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Mike is standing near the couch in his socks, tie hanging uselessly around his neck, scowling at his own reflection in the darkened TV screen.
“I don’t get how this is hard,” Max says from the other side of the room, already annoyed, one hip braced against the table as she helps Jane adjust the bodice of her dress. It’s bright orange, almost aggressively so, the kind of color that refuses to be ignored, and Jane looks sorta thrilled about it, watching Max’s hands with careful focus. “It’s a knot. You do those all the time.”
“Not like this,” Mike mutters, tugging the tie ends unevenly until one is absurdly longer than the other. “Those are different knots. This is– this is basically advanced math.”
“Oh, please,” Max shoots back. “You guys play Dungeons & Dragons, like, all the time.”
“That’s theoretical!” Mike says defensively. “This is practical.”
Will, who’s been sitting on the arm of the chair near the stairs pretending very hard not to stare at Mike’s hands, finally speaks up. “I can help.. if you want.”
Mike turns too fast. “Yeah. I– yeah. Sure.”
Max rolls her eyes. “Of course.”
Jane smiles to herself while Max fixes the strap near her shoulder, murmuring something reassuring when Jane fidgets, and Lucas snorts from near the D&D table where he and Dustin are mid-argument, half-dressed, their jackets slung over chairs.
“I’m telling you, man, there’s no way Mr. Clarke pulled,” Lucas says, incredulous, straightening his cuff. “The librarian does not look at him like that.”
Dustin scoffs loudly. “You’re ignoring context, man! I saw them talking for, like, twenty minutes after the science fair, and she laughed at his joke about alkaline batteries or something.”
“That wasn’t a joke! He was being serious dude, I’m telling you,” Lucas says.
On the other side of the room, Will steps closer to Mike, and the space between them narrows. Will smells clean and his hairs still a little damp from earlier, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. Mike swallows.
Christ.
“Okay,” Will says, reaching for the tie, fingers brushing Mike’s chest briefly. Accidentally-on-purpose. “Just.. don’t move. Okay?”
Mike freezes. “I’m not moving.”
“You’re moving,” Will says amused, because Mike is vibrating slightly on the spot.
Will’s hands work the tie with ease, his eyes focused at first on the fabric, then lifting, slowly, deliberately, to Mike’s face. Mike meets his gaze and immediately regrets it. Heat rushes up to his neck and his mouth goes dry.
“This feels ceremonial,” Mike says weakly, because his brain has decided now is the time to betray him. “Like you’re knighting me! Except instead of a sword it’s–”
“Mike,” Will says softly.
Mike shuts up immediately.
Will’s eyes flick over his face in a way that is anything but subtle, lingering and fond, and his mouth twitches ever so slightly. His fingers tighten just a little where they grip the tie, pulling Mike closer under the guise of fixing the knot, their foreheads nearly brushing now.
“You’re doing great,” Will murmurs, and it is not about the tie.
Mike’s ears go red. “Liar.”
“Hmm… nope.”
They’re technically still in plain sight, but no one is looking at them, Dustin’s too busy launching into a rambling explanation about statistical likelihood and the school librarians’ dating habits, Lucas poking theoretical holes in it while Max is now kneeling slightly to smooth Jane’s dress cap while Jane watches her closely with heart-shaped eyes.
Will finishes the knot and doesn’t let go right away. Instead, he tilts his head and tugs, just enough to pull Mike forward, steering him backward one step at a time, toward the shadowed space beneath the stairs. Mike follows willingly, brain fully offline now, his hands hovering uselessly at his sides.
“This is a terrible idea,” Mike whispers, which is the closest thing he ever gets to flirting apparently.
Will smiles. “You say that about everything.”
“And I’m usually right.”
They disappear under the stairs, the slight darkness swallowing them up, the noise of the basement muffled just enough to feel distant. Mike barely has time to process the shift before Will’s hands are on his tie again, using it to pull him down into a kiss that’s all teeth and laughter.
It’s clumsy, their noses bumping, Mike making a startled noise he immediately hates himself for, but Will just hums against his mouth and kisses him again, pressing Mike back against the wall. Mike melts instantly, hands coming up to grab at Will’s jacket tight.
“This is–” Mike starts, pulling back half an inch, breathless. “We are so going to die. I’m so going to die, you’re killing me.”
Will kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, deliberately avoiding his lips just to be cruel. “Relax. They’re arguing about Mr. Clarke’s sex life, I think we’re fine.”
Mike laughs despite himself, then promptly forgets how to breathe when Will tugs his tie again and kisses him properly, the kind of kiss that makes Mike’s knees feel terribly unreliable.
He tries to recover some dignity and fails. “Okay, but hypothetically,” he says into Will’s mouth, because he has no self-preservation instincts left, “if this were a campaign, this would be the part where the party splits up, which, you know, statistically never ends well.”
Will pulls back just enough to look at him properly. “Are you comparing kissing me to a bad tactical decision?”
“Totally. No! I’m just saying,” Mike says, flustered, words tripping over each other, “that, you know, the risk-reward ratio is– um, not balanced.”
Will grins and kisses him again anyway, more smug this time. “You’re terrible at flirting.”
“I know,” Mike says miserably, then brightens a little when he sees Will’s toothy grin. “But you’re still here, hm?”
“Yeah,” Will says, soft now, brushing his thumb over Mike’s jaw. “I am.”
Will kisses him again, harder this time with pure want, mouths crashing together in a way that knocks the breath right out of Mike’s lungs.. again. There’s nothing careful about it anymore. Has there ever been?
He parts his lips and nudges forward, tongue brushing against, and Mike is done pretending he has any restraint. He opens his mouth and meets him there, chasing, deepening the kiss greedily.
It’s clumsy and hungry, their mouths not quite syncing, their teeth bumping, breath getting lost between them, but Will keeps coming back for more, insistent, refusing to let it slow. Mike makes a sound he doesn’t recognize and it only makes Will press closer.
Then Will shifts, and Mike barely has time to register it before Will’s borderline straddling him while standing, hands buried in his hair, tugging his head back just enough to take control of the angle. Will kisses him like he knows exactly what he’s doing now. open-mouthed, messy, deliberate, his tongue sliding in again, like he’s claiming Mike’s space.
My Goodness.
Mike’s hands grip at Will’s waist, his fingers digging in greedily.
He could stay like this forever. Which is exactly why Will pulls away.
It’s abrupt enough to make Mike sway forward a little, lips parting uselessly, like his body didn’t get the memo yet. Will’s breathing is uneven, his eyes dark and unfocused, and for a second he looks just as dazed as Mike feels. Then he glances toward the basement, jaw tightening slightly.
“They’re gonna notice,” Will mutters, voice low and a bit shaky.
Mike barely hears him. He blinks at Will, pupils blown, lips still wet, eyebrows pulled together in something painfully close to a vulnerable plea. His hands stay curled in Will’s shirt.
“Baby..” he murmurs pathetically.
Will freezes. Color floods his face instantly, all the way up to his ears, and he looks away like he’s been physically struck. “Oh my god,” he says under his breath. He gives Mike a soft shove to his chest. “Shut up. Don’t say that. I hate you.”
Mike grins and opens his mouth, probably to make it worse.
Will doesn’t let him. Instead, he leans back in and presses a quick, firm kiss to Mike’s mouth, stealing the words right off his tongue. It’s nowhere near enough. It’s not enough for either of them, but Mike sighs like it is. He’ll take anything Will gives him and be grateful for it.
Will steps back before he can change his mind again, dragging a hand through his hair, still pink and flustered. “Get it together,” he mutters, mostly to himself, then turns and slips out from under the stairs.
Mike’s dazed self follows a second later, adjusting his tie with trembling fingers that don’t quite work right anymore.
Nothing’s changed in the main part of the basement. Dustin and Lucas are still locked in conversation. Their voices are overlapping as they argue about whatever, Max is laughing openly now while Jane grins beside her, giggling and tugging at the bright orange graduation cloaks Lucas and Dustin are wearing.
No one looks at Mike twice.
Except Will.
–
Stacy’s party is already chaos when Mike shows up. Not fun chaos, not organized chaos, just too many people crammed into a house that was never meant to hold all of them at once. The music’s loud enough to make the floor hum, every surface is sticky, and someone’s yelling the lyrics to a song they don’t know. Mike’s had enough alcohol to feel it in his chest. He feels loose, buzzy warmth where everything feels a little easier and a little dumber, where he laughs faster and thinks slower.
Will, on the other hand, is gone.
Like, unmistakably drunk drunk. He’s laughing at things that aren’t funny, bumping into people and apologizing too enthusiastically, his shirt already coming untucked like he’s been spun around too many times. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are unfocused, movements all wobbly. Someone presses a cup into his hand and Mike watches, half-amused and half-worried, as Will downs it without thinking and grins like that was the best idea he’s had all night. Mike should probably intervene.
He doesn’t. Will catches his eye from across the room and smiles. Mike follows him deeper into the noise without even questioning it.
Mike loses Will somewhere between the kitchen and the living room, which feels stupid considering Will was just in front of him. Lucas and Max are somewhere in the middle of the crowd, moving together naturally. Max is laughing up at him and Lucas leans down to say something in her ear that makes her shove his shoulder but grin anyway. And–
Oh.
There he is.
And Will is– God.
Will is dancing. He’s moving, loose and bright and gone in that way Mike recognizes instantly as drunk drunk, his smile wide. He’s laughing with someone Mike doesn’t recognize, a guy from somewhere else, someone taller, leaning in too close, saying something directly into Will’s ear because the music’s too loud and Will lets him, tips his head so the guy can talk, his hand resting at Will’s elbow.
Mike stands there with a red cup he forgot to drink from, watching as this absolute random is flirting with Will.
He tells himself he’s not jealous, because this isn’t about that, he just wants to kiss Will, that’s all, he just wants to get him alone for five seconds, just long enough to feel his mouth again, to feel grounded or sober. The thought doesn’t help at all. His chest closes in on itself anyway.
Will laughs again, and the guy’s hand slides, barely, and that’s it. Mike’s moving before his brain catches up, pushing through the crowd with single-minded focus, weaving between bodies until he’s in front of Will.
Will looks up and lights up immediately, his grin going soft when he sees Mike. “Hey,” he says, voice loud, stupidly wrong in a way that makes Mike’s knees turn to jelly.
Mike reaches out, curls his fingers tight around Will’s wrist and tugs. Will goes without question, stumbling a little, laughing as Mike pulls him through the hallway and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them and locking it with a click.
The bathroom is small and dim and smells of cheap beer. Will blinks at him, pupils huge, his lips parted.
Mike doesn’t give him any. He steps in close, crowds him back against the counter, hands already at his waist, thumbs digging in- Will makes a soft noise, surprised, and Mike hoists him up onto the sink in one clumsy motion, slotting himself between Will’s knees without thinking about it at all.
The kiss hits hard. They don’t line up cleanly at first, teeth bumping, breath tangling, but then Will grabs Mike’s hair, fingers fisting tight and yanking just enough to make him gasp, and everything clicks into place perfectly like it always does. Mike kisses him like he’s been holding it in all night, mouth open and greedy, chasing every sound Will makes. Will kisses back just as hard, relentless, hands everywhere– neck, jaw, hair again –pulling Mike in closer like the space between them hurts.
“You just–” Mike mutters into his mouth, words breaking apart as Will kisses him again, cutting him off. “You were letting that guy–”
Will laughs softly against his lips, drunk and dangerous. “Jesus, you dragged me in here to say that?”
Mike presses closer. His hands tighten on Will’s waist. “I dragged you in here because I want to kiss you.”
“Uh-huh,” Will breathes, biting lightly at Mike’s lower lip before kissing him again. “And you’re not jealous at all.”
Mike tries to say something. maybe a sentence, maybe just a sound, but it comes out broken, chopped in half by the way Will’s mouth stays on his, soft and relentless and everywhere all at once. His words dissolve against Will’s lips, turn into breath instead, into this embarrassing little noise he can feel in his chest more than hear.
Will doesn’t pull away. He presses closer, like the idea of stopping hasn’t even occurred to him.
It hasn’t.
His mouth slides, open and warm, tasting like whatever he’s been drinking (is that vodka?) and something familiar underneath that makes Mike dizzy. Every time Mike tries again, tries to say his name, tries to say anything, Will just kisses him harder, deeper. That’s the solution to apparently anything and everything now.
Mike tries to say his name again and only manages the first sound before Will’s mouth is back on his again, cutting him off mid-breath, mid-thought, mid-anything. Mike makes a frustrated noise into the kiss, one hand sliding up Will’s side, gripping fabric as if that’ll somehow give him the leverage to finish a sentence.
“Will–” he starts, muffled immediately.
Will kisses him harder in response, open-mouthed and unyielding, tongue pushing in with intent, clearly deciding that conversation is optional at best. Mike gives up for all of seven seconds, kissing back with no restraint, greedy enough that it’s almost embarrassing, chasing Will’s mouth every time he slightly shifts.
“This is–” Mike tries again, words tumbling out between kisses, breathing uneven, “this is really– you’re not even letting me–”
Will pulls his hair and Mike gasps, the sound getting swallowed instantly as Will kisses him again, and Mike’s hands tighten reflexively at Will’s waist, dragging him closer with a needy urgency that makes any pretense of self-control vanish.
“Stop talking. Please.”
Mike shuts up immediately.
It isn’t a decision so much as a reflex, whatever part of him that usually insists on filling silence vanishing the second Will says it, his mouth still open when Will kisses him again, and then again, and then again, the space where words would go getting thoroughly erased by how relentless Will is about it.
Mike never considers pulling away.
But eventually Will does, and it’s only because he has to, because he’s breathing hard and flushed all the way up to his ears, lips swollen and wet, his hair messy from Mike’s grip, and he stares at Mike for a second like he’s trying to recalibrate.
“You look ridiculous,” Will says finally, voice rough, still close enough that their noses brush when he speaks. He reaches up without asking and pushes Mike’s hair, which has been swept off to the side and is doing absolutely nothing helpful for him, back into the middle where it usually sits. “I don’t know why you keep doing that. You look so much better without that fugly side part. It makes you look like your dad.”
Mike doesn’t respond because he isn’t listening.
All he can see is Will, pink and breathing hard and visibly undone. His mouth is shiny and damp and unmistakably marked by the last several minutes, and the thought lands fully formed and devastating: this is my boyfriend, which knocks every other thought clean out of his head.
Will keeps talking, apparently unaware that Mike has completely vacated the conversation. “You always think it looks better that way, and it never does, and then you complain when it–”
Mike leans in and kisses him and it’s different this time. Will freezes for half a second.
Then he makes a sound, involuntary, one hand coming up to Mike’s chest as if to steady himself, his words dying completely as Mike keeps kissing him, lips moving with focused intent, as if he’s decided that this is how he’s going to communicate with him now.
It’s nasty in the quietest way, all closeness, Mike prying Will’s lips open again and again with maddening patience, kissing him until Will forgets what he was trying to say in the first place.
“You’re–” Will starts, voice breaking, and then he’s kissing him again, just as hungry now, hand sliding back into Mike’s hair and tugging hard enough to make Mike melt into it, a quiet sound slipping out of him that he doesn’t even register as his own for the first couple seconds.
Will pulls back, but not all the way, just enough that Mike can see his face clearly. He still hasn’t let go of Mike’s hair, fingers tangled there like he forgot that was something he was actually allowed to do. His eyes flick over Mike’s face, quick and unfocused. Then his focus stalls, like he’s stuck on one detail and can’t move past it.
Mike’s heartrate is going too fast. Everything in him feels loud and full. He doesn’t know where to put his hands anymore, so he leaves them where they are, palms resting at Will’s waist, his thumbs pressing in slowly.
The quiet stretches and Will’s mouth is still slightly open and his face is pink in a way that makes Mike’s brain short-circuit for a second, and the words slip out unplanned.
“You’re beautiful.”
Will freezes. His fingers still slowly, his shoulders tense, and his eyes widen just a fraction before he looks away sharply, like Mike just caught him doing something embarrassing. His face flushes and he swallows thickly.
“Don’t–” he starts, then stops, then tries again, quieter. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
Mike frowns, confused and a little panicked. “Why? I didn’t– I mean, I’m not–” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I just mean it.”
Will’s face goes pink in a way that looks almost painful. He lets out a breath that sounds halfway to a laugh. his grip in Mike’s hair tightens reflexively, though he doesn’t look at him. He stares at the wall over Mike’s shoulder instead.
“You’re embarrassing," Will giggles, but there’s no sign of malice in it. If anything, it sounds somewhat shaken.
Mike leans in before he can talk himself out of it, presses his mouth gently along Will’s jaw. He stays there for a second, then moves again, just a little lower, like he’s mapping him out.
“I like your face,” he says quietly, words brushing skin. “And your voice. Especially when you get all low like that. And the way you concentrate on stuff, you do this cute little bunny thing with your eyebrows, it’s really–” He trails off, embarrassed by his own rambling, then adds softly, “It’s kind of unfair.”
Will makes a small, helpless sound, head tipping back before he catches himself. One hand comes up, gripping the front of Mike’s jacket this time, knuckles tight. He still doesn’t interrupt. He looks kind of overwhelmed, eyes half-lidded, breath uneven. His brain has just stopped cooperating entirely.
Mike kisses just below his ear, then lingers there.
“And you smell nice,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, immediately wincing. “Sorry. That sounded weird.”
That finally gets Will to laugh, a short breathless exhale. His forehead drops forward until it rests against Mike’s temple.
“You can’t just say things like that, Mike,” Will says, still not quite meeting his eyes.
“Why not?” Mike asks, genuinely lost. “Someone should. And– not just someone. I should, and I do. Because I think you’re really pretty. Other people get to think that too, yeah, whatever, but I’m the only one that gets to really see it and feel it for myself. All to myself. No one else’ll ever understand you like that. They’ll just see you and think ‘oh, he’s pretty’ and don't– don't get me wrong, you absolutely are, you’re perfect, but they won’t see what’s under all that the way I always do. I don’t just see your beauty, I feel it, I live it and I thrive in it because you drive me crazy every day with your pretty eyes and your lovely smile and your sweet voice– which gets me every time– and your hair and your nose and– honestly, sometimes you kind of remind me of a little bunny, you know? ‘Cause all your features line up so perfectly in that exact way a bunny’s does and, honestly, it makes it hard to concentrate sometimes because I just think, holy cow how can someone be this cute? And I get to kiss you and hold you and compliment you and protect you and even cuddle with you while we read stupidly cheap comics together in the basement and– I mean, sometimes it’s hard to process because you’re all I’ve known I’ve wanted since I was thirteen and.. you’re just so perfect and creative and thoughtful and caring and I– I just. Every morning I wake up and I remember I’m dating– holy shit, Will Byers! Will the Wise! The Sorcerer himself! A-and then I get this buzzy, electric feeling all over my body and I feel all giddy and that’s what gives me the motivation to wake up, get up, motivation to do damn near anything ‘cause you’re just– you’re worth it. Everything I’ll ever go through in life is worth it because I get to come home to you. Because I get to kiss you, and tell you I love you and– no one else will ever truly understand your compassion and integrity and grace the way I do. Your soul. The way I understand your soul. The way I love your soul. And– I. Just. Uhm. Haha- Um.”
Mike realizes he's been rambling like a madman and scratches his head before looking down with a red, flushed face.
Will is quiet.
“Holy shit.”
Mike winces immediately. “Okay, that came out– uh. I know it came out as a lot. I’m sorry, I just–”
Will cuts him off by leaning in and kissing him, quick and warm and right on the mouth, just enough to shut him up and make the point land. He pulls back before Mike can follow it, still smiling “You’re ridiculous,” he says fondly. “I can’t believe I love you so much.”
Mike blinks, stunned into silence for once.
Will hops down off the counter, smoothing his shirt, still flushed. “We should probably go back out there,” he adds casually, glancing toward the door. “I’m pretty sure I saw Dustin dancing on the table earlier? Which means he’s either drunk or doing some dumb shit again. Well, or both.”
“Hey,” Mike says immediately, stepping in behind him and wrapping his arms around Will’s waist before he can get more than half a step away, pressing his face into the crook of Will’s neck, nose tucked just under his jaw. He hums low and content like a cat.
Will laughs, startled. “Mike.”
Mike doesn’t move. His arms tighten instead, his cheek warm against Will’s shoulder. “No.”
“Mike.”
“Mmm,” Mike hums again, unhelpful.
Will tries to pry his arms loose, not very convincingly. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Mike shifts just enough to speak directly into Will’s neck. “The sun never met the summer with more joy than I have met you.”
Will freezes and snorts. “Oh my god.”
“Your eyes are orbs of stars,” Mike continues solemnly, tightening his grip when Will attempts to step forward, “they put the night sky to shame.”
“You know those don’t work,” Will says, laughing now, his hands coming up to push at Mike’s forearms. “You sound insane.”
“And yet,” Mike says undeterred, “it is a paradise enjoying your company.”
“Please,” Will groans.
“Tis my duty to obey your fair commands,” Mike presses on, voice dropping into something faux-dramatic but earnest, “for you are the only person I have ambition to honor.”
Will folds a little at that, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Mike. People are going to wonder why we’ve been gone so long.”
“Others to you, are glimmering stars compared to the full moon.”
Will turns his head just enough to look at him over his shoulder. He’s flushed. “You practiced these?”
“Your wit is as nimble as your tongue,” Mike says, refusing to answer the question, “your words have charmed my very soul.”
“That one is especially bad,” Will says, laughing harder, trying again to escape Mike’s arms. He does not succeed. “You’re doing this on purpose!”
Mike presses his face back into Will’s neck, mumbling, “You are the star by which my fate is led.”
“Oh please,” Will says, but his voice is warm, indulgent, giving him away completely. He reaches back, tangles his fingers briefly in Mike’s hair and squeezes. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“And yet you remain,” Mike says smugly, tightening his arms one last time before finally, reluctantly loosening his grip. “Granting me the happiness of your company this day.”
Will shakes his head, still smiling as he steps forward at last. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“The luckiest.”
Mike’s still smiling when they step back out into the main room, that stupid soft grin he never quite manages to hide when Will’s close still plastered on his face, and then–
“Oh my god,” Will says, already laughing.
Dustin is, undeniably dancing on the table.
Full commitment. Arms flailing, knees bent, head thrown back, moving with the kind of confidence only someone who has completely forgotten the concept of shame can achieve. Some late-80s song is blasting from the speakers, synth-heavy and loud, and there’s a loose ring of people around the table clapping and dancing along, cheering loudly.
Jane is right at the edge of the crowd, fists in the air, yelling something that might be his name or might be complete nonsense, her words dissolving into laughter before they can land with any sort of coherence. Lucas and Max stand a little farther back, Max doubled over and wheezing, Lucas staring with his mouth open in genuine disbelief.
Mike and Will just stop. Will’s laugh bursts out of him, his shoulders shaking as he presses a hand to his mouth like he physically can’t contain it. Mike follows a second later, laughing so hard it knocks the air out of his chest, bending forward with his hands on his knees.
“Holy shit,” Lucas says again, pointing. “He’s really doing it. Oh my god!”
“Oh my god,” Max manages, wiping at her eyes. “He’s gonna fall. Dustin–”
Dustin does not fall. Instead, he spins, nearly takes out a cup, and the crowd just cheers even louder. Jane claps wildly.
Mike straightens up, still laughing, and glances sideways at Will. Will’s cheeks are flushed, hair still a little messed up, and for a second Mike forgets where he is again.
Then Max squints at them. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. She looks them both up and down slowly.
“…Why do you two look like that?”
Mike freezes. Will freezes harder.
Lucas, still laughing, slinks up behind Max and wraps an arm around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder as he follows her line of sight. “Yeah,” he says, grinning. “You guys look kinda messy.”
Max points between them, accusatory and delighted. “Your hair’s all messed up. Both of you! And your mouths look– ” she gestures vaguely, searching for the word, “..busy.”
Mike opens his mouth and closes it immediately.
“Oh my god,” Max says, eyes going wide as the silence stretches. “Who have you two been kissing?”
Will’s jaw works. He glances at Mike. Mike stares straight ahead, ears burning.
Lucas suddenly lights up. “Wait–” He looks at Mike, then Will, then back at Mike. The realization hits him full force. He steps forward and gives Mike a quick, enthusiastic dap on the shoulder, half a smack. “Finally, Mike! Damn. Damn! Thank God! Thought I’d have to deal with this secret-not-so-secret sneaking around but everyone actually knows what’s happening because you two can’t stay off each other for more than two seconds bullshit for longer. ”
Mike makes a strangled noise.
Max whips around. “Wait, seriously?”
Lucas nods at her, grinning wildly. “I mean, come on. Took you two long enough.”
Will groans softly and drops his face into his hands, but he’s smiling. Mike feels like he might explode.
The music keeps going. Dustin bows dramatically from the table before nearly eating it on the dismount. Max whoops and Lucas laughs so hard he has to brace himself on the back of a chair, Jane claps wildly as she runs towards Dustin.
Mike and Will don’t really move for a second. They just stand there, close enough that their arms brush, both of them still smiling like dazed, lovestruck idiots.
“Okay,” Will says finally, breathless. “Okay, yeah. We should– we should probably go. Before Dustin breaks his neck.”
Mike nods. “Yeah. Yeah, good plan.”
They say their goodbyes in a blur. Lucas pulls Mike into a quick, crushing hug and mutters something that sounds like “about damn time,” Max squeezes Will and gives him a look that’s way too knowing, Jane hugs both of them at once. Dustin yells “and fuck conformity forever!” from somewhere near the speakers.
The night air hits them the second they step outside, sobering in the way that makes everything feel even more real. The street is quiet compared to the chaos inside Stacy’s house, just crickets and the distant hum of a car passing somewhere far away.
They start walking. At first, they don’t talk, but their hands find each other quietly, fingers brushing, then hooking together properly, like it’s always been that way. Will swings their joined hands a little as they walk, not even looking at Mike, just smiling to himself fondly.
Mike keeps glancing over anyway.
“You okay?” he asks eventually.
Will hums. “Yeah. Just–” He shrugs, then looks over. “That party was… a lot.”
Mike laughs quietly. “You tell me.”
They walk another half block before Will stops, tugging gently on Mike’s hand. Mike turns to him, confused, and then Will steps in close and presses a quick kiss to his mouth. Just a peck. clumsy, and a little off-center.
“There,” Will says, like he needed to do that to keep going.
Mike stares at him for half a second before breaking into a grin so wide it hurts. “You can’t do that,” he says helplessly.
Will raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Because, you know I can’t help myself when it comes to you, William.”
Will laughs and ducks his head, tugging Mike along again. “Come on, Michael. Your house is this way.”
They walk the rest of the way like that , bumping shoulders, trading dumb comments about the party, Will teasing Mike about how hard he froze when Lucas called him out, Mike retaliating by slipping in increasingly over-the-top fantasy compliments until Will tells him to oh my god, shut up, stop while clearly not wanting him to stop at all.
By the time they get to Mike’s house, the lights are mostly off. The place is quiet.
They sneak inside, shoes abandoned by the door, and head straight for Mike’s room. Will barely makes it through the doorway before his eyes land on the small makeup bag half-hidden in Nancy’s old desk drawer.
“Oh,” he says, pointing.
Mike squints. “What?”
Will’s grin is dangerous. “I’m doing your eyeliner.”
Mike blinks. “My what– No, you’re not!”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you– Will, I’ll look ridiculous.”
Will scoffs and drops onto the floor, already rummaging through the bag. “You’re gonna look incredible. Sit.”
Mike hesitates. “I don’t–”
Will looks up at him, eyeliner pencil in hand, eyes bright. “Mike.”
Ten seconds later, Mike is sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, Will settling into his lap naturally. Mike’s hands automatically go to Will’s waist, thumbs resting just above his hips.
Will freezes for half a second before focusing on the task ahead.
“Don’t get weird,” he says, giggling.
“I’m not getting weird,” Mike says innocently, thumbs pressing in just a little. “I’m being a supportive boyfriend.”
Will snorts and leans back slightly, steadying himself with one hand on Mike’s shoulder as he brings the eyeliner up with the other. “Hold still.”
Mike tilts his chin up obediently, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re very bossy for someone sitting in my lap.”
“Mike.”
Mike hums, low and pleased. “Baby.”
Will jolts like he’s been shocked. “Dont– shut up!”
Mike grins. “Don’t what?”
“You suck.” Will gestures vaguely, Nancy’s eyeliner wobbling in his hands.
Mike squeezes his waist again. “Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all. “Go on.”
Will exhales shakily and focuses, tongue peeking out just a little as he concentrates. “If this goes wrong, It's your fault.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mike murmurs.
Will shoots him a look. Mike doesn’t miss a beat.
“The sun never met the summer with more joy than I have met you.”
Will lets out a startled laugh, hand slipping. “Oh my god, stop.”
“Your eyes are orbs of stars–”
“Mike–!”
“They put the night sky to shame.”
Will fully loses it, laughing breathlessly, eyeliner forgotten for a moment as he tries (unsuccessfully) to wriggle out of Mike’s hold. “You’re stupid.”
Mike doesn’t even say anything and just looks at him.
It’s honestly unfair. The way Mike’s expression softens like that, all fond and stupid and open. Will catches it out of the corner of his eye and looks down nervously.
“Okay, nope,” Will says quickly, lifting a hand to Mike’s face. “You gotta close your eyes.”
Mike blinks once. “I’m literally–”
“Close them.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mike says, already doing it, mouth quirking up like he’s proud of himself for obeying. “Bossy.”
Will rolls his eyes and repositions himself, one knee still hooked over Mike’s thigh as he steadies the eyeliner again. He leans in carefully, bracing his free hand against Mike’s cheek.
“Don’t move,” he mutters.
“I’m not moving.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I can smile and not move.”
Will exhales through his nose, adjusts his grip, and finishes the top line properly. When he pulls back, he pauses, assessing his work with a critical squint.
“…Okay. Now you have to do the rest.”
Mike opens his eyes. “What?”
“The lower waterline,” Will says, handing him the pencil. “You can’t mess that up for me. That’s on you.”
Mike stares at the eyeliner. “Will.”
“Mike.”
Mike mutters something under his breath but stands, shuffling over to the mirror. He leans in, tilting his head back, tugging down his lower lid like he’s seen in some movies. The result is… not great. He blinks too much, so much so that the line comes out uneven. He swears quietly when he pokes himself in the eye.
“Okay, genius,” he says, squinting at his reflection. “I think I ruined it.”
Will gets up and comes to stand behind him, arms folding loosely across his chest as he peers at the mirror too. He opens his mouth to tease him and then he actually looks.
Mike turns slightly, checking the angle, and the eyeliner, messy or not, does something ridiculous to his face. His eyes look darker and sharper. His hair’s still all messed up from Will’s hands earlier, his mouth a little pink from being kissed too much. He looks annoyingly good.
Will stops breathing for a second.
“Uh,” he says, intelligently.
Mike glances back at him. “It’s that bad?”
“No,” Will says too fast. He clears his throat. “I mean. It's fine. It’s just–”
Mike turns fully around. Will’s brain short-circuits and he makes a noise that isn’t a word and looks away, suddenly very interested in the one way sign hanging on Mike’s wall.
Mike notices. “Oh,” Mike says softly, stepping closer again. He reaches out automatically, hands settling at Will’s waist again. “It’s that good?”
Will scoffs defensively. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Mike tilts his head. “Are you blushing?”
“... no.”
“Wow, okay. Note to self: steal Nancy’s eyeliner more often.”
Will rolls his eyes and leans in anyway, kissing him before Mike can say anything further. “Shut up.”
Mike kisses back immediately, hands tightening just a little. “Wow,” he murmurs against Will’s mouth. “All valor & virtue is confined within thy heart, and I but a humble acolyte.”
“Oh my god,” Will says, kissing him again, though just to shut him up properly. “Will you ever stop with those corny pick-up lines?”
“Mm.. how about no?”
Will chuckles and they break apart just long enough for Mike to grin and say, very sincerely, “I love you.”
Will doesn’t hesitate to say “I know.”
Mike pulls back an inch, lips pursed in a pout, eyes narrowing dramatically as he turns his head away. “Wow.”
Will groans. “Oh, don’t start.”
“So that’s it?” Mike says, fake-wounded in the most theatrical way possible. “Just I know?”
Will tugs at his sleeve. “Mike.”
“Nope. Mm-mm.”
“Mike, look at me.”
He smiles to himself instead.
Will sighs, exasperated. “I’m sorry,” he says, leaning closer, trying to catch Mike’s eye. “I love you too. You know that.”
Mike cracks immediately. He turns back with a grin he can’t contain and dives in, kissing Will everywhere at once, jaw, cheek, nose, lips. He’s not even aiming, just pressing his mouth wherever he can reach.
“Okay, okay,” Will laughs, hands coming up to fend him off weakly. “Okay!”
Mike doesn’t listen and keeps kissing him anyway, soft, loud little smooches pressed everywhere he can reach. Will’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his temple. He's completely unbothered by Will’s half-hearted attempts to push his face away, humming contentedly every time Will laughs or squirms.
“Mike,” Will says, breathless and smiling, “you’re gonna–”
A noise sounds outside the room. Footsteps. A floorboard creaks.
Mike reacts instantly, one arm sliding tight around Will’s waist and pulling him in closer protectively, his body angling in front of him. Will lets out a quiet squeak at the suddenness of it. He would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the way his waist has become the second home of Mike’s grasp now.
“Mike–”
The door opens just enough for light to spill in, and then Nancy Wheeler freezes in the doorway.
She takes it all at once: Mike’s hand at Will’s waist, Will half-turned into him, both of them flushed, hair wrecked, mouths red in a way that is… very obvious. The eyeliner pencil still clutched in Mike’s hand.
Mike looks up. Nancy looks back. They stare at each other.
Five seconds pass.
“What the hell?” they say at the exact same time.
Mike blinks first. “Why are you here?”
Nancy scoffs. “Uh, I live here?”
“No you don’t,” Mike says immediately. “You moved out. You’re old. You have a job. You’re literally old enough to leave the house without sneaking around!”
Nancy rolls her eyes and steps fully into the room, folding her arms. “I forgot something.”
Mike squints at her. “You forgot something at midnight?”
“Yes.”
“Where have you been?” he asks suspiciously.
Nancy pauses, glances vaguely over her shoulder, then says, “With Robin.”
Will snorts before he can stop himself.
Nancy turns her head slowly. “Was that–”
“It was,” Will admits. “Sorry.”
Mike clears his throat, trying very hard to look normal while still not letting go of Will. “So. Uh. You found your thing?”
Nancy nods. “Yeah. I’m leaving.”
She turns and then stops. Her eyes drop to Mike’s hand.
Then to Will. Then to the eyeliner pencil.
She lifts her brows. “Is that… mine?”
Mike looks down at it. “No.”
Nancy stares.
Mike sighs. “Okay, yes, but–”
“What did I say about taking my stuff?” she asks, incredulous but not angry, more curious than anything.
“You said to ask,” Mike mutters.
“And did you?”
Mike hesitates.
Nancy lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. Really!”
She looks between them again, taking in the way Mike’s still holding Will and the way Will leans into it.
“…Huh,” she says.
Mike stiffens. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Well, you were about to.”
Nancy chuckles. “Relax, Mike. I’m not mad. Just– okay...” She gestures vaguely. “Guyliner. Bold choice.”
Will straightens a little. “It suits him.”
Nancy hums. “Well–”
“Please leave,” Mike groans, cutting her off immediately, shoving the eyeliner out toward her. “Here. Take it. I don’t want it. I never wanted it. It appeared in my hand.”
Nancy doesn’t take it right away. She just watches him with her eyebrows raised.
“…You two are weird,” she says carefully.
Mike stiffens. “We’ve always been weird.”
“Yes,” Nancy agrees, “but this is specific.”
Will presses his lips together, clearly fighting a smile, and Mike feels his ears go hot.
“Goodnight, Nancy,” Mike says flatly.
Nancy snorts, finally plucking the pencil from his grip. “Goodnight…?” She pauses at the door and glances back once more. “Lock the door.”
Then she’s gone. The door clicks shut and there’s a beat of silence.
Then Will bursts out laughing, folding in on himself a little as he does it, one hand coming up to his mouth. Mike joins in half a second later, dropping back against his bed.
“Oh my god,” Will says. “Oh my god.” He crawls closer, still laughing.
Mike groans. “She totally knows.”
Will giggles and Mike turns his head to look at him. “Does she?”
Will tilts his head, studying him delicately. the smudged eyeliner, his red mouth, the way he’s still a mess.
Mike sighs. “I mean. Look at me.”
Will’s eyes linger. “Oh, I’m looking.”
Mike grins sheepishly and swallows, opens his mouth to say something incredibly stupid.. and then stops.
“Wait,” he says suddenly. “She said she was with Robin.”
Will nods easily. “Yeah?”
Mike squints. “You’re not reacting enough to that. What do you know?”
Will just smiles. “I know things.”
Mike groans softly and leans back on his hands. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the best one you’re getting.”
“Will.”
“Mike.”
They stare at each other for a second, and then Mike scoots closer. His knee brushes Will’s, his hand coming up automatically to Will’s hair. He starts playing with it, gentle and absentminded, his thumb brushing at the soft bits near his temple.
Will stills a little.
“Okay. Mike– You do this every time you want something.”
“I don’t see you pulling away.”
Will exhales through his nose, his small smile creeping back in slowly.
“So,” Mike says, “what do you know?”
Will hesitates before leaning more fully into Mike’s space, his shoulder pressing into his chest. “I mean, Robin doesn’t even try to hide it. Half the time we’ll make plans and then suddenly she’s ‘busy,’ and somehow that busy always involves Nancy. And you just, I don’t know, you start to notice when people keep ending up in the same places over and over again. It’s not hard to put together.”
Mike hesitates, fingers worrying at the hem of his shirt. “So… Nancy’s sort of… like me?”
Will glances up from where he’s leaning back, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Like you?”
Mike shrugs. “Yeah. I mean. You know. ‘Cause Robin’s a girl and Nancy’s, well, also...” he trails off slowly.
Will gets the memo and watches him with recognition. He nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Like you.”
Mike lets out a breath, half a laugh. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Will echoes, softer.
They shift around until they’re both comfortable, Will leaning back between Mike’s legs, an eventual comic spread open between them. Mike reads aloud quietly, stumbling over a few words on purpose just to make Will correct him.
Eventually the pages slow, then stop altogether, the comic left open and forgotten as the room grows quiet.
Mike’s arm slips around Will’s middle gently, pulling him in closer. Will turns his head just enough to tuck his face against Mike’s chest.
And in the mornings, when Will is there, Mike wakes up already content, and it takes him a second to remember life ever felt different.