Chapter Text
The Monday after the Snowball, Will walked through the halls of Hawkins High with his head down and his walls firmly back in place. People whispered as he passed. He could hear fragments of conversation, his name mixed with Mike's, speculation about what had really happened.
Will kept walking, didn't acknowledge any of it. He went to his classes, took notes, and avoided eye contact with everyone. When lunch came, he went to the art room instead of the cafeteria. Mr. Bolton looked up when Will entered but didn't ask questions, just gestured to Will's usual spot by the window.
Will sat down and pulled out his sketchbook, trying to lose himself in drawing. But his hand wouldn't cooperate. Every line came out wrong, harsh and angry. He ended up filling pages with aggressive scribbles, dark storms of graphite that matched his emotional state.
"Will?" Mr. Bolton's voice cut through his spiral. "You okay, kid?"
"I'm fine," Will said automatically.
"You've been drawing the same angry scribble for ten minutes. That doesn't seem fine."
Will looked down at his page. A tornado of dark lines littered the page, chaotic and painful. "I guess I'm having a bad day."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
Mr. Bolton nodded and went back to his own work, giving Will the space he needed. Will was grateful for that. Grateful for the silence, for a place where no one was whispering about him, for the ability to just exist without explanation.
His phone buzzed. A text from Max.
I know you probably don't want to hear from any of us. What happened wasn't okay, and you have every right to be pissed at all of us. But I love you, and I’m so sorry, and I will be here for you if you do want to talk.
Will appreciated the sentiment, but he didn't respond. He wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet. Wasn't ready to face his friends who'd all apparently known about the arrangement and hadn't told him.
How many people had been in on it? Had they all sat around and laughed about poor, clueless Will? Had it been entertaining, watching him fall for Mike while knowing it was all fake?
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Will gathered his things and headed to his next class, already dreading the whispers that would follow him.
The days blurred together. Will went to school, came home, did his homework, and avoided everyone. El tried to talk to him multiple times, but Will couldn't bring himself to listen. Every time he looked at his sister, all he could see was her betrayal.
Mike kept his distance like Will had demanded. They passed each other in the halls sometimes, and Mike would look at him with such raw pain in his eyes that Will had to look away. But Mike never approached him, never tried to talk to him, never did anything except honor Will's request.
Which somehow made everything worse.
By the time Thanksgiving break arrived, Will was exhausted. Exhausted from pretending to be okay, exhausted from the constant ache in his chest, exhausted from missing someone he was supposed to hate.
Jonathan's car pulled into the driveway around three in the afternoon the day before Thanksgiving. Will watched from his bedroom window as his older brother climbed out, stretching after the long drive from NYU.
Will hadn't told Jonathan what happened. Couldn't bring himself to say the words over the phone. But he knew he'd have to tell him eventually. Jonathan had always been good at reading Will, at knowing when something was wrong. He'd figure it out within the first five minutes.
Sure enough, when Will came downstairs to greet him, Jonathan took one look at him and said, "What happened?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"You look like you haven't slept in a week. What's going on?"
Hopper, who'd been unusually quiet all week, said, "Maybe you boys should talk. Upstairs. Now."
Jonathan looked between them, confused and concerned, but nodded. "Come on, Will. Let's go to your room."
They settled in Will's room, Jonathan in the desk chair, Will on his bed. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Jonathan said, gently, "Talk to me."
And Will did. He told Jonathan everything. About Mike, about El, about the arrangement, about falling in love, about the Snowball, and the horrible, crushing weight of betrayal. By the end, he was crying, and Jonathan had moved to sit beside him on the bed, arm around his shoulders.
"I'm so sorry, Will," Jonathan said quietly. "That's... that's really fucked up."
"I was so stupid. I should have known it was too good to be true."
"Hey, don't talk about yourself like that. There are plenty of reasons someone would want to date you. You're smart and talented and kind–"
"And apparently so pathetic that my own sister had to pay someone to take me out."
Jonathan was quiet for a moment. "I don't think El was trying to hurt you. I think she was just... desperate. And thoughtless. But not malicious."
"Does that make it better?"
"No. But it might make it forgivable. Eventually."
Will pulled away from his brother. "How am I supposed to forgive her? She lied to me for months. She watched me fall in love with Mike knowing that the whole thing started as a transaction."
"She did it because Dad's rule was unfair. Because she wanted to date Dustin and couldn't unless you were dating someone first." Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not defending what she did. It was wrong. But Will, the question isn't whether what El did was wrong. The question is whether you can forgive her. Whether your relationship with your sister is worth salvaging."
Will thought about El. About growing up together, about teaching her how to paint on a canvas, and her teaching him how to paint on his face with makeup. He thought about the way they always defended each other against bullies, about how she'd been the first person he'd come out to and had accepted him without hesitation. They were twins. The closest bond that either of them had.
"I don't know if I can forgive her yet," Will said finally. "But I also don't want to lose her. She's my sister."
"Then tell her that. Tell her you're hurt, that you need time, but that eventually you'll work through it. Because Will, you will work through it. You're stronger than you think."
"What about Mike?"
Jonathan was quiet for a long moment. "Do you still have feelings for him?"
"...Yes," Will whispered, not even needing to give it a second thought. "I wish I didn't, but I do. When I see him in the hallway, my heart still does that stupid thing where it speeds up. When I think about him, I still–" He broke off, frustrated with himself.
"Do you think his feelings were real? By the end?"
"I don't know. He said they were, but how am I supposed to trust that? How do I know when the transaction ended and the real feelings began? Or if they ever did?"
"You'd have to ask him. Have a real conversation. Let him explain."
"I'm not ready for that."
"I know. But eventually, you're going to have to decide. Is what you had with Mike worth fighting for? Even if it started wrong, did it become something real? Is it something worth saving?"
Will didn't have an answer to that. He fell asleep that night with Jonathan's words echoing in his head, wondering if he'd ever be brave enough to find out.
Thursday, November 27th - Thanksgiving Day
Will found El in her room, before dinner. She was standing at her vanity doing her makeup, some '90s romcom playing on her TV in the background. She was wearing a classy brown-knit sweater and white pants, her hair styled neatly in a half-up bun. She looked nice. This was their tradition after all. Joyce always wanted the family to dress nicely for holidays, even if they had nowhere to go, and Hopper had insisted on keeping that tradition around after her passing.
Will was also wearing a brown sweater, and even in his hurt, he found it amusing how they were still so in sync with each other, even when they weren’t speaking.
"Will," El breathed, spotting him in her mirror.
"Jonathan said I should talk to you."
She nodded, sitting at her vanity stool, directing her full attention to Will. "Okay. I'm listening."
Will sat on the edge of her bed, keeping some distance between them. "I need you to explain it to me. From the beginning. Why did you do it?"
El took a shaky breath. "It started with Dad's stupid rule. I was so frustrated that I couldn't date because you weren't dating. And I knew you weren't dating because you were scared. And I thought if I could just get you to give someone a chance, you'd see that it could be good. That being out could be okay."
"So you decided to pay someone to date me?"
"I know how it sounds. Believe me, I know. But at the time, it seemed like the only option. You weren't going to ask anyone out on your own. And Mike seemed perfect. He was already out, and didn’t care what anyone thought about it. I thought he could help you feel safe." El's voice cracked. "I thought I was helping. I thought if I could just get you two together, you'd both be happy and it would all work out."
"And it never occurred to you that I might want to make that decision for myself?"
"It did. Of course it did. But I was so focused on the end goal: you being happy, me being able to date Dustin. I convinced myself the means didn't matter." El looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. "I was selfish. It was manipulative. I took away your choice because I thought I knew better. And I'm so, so sorry, Will."
Will felt his own eyes burning. "You paid him. You paid someone to pretend to care about me. Do you have any idea how that feels?"
"It wasn't like that. Mike's feelings were real, Will. I saw the way he looked at you. That wasn't fake."
"Then he should have told me."
"You're right. He should have. We both should have." El sighed. "I know I can't undo what I did. I know I betrayed your trust in the worst possible way. But Will, you’re my best friend. And I love you more than anything in the world. I would do anything to fix it."
Will was quiet for a long moment, just looking at his sister. At the guilt and pain and love written all over her face.
"I forgive you," Will said quietly, surprising himself. "I'm still hurt, and I'm still angry, and it's going to take time to fully trust you again. But El, you're my sister. And I love you. Even when you do incredibly stupid things."
El let out a sob and launched herself at Will, throwing her arms around him. Will hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a long time, both crying, both holding on to each other like lifelines.
"I'm so sorry," El kept repeating. "I'm so, so sorry."
"I know," Will said. "I know you are."
It wasn't perfect. The hurt was still there, the betrayal still fresh. But it was a start. And sometimes, that's all you could ask for.
Sunday, November 30th
Will was in his room doing homework when Hopper knocked on his door.
"Will? Can you come downstairs for a minute?"
"Is everything okay?"
"Just come down."
Will found Hopper, El, and Jonathan all standing in the kitchen, looking at him with strange expressions.
"What's going on?" Will asked nervously.
"This came in the mail today," Hopper said, holding up a large envelope. "From Rhode Island School of Design."
Will's heart stopped. He'd applied to RISD months ago, one of the most prestigious art schools in the country, his dream school, but he'd been so consumed with the Mike situation that he'd forgotten the decision letters were supposed to come in early December.
"Is it–" he couldn't finish the question.
"I don't know. It's addressed to you. But it's thick, which is usually a good sign."
With shaking hands, Will took the envelope. His name was printed on the front in elegant script: William Byers. The return address read Rhode Island School of Design, Office of Admissions.
He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. His eyes scanned the first line:
Dear Mr. Byers, We are pleased to inform you...
"I got in," Will breathed. "I got in!"
El squealed and threw her arms around him. Jonathan was grinning, clapping him on the back. Hopper pulled him into a crushing hug, his eyes suspiciously wet.
"I'm so proud of you, kid," Hopper said. "Your mom would be so proud."
Will felt tears streaming down his face. Happy tears. Tears of relief and joy and disbelief. He'd gotten into his dream school.
"There's a scholarship offer too," Will said, reading further. "Full tuition for four years based on my portfolio."
"That's incredible!" Jonathan said. "Will, do you know how competitive that program is? They accept like fifty students a year from thousands of applicants."
"You deserve it," El said, squeezing his hand. "You're so talented, Will. They'd be crazy not to want you."
They spent the rest of the evening celebrating. Hopper ordered pizza, Jonathan made popcorn, and they all cozied up on the couch together, watching movies and catching up on life. For a few hours, Will forgot about Mike and the betrayal and the heartbreak. He just let himself be happy.
Later that night, El texted Mike: Will got into his dream school, RISD. Full scholarship. Thought you should know.
Mike's response came immediately: That's amazing. Tell him I'm proud of him.
You should tell him yourself.
He doesn't want to hear from me.
Maybe he does. Maybe he just doesn't know it yet.
Mike didn't respond after that, but El knew he'd seen the message. She hoped desperately that it would be enough to make him try one more time.
Monday, December 1st - Sonnet Presentations
Mike sat in the back of Mrs. O'Donnell's English class, his stomach churning with anxiety. Today was the day their sonnets were due, and although he had no plans on presenting it, he'd spent the week writing and rewriting his poem a dozen times. But nothing felt right. How could he put into words what he felt? How could he explain the hurt and the guilt after hurting someone you love so badly?
Love.
And that was another new emotion that Mike had never felt before, save for his family. And he couldn’t even tell anyone about it.
Will sat near the front, his usual spot by the window. They hadn't spoken since the Snowball. Mike had kept his distance like Will wanted, even though it was killing him. But he couldn't stop watching Will, couldn't stop noticing everything about him, and not being able to do anything about it.
Mrs. O'Donnell called for any brave volunteers to present. Unsurprisingly, the class stayed silent, everyone looking around at each other awkwardly. Mrs. O’Donnell let out an audible sigh.
Then Will raised his hand.
"Will! Wonderful!" Mrs. O'Donnell said, looking pleased. "Come on up."
Will walked to the front of the classroom, a single piece of paper in his hand. He looked nervous, his hands shaking slightly as he unfolded the paper. Mike sat up straighter, every nerve in his body on high alert.
"I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare."
Mike's breath caught. This was about him. Every word was about him.
"I hate your big dumb combat boots, And the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, It even makes me rhyme."
Will gave an annoyed chuckle on the last line. Mike gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white.
"I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry."
Tears began streaming down Will's face now, but he kept reading, his voice growing stronger even as it shook and cracked with emotion.
"I hate it when you're not around, And the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all."
Will looked up, his eyes finding Mike's across the room. Mike was crying too, silent tears streaming down his face, his hand pressed against his mouth.
The classroom was completely silent. Will's paper fluttered in his shaking hands. Then, without warning, he crumpled it up, dropped it on Mrs. O'Donnell's desk, and ran out of the classroom.
When the final bell rang, Will felt like he couldn’t escape school fast enough. He had spent the remainder of sixth period in the bathroom, not wanting to face anybody after his meltdown, and not caring about the consequences that would inevitably come from skipping class.
His car was parked in its usual spot, and at first, Will didn't notice anything unusual. But as he got closer, he saw something on his driver's seat, visible through the window.
A large, expensive-looking sketchbook bound in dark green leather. And next to it, a set of professional-grade watercolor paints.
The same ones he'd admired at Melvald's months ago, the ones he'd wanted but couldn't afford.
Will's heart stopped.
"Nice, huh?"
The voice came from behind him, and Will spun around to find Mike standing a few feet away, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, looking nervous and hopeful and terrified all at once.
"Are these for me?" Will asked, his voice shaky.
"Yeah." Mike took a step closer. "I figured you could use them when you go to your fancy art school."
"Mike, these are so expensive."
"It was worth it." Mike's smile was soft, genuine. "Besides, I had some extra cash, you know? I got paid to take out this really amazing boy."
Will felt his lips twitch despite himself. "Is that so?"
"Yeah." Mike took another step closer, close enough now that Will could see the nervous flutter of his pulse in his throat. "But I screwed up. I fell in love with him."
Will's breath caught. "Really?"
"Really." Mike's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "It's not every day you find someone who pulls the fire alarm just to get you out of detention."
Despite everything, Will laughed. A real laugh, the first one in weeks.
Then Mike's expression grew serious. "Will, I need to say this. I need you to hear it. From the beginning, straight through."
"Okay."
"When El first approached me with her plan, I said yes because I needed the money. My grandma's bills were piling up, and I was barely making enough at the gas station to cover my own expenses, let alone help her. So yes, I took the money. I took it knowing it was wrong, knowing I was going to have to lie to you."
Will's chest tightened, but he didn't interrupt.
"But, it wasn’t the only reason I was so persistent about going out with you. I told you at our paintball date, I have been so enamored by you since the first day I saw you, and all I’ve wanted since then is to get to know you. To be close to you. To kiss you and hold you and make you feel cherished. But, I was too scared. You have this radiant light around you, but you’re also a mystery in so many ways and I wanted so badly to solve that mystery. So, I hid behind the excuse of needing the money,” Mike's voice cracked. "I didn’t even want to do it at first. You can ask El and Dustin. I knew how badly it would hurt you when you found out. But, I was selfish and wanted an excuse to be with you. It was so incredibly wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m so so fucking sorry, Will.”
"Why didn't you tell me? Before the Snowball? Before everything fell apart?"
"I wanted to. Multiple times. But every time I got close, I chickened out. I convinced myself that if I just never told you, if I kept the secret buried, we could be happy. That what you didn't know couldn't hurt you." Mike stepped closer, close enough that Will could have reached out and touched him. "And then El gave me the money after the party, and I didn't even want to accept it. It felt wrong. But I thought if I refused, she'd know something was up, and the whole arrangement would come crashing down, and I'd lose you before I even had a chance to make things right."
They were both tearing up now.
“I know I don’t deserve a second chance. Or third or fourth or whatever number we’re on at this point,” Mike gave a wet chuckle, trying to add some levity to the conversation. “But, if you’re willing to, I want to start over. Completely from the beginning and do this right. No lies or secrets or anything lingering between us. Just you and me, being honest with each other."
"How do we start over?" Will asked, genuinely.
"Let me ask you out. For real this time. The way I should have done it from the beginning."
Will nodded.
Mike's hands were shaking, but he took Will’s hands in his own anyway, and kept their eyes firmly locked on each other. "Will Byers, would you go on a date with me? Not because anyone's paying me, not because of any arrangement or plan. Just because I think you're incredible and I want to spend time with you."
Will felt something break open in his chest, something that had been locked tight since the night of the Snowball. "Yes. I'll go out with you."
"Really?"
"Really."
And then Will was kissing him, right there in the parking lot with snow falling softly around them and students walking past and everything finally, finally feeling right. It was different from their first kiss at the paintball facility, different from all the kisses that had come after. This kiss was a promise. A beginning. A choice they were both making, honestly.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were laughing and crying and holding each other like they'd never let go.
"So, this date. When can I take you out?"
"How about Saturday?" Will suggested. We can go to that new Italian place in Indianapolis. The one that's supposed to be amazing."
"That sounds perfect. Thank you. For giving me another chance. I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving that I deserve it."
"You better," Will teased.
They kissed again, softer this time, slower, and everything felt right. Not perfect, they had a lot of healing to do and a lot of trust to rebuild. But right, and real.
And for the first time in weeks, Will felt like he could breathe again.
Will arrived home to find El and Dustin cuddled up on the couch watching a movie. Will assumed their dad wasn’t home yet because if he was, there’s no way he would be allowing this. Three inches of space minimum at all times was his new rule. Will wasn’t one to stop them, however, and he certainly wouldn’t tell. They were cute together.
El saw the smile that Will seemingly couldn’t wipe off his face as he walked through the door.
"What are you so giddy about?" she asked eagerly.
"We're trying again. For real this time."
El squealed and jumped up quickly, tackling him in a hug. "I'm so happy for you! You deserve this, Will. You deserve to be happy."
"So do you." Will hugged her back, and looked at Dustin who was still sat on the couch behind her, smiling.
“I’m sorry for everything, Will,” Dustin spoke with a slight waver in his voice. “The whole situation was wrong and I’m so sorry, but I’m so glad you’re happy now.”
Will moved from El to sit next to Dustin, and pull him into a hug as well.
"I forgive you. What you did was wrong, but I understand why you did it. And I forgive you. Just promise me you’ll treat my sister well.”
Dustin chuckled, hugging Will back tightly. “I promise on everything I will treat her like the princess she is,” he swore, causing both him and El to turn red in the cheeks.
Will pulled away. “Good. I’ll leave you guys to your movie, now,” he said, exiting the living room.
It was only a few moments later that El and Dustin heard Will call from the top of the stairs, “Three inches minimum!”
They all couldn’t help but laugh.
The week droned by, but finally Saturday rolled around and Mike was pulling up to Will's house at exactly 5:00 P.M., his heart racing with first-date nerves even though they'd technically been on multiple dates before. This was different. This was truthful, and open, and honest. Nothing to hide or hide behind anymore. Mike sighed a breath of relief.
He knocked on the door, and Hopper answered, looking stern but not hostile.
"Wheeler."
"Mr. Hopper," Mike said, nodding his head respectfully. He knew he had been told not to call Hopper ‘Sir’ before, but he figured Hopper had heard about the whole situation, and Mike really didn’t want to piss him off and then have him not let Will go out with tonight, so he felt this was a safer, more respectable option than just calling him Hopper. He had to restart this relationship out on the right foot too.
"You hurt my son like that again, you’ll be in detention for the rest of your life, boy. We clear?"
"Crystal clear."
"Good." Hopper's expression softened slightly. "He's almost ready. Come in."
Mike stepped inside, noticing that the house felt different somehow. Warmer. Or maybe that was just him, knowing he was welcome here now, that he wasn't sneaking around anymore.
Will appeared at the top of the stairs, and Mike's breath caught. Will wore dark jeans and a soft green and brown sweater that brought out his hazel eyes beautifully. He looked perfect.
"Hi," Will said, coming down the stairs.
"Hi. You look amazing."
"So do you."
They stood there smiling at each other like idiots until Hopper cleared his throat. "You boys better get going if you want to make your reservation."
The drive to Indianapolis was filled with easy conversation and comfortable silences. They talked about Will's acceptance to RISD, about Mike's plans to maybe take some classes at community college, or to go into some kind of trade like he had mentioned before. They talked about the fact that long-distance would be hard but they'd figure it out.
"I'm going to miss you," Mike said quietly. "When you go to Rhode Island."
"I'm going to miss you too. But Mike, that's over a year away. We have time."
"I know. I just... I wasted so much time already. Time we could have spent being honest with each other."
"Then let's not waste any more." Will reached across the table to take Mike's hand. "Let's make every moment count from now on."
"I can do that."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Mike spoke up again.
"We'll figure it out," Mike said, kissing Will's hand. "We'll visit and I’m going to call and FaceTime you so much you’re going to be sick of me.”
Will giggled at that. “I could never be sick of you.”
“You think that now, but you’re going to have to block my number to stop me from calling you. And then I’ll send messenger pigeons with letters to you,” Mike joked, making Will laugh , before softening. “We'll make it work because we both want it to work."
"Promise?" Will asked.
"I promise. No more lies, remember? Just honesty."
"Just honesty," Will echoed.
And as they drove home that evening, hand in hand, they smiled at the future stretching out before them, and they knew one thing for certain:
This was just the beginning.
Epilogue - 18 Months Later
August heat shimmered off the pavement as Will, El, Mike, and Hopper all participated in the arduous process of moving Will into his dorm. Will had insisted that they did not all need to come, but all three had protested, wanting to be able to send him off properly. Of course, the nearly fourteen hour long drive was draining, but they all agreed it was worth it. For Will.
Mike helped carry the heaviest boxes without complaint, his arms straining under the weight of Will's extensive art supply collection. "Jesus, Will, did you pack your entire art studio?"
"Just the essentials," Will said innocently, carrying a much lighter box of clothes.
"Essentials. Right. Because you definitely need seventeen different types of paintbrushes."
"I might need them!"
El laughed as she hauled up a box labeled 'DECORATIONS' "You two are ridiculous."
"Ridiculously cute," Mike corrected, pausing on the stairs to kiss Will's cheek. "There's a difference."
By the time they'd gotten everything up to the third floor, they were all sweating despite the air conditioning. Will's roommate, a friendly guy named Cameron from Boston who was a film major, had already moved in on the other side of the room and had left for a while to give the group space to move in. His half of the room was covered with abstract paintings and vintage movie posters.
Will pondered on how he would decorate his half.
The group spent the next two hours unpacking and organizing. El helped Will make his bed with the new comforter they'd bought specifically for the dorm—a light yellow with a blue paint splatter design. Hopper assembled the small desk and bookshelf Will had bought. Mike helped Will put up some of his pictures and posters on the walls.
"That one's crooked," El said, pointing out a specific picture frame that Mike had just hung.
"It is not."
"It is definitely crooked," Will laughed, exaggeratedly tilting his head to be able to see the picture evenly.
Mike squinted at the frame. "Okay, maybe a little." He adjusted it carefully. "Better?"
"Perfect."
By late afternoon, the room was starting to look like an actual living space. Will's art supplies were organized on shelves, his clothes were put away, his books were arranged on the small bookshelf. The paintings on the walls made the institutional space feel more like home.
Hopper checked his watch. "We should probably hit the road soon if we want to get home at a reasonable hour."
Will felt his chest tighten. He'd known this moment was coming all day, but that didn't make it easier.
El hugged him first, squeezing tight. "I'm so proud of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You're going to do amazing things here."
"I'm going to miss you so much."
"I'll miss you too. But we'll talk all the time. And, I’ll try to visit as often as I can, now that I can drive.”
"I can’t wait to hear about all of your college experiences. You and Dustin try not to party too hard, okay?"
El and Dustin had both gotten into Purdue University, and they were both over the moon. Dustin had been accepted into the engineering college, just as he had dreamed, and graduated Hawkins High as valedictorian. El took an interest in psychology and between a mix of her stellar grades and her never-ending charity work and volunteering at the elementary school, Purdue had been happy to accept her.
"I love you, Will."
"I love you too."
Hopper hugged Will next, and Will had to fight back tears. His dad's arms were solid and warm and safe, and Will realized with a pang how much he was going to miss him.
"You've got everything you need?" Hopper asked gruffly.
"Yeah, Dad. I've got everything."
"You call if you need anything. Money, advice, just to talk. Anything."
"I will."
"And you remember what I told you about being smart, being safe–"
"Dad," Will said, his cheeks flushing. "We went over this. Multiple times."
"I know, I know. I'm just..." Hopper's voice cracked slightly. "Your mom would be so proud of you, Will. I wish she could see this."
"She can," Will said softly. "I know she can."
Hopper cleared his throat, clearly trying not to cry. "Alright. We'll let you and Mike say goodbye. Mike, we'll wait in the truck."
After Hopper and El left, the dorm room felt suddenly quiet. Will and Mike stood facing each other, the weight of the goodbye settling between them.
"So," Mike said.
"So..."
"This is it. You're officially a college student."
"Feels weird."
"Good weird?"
"The best weird." Will moved closer, wrapping his arms around Mike's waist. "I can't believe you're really leaving."
"I know. I wish I didn’t have to." Mike's arms came around Will, holding him close. "But I'll be back before you know it. I already requested Labor Day weekend off."
"That's three weeks away."
"I know. It's going to suck." Mike pressed his forehead against Will's. "But we're going to make this work. We knew it would be hard, but we're going to make it work."
"I know we will. I'm not worried about us."
"No?"
"No. We survived everything else. We can survive some distance." Will pulled back slightly to look at Mike's face. "I love you. That's not going to change just because we're in different states."
Mike’s heart flipped at hearing those words. It wasn’t the first time they had said “I love you” to each other. Hell, it wasn’t even the twentieth time. But, it still caused butterflies to erupt in Mike’s stomach every time. He knew Will would always have that effect on him.
"I love you too. So much." Mike kissed him softly. "I'm going to miss you every single day."
"I'm going to miss you too."
They kissed again, deeper this time, trying to memorize the feeling of being this close. When they finally broke apart, both of them were blinking back tears.
"Okay," Mike said, his voice rough with emotion. "I have to go before I completely lose it and embarrass myself."
"You could never embarrass yourself."
"I'm literally about to cry in your dorm room. That's pretty embarrassing."
"It's sweet," Will corrected. "It's one of the things I love about you."
"The crying?"
"The fact that you're not afraid to show your emotions. That you're not afraid to be vulnerable with me." Will cupped Mike's face in his hands. "I love all of you, Mike Wheeler. Every single part."
Mike kissed him once more, lingering, not wanting to leave. Except, he was genuinely about to cry now so he really needed to get going before he became an inconsolable mess on Will’s floor. "Okay. I'm going. I'm actually going now."
"Call me when you get home?"
"Of course. And I'll text you on the road. And we'll FaceTime tomorrow."
"And every day after that?"
"Every single day. I told you, you’re going to be so sick of me." Mike began to head for the door, before turning back quickly. "Hey, Will?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm so proud of you. You're going to change the world with your art. I know you are." Mike smiled, that soft smile that was reserved only for Will.
"And you'll be there when I do?"
"Sitting front row."
"I love you. Drive safe."
"I will. I love you."
Mike hugged and kissed Will one final time, before finally forcing himself to leave. Will listened to his footsteps echo down the hallway, down the stairs, until they faded completely.
Now completely alone, Will looked around his dorm room. At the paintings and posters tacked onto his bulletin boards. At the photos hung on the walls–Will and Mike at senior prom; Will, Mike, El, Dustin, Lucas, and Max at graduation, all of them grinning like idiots in their caps and gowns; an old photo of Will, El, Jonathan, Hopper, and Joyce at Christmas.
At the green carnation from the Snowball, carefully preserved and framed, sitting on his desk next to the photo of Mike kissing his cheek at the Snowball, which Will had blown up and framed as well.
His phone buzzed with a text from El:
Dad's already crying. Don't tell him I told you.
Will smiled and typed back:
I won't. Love you. Thanks for today.
Love you too. Call me tomorrow and tell me everything about orientation.
I will.
There was a knock on his door, and Cameron poked his head in. "Hey, some of us on the floor are grabbing pizza before the house meeting in a little bit. Want to come?"
Will looked around his room one more time. At all the evidence of his life before this moment. His family, his boyfriend, his home. Then he looked ahead, at Cameron and the promise of new friends, new experiences, new adventures.
"Yeah," Will said, grabbing his wallet. "I'd love to."
As he followed Cameron down the hallway, Will thought about everything that had brought him to this moment. The lies and the truth. The heartbreak and the healing. The love that had survived it all.
He thought about Mike, driving back to Hawkins right now, him and El probably singing along badly to whatever was on the radio while Hopper laughed at them.
He thought about his family, who had supported him through everything, who had believed in him even when he doubted himself.
He thought about the boy he'd been eighteen months ago—scared, closeted, convinced he had to hide who he was to survive.
And he thought about the person he was now—out, proud, in love, on the verge of everything he'd ever dreamed of.
His phone buzzed one more time:
Made it to the highway. Miss you already. Only 23 days until I see you again, but who's counting?
Will laughed and typed back:
I'm counting too. Every single day.
And it was true. Because even as he laughed with his new floormates and started to imagine what the next four years might hold, the biggest part of Will’s heart was in that truck on the highway, heading back to Hawkins.
Because that's what love was, Will had learned. It was being in two places at once. It was missing your loved ones even while moving forward. It was knowing that distance was just distance, and love was so much bigger than miles.
And three weeks later, when Mike showed up over Labor Day weekend with flowers and that soft smile Will loved so much, Will knew that their story was far from over.
It was just the beginning of a new chapter.