and break the moment. Will felt everything inside him melt. Mike tasted like cold air and warmth all at once, like home.
Mike pulled back after a second. Not far, just an inch, just enough for their icy cold noses to still be touching. His eyes opened slowly, dazed and shining, and the smile that spread across his face made Will’s chest ache.
He looked so happy. So beautiful. Will ached with it. He stared into Mike's eyes, framed by those ridiculously pretty eyelashes. He'd kissed Mike. Mike. Something inside Will’s chest collapsed in the most wonderful way. He let out a breath that sounded a little like a laugh, grabbed fistfuls of Mike’s coat, and tugged him closer. So, so close.
Mike gasped and went willingly, hands sliding to rest around Will’s waist. Warm. Steady. Certain. Mike held him like he’d been waiting years for permission, like this was something his body already knew how to do. Will felt it in the way Mike’s fingers curved into the fabric of his coat, anchoring him there, keeping him close.
“Will,” Mike whimpered, lips brushing Will’s as he spoke. “Will. Please.”
Please.
Will kissed him again. Firmer this time. Surer. The nerves were still there, bright and fluttering and breathless, but beneath them was something warm and steady, something that felt achingly familiar. Like coming home after a long, long time away.
Mike responded instantly, like he’d been waiting for it, kissing Will back without a second of hesitation. He leaned into the touch, hands gentle but certain, like this was exactly where he belonged. Like here, with Will, was where he was meant to be.
It was soft and sweet and overwhelming all at once. Every brush of lips sent warmth blooming through Will’s chest, spreading until he thought he might burst with it. He clung to Mike, heart pounding, utterly undone.
Kissing Mike felt unreal. Perfect. Like heaven, like something Will had been dreaming about his whole life and it had finally, impossibly, come true. Because it had. He'd wanted this for years. He'd thought about kissing Mike, absently, half aware of it, since he was 11 years old. And now, now he was kissing Mike Wheeler in the winter snow and Will didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky.
Their mouths moved together, slow and unhurried, learning each other. Mike smiled against Will’s lips, a soft, breathless thing that made Will’s heart stutter. Their breaths mingled in the cold winter air, warm between them, and Will swore he could feel the smile all the way through his chest.
Mike let out a quiet, content sound, barely more than a hum, and tightened his hold just a fraction, pressing them closer. Will melted into it, into him, one hand sliding up to rest against Mike’s shoulder, the other stayed gripping lightly to Mike's coat like he was afraid to let go.
For a moment, the world narrowed to this. To the press of Mike’s hands, the softness of his mouth, the dizzy, glowing certainty that this, this, was real.
Snow fell around them. The woods stayed silent. And winter had never been so beautiful, had never felt so much like home.
And for a little while, it felt like the whole world had been reduced to this. Will Byers kissing Mike Wheeler in the middle of a winter forest, both of them finally, blissfully, unbelievably happy.