Chapter Text
It was a Friday night and Mike had just finished tidying everything except the disorganized overlapping piles of papers on his desk. Mike moved his camera, messenger bag, and notepad to the space between his desk and bed. He turned to look at his closet. He hadn’t gone out with coworkers or friends to an arcade, bar, or a restaurant since he was in Hawkins. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case tonight either.
He didn’t have many close relationships with his coworkers. He was always out gathering evidence for his Golem stories, collecting information for his weekly article, or his coworkers were out doing their own in-field information collection.
Mike couldn’t go out with Dustin, Lucas, or Will either. Dustin was staying at some classmate’s house so they could cram tonight and tomorrow for a test coming up on Monday. Lucas was tired after clocking in overtime this week. Will told Mike that he was busy with other friends.
Mike promised himself, however, that he would go out and explore the city. Going out by himself might not be so bad.
Exploring Indianapolis at night would bathe the city in a breathtaking, moonlit glow that Mike hadn’t fully taken in before.
He went to his closet then picked out a plain black t-shirt, long black and blue patterned sweater that had a slightly wider neckline, blue jeans, and black converse. He looked in the mirror. Hair up or down? Styled? Down. He didn’t want to put in the effort to straighten it so late. It's not like he was meeting anyone important. He grabbed his phone, wallet, keys, and a black denim jacket. Oh, wait- he speed walked back to his room- and his glasses.
Mike strolled down the streets of Indianapolis. The air had the perfect chill tonight, blowing gently enough and from the right direction that it pushed Mike's hair back out of his face as he walked.
Mike walked through the slightly misty air, feeling the cone-shaped light of overhead street lamps hit him as he walked through. He smelled the dewy air as he walked past patches of grass. He gazed at moonlight and reflections of stars bounced off the dark blue windows of buildings. Mike listened to the distant sound of cars or bar hubbub. He instinctively turned right, considering if there was anywhere in particular that he wanted to walk past.
Just ahead, Mike read the street intersection. 73th and Adams. The intersection sounded vaguely familiar. Mike racked his brain for where he heard it before. Ah, Robin told him about the themed club on 76th and Adams.
Why the hell not? He could walk by. It was something to see.
Mike cut over a few streets to the intersection. He heard the muffled music blasting faintly from a block away.
As Mike got closer, he could pick out the exact song that played from the inside: Prince’s Housequake. Mike approached the alley that the music came from. There was a staircase descending to a hidden side door that dipped into the club. Three people spoke with the burly bouncer outside the door, showing their IDs. He opened the door for them. The music got two times louder and light seeped out when the door opened, the soundwaves drifting to Mike’s ears to ignite his curiosity.
Given the club’s hidden entrance, it wasn’t like Mike could really see what Robin was talking about from up here. He’d just dip in for a couple of songs. Maybe a drink. From what he heard, it was less fun going to clubs by yourself anyway.
Mike descended down the stairs, removing his jacket, hiking his sleeves up, and pulling his ID out. As he reached the bouncer, the club's excitement and involvement with the song bled through the door.
The song blared, “Top of your body, let me hear you shout, say”
And the crowd responded loudly, “HOUSEQUAKE!”
The bouncer opened the door for Mike and he stepped into a world entirely unlike anything he had experienced before.
The inside slowly flashed vibrant purple, yellow, and pink lights. The air was slightly obscured by a fog machine sporadically turning on and off. The walls were a deep red. Patrons packed the club in a wide range of personal styles. Some looked punk. Some looked like they came here right after work. Some wore clothing similar to aerobics wear or not much covering their top at all. A lot of the men wore handkerchiefs. Androgynous styles between men and women alike. More masculine women than Mike had seen before.
The wooden countertop bar sat all the way at the back and there were small booths or table seating areas along the sides of the club. A line to the bathroom started in the back left corner. It wasn’t a large space; maybe 2,000 square ft. Despite the size, the people, lights, and music were electrifying.
Mike watched as people jumped, danced, smiled, and sang along loudly and drunkenly with the song. He saw a coat rack just to the left and hung his coat up quickly. It hit another call and response part of the song.
“My Lord…”
“...HOUSEQUAKE!”
“My Lord…
“…HOUSEQUAKE!”
“Bullshit! Louder, say it…
“...HOUSEQUAKE!”
Then everyone throughout the club collectively looked for the nearest person or people during the next part,
“Shock-a-lock-a…”
Mike was torn away from the coat rack and towards a group of three girls and two guys. Their group shared a look and simultaneously stomped as they, and the rest of the club, shouted at the loudest volume they reached yet:
“...BOOM!”
“What was that?”
“AFTERSHOCK!”
The club crowd was entirely swept up in the heat of the moment. The lights, song, people, alcohol, faint smell of sweat, fake-fog scent, privacy, everything about this place contributed to an absolutely infectious joy coursing through everyone at The Handlebar. The joy had even begun to infect Mike. A grin slowly spread across his face.
The song continued as people throughout the club danced in duos, large groups, or even one faraway group that had formed a small circle for amateur and better-than-amateur dancers to communicate without words.
Mike’s attention turned back to the group that had pulled him in. Three of them swayed and danced together. The other two, including the girl that pulled him in, sang drunkenly.
The girl that pulled him in had dark brown skin, a wavy black pixie cut, multiple piercings, and wore short shorts with a layered top; a shirt, vest, and thin jacket.
“Are you new here?” She drunkenly yelled loud enough so Mike could hear her over the music.
“Yeah!” he responded.
“Ok there’s a part coming up that you need to yell “Housequake”. I’ll point to you, ok?”
Mike nodded.
Prince sang, “And that’s a fact. Housequake, come on, say it…”
The girl pointed at Mike and in sync the group of five plus Mike said:
“HOUSEQUAKE!”
“Ok one final part… what’s your name?”
“Mike!”
“Veronica!” she responded. “Ok Mike you shout at the end super loud ‘shut up already, damn’! I’ll point.” The S’s slurred.
The instrumental ending started. Mike watched the crowd die down, heard a final “housequake” from Prince, some brass, and then Veronica pointed. Mike submitted with a smile to the collective club experience. The entire club stopped dancing to shout loudly with different inflections and pacing, “SHUT UP, ALREADY! DAMN!”
There was a moment with no music, but all hubbub as people fanned themselves or stepped off to the sides to take breaks. Veronica leaned in to talk with Mike.
“You just got here during the craziest song. They play that one once every night so people can join in,” she explained loudly.
Mike responded with a light in his eyes. “Yeah it was… pretty fun. Are these your friends?” Mike asked. The music changed over to Everything She Wants by Wham!
“Yeah,” Veronica motioned at two of the men. “Those two are dating. My best friend is third- or fifth- wheeling. And,” she pointed at the other woman, “This is my girlfriend.”
Mike's eyebrows ruffled in confusion. They’re all gay? Were gay people not as much of a statistical improbability as he thought? It was shocking that he now knew or met so many of them.
“Are you all gay?” Mike asked.
“No, I’m lesbian, my girlfriend is bi, those two are gay and bi, and my best friend is bi too,” she explained.
“Oh damn,” Mike remarked awkwardly, unsure of how to hold himself. He didn’t want them to think that he didn’t approve of them.
“Why ‘damn’? Disappointed I don’t swing your way?” Veronica joked, with a punch that was a little too hard. Mike winced, but kept up appearances.
“No, it’s nothing. I’ve just never been in before-”
“-Oh so you must be new new. If you need some liquid courage go back to the bar,” Veronica gestured a limp hand back towards the bar. Instead, Mike looked at the front door that he only recently walked through, acknowledging that his proximity meant that it was easy to leave. Then Mike looked back towards the bar.
The crowd had generally slowed their dancing to match the song. Most people’s faces, necks, and the upper chests of those with tiny or unbuttoned shirts were at least slightly shiny with sweat. There was a lot more singing and lip syncing for this song compared to dancing. Past the crowd, there were plenty of bar counter seats available.
Mike actually liked it here. It felt easy to slip right in with the crowd shenanigans. Maybe he did need some liquid courage. “Thanks Veronica,” Mike mentioned.
Mike ventured deeper into the bar, pressing past people carefully to avoid disturbing anyone. In the far distance to the right, Mike spotted Robin and Vickie with linked arms, bobbing their heads and lip syncing to the song. Their heads turned away from each other and focused on someone else as they mouthed along theatrically. Mike peeked his head to the left to see more clearly. Will stood right in front of them, enthusiastically lip syncing and gesturing along too.
The crowd seemed to slow around Mike. The Wham! Song slowed with it. The purple and yellow lights passed over Will sporadically, like a rhythmic spotlight. Mike’s eyes widened as he took in Will’s outfit.
He wore an off-white button up shirt with the sleeves either cut or ripped off, 3 or 4 buttons undone, a yellow beaded necklace, black jeans, faint dark brown eyeliner, the single earring, and his semi-shaggy hair styled with a little more volume in the side part. Will’s neck glistened with sweat, as did the collarbones and the sliver of upper chest that were barely visible through his slightly unbuttoned shirt. His neck vein popped slightly as he sang with Robin and Vickie along to the song. When he motioned with his hands and arms along to the song, Will’s arms shone in the light. They were more toned than they were four years ago. Will’s eyes were slightly unfocused as if they were… sultry? No, Mike was imagining things. Will was tipsy and his eyes were just unfocused.
“Hey dude can you move over a bit?”
Mike snapped out of his slow motion fixation. His head whipped backwards. A buff 5’5” blonde man was trying to get past him.
“Oh shit, my bad,” Mike responded. Mike stepped out of the way and scanned the club crowd again. Mike paused on the front door, but drifted back to the crowd. The dance floor was packed now. Did the crowd’s energy shift for this song? He didn’t know and didn’t care.
Oh, right. He came back here for a drink. Liquid courage. He definitely needed it now, even if it was just to get back out of the front door. Mike pushed his way back to the far end of the bar’s countertop and sat down. The music had a wistful, electronic synth energy to it as a woman sang.
His eyes drifted back to Will, watching as a man approached him. He was nearly 6’ tall, thin, had a slight tan, wavy short black hair that was teased slightly with volume on the top but pressed against the sides of his head, and he wore a dark purple short sleeved button up shirt with white pants and converse.
He gently touched Will’s back, alerting him that he was there. Will turned around and smiled at him, draping his arm across his upper back. They exchanged a few greeting words as the man put his hands on Will’s waist. Will placed his hand on the man’s cheek, his eyes fell down to look with brief intrigue at the man's lips, then Will leaned forward to kiss him.
Deeply.
Passionately.
With tongue?
Mike ripped his eyes away, staring at the countertop. His stomach sank so far it must have dropped out of his body. His heart forgot to beat for a couple of seconds. He had to take deep breaths as a failsafe in fear that he would forget how breathing worked. The lights were suddenly so bright that he felt like he needed sunglasses to bear them. The music was so loud that he felt it boom throughout his body. He needed a distraction to snap out of this ridiculous reaction.
Mike waved over the bartender with short blonde hair.
"What will get me drunk the fastest?" Mike asked.
She raised an eyebrow. "You're here alone?"
"Why does that matter? I just need something strong." Mike traced his finger across the bar in a figure 8.
Mike couldn’t look back at Will. Confident Will. Stylish Will. Energetic and enthusiastic Will. He had never seen Will like this before. It made him so deeply… envious.
Robin and Vickie got the privilege of seeing a version of Will that Mike never knew existed. The man, who Mike now assumed was the not-boyfriend-boyfriend, got to… No, he had Will 2.0 and that man was practically a stranger. Will was just out of reach physically and in terms of best friendship, but that stranger was so close. Too close.
Mike looked back to the dance floor. Shit. Will and this stranger were gone. His eyes scanned the club and found them at the left end of the bar farthest from Mike.
A light brown drink with an orange wedge and a cherry appeared on the counter in front of Mike. "$7", the bartender said. Mike slid the cash onto the table.
"Can you come and refill it when it's done?" Mike asked her. He put another $12 down.
"Sure. Just be careful," she suggested, taking his cash.
"Yeah, whatever," Mike mumbled as the bartender walked off to someone else.
Mike didn't care about how alcohol tasted. In fact, it was good when he didn't like it. This is what he did back in the Hawkins bars when he needed to.
Fortunately, he didn't need the shitty taste and shitty feeling all that often. College kept him busy or work did. Still, when the isolation in Hawkins felt potent, when his memories of Holly played repeatedly, when he remembered how his mother had changed, when he remembered that his best friend of over 10 years left him... He drank whatever would make him loopy enough for his brain to stop the endless thinking. If Mike was lucky, he'd fall asleep easily without his mind racing when he returned home.
He turned to the side, forcing himself to watch the crowd and avoid looking at Will with his not-boyfriend-boyfriend. Mike gradually drank the alcoholic concoction in front of him. It didn't taste like shit, which most people would have appreciated. Mike wasn't most people.
Mike's eyes settled on Robin and Vickie in the crowd. He saw them walk in public last week as if every moment were precious and intimate, yet secret and necessarily unspoken. Tonight, every second and every touch between them was bursting with admiration and desire and equally priceless.
Mike took another big swig of his drink.
Robin and Vickie stood out among the excitable crowd. They moved more slowly than the other people, focused mostly on each other rather than the booming club music. Their fingers ran up and down each other's arms as they smiled, chests pressed against each other. Mike felt a twinge in his chest. Watching them like this made him feel... What was it?
Another swig.
It wasn't guilt. He didn't feel secondhand guilt or disgust. He didn't even feel that watching them was hot. It was more poetic to him; a moment that looked like a chapter of a story that only they shared. When he looked at them it was like... The feeling was similar to something he felt before, but not exactly the same.
Holly. How he felt after she was gone. His dad. How he felt thinking about the impact it had on his mom. Will. Leaving him behind in Hawkins.
Mourning? Loss?
Fuck, he couldn't feel that, especially not in a club that had such infectious joy earlier. Mike downed the rest of his drink and motioned at the bartender. Mike rubbed his temples as she refilled and returned the drink.
A quick swig. Then another as he looked at the countertop.
Will left him- no, left Hawkins- years ago, but he sat mere feet away from him at the bar counter. His eyes drifted over to Will and the stranger. Will leaned closer to him to talk more intimately, looking at this man's lips with a teasing interest. Mike ripped his eyes away.
A gulp of his mystery drink as he looked back at Robin and Vickie.
Robin and Vickie spoke with their faces mere inches apart, their conversation broken up every few sentences by their lips meeting. Their smiles faded and spread, faded and spread between conversation and gentle kisses. The arc of the chapter between them escalated slowly. Robin's hands reached to Vickie’s waist and Vickie's hands raised to Robin's neck so that their lips collided like a tidal wave. Their lips moved together in a slow, but intense choreographed conversation of motions. Leading, following, switching, following, leading-
Mike tore his eyes away. Another massive swig.
As Mike looked down at his almost gone refill, he felt every sensation in his body so much stronger. The alcohol coursed like hot syrup through his veins. It clouded his mind like a poison fog. It forced down all meaningful thoughts while drawing out hidden impulsivities. He was compelled by some physical manifestation of the alcohol he consumed.
One last swig as he looked at Will.
Mike stood up and determinedly- oh God, the floor is uneven. Halfway up, the alcohol hit him like a cannonball. It felt like he was aboard a pirate ship in one of his DnD sessions. He leaned against the bar, finding the strength to keep moving.
Ok, there it was.
He stood up and determinedly- swayingly- walked right towards Will and his not-boyfriend-boyfriend.
The stranger sat on the counter stool. Will had leaned forward, hand resting on this man's thin leg as he spoke closely and intimately with him. Will took a sip of his nearly finished pint of alcohol.
Mike arrived, hands on his hips as a method to stabilize himself. "Will," Mike started loudly enough so that Will could hear him over the music. He very successfully and skillfully hid how inelibrat- ineberrate- enibr- drunk he was.
Will turned his head and immediately removed his hand from the not-boyfriend-boyfriend's leg, straightening up in shock as he saw Mike. Will was tipsy, having moved so suddenly that he almost lost his balance on the stool.
"Mike? What the fuck?" Will asked, the confidence immediately draining from his body.
"Hi Will, didn't know you'd be here," Mike continued.
"Um- yeah I come here. Why are you here? Do you even know what this place is?" Will continued.
"Yeah it's a club, but-" Will took a swig of his drink, then upon hitting the bottom of the cup, raised his unsleeved, glistening, toned arm to wave the bartender over.
The not-boyfriend-boyfriend opened his stupid mouth. "Who is this?" He asked. Will put some cash down and got to work on his next drink.
"An old friend. Mike," he continued.
"Oh, this is him. He's a bit-" the stranger paused. A bit what? What the fuck did this loser have to say?
"-He looks different than I expected."
“What's even your name?” Mike asked, accidentally slurring the s.
“Frederick Adair. I go by Fred,” he responded over the booming music. FRED ADAIR? Like Frigidaire?? That’s a fucking fridge brand, not a name.
“Your parents named you after a goddamn fridge?” Mike asked, his words came out slowly. Will still sipped his alcohol.
“What? No. My name is Fred,” Fred looked at Mike slightly offended. Good.
Mike continued. “No but your name is Fred Adair. Frigidaire. How-”
Will leaned forward and spoke loudly into Mike’s ear. “Back off, Mike. Don’t fuck this up.” Will turned back around to the bar and waved the bartender over. He asked her a question, then slipped her some money. The bartender returned with a shot.
“Ok, um, how did you guys meet?” Mike asked.
Fred glanced over at Will. Will threw his shot back, clearly on-edge from this exchange.
“We met at a pop-up art exhibition downtown a couple of months ago. I thought he looked pretty… well he looked pretty,” Fred rested his hand on Will’s thigh and leaned closer to Will to look at him. Mike rolled his eyes.
“We got to talking and really hit it off. We’ve been seeing each other casually since then and… yeah it’s been fun. We’ll see how things go,” Fred ended with a sweet smile at Will.
Will shot a smile back, but then he looked back at Mike’s expression and the smile faded slightly. Will averted his eyes, taking another swig of his drink.
Fred leaned in close to Will and they began having a conversation that Mike couldn’t make out over the music.
Mike couldn’t find it in him to care about what they said because the frustration at Fred’s response consumed him.
That’s it? Mike entered drunken anger territory. He felt the muscles in his jaw tense. That’s all he had to say about seeing Will Byers for the first time? “Pretty”? What a load of bullshit. That word reflects nothing about a boyfriend you’re supposed to be head over heels for. It’s a basic word undeserving of any romance story. You’re supposed to tell romance stories with grandeur. Did this guy even care about telling stories well? At least improve your vocabulary. Try “stunning”. Awe-inspiring. Fascinating. Magnetic. “He was so beautiful that when I saw him across the room at an art exhibition, he outshone the art pieces”. God, weren’t gay people supposed to have some sort of flair for the dramatic?
Also “casual”? How do you casually date someone? Was he just using Will for casual fun? Will didn’t deserve to be used. Will told Mike years ago when he left that he needed to go to the city to escape his nightmare-ish past, but also to find someone to love him. Why was he settling for this wavy black haired, tall, thin, boring, aggressively mediocre ball of nothing? It had been two months and they were still “casual’. Was Fred the disappointment even physically capable of giving Will the love he wanted so badly that he had to leave Hawkins?
Mike very graciously decided to give this asshole another chance, interrupting their intimate conversation.
“So what do you like about Will? How would you describe him?” Will looked at Mike in a drunken disappointment, taking another swig of his cup of alcohol only to find it was empty. He turned back to the bartender for another refill.
Fred looked at Mike with a much more annoyed glare, then shot Will a “who does he think he is?” look.
"He's," Fred paused. He needed to pause to know how to answer? He should know this after 2 months. He should know after a day with Will Byers.
Fred looked at Will with admiration.
"He's fun. He always thinks of new ways to surprise me. He makes the most beautiful drawings, in his work and as little gifts for me. He's romantic. He's clever. He treats me like... I don't know, I'm everything he wished for. It's cute."
Mike's annoyance threatened to transform into full-blown fury. Mike was a sip of alcohol away from lashing out, either verbally or physically, on this dumbass. Thank God he didn't have any on him.
"Fun"? Basic. Anyone can be fun. New ways to surprise him? Anyone can give you that. Yes, Will's work was beautiful. Anyone with eyes could see that. Mike wouldn't know if Will was romantic, but this man said a whole lot of nothing; descriptors that were bottom of the barrel shit middle schoolers would use in a creative writing assignment when they wanted to half-ass their work. And the worst part of it all ... “Everything he wished for”? “Everything he wished for”. You aren't even his boyfriend yet. You don't even love him.
"Excuse me?" Fred asked, peeved but trying to hide it. Will looked stressed, anticipating some sort of explosion.
"What?" Mike asked.
"You just said something in a... disrespectful tone that I didn't like. About love?" Fred crossed his arms, staring Mike down. Fuck, Mike said something out loud? Will looked deeply annoyed with Mike now.
Well, the ball was rolling now so why stop it? Mike continued, shooting Fred a drunken stare back.
"Nothing, I just don't think you're everything he wished for," Mike responded.
“Who do you think you are?” Fred questioned, his tone devolving into anger.
“I’m Will’s best friend. Of course I-”
“Friend,” Will corrected Mike. “We’re just friends, Mike.”
“Ok, fine. I used to be his best friend, but I’m still his friend-”
“Yeah. Used to be. I can see why.” Fred tried to turn away from Mike towards the bar, but not before-
“-What did you just say?” Mike asked loudly, voice dripping with disdain.
Fred considered something for a second, then said, “You know what? I’ll just say it. I can see why you got demoted to friend-”
Mike’s fury bubbled, threatening to pour over. The only release he could find was if his fist were to fly forward and punch this man right in his face.
Mike looked at Will and Mike’s face stored all of the impulsive frustration in him within the muscles surrounding his mouth. Will looked at him drunkenly, but clearly acutely aware of what Mike thought. He gave Mike a “don’t” head shake. Mike clenched his hand, finding the control in his palm.
Fred continued, “-You don’t even have the decency to treat me with respect and it’s obvious that you’re an entitled asshole-”
That’s it. Mike’s hand flew forward before his brain could even catch up. His grasp at release, at satisfaction, was brought to a screeching halt when his hand stopped not even half of the way up. He wanted so badly for his fist to meet this douchebag’s mouth, using every muscle in his body to do so, yet there was something intangible physically holding him back from satisfaction. Mike’s foot slipped on the ground, as if it was pushed or pulled out by something. He didn’t see anything there before he started tipping. In his drunken state, Mike couldn’t restabilize himself and very slightly stumbled forward, catching himself on the countertop between Fred and Will.
"God, how drunk are you?" Fred said in disgust. Mike whipped his head over to Fred.
Mike was shouting now. "Drunk enough that I don't fucking-"
Will yanked Mike away from Fred, holding him tightly by his wrist, and pulled him away from the bar.
"I'm sorry. Let me deal with this. I'll be back," Will said apologetically to fridge-man, slurring slightly.
Will walked quickly with an off balance there-and-gone sway, dragging Mike behind him through the club crowd. Both of them were drunk, but Will seemed like he’d start going downhill fast soon.
Will snuck past the long line for the club bathroom and towards the staff bathroom tucked away in the back.
A voice interjected, "Hey you're not supposed to-"
"Mind your own business!" Will exclaimed back.
He tore the door open and pulled Mike in with him, letting go of his wrist. Mike's glasses jostled slightly. He pushed them back up. Mike backed up to lean against the far wall's corner, keeping himself from swaying.
Will door shut behind them and locked it, the booming club music muffled behind the door. Will walked up to Mike, then leaned against his left side against the wall. Will needed the still reliability of the wall too.
"What is your fucking problem, Mike?" Will asked, his voice raised, but his eyes unfocused and his words slow.
"My problem? He-"
"Do you even know what this place is?" Will asked.
"Yes it's a club. I'm not blind. Seems like a gays like- I mean- like gay people like it here," Mike responded.
"That's because it's a gay club, Mike. Why are you even here?" Asked, his half-opened, frustrated eyes hypnotizing Mike. Mike stared at Will’s still shiny neck and collarbones. Mike took a deep breath, the words falling out of his mouth in haphazardly assembled sentences.
"I dunno? It seemed fun inside and I was trying- want to a break or from work or something. I didn't know you would be here and then you were here and I saw you with the not-boyfriend assh- I mean Fred- and I thought maybe we could talk."
Did that make sense? Uh maybe. He was still looking at-
Mike tore his unfocused eyes back up to look in Will’s.
"Mike, I'm on a date. Maybe we could talk or hang sometime, but I don't wanna talk to you when I'm on a date," Will squinted at him.
Mike smirked drunkenly and responded in a bratty tone. "I'm here now though and we're talking now."
"I want you to shut up so we can stop talking and I can get back to my date. We were maybe... We might go home today and I don't wanna have to deal with you when Fred and I had fun before you-"
Mike let his anger come through his tone. "Just talk! If you want me to leave then why don't we talk now? We didn't talk for four years so lesss go," Mike added.
"I don't need you to do- to have your control-issues friend shit with my- with Fred. It's just weird trying to- to talk to you here anyway," Will’s focus on sentence forming was holding on by a thread.
Even when he wasn't drunk, Mike was desperate to stretch out any conversation and any attention from Will. Drunken Mike, however, did not choose the conversation well.
"Why is it so weird for you? I didn't even-"
"Because you fucking hold me back, Mike. Four years I worked hard to leave Hawkins behind. I got… dissance I needed. More friends. I built my carr- carry- jobs. I improved my art. I did all this shhit to figure out who I wanna be and became him. I'm so much more confident now than ever. I’m me. This club makes me feel the most like me that I ever have been. But when I see you... I have to fight and win against me from four years ago.”
Will’s fingers went up to his head, as if consoling a headache before he continued.
“An' when I see you when I'm not like this I feel confident because it's like I'm me but you don’t know it’s me, but when I see you like this-” Will gestured crappily to himself “-I think of everything I left in Hawkins or wanted to with past me. Especially when I see you here, I -"
Mike could not follow at all. "What? Why you're mad with me here?"
Will’s voice raised. "Because this place wasn't made for you Mike! You can't be this dumb. You see how people talk about ush. Like ‘me’ us, not ‘you’ us. This is suppose-tuh be a comf’turble place for gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgenders. An’ we don't really have any. You stumbled in a place that wasn't made for you and you make me feel…”
Will’s head tilted back in exasperation. He tipped back very slightly, but found his balance by grabbing the rail against the wall, then Will’s eyes squinted before looking at Mike again.
“When you came to me, you shabotaged being on a date with my- with Fred- in a place that I'm supposed to feel com.fort.able."
"I'm... I'm sorry Will, I kind of acted impulse-y because-" Mike struggled to respond at all. The words were stuck or hidden somewhere in his mouth just out of his tongue’s reach and then Will interrupted him. Maybe that was good, because Mike wanted to be honest about hating Fred.
"Because what, Mike? Because you're a control freak? I... I can't keep talking with you. Why can't you jus’ leave? Go have fun somewhere else."
"Fine, maybe I will leave." Mike said, not moving an inch and unknowingly staring at Will's lips instead of his eyes. Will waited a few seconds then spoke.
"Ok. Fine. If you won't leave, I go first " Will turned and stormed clumsily out of the bathroom door. The club's music poured into Mike's ears as nothing more than jumbled, loud booming.
Mike hesitated, trying to gather the fortitude to drunkenly find his way to the front of the club. He pushed his way past the club goers; people making out, dancing, drinking, poorly singing along, trying and failing to talk over the music.
Mike looked towards the bar counter that Will and Fred sat at before. They had since left.
The club transformed into a pink, yellow, and purple colored sea of disorientation. Mike pushed his way through overwhelming lights, blurry patrons packed together like sardines, booming bass, and nonsensical conversational noises.
As he approached the front door, his feet stuck to the ground like glue. His heart raced. The alcohol had replaced his blood, pulsing through his heart and running through his brain. He was fueled by it now.
The one thought that his brain had space for repeated itself over and over.
Will. Will. Will. Will.
Mike was no longer the one in control of his body because that had to be the explanation for what he did next. He felt a tug in his gut, like an invisible string pulling him backwards. Mike slowly turned around, scanning the slightly foggy, multicolored crowd.
There he was. Mike knew him even from behind. Brown shaggy hair. The white shirt with no sleeves. Black jeans.
The gut feeling began to spread, overwhelming all logic and any self control. Mike pushed forward through the crowd, the people moving in slow motion and the lights flashing slowly. The sound faded away as he got closer and closer.
Mike took his glasses off and reached for Will’s hand, pulling it to turn him around. Mike’s alcohol-fueled gut found the stability it needed by placing his hand on Will’s waist. Mike's body moved forward clumsily, but successfully enough that he could shut the gut feeling up.
Mike, eyes half-closed and unfocused, leaned forward and his lips sloppily met Will's. His eyes closed in relief. The gut feeling left, but his heart clenched. Mike pushed against Will's lips with a curiosity so strong that he didn't care how messy the motions were. He needed to satiate the demand that the alcohol created within him now. Will's lips pushed back too, drunkenly trying to follow Mike's lead. Their lips glided as Mike reached his hands up into Will’s hair and Will’s hands travelled across Mike’s back-
"Mike?" He faintly heard a familiar voice in the back of his mind. Mike tilted his head to the side, moving his lips to another angle to-
"Mike!" The sound was to the right, not in the back of his mind. Mike ripped his lips away from Will to look over at…
…Will.
Mike's head whipped back, as fast as it could when he was this drunk, forward. After putting his glasses back on and using all his energy to focus his eyes, Mike saw that the man in front of him wasn't Will. Sure, his hair was brown, but he had blue eyes, a nose piercing, and his shirt was a white t-shirt with the arms cut off, not a button up shirt with the sleeves cut up.
Wait. Fuck. He tried to kiss Will? By choice? If there was alcohol involved, sure he wasn't himself, but he-
"Mike, how drunk are you?" Will asked angrily. Will’s words were even more slurred.
The man in front of him looked between Mike and Will. Fred was in the distance talking with Robin and Vickie. Robin and Vickie looked uninterested in him.
"Wait are you guys-" the man started.
"No. He's straight. He stumbled in here, got fucking drunk, and started-" Will’s voice faded into obscurity. The stranger in front of him looked at Mike, offended, and started distancing himself.
Shit. Mike's alcohol fueled body only had the space for two emotions. He felt them throughout his entire body, consuming him, threatening to break him down to nothing but bones and alcohol.
Embarrassment. Regret.
Mike’s body was suddenly overwhelmingly hot. He couldn't hear anything. A ringing filled his ears. His fingertips felt numb. Mike entered a trance, unable to think about anyone or do anything other than retreat back to his apartment.
God, what a mistake. That would never happen again. That could never happen again. He needed to get back, drink a beer, and hopefully blackout to forget this ever happened.
Mike moved faster than he had before, pushing through his drunken clumsiness to grab his jacket from the rack, make it out of the door and walk down the street.
The cool night air surrounded Mike’s body, forcing him to become more alert and rush back home, even if his pace was slower than normal. Mike’s mind went blank, unable to think about anything. No, it was also that he wouldn't let himself think of anything.
One foot in front of the other.
Look at everything around you to distract yourself.
Yellow fire hydrant. Moonlight that bounces off the multistory buildings’ dark blue windows. Lit corporation signs. Dewy patches of grass in city parks. Smooth grey cement. Streetlight whose ray has a misty glow as he walks through each one. First one. Second one. Third one. Wood and metal bench. More patches of dewy grass.
"Mike!" He heard a woman’s voice come from behind him. Mike had been walking for about 10 minutes in absentminded peace before this interruption. He was almost home safe before this impending threat of conversation attacked him.
"Mike. Wait up!" Mike turned his head around. Robin approached him. About 8 feet behind her, Will's arm draped over Vickie's shoulder as she helped him walk. Will was blackout drunk and his eye whites were slightly pink.
"Mike, are you... Ok?" Robin asked. They walked side by side as Vickie and Will followed behind them at a distance, muttering to one another.
"Um, yeah I'm just... My head hurts and I'm so fucking drunk," Mike explained.
"I mean yeah, but I heard about what happened back there, so I just wanted to ask how you were doing-"
"I said I'm fucking drunk," Mike snapped at her, trying to shut down all future conversation.
"God, you're like, dialed up to 11 when you're drunk," Robin said.
Mike kept walking forward in an attempt to leave her behind. She caught up easily with Mike's stumbling. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes.
"Mike... I just want you to know that whatever happened back there, it’s perfectly normal. It’s not your fault or anyone’s fault. It’s fine-”
“Ofcourseit’sfine. It was a drunk mistake!” Mike exclaimed, slurring the words.
“Ok, Mike,” Robin said, picking up the clue to drop the conversation, but not before getting one last leg up on him after a couple more minutes of silent walking.
“I’ll drop the conversation and leave you alone, but you have to do something for me,” she continued.
Mike looked forward to his apartment complex. “My apartment is right there. I can’t do any lil side quests. I have to crash-”
“Look at Will, Mike,” Robin demanded in a tone as if she were the captain of this conversation and she ran a tight ship.
Mike turned his head around. He was still drunk, but felt slightly better after walking in the cold like this. Will was now almost entirely leaning on Vickie. His head hung forward. His eyes fluttered, barely awake. His cheeks were slightly red. Will didn’t even really register Mike as he stared at the asphalt. Upon seeing Vickie struggling to hold him up, Robin ran over.
“You good?” she asked Vickie.
“Yesss,” Will answered. Robin punched his arm just enough to be annoying, but not painful.
“I wasn’t asking you, dummy,” she responded.
“Ow-uh,” Will remarked.
“Yeah, I’m good, sweetie,” Vickie responded, slightly tired.
“Ok, Mike,” Robin started as she looked back at Mike, “Look at him. Do you think he’s good to go all the way back to his apartment? He’s kind of pathetic-”
“What? I’m not pathetic. I can make-” Robin covered Will’s mouth with her hand.
“You’re going to let him crash on your couch. Because I don’t want to deal with him,” Robin replied. She and Vickie walked Will to the complex front door.
“Will doesn’t want that,” Mike started. “I don’t even want that!” Mike objected.
“Yeah, fuck Mike. He’s an asshole,” Will muttered. Mike looked at Will in disgust.
“It’s not about what you or Will want, it’s about what Will needs,” Vickie responded, “Speaking as a nurse.”
“Open the door, Mike,” Robin demanded. Something in her eyes told Mike that for either his safety or sanity, he needed to comply. They stepped into the foyer of the complex.
“You two need to be adults and be honest and/or apologize about the club. What floor are you on, Mike?” Robin continued.
“4th floor,” Mike answered.
“Ok. Help with Will. Vickie, you take a break. You need it.” Mike swapped out with Vickie. Will’s head tilted against Mike’s as Robin and Mike walked Will up the stairs. Vickie followed behind in case she was needed for anything.
“Will, you go first. Tell him,” Robin said.
“Mike, it’s not ok to get so drunk that you get drunk… I mean… uhhh… It’s not ok to use gay people when you’re drunk. We don’t like being jokes or ixpeer- experience- experiments.”
“And?” Robin started. “The shit I told you about. Don’t say it just because I told you to. Mean it.”
“I’m sorry about saying that about you not belonging in the club?” Will turned his head to look at Robin for confirmation. She gave him a subtle nod, then Will’s head collapsed against Mike’s again.
“Ow!” Mike exclaimed.
“But also you still did reallyyyy disrespectful asshole-Mike shit,” Will added.
Robin continued for Will.
“Mike, it’s fine that you came. I didn’t know you’d try to come today. I really should’ve told you before, but the Handlebar is a place for gay people to feel safe and comfortable. I should’ve thought a little more before just inviting you; maybe encouraged you to be respectful. So just be considerate if you… liked The Handlebar.”
“I won’t fucking go back,” Mike murmured stubbornly. It didn’t seem like Robin caught it.
“Ok you go, Mike. Anything you want to say?” Robin added.
“Um,” Mike started. “Not really?” He didn’t need to think that hard to know it was a lie.
“Mike, look at him. He’s going to black out. He’s not gonna remember any of this. Maybe practice being honest?” Robin whispered.
Back in the staff bathroom, Mike wanted to explain why he acted on impulse. He wanted Will to know why he didn’t like Fred the Fridge Man. He got cut off then, but clearly Will couldn’t cut him off now. They had reached the 4th floor and began walking down the hall, Vickie joining them to their side now.
“Uh,” Mike started. Though he felt better, choosing words was still hard.
“I was being impulse-y and annoying because I don’t like your boyfriend. I mean… he’s not even your boyfriend! He’s just so mediocre and how is he everything you wished for? What even is ‘casual’? Didn’t you want love… but then he isn’t even your boyfriend? He’s just… ‘Like’ isn’t even the word for it. I’m pretty sure I hate him because I wanted to punch-” Mike caught Robin shoot a glance at Vickie. The look distracted him and he forgot where he left off.
Mike reached his apartment front door. “...Uh… I think that’s all I wanna say?”
“Well, good,” Robin said. “Thanks for taking him. He’s your problem and not mine now, thank God,” she transferred Will’s arm off of him and stepped away, stretching her back and shoulders. Wow, Will was heavier now than he was four years ago.
Mike fumbled for his keys and unlocked the front door, only looking back briefly as Robin and Vickie began to walk away hand in hand. “Bye you two!” Vickie waved back.
“He fucking left,” Will said quietly as they stepped in. Mike looked over at Will as he dragged him towards the couch. Will’s pink eyes had started to tear up again.
“Oh, shit. Um… Fred?” Mike faked surprise and concern. Will nodded. If Will weren’t leaning on him, Mike would have jumped in joy. He would have cheered. But this was reality and Mike wanted to at least try to do better with supporting Will, so he helped Will clumsily sit down. Mike wondered if he had anything to do with the decision. He tried to push down the optimism at the possibility that he was responsible.
“Did he say why?” Mike asked.
“I accidentally called him my boyfriend. He got weird. We argued an’ I don’ even remember what we said. He fucking left,” Tears fell down Will’s face and he covered his face with his hands. “Shit, sorry,” Will said tearfully behind his hands.
Oh, Mike was furious. He abandoned Will that easily? At the mere fucking mention of the word “boyfriend”? Fred would be lucky to have Will Byers as a boyfriend. Fred the unreliable, broken fridge man would be lucky to find anyone that loved him. Mike wanted to go hunt down this guy who didn’t even have a half-decent name. He wanted to humiliate him. He wanted to throw that punch that never got a chance to land. He wanted to throw Fred to one of the Golems-
Will’s muffled sniffling knocked Mike back out of his spiral, realizing that maybe Will might want some tissues or toilet paper. Mike walked to his bathroom, but the moment he entered, he had to pee. Mike sped the pee, flush, wash hands process along faster than should’ve been possible when drunk, then got toilet paper for Will. Wow, he felt more lucid now, though he was still very tipsy.
He arrived back at the couch to find Will leaned forward, head in his hands and elbows on his knees. He offered the toilet paper. Will looked at him with glossy pink eyes that Mike wanted to keep looking in, then Will took the toilet paper and wiped his tears and nose.
“I dunno why-” Will leaned his head back on the couch, eyes drunkenly and tearfully tired. “I keep scaring them off.”
“Will,” Mike interjected, peeved that Will would even consider himself scary.
“Don’t say that. I mean… Who cares if these dumbasses left you? Good! They’re cowards. Fuck Fred! He doesn’t even have a good name, let alone the guts to give you what you wanted. All these Freds don’t deserve Will Byers. You survived demogorgons, Vecna, the Mindflayer. They-”
Mike considered what the best thing to say would be. He didn’t want to mess up like he had many times before. He grew less concerned when he remembered that Will probably wouldn’t remember this.
“If these people are so easily scared by you, then they don’t get you. Will Byers deserves someone braver. Will the Wise needs someone who can take on a matching ‘Brave’ title. Right?”
“Uh huh,” Will nodded, able to only half pay attention. Wow, he really wouldn’t remember any of this. “Thanks, Mike. I gotta…” Will stood up unsteadily. Mike reached out reflexively, but Will managed to stumble his way to the bathroom, close the door, and pee.
Mike retreated to his room to dig through his closet for a spare blanket for Will. He placed it on the couch. Will was still in the bathroom, so Mike sat down on the couch to ensure he made his way back over. Mike waited a couple more minutes, then got worried.
Mike walked over to the bathroom door.
“Are you ok?” Mike asked, standing just outside of the door. No answer.
Just before he knocked on the door, Will opened the door and stumbled out, nearly falling. Mike caught him, hands gripping the sides of Will’s ribcage, their faces now mere inches apart. Will looked in Mike’s eyes with a half-opened, tired longing. Mike’s heart skipped a beat. Will’s eyeline fell down to Mike’s lips.
“It's you?” Will asked in soft confusion. Mike felt Will’s breath on his lips. Will’s breath smelled strongly of alcohol, but then Mike’s probably did too, or it would if Mike had remembered to breathe.
Will’s face drifted closer to Mike, their lips nearly meeting. Mike let one of his hands crawl instinctively back to the small of Will’s lower back, stuck in a moment that he wondered if it would stretch on. Will’s eyes were nearly closed as his head tilted to the side, leaning in even closer to Mike. Mike’s eyes started to drift shut as Will’s warm, soft lips just barely grazed his and-
Oh God, Will was getting heavier. Will’s nose dragged across Mike’s cheek. His head collapsed to the side onto Mike’s shoulder. His body rapidly went limp.
Oh shit, Will was heavy. Will was so tear-drunk exhausted that he passed out. Mike bent his legs, and strengthened his core as Will’s body leaned entirely into his. He had to use all of his strength to not be taken down with Will.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Mike whispered. He tightened his arms around Will’s upper back, barely managing to catch and support him without falling. Mike dragged Will over to the couch, clumsily laying him down, lifting his legs off the comforter, and throwing the blanket on top of him.
The moment Mike’s eyes drifted to Will’s sleeping face and pink eyes, Mike tore them away and retreated to his room, closing the door behind him.
Mike’s mouth hung open in disbelief as he leaned against his door. What the hell happened? He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. He still felt a slight buzz from the alcohol. From the alcohol? Yes, definitely the alcohol. His heart was racing.
Mike… Mike kissed someone at the bar. It was a man. It was sloppy. It was drunken. Mike wasn’t himself at all. The man wasn’t who he thought it was. It was… downright humiliating. Wait, was it humiliating because it was a man? Or because Mike thought he was someone else? It wasn’t just any “someone else”, it was Will. He was Will but he wasn’t. Oh god, it was so messy. Their lips just mashed and it felt… He didn’t want to think about how it felt. His stomach turned upside down thinking about kissing that stranger. Ok, so that meant he didn’t like it. No, he didn’t like kissing that man. He doesn’t even enjoy remembering it. It wasn’t enjoyable. It was just alcoholic and messy and impulsive and and…
Then Will was that close to him. Mike started pacing in his room, trying to calm himself down. Ok think through what actually happened.
Will stumbled into him. It was shocking because he didn’t expect it. He’s never been that close to Will before. He never- he never got to see what Will’s lips looked like that close, let alone feel- wait. Correction: he never saw Will’s lips that closely or felt Will’s lips before. He never would. Not again. He didn’t know what to do when it happened, so he froze. And he was still buzzed, so of course his reaction time wasn’t what it normally is. If he kissed- correction- if Will kissed him, then he would have pulled away. He just didn’t get the chance to prove to himself that he would do that because it didn’t happen, but Mike knew that he would have.
I mean, who knows me better than me?
But then there was the issue of him feeling drawn… feeling pulled in his alcoholic state to who he thought was Will. Why Will? Mike was so… He was just so desperate. Yeah. This happens after four or more years of not having anyone to be intimate with. He hadn’t kissed someone in over four years.
Even four years ago, he wasn’t wowed by kissing El. Probably because he and El were teenagers. They didn’t know what they were doing. So that meant that technically, Mike had never experienced the intimacy people often rave about. This meant that Mike was unknowingly really desperate. If you’re that desperate, that stressed, that shit-faced, you would kiss anyone to get some form of intimacy. Will happened to be there. Who he thought was Will happened to be there. It was just a convenient mistake. Mike was just lonely and… distracted.
Mike doesn’t have a lot of close friendships. He doesn’t know many people, especially women, very well. If anyone were desperate, lonely, and drunk, of course they might slip up by searching for that intimacy fix with someone they already knew. Then the slip up happens and they regret it and never do it again because they know it’s a mistake. Good thing nothing happened. Then there’s nothing to regret.
Mike tried having fun. He tried relaxing. Look how it turned out. He’d surely have fun or relax again, but it just wouldn’t be at The Handlebar. Mike let himself be distracted. Wouldn’t happen again. Tomorrow he’d get back to work. Mike laid down on his bed.
Yes, tomorrow he’d organize the notes he had so far. Tomorrow he’d work on the Golem mystery. Tomorrow Will would be here when he woke up- shit. He’d be there in the living room when Mike woke up.
Actually, it’s fine! Mike was 99% certain that Will got blackout drunk. He wouldn’t remember anything. Will wouldn’t have to know. Wait, there was nothing for Will to know because nothing happened- Mike released a sigh- but Will’s not-boyfriend-boyfriend broke up with him. Mike would just tell him what happened with his fucking horrible sort-of-ex. Then he’d tell Will that nothing happened if Will asked. Only if he asked. Because nothing did.
Mike ran his hands through his hair. Just sleep already. He wished that DnD were even partially real. He wished there were a wizard nearby that could cast Sleep on him and force Mike’s brain to shut up.
So, it was time for the final bedtime reminder to his unhelpfully active brain. The bar kiss was a mistake. Any desperate, drunk person would have done it. Moment of weakness. There’s nothing to regret or stress about with Will. There’s nothing to regret because nothing happened.