Chapter Text
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❝ Even whilst dating another - Will Byers still manages to find solitude in the arms of Mike Wheeler.
They both yearn for the other's soul. To the point of nearly being on the brink of obsession. ❞
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[Fire In My Heart - Escape from New York]
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SUMMER; Hawkins, Stacey Albright's Party
(POST VECNA)
If there was one image Mike Wheeler could burn into his memory forever: it entailed his best friend, Will Byers, sweaty and flustered under the cheap strobe lights set up by the varsity basketball team prior to their graduation party.
He thought the night couldn't rial anymore emotions out of him, even if it tried to... After crying like a baby in his basement, mere moments after his friends left the basement, to eat his mom's lasagna, to a pit of unquestionably rage forming in the pit of his stomach over the last three hours at Stacey Albright's stupid party.
Why? And, how would that be the case? What could possibly have Mike Wheeler so worked up about?
Chance Romanillos. One of Jason's stupid goons.
More specifically, he was pissed off at how his hands were flawlessly clawing all over Will's perfectly arching form. And more so, how Will leaned back against him, and allowed the horny bastard custody of his body like that.
No one in the room seemed to notice; and if they did, no one cared. Nearly everyone was either black out drunk, or high as a kite with eyes roaring maroon, matched with slurred words screaming song lyrics. The speakers blazing had Mike surprised none of Stacey's neighbours had called the police on them yet.
His plastic cup crumbled in his tight grasp. He stood off in the sidelines, by the kitchen door, still close enough to hear every hum and breath escaping his best friend's mouth.
Chance's hand slid around Will's body, his fingers delicately tracing along his top of his belt. Will didn't pull away. Mike wished he did.
A girl shoved against Mike, causing his cheep house wine to spill over the edge of his cup, splashing across his shirt. Shit.
He looked around for the culprit, but it was hard to see who was even in front of him due to the blinding colours. Sweaty bodies pushed and swayed all around him — every direction was too crowded, too loud, and too much. It was a sea of blurry colours, with a clear view of his best friend enjoying the company of another dark haired boy.
Mike was never cut out for this type of situation. He never had been, and he never was. He was a lone wolf by nature, and that's how he liked it. Just him; and occasionally just his friends too. Just him and Will.
He glanced over at Will once more, before retreating back into the quieter area of the kitchen. He practically hugged the corner beside the back door, grabbing a tea towel to clean off as much of the wine from his shirt as he could. Which proved extremely unsuccessful, the wine smudging further across the bottom of his top.
"Already wasting the wine?"
Mike looked up, spotting Max leaning up against the kitchen counter next to him. Unlike their friends, she too, was still sober enough to take action if anything problematic were to occur. She always did like having a clear head, after all things considered.
"Shut up," Mike frowned, tossing the rag down. "Some asshole bumped into me."
"Wow. You're really not enjoying yourself right now, are you?" She smirked, swirling her drink of coke around in her hand. "Not your type of setting?"
"What? No— I'm fine," He spat back, shaking his head. "I'm just... I'm a little uncomfortable with how hot it is in here. And Will's—"
"Oh, so this is about Will?" Max cuts him off. She leans closer to him, her eyes glistening with that expression of mischief he knew all too well.
"No. It's about everyone," He adds quickly. "It's just..."
"It's too loud? Yeah, I know. Even though technically my physical body was in a coma-trance sort of state, I feel exhausted. Just between us, this party is totally a buzz kill. I enjoyed that pathetic campaign you concocted, better than this... It was still pretty shit though." Max sighed, stepping closer to him. "Everyone here is so lame, honestly. I don't think I'll survive another seven minutes in heaven circle, I think I'd combust out of second hand embarrassment."
"Tell me about it..." Mike nods, his eyes drifting back over to the living room — To Will, and Chance grinding up against him from behind. Who the fuck does he think he is?
Max followed his line of sight, her small smirk grew wider. She bumped her shoulder into his, "What's up with you recently? Why are you always looking at Will that way?"
Mike scoffed, "What way?" His eyebrows knit together, his eyes softened when Will's eyes catch his for a moment too long.
Chance said something that made him laugh, and that made Mike's face red with an uncertain rage. Envy, that he immediately pushed down, he didn't deserve to feel those emotions towards his best friend and his new boyfriend.
No. No matter how much of an ass Chance Romanillos was — No, is an ass. And yet he somehow makes Will, his best friend, satisfied. Happy? Mike wouldn't even know, because Will didn't talk to him about that type of stuff. About his romances, about his feelings, none of it. Mike felt that spark of envy again, and crushed his cup once more.
He should be happy for Will. He is happy for him... isn't he?
Mike being happy wasn't exactly the talk of the town recently, if anything, it was the complete opposite. Mike Wheeler; the depressed and repressed son of Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler — that's who he was.
He is happy for Will. Mike Wheeler is happy his best friend has found a boyfriend. They're best friends, Mike told Will this, himself. In the midst of an inter dimensional war, he still made it his number one priority to tell Will how much he means to him. If so, then why was he unsatisfied with the current outcome? Why was Mike Wheeler becoming so selfish? Unsatisfied, and greedy?
One thing he felt unhappy with is, how Chance will eventually learn more about Will than Mike ever has, and ever will. Why does that make him unhappy, and fill him with that itching sense of growing envy? And not the manageable kind, the ugly kind of jealousy... And, why does said boyfriend look like the cheaper, easier version of himself—
Both their breath hitch, their eyes reluctantly pulling away from each other, returning to their conversations.
"That way." Max explained, "Like some... lost puppy. He's your best friend, you can just go talk to him, you know? What's been so different? You're acting weird. Is it because he..." She lowered her voice, "...came out?"
"What?!" Mike's head snapped towards her, he waved his hands around, not caring if his wine splashed across the floor. "No! No, don't be ridiculous. That— Will coming out to us at the radio shack has absolutely nothing to do with this."
"Oh, okay. I see, so there is a 'this' then? Something finally knocking around in that hollow head of yours?" Max laughed in disbelief, "You're unbelievable, Wheeler. You're so clueless, but Lucas has lost a bet... so, if you'll excuse me." She grins, pushing past him to retrieve her boyfriend off the dance floor.
Lucas tugged a dirty load of cash from his back pocket, and slapped it into her hand, hard. He shook his head, whispering something into her ear.
Their eyes flickered between Will, Chance and Mike. Lucas waved to Mike, only to receive a dig in the stomach at the hands of Max's elbow. Taking his hand, she dragged him out the back door towards the keg machine, joining Dustin and Stacey chatting by the bonfire in the dark.
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When Mike's eyes float back to the spot Will was at, he wasn't there.
His throat immediately dried up. He discarded his half empty cup on the counter, rushing into the crowd. There was no sign of Chance either.
"Wheeler!" He groaned at the loud voice in his ear, feeling a large arm sling across his shoulders.
"What do you want, Andy?" He asked, shoving his arm off his shoulders. Of course another one of Jason's goons would be an obstacle.
"Have another drink, buddy. What's with all the tension in your shoulders?" Andy howled, playfully massaging Mike's shoulders with his large hands. "You're supposed to feel relieved, Wheeler. Have another drink." He repeats, taking a drink off a girl nearby them, shoving it into Mike's chest.
"I'm alright, thanks." Mike's teeth strained in his jaw. He shakes his head, handing the drink back to one of Stacey's friends. "I'm looking for Will."
Andy leaned closer, the volume of the music growing louder by the second. "Who?"
"Will?"
"I think Chance took him to go piss upstairs or something. He said it was urgent. It's like a war zone in here, buddy. Maybe he got one of those like weird fag boners he probably gets from being around a lot of sweaty guys." He laughed.
Mike shoved Andy backwards, "I'm not your buddy, Andy. Seriously, just piss off."
The other boy stumbled back into a group of girls, knocking one of them over into the radio set up. An almost perfect diversion of gasps, and turning heads in Andy's direction allowed Mike to make his escape, towards the hallway.
He manoeuvred past his classmates making out, dry humping against the walls and spare couches. But no sign of Will. He knocked on the door to the downstairs bathroom, to which a young girl yelled back.
"Occupied!! Fuck off!"
Mike stepped over a group of girls, huddled together at the bottom of the main staircase, soothing a girl who sobbed, with tissues and more alcohol to consume in her hands.
His footsteps were heavy as he ascended to the second floor, pushing open doors to each room. He accidentally walked in on two students feeling each other up in Stacey's parent's bedroom, to which he had the door slammed in his face.
Dragging his hands down his face, it left the main bathroom as the last and finally room for him to check.
Mike grasped the doorknob, twisting it. The door rattled, but didn't budge. "Will?" He pressed his ear up against the wooden frame, blocking out the noise with his other hand.
Muffled voices behind the door, became clear. Two people shuffling around, and Chance's voice spoke.
"—no one has to know, Will. It can be like our little secret."
Mike stepped back, banging loudly on the door. "Hey! Open the door, I need to take a wiz! Stop hogging the bathroom!"
"We're busy!" Chance yelled.
"I said: open the fucking door, Chance!" His knuckles were white, digging his nails into his palms.
A small click was heard, and Mike shoved the door open. Chance barely avoided the door from hitting him up the face.
Mike froze, his posture straightened out as he stepped into the room.
Will, barely able to hold himself up, leaning back against the counter. His eyes half closed, red lips parted and slightly swollen. His top riding up his body, trousers half unbuttoned. "...Mike."
Chance's state was no better. Shirt opened, belt unbuckled, his hair messy and knotted.
Chance set his hand on Mike's shoulder, retracting it from him when Mike slapped it away.
"What did you do with him?" He asked, his voice cracking.
"Why do you care?"
"What did you do to him?" Mike's breath became heavy, his voice rough. "He's drunk, Chance."
"He was pretty sober at the start of the night when he asked for this—"
Mike didn't give Chance time to finish that damn sentence, taking a firm hold of his shirt, tossing him in the direction of the doorframe. "Yeah well he's pissed out of his mind now, isn't he?"
"This has absolutely nothing to do with you, Wheeler! He's not a child, and he certainly doesn't need some controlling freak babysitting him! We were perfectly fine!" Chance spat in his face, nodding towards Will.
He stumbled by the sink, clutching the marble tightly. His body swaying as he stared at Mike.
"Get the fuck out." Mike pushed Chance out into the hallway, "Don't touch Will again. Don't even come near him again, do you fucking understand me?"
Chance lifts his hands, "Listen, man— it's not what you think. Will asked me to take him up here, I was simply following orders."
"And Will can't even tell his right to left right now, he's pissed out of his mind! He can barely hold himself upright!" Mike slammed the bathroom door, locking it in Chance's face.
"I'm not the bad guy, Wheeler!" Chance called through the door, banging on it. "And you're not some knight in shining armour!"
"You're such a lying piece of shit!" Mike groaned. He turned around, his mouth pressed into a flat line.
Will silently studied him, the hazed over look behind his eyes indicating he wasn't even a quarter aware of what was going on. "Mike... My head feels funny."
"I— I know. I'm gonna get you home, okay?" Mike walked over to his best friend, hoisting his arm around his waist to help him stand up.
"...it's such bullshit." Will murmured quietly.
Mike glanced down at him, his tone soft. "What? What's bullshit, Will?"
"Chance," Will slurred out, leaning forward. "Chance... is bullshit."
"Yeah, I mean, we already knew he was an asshole." He bit back a grin.
"No. You don't understand..." Will's face moved closer to Mike's, "It's bullshit, it's awful... Our relationship is bullshit."
Every muscle in Mike's body tensed up. Fuck Chance. He was going to punch that son of a bitch.
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