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“My God, it's like a time capsule in here!” Dustin laughed as he held up a small robotic dog they’d built in AV club in fourth grade. He brought it closer to his face, examining each side. “I wonder if this thing still works?” he hummed.
Mike snorted, looking up from the box he’d just finished taping. “I’ll give you $20 if it still does.”
Dustin’s eyes widened with excitement. “Alright, Bet.” He watched as his friend began tinkering with the toy. They both sat in Mike's old bedroom in the Wheeler household, de-constructing his childhood into boxes of keep, throw, and donate.
A lot of things had changed in Mike’s life in the past four years, the house he’d grown up in now had a ‘for sale’ sign dug into the pristine front lawn. But just because everything looked perfect from the outside didn’t mean it was perfect on the inside. His mother, Karen Wheeler had finally after an extensively long and loveless marriage signed the papers for divorce. After Ted moved out to live with his relatives, herself and Holly had continued to live in the house. But a house made for five suddenly became very small with only two. They’d waited till Holly finished out the school year before they put it up for sale during the summer.
So now, Mike sat surrounded by mountains of boxes with very little bedroom left and Dustin somewhere in the mix. He had just graduated college with an English literature degree, but now he faced the future, he was in control of what he would do with his life and that was terrifying. He'd offered for Mike to stay at his apartment while he figured it all out.
“Holy Shit!” The exclamation came from somewhere in the box maze they’d created. Dustin stood up shooting a smug look in his direction, “Pay up Wheeler.” Mike caught sight of the dog as its legs moved stiffly, suspended in the air by Dustin's hand. It looked about two seconds away from falling apart, but alas, it still moved.
“Fuck, I should’ve thought that one through a little more. Remind me next time to not make bets with you.” Mike sighed, pulling a wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and handing a twenty over. They continued packing, his room filled with the sound of cardboard, tape and Dustin whistling.
“Hey, Mike?” Dustin asked, he hummed in acknowledgment, busy ripping a strip of tape from the roll with his teeth. “Will gave you that painting right?”
Mike tensed up at the name, but he responded anyway, as he sealed the box closed. “Yeah, uh yeah. But El commissioned it for me back when they were in Lenora.”
They sat in silence for a minute before he heard Dustin respond. “El never played DnD with us. I wonder how she knew what to commission?” he said thoughtfully.
Mike’s brows furrowed, he looked up at the painting that hung on his wall. The red dragon in battle against the party, paladin front and center with a heart on the shield.
You’re the heart
“Huh, I never thought of that.” he breathed.
—
Eventually they’d wrapped up on packing for the day (pun intended). Dustin had made his way to the basement where he was staying the night. Mike waited for sleep to come but it never arrived. His mind spun in relentless circles, refusing to slow down.
He’d never really talked to El about dnd, other than the terminology becoming useful to label events of the supernatural hell they’d been put through. Between survival and catching up on school the party hadn’t gotten a chance to teach El. He thinks back to when she was in Lenora, could she have learnt to play there? Did Will join a different party and teach her how to play?
Not possible.
Mike reached blindly over to his bedside table, a soft glow lit up the space as he switched on the lamp. Sitting up, his muscles strained with every movement. What used to be his bedroom was now a blank canvas, walls, shelves, desk, all stripped and packed into the boxes that were stacked in various arrangements. Scanning over them his eyes landed on one particular box that sat in front of the closet, balancing precariously on the top of a few others, it was labeled ‘El’ in purple marker.
A box of everything she was and a reminder of who she could have been.
Grief was kind of like waves, Mike found. It drifted in and out from the shore, harsh and relentless; other times it would blend into the water's flow, quiet and calm. In low tide he could examine the way the water moved; the formation of waves, the pull of the water back and forth. It washes over the sand covering old footprints and drawings made with sticks, leaving behind a blank canvas to create new paths. In high tide he’d see the shoreline recede as the swell grew, wind strong with the overwhelming crash of waves as the water wrapped around his ankles; inching higher and higher, until there’s no air left to breathe.
Over time, he learnt to swim. The tide never stopped, a constant rise and fall, like the ocean's way of breathing. So Mike learnt to breathe with it, adjust with its movements until it became almost second nature, almost.
When Max moved to Hawkins, she’d talked wistfully about her old house back in California that was a two minute walk away from the sea. How she would listen to the sound of the waves crash every night as she went to sleep. Mike had never been to the beach before, he didn’t expect it to become anything of importance to him. He also never expected the bond he would form with Max, yes, you heard that right, Max Mayfeild. Mike had spent a good part of the last four years around class and assignments travelling, between Massachusetts where Dustin was studying at MIT and California where Lucas and Max had moved.
Max would take him to the beach, they’d walk along the shore, sit in the sand as the sun made its way across the sky. Maybe it was losing El that had brought them closer together, maybe it was shared trauma or maybe they realised just how much they had in common. Initially the conversations had remained light and harmless as they cautiously navigated their new dynamic. They had always been surrounded by other members of the party, but on the beach, it was just them. She was studying psychology at community college, after around a year of their meetups, they began to discuss the scars that Hawkin’s had left them with and the loved ones it had stripped them of.
They talked about grief, Mike sat on the sand watching the waves as they rolled in, water flowing across the sand as a mother held her baby daughter close enough to dip her toes in, eliciting a toothless smile as she kicked her legs. He looked over at Max as she watched the family with a sad smile on her face.
“It’s kind of like the waves.” He’d said looking back at the ocean.
“What?” Max had replied, she looked at Mike, head tilted in confusion.
“Greif.”
They sat in silence after that, until the sun disappeared behind the horizon.
He’d always loved writing but the English literature degree had really changed the way he perceived the world, of how he understood himself.
Taking a breath Mike picked up the box, placing it gently on the ground where he sat down in front of it. Tearing the tape off he opened the lid, it was a strange feeling looking through the belongings tethered to someone who is gone. They are not his, but he now holds onto them a part of her left to keep safe in his possession. She now exists in the items she once held most dear, in the letters cards and paintings she made, she exists in the memories of the people that knew her. Memories that will slowly slip away if not kept alive.
Mike couldn’t remember her laugh. He cries about that sometimes.
He pulls out a stack of letters she’d sent him from Lenora. It felt wrong to throw them out at the time, so he’d kept them. Maybe everything happens for a reason.
Starting from the top of the pile he unfolds each once carefully and reads the messy scrawl of El’s handwriting; she'd only just begun learning how to read and write. As he makes his way down the pile there is nothing about her or Will joining another party. Nothing. Now holding the very last letter in front of him, Mike runs a hand through the mess of dark curls, pushing them out of his face in annoyance. He skims over the letter, his eyes catch on a sentence halfway down the page, Bingo.
‘Will is painting a lot, but he won't show me what he’s working on. Maybe it is for a girl. I think there is someone he likes.’
He reads it again. And then again.
He looks up.
“I haven't told any of you this because I don't want you to see me any differently. But the truth is… I am. I am different.”
No longer in his old bedroom surrounded by cardboard boxes, Mike stares at the boy who now sits in front of him, hands shaking as he pulls at the sleeves of his orange hoodie.
Will.
He’s back in the Squawk, Dustin and Lucas are to his left. Everyone in the room listens silently as Will stumbles over his words, face drawn with a fear he’d never seen before, body shaking all over. Mike tries to reach out, to grab one of the boy's shaky hands and bring it into his own. But he can’t move, he looks down at his hands clenched together so tight all colour has drained away. This isn’t real. Well, it was real. Just not anymore.
Mike sits paralyzed as the younger version of Will continues speaking. It’s not the second time he’s heard Will's speech, it's not even the third. When he sat here all those years ago, he’d clung onto every word, stashing them in a tiny box in the very back of his mind. He’d lost count on how many times he’d replayed it, just if you asked him, he could recite it word for word. Backwards too if you wanted to test that theory.
“I - I don't like girls.”
Back in his room Mike's world tilted as he felt his chest restrict. “Oh god” he choked out, hand clutching his chest. He tugged at his shirt desperately searching for air that wouldn't come.
This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.
The letter is still clutched in his other hand, paper crumpling in his grasp. The sentence burnt into his vision.
Maybe it is for a girl. I think there is someone he likes.
Mike looks up scanning across the mess of boxes. Where did he put it?
“Can I… show you something?”
Will’s voice cuts through the noise in his head, the boy is now in front of him, he sits on the other side of the van. Digging through his bag, he pulls out a scroll of paper passing it to Mike.
The painting.
“This is amazing. Did you paint this?”
He hears his own voice, so much younger. The painting unrolled in his hands.
“Yeah–I mean… El asked me to. Commissioned it basically. She told me what to draw.”
Mike feels his heart sink, stomach heavy with nausea as the memory plays out.
“The point is–see how you’re leading here? You’re guiding the party. Inspiring us. That’s–that’s what you do. And your coat of arms here–it’s a heart. I know it’s sort of on the nose but–that’s what holds the party together. Heart. Because see, without heart we’d all fall apart.”
Remember, you're the heart.
He was going to be sick. Will continued speaking as he listened, helpless.
“So yeah–El needs you Mike. And she always will.”
Mike's eyes are locked on the painting that hangs framed above his empty desk. It had become his north star, his purpose, his courage, it was the reason he could wake up every day. A reminder that he was needed. Even after El. The painting had been with him, to hell and back. From the end of the world to his college graduation.
Commissioned it basically. She told me what to draw. Will’s voice taunts him
Will is painting a lot, but he won't show me what he’s working on.
It was a lie, it had all been a lie. Mike bit the inside of his cheek hard, the taste of copper filled his mouth. Will had lied. Will. He stood up, moving to his desk he clutched onto its edges, eyes never leaving the artwork as it now hangs right in front of him.
He remembers sitting in the van, holding it in his hands for the first time with overwhelming awe and a sick sense of hope, buried deep under denial. Hope, that the painting might have been from Will, that the words were his instead of El’s. Was it ever real? Had it all meant nothing? Was the reason he clung on, that he had kept going, a lie?
Or was it everything?
—
1989
College had been something Mike dreaded, in his final year of high school. It signified the end of an era. The end of his childhood, something that had been stripped from himself and the party way too early. College meant leaving, leaving the only people that would ever truly understand each other. Saying goodbye had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done as he moved away from the party, onto the next chapter of his life all alone.
Any doubt Mike had in the strength of their relationship had been quickly erased by the sheer amount of phone calls, letters and travelling they had done to stay in contact with each other. He’d left for college not looking to make new friends. How was he supposed to connect with new people who didn’t know the world had almost ended and who didn't understand the scars that it had left him with?
Beth and Tori had thrown those plans out the window. The girls had been looking for a third person to split the rent in their apartment with. Mike had been looking for a place to live during his degree, so it worked out. He could keep to himself, with a place to sleep and study, and they could have the extra roommate they’d been advertising for to fill the extra space and pay rent.
Mike hadn't expected the impact they would have on his life. How important they would become to him.
Mike remembers his first trip to California for the weekend with Dustin a month or so into his degree. Max and Lucas had just bought a place not far from where she used to live, so they’d decided to meet up there. The four of them had sat in the kitchen, eating pizza and catching each other up. Lucas and Dustin had been relentless in their teasing when they’d found out Mike was living with two girls. Apparently it was ‘every guy's dream’, that comment had earnt Lucas a punch from Max. He yelped, “Of course you’d be one of them!” She didn’t even need to respond as her boyfriend picked himself up from the floor muttering something along the lines of “I’ll go set up the couch”.
What they hadn’t known was that both girls were together. Initially they had kept their relationship secret from Mike, unsure on what beliefs he held. That was until Mike had come back to the apartment after one of his classes was cut short. He’d walked in and found both of them making out in front of the TV. Tori had a look of fear on her face that broke Mike's heart. Beth had sat unmoving, her face blank and guards up. It took Mike only a second to process before he cut through the tension, “I knew it.” He smirked as he walked by them towards his room.
—
1990
In his second semester of college Mike found himself at a party.
A girl had slipped a flyer onto his desk in one of the lecture halls before class. He’d carried it around for the rest of the day, folded in his back pocket; he didn’t know why he hadn’t just thrown it out. Parties were a recipe for disaster, it would be some house filled to the brim with piss drunk college students and someone’s shitty taste in music blasting at full volume. It wasn’t worth the headache. Or maybe it was because he didn’t have a group of friends to lean on to make it more bearable.
He stood in the kitchen that afternoon, flyer in hand as he skimmed the details. The party was on that night, gee, give a guy some notice. Opening the bin he chucked it in. “I saw that Wheeler.” Mike jumped, turning around he saw Tori, she leaned against the doorway to her room, arms crossed and her eyebrow raised. Her hot pink hair sat in a messy bun and she was already pyjama clad. She walked over to the kitchen, opening the bin he’d just shut, pulling out the flyer.
“So gross.” Mike scrunched up his nose.
“You’re one to talk.” She shot back.
She read the flyer before placing it on the bench. “Go get dressed,” Tori instructed.
“Absoloutley not,” he shook his head.
Tori turned around, walking to the phone she picked it up off of the wall. Holding the receiver between her shoulder and ear she punched in a number, turning around she shot Mike a pointed glare as her finger hovered over the call button.
Absolutely fucking not.
That is how Mike found himself sitting on someone's couch in someone's house with a drink in hand, the music was so loud he could feel the bass.
He’d been ‘presumptuous’, as Max would say about the quality of music, the line up of songs had been the exact opposite of shitty. So un-shitty in fact, he thought of asking around so he could personally thank whoever the DJ was.
He’d made small talk throughout the night, recognising faces from different classes and around campus. He watches from the sidelines tucked away as people danced, a few girls cut though the mass of bodies, hands joined in a chain to stay together. Lights flash around in different colours and his body filled with the warm buzz of alcohol.
A set of eyes catch his own gaze from across the room, for not the first time that night. They look at each other, each time a silent challenge to see who would break first. Mike could feel a rush of warmth spread through him, heating his face in the process. It was different from the alcohol, dare he say it felt better. Landon, if he remembered correctly, was in his historical lit class. Where they’d first begun this game, or whatever it was.
Mike knew that if he was sober right now he most certainly would have looked away by now; but the alcohol had well and truly taken over his system.
Fuck.
Before he could even think about what he was doing his legs were moving, heading towards Landon who was already making his way towards Mike. He pushes through the crowd of dancing bodies, what the fuck is he doing? The beat of a new song throws him off guard,
‘Smalltown Boy.’
He stops, coming to a halt in the middle of the dancefloor, meeting the shorter man in the middle. The sight of his soft brown hair hits him hard with a feeling he can’t place.
You leave in the morning with everything you own in a little black case.
Landon breaks eye contact first as he takes a step closer to Mike, leaning in so he can talk over the music. His heart pounds in his ears, body buzzing with a mix of alcohol, nerves and excitement, and a heat that sits in the bottom of his stomach that he can’t explain.
Alone on a platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face
“Do you wanna find somewhere quiet?” Landon’s voice is deeper than he expected, mouth so close to his ear that his breath sends chills over him.
Mother will never understand why you had to leave
Mike was nodding before he even got a chance to process the words. He feels a warm hand link with his own and he doesn't pull away as it leads him out of the crowd.
But the answer you seek will never be found at home
He follows as Landon guides him upstairs, no one notices their joined hands, too occupied in their own small groups as they pass by. Eventually both boys find an empty room, making their way in, on instinct Mike kicks the door closed behind them.
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away
Their hands remained linked as he felt the brush of a thumb across the back of his hand.
He doesn’t move it back.
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away.
Piercing blue eyes held Mike’s gaze, he watched as Landon’s eyes flicked downward to his lips. His breath caught, Oh. The distance between them shrunk as the shorter man leaned in.
Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy.
His body responded, leaning forward on its own.
You were the one that they’d talk about around town as they’d but you down.
A soft pair of lips collided with his and Mike saw stars.
As hard as they would try they’d hurt to make you cry.
He’d never understood the obsession people had with physical intimacy. They’d talk of kissing like it was magic, something to be longed for like an addiction. He’d only ever kissed El, the action done mechanically, more so out of obligation and expectation, rather than pleasure. If the way it was described in the movies and books were true, maybe he was broken.
Or maybe, he’d just been in the wrong place.
His muscle memory kicked in as they moved in tandem, what had started as cautious was quickly replaced by something desperate. The sound of their heavy breathing was muffled by the music. The kiss became deeper, no longer just lips but teeth and tongue, the warm feeling Mike couldn’t place had increased tenfold. It took over his body, his mind, seeking more, it felt like a drug and he was the addict. The blood seemed to have rushed from his head, heat pooling beneath his stomach, dick twitching in his pants. Fuck, what was happening? His hands went exploring, mapping out the body in front of him, from the lower back to his biceps, trailing to cup the back of his neck.
But you never cried to them, just to your soul.
Sounds he’d never heard himself make before slipped past his lips, the boy in front of him responded with his own. So caught up in the moment, the world around him had drowned out by the sound of his favorite song and those of pleasure. They didn’t hear the voices approaching, becoming louder and louder by the second.
No, you never cried to them, just to your soul.
The door swung open, the sound harsh cutting Mike from his trance. The confusion, the fear, the self control, his rational thinking, it all hit him at once like a tsunami. Everything he’d pushed away, ignored, denied, flooded back through his system. The second that door had opened, he’d jumped back, putting as much distance between himself and Landon as possible. No. Oh god. What had he done? His chest restricts painfully, oxygen gone.
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away
It all happened in a matter of seconds, he flew out of the room, pushing past the intruders.
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away
His throat closed tight, he needed to get out, Mike's vision glazed over as he gasped for air. For an escape.
Run away, turn away, run away, turn away, run away
Somehow he made it to the bathroom. slamming the door shut behind him, Mike fumbled twisting the lock with a shaky hand until he heard it click shut. His back collided with the wall, body sliding down to the floor in defeat.
His mind spiraled, chest heaving. Why couldn't he breathe? Was he dying?
Absent mindedly he brought a hand up to his lips, he could still feel the kiss. He could feel it everywhere.
What was he thinking?
What had he done?
Mike pulled his phone out, that had been wedged in his pocket, flipping it open he dialed the apartment. Beth had picked up on the third ring, not able to explain he’d choked out with a sob “help”.
—
Both girls had found Mike that night, crumbed apart on the floor of someone's bathroom, in someone's house, at someone's party. They'd sat down without a word. “I kissed a boy.” he cried, tears spilling from his eyes. He clawed at his chest, still gasping for air “I-It felt good.”
—
That had been the night his entire life changed. The night a new door opened, one he hadn’t dared to find the key for. An opening that led through to his own path, not the one that had been built for him, not the one he was expected to go down. This was his.
Stepping through that door had been hard, he wouldn’t have made it through without the help of Beth and Tori, their support had been endless. Apparently their support wasn’t just moral, Mike had blanched at the glint in both of their eyes.
That’s how Mike found himself in their bathroom as Tori worked away, cutting Mike’s hair as Beth prepared the hair dye. It had been terrifying, the idea of exploring who he really was, changing the version of himself he’d become accustomed too.
The girls had taken it upon themselves to help Mike find the boy that had been buried for way too long.
It took a while for Mike to recognize himself in the mirror or in passing reflections. Gone was the god awful sidepart, and his wardrobe of soulless clothing. Now his hair was wild with curls that framed his face, the raven colour now rivaled with the streaks of blue that ran through it. Two slits cut through his right eyebrow and his left had been pierced along with his nose. His wardrobe was filled with band shirts that hung loose from his frame, with baggy ripped jeans and converse in almost every colour. In the years to come his body would fill with tattoos.
He’d wondered if El would think it was bitchin’, the man he’d become.
He wonders who El would’ve been.
Beth and Tori had been by Mike’s side, every step of the way. From the first time he’d kissed a boy till he was ready to come out. It had gone smoothly for the most part. Max, Lucas and Dustin had hugged him, it had been teary and full of love.
He’d sat in front of El’s headstone, flowers he bought clutched in his hands as he spoke about his grief, his guilt, his love that had been wrongly labeled. He apologised for the boy she’d known, the one who couldn’t return her love, the boy who had once been filled with anger, uncertainty, fear and denial. He’d cried as he confessed the truth.
During a visit from Nancy, he’d told her everything. She’d wrapped him in a bone crushing hug. Their dynamic had changed after the upside down, whether they’d just gotten older, or it came from shared trauma, they’d never been closer. Mike had no intention of ever breaking the bond they’d built.
Beth had joined him as Mike knocked on the door of his old house. The place he’d avoided since he left for college in Seattle. They’d sat at the dining table, Beth held his hand underneath, a silent support. Holly had grinned wide while his mother cried, but it wasn’t out of fear or disgust she looked so proud as he spoke.
Ted’s reaction was cruel. His father had never been physical but Mike wished he had been in that moment, it would’ve hurt less than the words he’d spat across the table.
Karen’s marriage had always been loveless, yet she’d never left. This however, had been her final straw, nobody talked to her kids like that. She’d told Ted to get out, to pack his shit and leave as Mike fought against the sobs he felt coming. His hand still tightly clasped with Beth’s, Holly had taken his other hand, her head on his shoulder.
Ergo, the divorce of Karen and Ted Wheeler.
—-
Present (13th of August 1993)
Mike’s grip had turned white on the edges of his desk. A violent mix of anger and cautious hope crashed into him. Had the painting and Will’s speech meant nothing? Or had it meant everything?
Will had been the first out of the party to leave for college, he’d gotten his acceptance letter to NYU. Something had changed after Will came out, when the gates had closed. Maybe it was grief or maybe it was trauma. But, he’d never been the same around Mike again; the final year of high school had been disjointed, like the string that tied them together had been cut.
What had he done wrong?
Before Will had left, Mike had pulled him aside, they’d promised to stay in contact through calls and letters.
Mike had called, he had written letter after letter.
He never got a response.
The way Mike had fallen apart, almost rivaled the quarry; when he’d watched helpless as his best friend was pulled from the water, body lifeless. Will was gone. And this time he was still alive.
That was four years ago.
He needs to know, Mike needs to know if he’s been holding onto something for dear life that was never there to begin with. What had kept him from completely slipping away at some of his lowest moments, was it ever real? A cruel guilt ridden part of his soul, begs that it was real, that the words were never El’s. The thought brings bile up his throat.
He needs to know.
Mike glances at the shitty digital clock still unpacked on his bedside table. 3:00am. He doesn’t even think as he makes his way out of the room, trailing down through the house until he reaches the basement. Dustin lies on the couch under a mountain of blankets, his snores filling the space.
He shakes the sleeping figure, as he begins to regain consciousness. “M–it’snot morning yet.” he grumbles, weakly swatting Mike arm away. He presses on, shaking him awake. Ready to put up a fight the curly haired man opens his eyes to shoot Mike a warning glare. The serious look on Mike’s face snapped him out of it, seeming to wake Dustin up properly.
“Dustin. I-I-” he stumbled over his words. Out of the party, Dustin had become a constant in his life. They’d always been close, but he’d seen Mike at his absolute worst over the past four years. He’d seen Mike grow into the man he is today and been there through all of it.
He didn’t even need to talk. Dustin understood. “Alright,” Dustin nods, voice heavy with sleep as he sits up rubbing his eyes. “Just let me get my shit together and we’ll leave.”
As they got ready, Dustin called Robin, she’d moved to New York a few years ago. Mike overheard some of their conversation, he’d asked if they could stay the night. He couldn’t hear her responses but they seem to have gotten the greenlight. His breath caught in his throat as Dustin asked for an address.
This was really happening.
It took half an hour for Mike to get ready, he stood in the shower, warm water pouring over him as he tried regulating his breathing to no avail. He’d dried off catching his reflection in the mirror as the steam began to seep away. His complexion had turned pale, not even the water could bring the colour back. His hair was dripping wet, he’d kept the blue dye since the first time Beth dyed it back in his first year. He’d tried different colours but blue had always been his favourite. His chest and arms were inked with tattoos, each line told a story and hid those he wasn't ready to tell.
He dressed quickly, chucking clothes into an overnight bag with other items he’d dug through his boxes for. With the bag slung over his shoulder he met Dustin outside, already sat in front of the wheel.
—-
The drive was long, painfully so. Music played softly from the radio, but it turned into white noise as Mike lost himself, gone to the world around him. Memories spiralled through his head, from the swingset to the radio tower, every moment from the first day till the last.
Was he dying?
Was this his seven minutes? He thought back to the first time he’d been introduced to the theory. He’d been with Dustin at MIT, the pair drunk out of their minds. It was a miracle he’d been able to recollect anything the next morning.
“Dude, I just wanted you to know that you’d be in my seven minutes.” Dustin slurred, both boys stumbled their way across the MIT campus, arms slung over each other in an attempt to keep upright. Emphasis on attempt.
“What the fuck are you on about H-Henderson?” Mike laughed as he almost lost his footing.
“No, like- it's so awesome. Scientists have a new theory. When you die… y-hic-your brain stays active for seven minutes or whatever. A-and they think that your brain plays a film reel of your life in those minutes. You’d be in m’seven minutes man.” Dustin wore a dopey grin on his face.
Mike rolled his eyes, removing his arm to give Dustin a playful shove. He didn't, however, account for how playful the shove would’ve been while drunk. So he watched as the shorter man tumbled off the sidewalk and into hedges that lined the walkway. Mike doesn’t think he’s ever laughed harder.
He pressed two fingers to the pulse point on his neck, yeah still beating. It earnt him a strange look from Dustin.
Too deep into the maze that was his mind, Mike hadn’t noticed the car pull to a stop. A hand on his shoulder pulled him back into reality, Dustin had a look of concern on his face, a slight crease formed between his eyebrows underneath that damn cap he wore religiously.
“I saw a bar a couple blocks back,” Dustin began, head nodding backwards in the direction of said bar. “Anything goes wrong, I’ll be there.” Mike’s jaw was clenched, anxiety had well and truly taken over his system, he couldn’t speak so he nodded stiffly.
He stepped out from the car, legs weak from the hours they’d been on the road. He turned around, the apartment stood intimidating from the opposite side of the road. Before he could cross he heard Dustin’s voice.
“Mike!” he looked back, Dustin had rolled down the window. “It’s gonna be okay.” he said with a soft smile “You’re a different Mike, show him what he’s missed out on.” he nodded in response, which seemed to be all he was capable of. His eyes stung but he wouldn’t cry. With that Mike turned around, crossing the road he stepped into the apartment complex.
—-
Apartment 516 had an oak door, How did Mike know that? Well, he’d been standing in front of it for enough time to identify the wood used to make said door. He’d been standing there so long in fact, he was surprised the police hadn’t been called. His alternative style really wouldn’t vouch for his harmless intent.
He raised his hand to knock.
Who was Will now? Was he still the same boy he last saw four years ago? Or was this the Will that let the phone ring through, the one that never replied?
He didn’t have to wait long after knocking for an answer. The door opened, in front of him stood a man, shorter than Mike, he had dark hair, tanned skin and piercing blue eyes met his, with curiosity.
It wasn’t Will.
“Hi, can I help you?” the man asked. He opened his mouth to respond but someone beat him to it.
“Baby, who is it?” he let the voice wash over him, it sent chills through his body. He’d recognise that voice anywhere. It had changed, grown older, but it was still the same voice.
Will.
He’d stepped into view to see who had knocked, but his body jolted as he saw who stood across the threshold. Will froze.
God, had he changed, his hair still the same brown, was now parted down the middle, it was a little longer than he remembered, a few strands fell across his face. His eyes were even more hazel, if that was possible. His moles still sat in the same places, Mike's eyes lingered on the one that sat above his lip. It had always been his favourite. A single gold hoop hung from his ear, skin tanner than he’d ever seen it. Will was radiant. No seriously, Mike wanted to turn off the light, because he’d bet any money right now that the boy in front of him would fucking glow. A sense of familiarity brought warmth to his cheeks. He still wore flannels, Will was wearing a yellow one, it was unbuttoned revealing a band t-shirt underneath. The cure, maybe he wasn't all that different Mike thought. A pair of jeans completed the outfit, covered in old paint stains, some stroke looked like they’d been put there intentionally. Cute.
It was only a few seconds that went by between them as they took in the sight of each other, surrounded by silence but it felt like minutes, hours, days. Four years even.
The sound of silence broke as he felt his heart crack beneath his ribs. The feeling was so strong he almost clutched his chest. Mike looked back at the man in front of him. The man was Will’s boyfriend.
Of course he was stupid enough to hope that he might have had a chance. That Will might have, for even a minute felt that way Mike did.
But maybe he’d just imagined it.
The painting was truly a lie. He felt his face burn with embarrassment, shame taking over the space he’d once let hope reside.
Mike felt empty.
Becoming the person he was today had never been smooth. He was still fighting. Mental health didn't have an off switch, It came in waves, just like his grief. You couldn’t go through the trauma they all had been through and come out unscathed. Mike had learnt that the hard way, he kept everything inside for far too long, what he hadn’t realised was that it would have to come out one way or another.
Mike had always been the one to take his pain, turning it into cruel words when people got too close to the fear hidden deep within himself. He had waited for the pain to dissipate as he grew older but it only seemed to deepen, etching itself into the darkest parts of his soul. He carried it around, every step he took, it was tethered to him.
It was never viable, taking that pain out on others. It took him a while to realise that.
But, the pain needed an outlet, it longed for reprieve.
So, it became something physical, something real.
Watching the blood seep through the cracks in his arm had felt like breathing for the first time in a very long time. It was like the pain that threatened to drown him suddenly spilled out, leaving him room to finally take in oxygen.
It was a cycle, Mike quickly learnt. A vicious one at that. The pain had become overbearing, his reprieve no longer as effective as it had once been. He began to fall back, running out of room for it to bleed out, he was desperate for air.
Dustin had found him, the night he’d drowned. No more air left to breathe.
It had started a few months after the Byers had moved in, after Lenora as Hawkins fell to pieces around them.
It ended a month after Will left for college.
Maybe he’d accidentally gone too deep. The letters they’d found tucked in his desk draw said otherwise.
Dustin had been the one to restart his heart, Holly had been the one to call 911.
He wouldn’t be alive, if it weren’t for them. They had given him a second chance, that wasn’t something you could easily repay.
So yeah, the road hadn’t been smooth, becoming the version of himself that now stood at Will’s door.
With a very broken heart.
Mike needed to get out, this had been a big fucking mistake. “Uh. I got the wrong address. I'm sorry for bothering you.” he blurted out, his eyes never leaving the stranger’s in front of him. He couldn’t handle another glance at the boy who’d once been his whole world, the man he longed for.
Mike turned on his heel walking away. He couldn’t run, not yet. He needed to get the fuck out. The bar Dustin was sitting in called his name, he was going to drink till he couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, couldn’t think.
He flew down the stairs and out the front door where he was almost instantly soaked. Mike looked up at the pitch black sky, pouring rain. When had there been clouds? When did it start raining? When did the sun set? He’d been so deep in his own mind through the car ride that he hadn’t taken note of the weather, or the time of day.
He watched the orange glow of the streetlamps, the way it caught the droplets in its warmth, turning them golden as they fell. Mike stood under it all, letting the water pour over him. He let out a delirious laugh “Of-fucking-course.” He held his arms out wide, feeling the patter against his bare skin. This was stupidly poetic.
He didn’t hear the door click shut behind him, the sound swallowed by the downpour.
“Mike?” He turned around to see Will now getting drenched, his chest heaving as if he’d ran down the stairs.
He laughed again. “You know, I really believed you when you gave me that painting. I really fucking belived you.” His voice was raised so it could be heard over the rain. Will’s brows drew together in confusion but Mike didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Oh god,” his breath hitched “all that shit about being needed, being the heart. That meant everything to me.” He dragged his hands down his face in frustration.
“Mike…” Will began, his face tight with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“You lied,” he responded simply. “You of all people.” Recognition flared in his eyes, face crumpling.
“I had that painting hung up for years, I-I brought it to college with me! I looked at it on some of the worst days and I held on. Because I believed I was important. That I was needed. That I was worth something.” Mike hadn’t noticed the tears that had started to fall from his eyes, mixing with the rain. “I was so naive and clueless that I didn't question anything you said, that El commissioned it.” he let out another weak laugh that almost became a sob.
“It took Dustin asking me about it to realise, El didn't know about dnd. No, scratch that. Dustin was the one who asked, how El could have commissioned it, for me to realise.” Mike’s breath hitched again as he tried to hold it together.
“Mike–” Will tried again, but he wasn’t done.
“El even said it herself. You were painting in Lenora, you wouldn’t show her. She thought it was for a girl you liked.”
“T-then you came out.” his voice cracked. “I was trying to understand why you would've lied Will. Especially to me… I-I thought–” A sob ripped out as the pain continued to spill. “I was really trying to understand, if El never commissioned it, and you were painting it for someone you liked… was I–” He stopped himself, carding his fingers through his drenched hair and pulling it. “Fuck!” he sobbed out.
Will stood frozen, his hands in fists and jaw clenched. His eyes were red, full of pain and his lips quivered but he remained quiet. Listening as Mike fell apart right in front of him.
“I spent a really fucking long time trying to be someone I’m not. So much so, that I completely lost sight of who I was meant to be. When you were in Lenora, we met Eddie. He was exactly who he was meant to be and he didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought. He got so passionate about breaking down the boundaries society had placed around us, these invisible walls that we mould ourselves into, to be accepted, to fit in. He stood on our table in the lunch hall, everyone turned to watch him, they laughed, but I never forgot what he said as he walked along it. ‘Conformity is killing the kids’. I let conformity wash away everything I could've been. I became what was expected of me.”
“I never understood why, when you gave me the painting that I was disappointed it wasn’t from you, that those weren't your words. Then you looked at me, at the Sqwauk. I don't know why I felt my heart break when you called me your ‘Tammy’. Why did I care so much?”
“Mike, what are you talking about? W-What are you saying?” Will cut in. Water ran down his face, hair darkened from the downfall.
He was devastatingly beautiful.
“I didn’t understand why I completely broke down when I realised you weren’t going to respond to any of my calls or letters. I held my breath every time as I listened to each ring, hoping that you’d pick up before it hit voicemail. And every time there was mail, hoping I'd see my name.”
Will let out a sob as he listened.
“I didn't understand anything, until I was kissed.” Mike paused, taking a few shaky breaths. “By a guy.” He’d come out to so many people in his life, but somehow, this felt the most important. He heard Will intake a sharp breath, even over the pouring rain. His eyes and face pale. “Then I finally understood.”
“U-Understood what?” Will asked as he took a step back, he looked scared.
“That I don’t like girls.” Mike’s heart raced violently, he couldn’t tell the difference between his tears and the rain that fell down his face, a constant stream.
Will began to shake his head. “No.” His voice trembled “Don’t do this.” He took another step back, chest rising and shoulders shaking with restrained sobs. “Please don’t do this.” he said so much quieter, barely audible as rain fell around them, violent and unforgiving.
“So when I realised the painting was never from El, I foolishly let myself believe…hope…that it was your words. That they were real. That maybe i was the girl El wrote about.” Mike smiled “But then I remembered that I’m your ‘tammy’ or whatever the fuck that is. I remembered each and every letter you never responded to. Every call that you let ring through. Was it ever real, what you said in the van? Or is the reason I kept going over the years, no matter how many times I fell back a l-lie?” He broke off as he finished, the sobs he’d desperately tried to contain came out.
Will stood across from Mike, absolutely broken. Guilt poured over him, harder than the rain. He hated being the reason Will cried.
He was always the reason.
But Will needed to know.
“You…you don't like girls?” Will asked, his voice unsteady. Mike shook his head. “What about El?” He knew that question would come. He’d had a lot of time to understand their relationship, to grieve, to accept what he can no longer change.
“I think that conformity is pushed onto us from a very young age. I knew my fathers expectations of me before I even could walk. I was so young and scared when we’d gotten together, I didn’t know any different. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t know what love felt like. What it was supposed to feel like and what it wasn't supposed to feel like.”
“It took me embarrassingly long to realise something wasn’t right, that maybe I should've felt something. I loved her, but I couldn't say it. Because saying it felt different, it felt wrong, like it was a lie. And that scared me. So I buried that fear, ignored it, and denied it, until it was too late to confront.”
“El died,” Mike sobbed. “She died believing a lie that I'd convinced myself was reality. I’ll never be able to give her the truth she deserved. I’ve had a lot of time to feel guilt, to feel anger, but there is only so much that that can do. I can’t atone my actions. But I can make sure I never repeat the same mistakes as I move forward. I can do her justice by being who I should've been a very long time ago.” He finished, proud of what he’d said.
“The van…” Will began, hands twitching with nerves “They were never El’s words. I-I lied, you were right. But the words were real, they were mine, they were f-from m-me.” his voice wobbled. Mike’s mouth parted, the flame of hope he’d stomped out began to spark back to life. “I-I’ve liked you since we met on the swingset. It took me a little while to learn what those feelings were, but they’d been undeniably there since the day we met.”
“I watched you and El from the sidelines, I tried, I really tried to be happy for you. But my heart broke knowing she’d get to have something I never would. I’ve always been an outlier. I knew I was different for a very long time, Somehow Lonnie figured it out before I did. ”
“Tammy, was an inside joke between me and Robin, i-it was a girl she’d had this crush on, but she’d just needed her to understand who she was.” Pain seared through Mike, the spark dissipating.
“Oh,” he breathed.
Will continued on, “I made the painting for you, but it thought it wouldn’t matter as much coming from me that it would have from El. I meant every word, but I was so scared.”
“Our last game of dnd, the one after graduation; I promised to stay in contact. But I couldn't, it hurt too much. In our final year of high school, I tried everything to get over you. No matter what I tried, you only ended up breaking my h-heart more. And the worst part of it all, was that it was completely unintentional. You had no idea just how much I was hurting. So I had to get out, I had to leave you behind, so I could finally move on.” Will stood under the warm shine of the streetlamp, soaked head to toe, rain droplets stuck in his eyelashes, he was ethereal.
Both boys stood across from each other, chests heaving and tears falling.
“Why are you here Mike?” Will cut through the silence that had hung between them.
“I needed to know if your words were real. I needed to know why you lied.” he responded.
“Mike, why are you here?” Will repeated, his hazel eyes never leaving his own.
“Fuck, I-I spent too long trying to be someone im not, then, even longer navigating, accepting the version of myself that i’d buried, that i’d spent my whole life ignoring.”
“I came, because I needed to know if it had finally clicked. What you had been trying to tell me all along. That I finally understood. That instead of going crazy alone, you might join me. Crazy together, right?” He smiled wistfully.
“But when I'd finally worked up the courage to knock on the door. It opened, and I'd waited too long. You’ve moved on.”
Will tilted his head, the furrow between his brows returned. “What do you mean?”
“The man you called ‘baby’.” Jealousy spread through Mike like venom. “You moved on.” he repeated.
Will snorted, it threw Mike off completely. “Uh, sorry. Probably shouldn’t laugh.” he paused for a moment, it almost looked like he was trying to fight off a smile. “We’re not together,” he said slowly. “The guy up there” he motioned back towards the building.
“B-But, you called him baby.” Mike replied, confused as all hell.
“You know Dirty Dancing?” Will asked.
Mike scrunched up his nose. “You can just call it a hookup Will.”
That seemed to pull a laugh from him. Fuck, how he’d missed that sound.
“You dork.” Will rolled his eyes. “You know, the movie?”
Yeah, still nothing.
Mike wondered what the car’s driving by would think, two men breaking down in the pouring rain. They’d been outside for at least 20 minutes, there was no cover from the rain and doing this inside would disturb other people. So there they stood, definitely getting sick but neither of them made a move.
“Wait! I-I think I know, Beth and Tori used to watch it.”
“...Beth and Tori?” Will asked.
“Oh, my roommates from college, they helped me figure out uh- this.” he gestured awkwardly towards himself. “They’re together. L-Like dating. They kind of made me pull my shit together.” Mike rambled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“That’s cool.” Will respond with a smile. “Anyway, the guy up there is my roommate, and one of my friends Carlton. He dated a guy a few years ago who looked like Partick Swayze–it was actually scary, the remblance–so ever since then we all call him Baby. So no, we are definitely not together.” he finished, smirking slightly.
“Oh.” Mike blushed.
So that changed things
“Are you with anyone at the moment? Like uh- dating?” Real smooth Wheeler.
“No, I'm not,” Will replied, voice filled with amusement. “Why do you ask?”
Clearing his throat Mike was grateful for the dim light, he could feel his face burn red. “Well, as I said. I’ve been going pretty crazy.” he laughed wetly, feeling the tears return. “I thought I'd come and see if maybe you’d wanna join me.”
Will took a step forward, hesitant. “So, you want to go crazy…together?”
“Yeah, something like that.” It was his turn to take a step in. It was strange seeing the boy that stained his memories now grown up. So different yet so achingly familiar.
Mike took in a deep breath, gathering courage to close the remaining distance. It only took a few steps before he stood right in front of Will, the shorter man looked up through his damp eyelashes with teary eyes.
“Hi.” Mike breathed, mapping out all the tiny details he could now see up close, eyes wondering over the boy's face. His gaze lingered on the mole that sat above his lip.
He lifted up a shaky arm, cupping Will's chin in his hand, Mike brushed his thumb over the mole.
“Hi.” Will replied, he could see the chills that shot through his body from the soft touch.
He kept his hand exactly where it was, as he let himself look at the soft pair of lips, they glistened from the rain, and the dim light. He examined the curve of them, the way they were slightly parted, short breaths escaping through.
Fuck the movies,the books, the fairy tales and poems. Nothing could ever bring justice to this feeling, to the moment he stood in right now. Inches away from the boy that had always carried his heart. He watched Will’s eyes drift to his own mouth, then back to meet his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?” Mike whispered.
Will nodded instantly, as if he’d always been ready to answer. He would never make him wait again.
Mike's thumb had trailed lower, it swiped underneath the boy's lips as he pulled him in. The world around him melted the moment their lips finally touched. The kiss was addictively slow, soft, it was the solution to every unanswered question; it was the missing piece to a puzzle; it was his heart, exactly where it was meant to be.
Mike swiped his tongue along Will’s bottom lip, his silent question answered as the boy parted his lips. His mind spun when their tongues collided, a quiet moan escaped at the feeling. It was wet and warm, Will tasted like raindrops and coffee, it felt like the sunrays on a quiet morning, like coming home after a long day. Mike brought his other hand up, using both to cradle his face. Will's hands had rested against his chest, they clutched the wet fabric of his shirt.
He rested his forehead against Will’s as they’d come apart, letting oxygen back into their lungs. Up close he could see the pink flush across the boys cheeks, he could see the pupils that threatened to swallow his hazel irises. Most importantly, he could see the wide smile that lit up Will’s entire face.
He was breathtaking. No, he’d quite literally taken all the air from Mike’s lungs. It felt incredible.
Everything had finally clicked. He was exactly where he was meant to be.
He felt his own smile stretch across his face. Maybe it was the rain they’d been standing in for far too long, maybe it was all the tears he’d cried, maybe it was the lack of sleep that prompted a laugh to bubble out of him. It took only a second for Will to join in.
Nothing was particularly funny, but their bodies shook, Mike hadn’t laughed like this in a long time.
Regaining his composure, he looked up. Will stood across from him, mimicking what Mike had done earlier, his arms held out wide feeling the rain that had nothing left to soak as he looked up to the night sky. He spun around letting out another laugh.
Looking back, Will’s face held a look of such hope and disbelief, it made his heart clench. “This is real, right?” He asked, eyes filled with tears.
“God, I really fucking hope so.” Mike replied.
Will held his arm out, “Pinch me.”
Both boys jumped as Lighting cut through the sky followed by thunder so loud the ground shook.
“We should probably get inside.” Will gestured towards the door “Did you want to come up?”
“Y-Yeah, absolutely.” Mike nodded.
He trailed behind Will as they made their way back up the staircase leaving a trail of water behind them.
—
When they’d made it back to the apartment it was empty. Carlton had gone out for the night.
It was just him and Will.
Mike stood nervously at the threshold, a puddle forming at his feet. “C’mon,” Will motioned, “it’s just water.” He followed the boy inside, arms wrapped around himself to stop shivering. Fuck, he was cold.
He’d been directed to the bathroom where he now waits, perched on the edge of the bathtub, water dripping onto the tiles. It didn’t take long for Will to return, he placed a pile of clothes on the edge of the sink.
“Those should fit.” he smiled lopsided, making Mike’s heart stutter. “Uh- I’ll let you shower, call me if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” he returned as Will clicked the door shut.
Mike stood alone in the middle of Will’s bathroom. His reflection glanced back at him in the mirror, his shirt lay discarded on the floor, no longer clung to his body. His jeans still hung loosely over his hips, boxers peeking through. His face was pale, a slight tint of pink on his cheekbones and curls stuck to his forehead, weighed down from the rain.
Steam began to fill the space, yet he stood unmoving.
He could still feel Will on his lips, the taste of him lingered on his tongue. A warm heart coiled in Mike's stomach, he wanted more. He wanted to take the lost time and make up for each and every second. He wanted to explore every inch of the body he’d longed for in the deep of night. He wanted to treat Will the way he deserved, love him in every way possible.
It had been four years too long. Fuck it.
“Will”
“Is everything okay?” he heard the boy’s voice a few seconds later, muffled from outside the door. Mike walked over, turning the handle it opened. Will’s eyes widened, looking at the boy in front of him, mouth parting in surprise.
“I…I don’t want to be alone.” His eyes told a story his words didn’t.
Will caught the look.
Mike’s breath hitched as a pair of hands met his bare chest pushing him back into the bathroom. The door closed behind them, he moved his hands to Will's hips, guiding him across the room. The smaller man gasped as his back collided with the wall, he wasted no time pulling Mike in. Their lips met for the second time that night, gone were the careful, tender movements. Now they fed off a hunger that had been growing for years.
He tugged the base of his shirt, Will lifted his arms so Mike could peel it off, joining his on the floor. He took in the sight of the boy in front of him, trapped between the wall and himself. Mike trailed his fingers along the ridges of the toned arms, he felt Will shiver under the touch, and the goosebumps over his skin.
The bathroom was dim, a couple candles lit the space, Will had always hated harsh lighting, some things never change. The man he’d grown into made Mike's knees weak, begging to drop down and worship the art in front of him. The soft glow was intimate, further dulled from the thick cloud of steam, the sound of rain now replaced by the shower.
“So gorgeous” Mike breathed, soaking in every inch of the boy, committing all of him to memory.
Will looked back, eyes dark, hungry. A hand made its way up to the base of Mike’s neck, fingers carding though his hair. A finger hooked into the beltloop of his jeans, tugging him back forward and into a deep kiss. His hands held Will’s hips steady against the wall, as his tongue explored the boy's mouth, groaning as the coil in his stomach burned, his cock painfully hard in his jeans.
He trailed a hand up over his chest, thumb swiping over Will's nipple, the contact made the man’s back arch, head tilting back with a moan, the scent of vanilla hit him. Mike took the opportunity to drag his tongue along the expanse of his neck, tasting the rain, sucking, biting, kissing him silly. The action drew soft gasps and whimpers out of Will, the sound addicting. Mike whined as the fingers that carded through his hair pulled.
“Take them off.” Will gave another tug on the belt loop, voice gravely. His hands left Will’s body, flicking the button undone he let the pants fall off his frame onto the floor. Stepping out Mike heard a sharp intake of breath, the boy's eyes dilating at the sight of his dick as it strained against his boxers.
Mike moved forward, pushing Will closer to the wall. He made quick work of his jeans, the bathroom floor scattered with discarded clothing. Slotting a leg between the shorter man’s he felt the bulge against his thigh, a moan tore through Will at the contact. Mike leaned in, lips brushing against his ear.
“Let’s not waste the water.” his own voice husky. With that he slipped his fingers into the man's waistband tearing the last item of clothing away, before removing his too. Mike felt faint, Will’s cock twitched, bigger than he’d imagined it, the head was flushed pink, shining with precum. The man in front of him, agonizingly beautiful, was almost enough to make him come on the spot. He whimpered at the view.
“Fuck.” Will groaned his own eyes examining Mike’s hardened length. Without warning he picked the boy up, legs automatically hooking around his waist, arms wrapped around his neck. He carried Will into the shower, warm water pouring over the both of them as he set the boy back down.
Will’s hands slid up to his face, dragging Mike back into a kiss. Water ran down his face, their lips wet as they moved against each other. On instinct he rolled his hips forwards, the movement causing his dick to slide against Will’s, both of them moaned at the contact.
His hard-on begged for traction, instead their lips broke apart as Mike trailed kisses down Will, his skin soft, warm from the water. Starting at his neck he mapped out the shape of his body, licking the water droplets and caressing downwards. Mike’s tongue flicked over the boy’s nipple on his descent.
“M-Mike” Will whined. The sound of his name through the boys' lips was music.
He pressed kisses down his stomach, knees finding the ground below him. Water ran off Will's cock, it pulsed angry and untouched. Mike glanced up, the boy's eyes already on his own as he looked down. His mouth agape at the sight of Mike kneeling in front of him, drenched in water.
The hand Mike held Will’s hip with moved, wrapping around the base of his length. The boy jerked at the contact, not once had Mike's eyes left Will’s. He parted his mouth taking in just the tip, swiping his tongue over the slit, tasting him for the first time.
“Holy shit” Will choked out, hand finding the back of Mike’s head, fingers threading through the dark hair and pulling him forward.
He’d smirk if his mouth wasn’t occupied, he answered the silent plea; taking him inch by inch.
He started to move against Will in a steady rhythm, back and forth. With his cheeks hollowed, his hand worked at the base. It was a fight to hold his composure, trying not to come undone just by the noises Will made. He groaned every time he felt the hand in his hair pull, the noise sending vibrations along the man.
As his moans became pleads and his hips began to stutter Mike pulled off Will, standing back up. The boys brows furrowed, unimpressed. Cute.
“W-What are you doing?” he whined, Mike wanted to get back on his knees, give him the reprieve he begged for, but this was important. Will was his everything. He deserved this done properly.
“I want to do this the right way” he smiled softly, cupping the boy's cheek in his hand and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Mike pulled a bottle of shampoo from the shelf, pouring some into his hand he began to massage the product into Will's hair. The boy stood stunned, a blush seared across his cheeks. Why was he surprised? This was how he should be treated. It was the bare minimum.
They stood in silence as he washed Will’s hair, letting the sound of the shower fill the space. He caught the small smile on Will's lips even in the dim light. When he finished he quickly washed his own hair as the shorter man dried off.
When Mike stepped out he found Will, towel hung loosely around his hips, damp and wild as he leaned against the basin. The candles flickered, casting him in shadows and a warm orange glow. He’d never felt more at home.
After he’d dried off, towel secured around his waist, Will’s hand found his. The boy led them out, bare feet padding across the floor across the apartment and into his bedroom.
Mike soaked in his surroundings, it was so undeniably…Will. It was messy, but intentionally so. The bed was covered in pillows and blankets that could knock him out long enough to rival sleeping beauty. The walls are filled with artworks, and photos, an easel sits in the corner with an unfinished canvas atop it. The dresser, bookshelf and bedside tables covered with too many trinkets to count, the soft light from a lamp lit up the bedroom.
However, what caught his attention was the record player that sat on the dresser, and the collection of records next to it. A spark lit in Mike’s eyes as he walked towards the vinyls. After a few seconds of hunting he pulled out a disk, messing with it until an upbeat tune cut through the silence.
Will’s face brightened with recognition, Mike grinned like the cat that got the cream.
‘Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick’
“You’re an idiot, Mike Wheeler.” Will grinned as Mike walked back over, his hands on the boy's hips.
‘The one that makes me scream’ she said
Will’s arms wrapped around the back of his neck, Mike led him backwards until they hit the foot of the bed.
‘The one that makes me laugh’ she said
Threw her arms around my neck
The shorter man sat as Mike stood between his legs, hooking a finger under Will's chin to lift his head up as he mouthed the next lyrics
‘Show me how you do it
And i promise you, i promise that
I’ll run away with you
I’ll run away with you’
Will rolled his eyes, pushing himself back along the bed. Mike followed, holding himself above. He looked down at the Hazel eyes that gazed right back.
Spinning on that dizzy edge
Kissed face and kissed her head
Mike mimicked, pressing his lips to Will’s cheek followed by the space between his eyebrows. Pulling a laugh out of him.
Dreamed of all the different ways
I had to make her glow
Will’s hand traced along the ink that weaved itself across Mike’s upper body.
‘Why are you so far away?’ she said
‘Why won’t you ever know’
Balancing his weight, Mike placed a hand on Will’s chest. Above his heart as he continued to mouth the words.
That I'm in love with you?
That I'm in love with you?
The song continued to play out, drained into the background. Will’s lips were on his, Mike kissed him slower this time, expressing words he had yet to speak. He slipped a hand into the fold of the boy's towel, unravelling it from his body, before tugging his off too.
This was happening
The boy he lived and breathed for, now lay beneath him. His whole world in arms reach. The one who stole his heart the day they'd met.
He never thought it was in the cards for him.
But the proof it always was, is right here.
I am here, I am looking at him, and he is so beautiful.
He lowered himself, settling in between Will’s legs, the contact sent fireworks through Mike's body; rocking his hips carefully he could fill the boy hard beneath him. They found a steady momentum, grinding against each other, he’d never felt so good.
Will gasped at the pleasure, the feeling of Mike on top of him. The boy brought an arm down, closing his hand around both their lengths. His hand was warm, sturdy as he worked them together, thumb collecting their precum, spreading it down as he listened to Mike's whimpers.
Mike used his free hand to brush the hair from Will’s face, pressing their foreheads together as Will jerked them off. He could feel the heat building, uncontrollably fast.
“W-Will–wait a sec.” He panted "You're gonna destroy me.”
Will released them, smirking up at Mike.
He inhaled steadily, “Did you want to do this? Like–go all the way?” Will was as much in control as Mike was, and he needed the boy to know that.
“Please” Will respond, nodding.
“Uh..where do you keep th–”
“Top draw.”
Mike reached over, collecting the small bottle from Will’s bedside table. Now kneeling between the boy's legs he popped the cap open, pouring the lube onto his fingers and bringing them to Will's entrance. He stopped before making contact, looking into his eyes.
“Is this okay?” he whispered. Will nodded, he could see sparkles in the boy's eyes under the dim light.
It started with one finger, and soft kisses between whimpers. The sound better than any kind of music in his opinion. Mike’s dick twitched, he’d never been so hard before, but his needs were irrelevant, the boy beneath him his only priority.
And that would never change.
He hit the boy’s prostate with the second finger now inside, Will felt warm, tight, perfect like everything else. His kisses became more desperate against Mike’s, nails dragging down his back.
“I-I need more” Will cried. Mike responded hand around the base of his cock as he lined it up, head nudging the entrance.
He was nervous, this was really, really happening. Mike wanted each movement, each touch, each sound to show just how much this meant. How much Will meant to him.
It was slow, easing himself into Will, the boy tight, Mike moaned, the feeling like nothing he’d experienced. When there was no more to take in, their breaths mixed, chests heaving.
“You’re doing so good for me” he rasped, breathing hot against Will. Every second it became harder to keep himself from crumbling apart, he just needed to last a little longer.
Mike almost blacked out when he began to move his hips, “Holy fuck, holy fuck.” he gasped, eyebrows drawn together from the intensity of it all. Will held his face, gentle as he traced the line of his cheekbone.
Moving in a steady rhythm he took Will’s cock in his hand working him towards his climax. Mike watched the way his face drew tight in pleasure, felt the way the boy’s legs trembled.
“I–shit, I'm gonna come.” Will’s voice trembled as he fell over the edge, moan tearing through his body as Mike felt the warm liquid pour over his hand, stroking him through his orgasm.
The sight of the boy falling apart unravelled all of Mike’s restraint and white hot pleasure crashed through him, burying his head into the crook of Will’s neck. He thrust through his own climax, spilling out.
(Home - edith whiskers)
A few moments of stillness followed, as Mike came back from cloud nine. He felt fingers combing through his hair, slowly as he lay on Will’s chest. He lifted his head blinking, a giddy smile split over his face at the boy in front of him. “Hi.”
Mike couldn’t remember ever seeing Will so happy, his face transformed into the softest smile.
“Hi back.”
God he was so fucking cute. Mike pushed himself up, planting a kiss on the boy's nose, before getting off the bed with wobbly legs. Jesus.
Will trailed his movements across the room, he collected a box of tissues. Mike used them to clean the mess they’d made before dragging a blanket from the end of the bed, laying it over the boy before climbing underneath too.
Mike rolled onto his side, curling an arm around Will’s waist pulling him in. Back against his chest, head over his shoulder; he held him tight. Breathing in the scent of vanilla and lust.
Will hummed, scooting closer letting the taller boy wrap him up in his arms.
“Will” Mike breathed
“Mmm” he murmured in response.
“I love you.” There was no grand speech, nothing but the three words.
Three words that had taken a long time to figure out.
But the way they passed through his lips for the boy in his arms was the easiest they’d ever come.
He could talk for hours, about the way he loved Will, why he loved Will.
He could.
But he wouldn’t
Instead of giving a reason or explanation for the way he felt, he would show him.
He would show Will that he meant every word.
Through gentle kisses in the morning and coffee already made. Through open doors and cooked dinners. Through a jacket in the cold. Through the worst and through the best.
Through everything, he would show him.
“And I love you.” The words etched themselves into Mike's heart, the sound of Will’s soft voice brought tears to his eyes. The boy nuzzled deeper, and Mike pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
He felt a tear slide down his cheek.
Tangled into each other, the room filled with the sound of rain that pattered against the window, and the steady sound of breathing as sleep pulled them under.