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Four days. That’s how long it took Mike to get Will alone after the whole ‘killing three demogorgons with his mind from varying and impossible distances’ thing. Which was, by the way, incredibly hot. Four days too long, in his opinion. He had wanted Will alone the second he saw him wipe the blood off his lip. If he was being honest with himself, he had wanted Will alone far longer than that.
So, when there was a clear, rare gap between the times that Joyce was hovering over Will and the party was hovering over each other, Mike grabbed Will's arm and dragged him into the nearest empty room.
“What the–” Will started.
“Shhhh,” Mike interrupted, looking around to make sure no one had seen or heard them before closing the door behind him.
“Don’t shush me–”
“Shut up or someone will hear us,” Mike hissed, turning the lock. He spun around to face Will, and watched him as he leaned against the wall, watching Mike back. All of Mike's confidence bled from his body when his eyes met Wills. This was a mistake, he couldn’t do this–he shouldn’t do this.
“What?” he asked, suddenly self-conscious and wondering if it was too late to make up some bullshit excuse for why he wanted Will alone so bad.
“Nothing,” Will said, pushing himself off the wall. Mike watched as Will's eyes flickered down to his lips, then back up to his eyes again.
“Nothing?” he asked, stepping closer, gaining back a bit of confidence. Don’t think, Mike, he thought, or else you’ll never do it.
Will blushed, faintly, almost unnoticeably, but Mike had spent years studying and memorizing his best friend, and he would’ve noticed even the slightest, most miniscule change in the other boy.
“Nothing,” Will murmured, dropping his gaze to Mike's lips again. This time, Mike didn’t think–-he acted. He grabbed Will's face and drew him into a hard kiss. It was awkward at first, neither of them really knowing what to do, and Will was too surprised to actually kiss back.
Mike pulled away, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha–”
Will cut him off by pulling him into another kiss–a proper one this time–wrapping his arms around Mike's neck to pull him in closer. The kiss was desperate and messy and full of years of longing and feelings neither had even been brave enough to voice to the other. Mike's hands fluttered around for a moment before finally landing on the other boy, looping one of his fingers into a belt loop and placing the other one around his back, keeping them anchored together. Will's breath hitched at the feeling of Mike's hands on him in a way he had scarcely even let himself dream of for so long, and Mike used that opportunity to deepen the kiss, slowly backing Will up into the wall.
Will gasped when his back hit the wall, pulling away for a moment. “Mike, El–”
“Fuck El,” Mike growled with a suprising amount of force, pulling Will back into the kiss, running his hands over every part of his body that he could reach, slipping his hand ever so slightly under his shirt to feel cool skin against his fingers. Will gasped again, and Mike found that he was coming to enjoy that sound–espically enjoying being the cause of that sound. He wanted to undo the other boy and put him back together over and over again until he knew every part of Will inside and out. He wanted to study every possible reaction he could pull from him, find what action was most likely to elicit which response, find what Will liked best and what he disliked the most–he wanted to know it all. The need consumed him.
Eventually the need to breathe outweighed everything else and Will pulled away, panting, and rested his forehead against Mike's.
“Shit,” Mike said, “where did you learn how to kiss like that?” Will laughed and Mike laughed with him and soon the two boys were a mess of giggles. Mike peppered small, chaste kisses on every part of Will's face that he could reach, which only made the other boy laugh more and squirm in his arms.
He ended the onslaught of kisses with another deep, meaningful kiss on the shorter boy's lips.
“So,” Will said once they had broken the kiss, “do you like me?”
Mike snorted, “You are an idiot, Will Byers.”
“Only for you, Mike Wheeler.”
They were smiling at each other, completely intertwined, as close as possible. Mike toyed with the hem of Will's shirt and Will leaned his head against the wall behind him, studying the other boy's face.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re beautiful,” Will said simply, like it was a fact rather than an opinion.
Mike blushed and Will smiled, "That's what I wanted to say earlier. When I said ‘nothing’, I really meant that I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Mike squirmed, not knowing how to accept the sudden burst of affection that Will was feeling for him, and pulled him into yet another kiss. He didn’t think he would ever grow tired of the feeling of Will's lips on his. The kiss was slow and lazy and unrushed, unlike the other ones they had shared. It was as if they had all the time in the world to stand here and kiss forever and ever and ever and honestly, Mike was fine with that reality. In fact, he was more than fine with it. He preferred it, even. He never wanted to leave this room. He wanted to stay here and live in ignorant bliss with Will and ignore all of the hard, complicated things and conversations that waited for them outside the door.
Eventually they had stopped kissing, though neither of them were ready to leave the room and burst their little bubble. They sat on the floor, Wills back against the wall and Mike's head in his lap. He played with Mike's dark, curly hair and Mike closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of his hands in his hair.
“Does anyone know?” Will asked.
“Know what?”
Will gestured to the two of them, “This. How you feel. How I feel. How we feel, I guess.”
“Nancy,” Mike admitted. “Does anyone know about you?”
Will shook his head, “No. I was too scared that you or El or anyone else would find out to ever voice my feelings.” Mike hummed in understanding. “How did Nancy take it?”
“Really well actually. We hugged.”
Will arched a disbelieving brow, “You hugged?”
Mike nodded. “More than once.”
Will laughed, “I almost can’t believe it.”
“That’s what I said!”
Will smiled down at him, and the love in his eyes made Mike's heart ache. Love. Both of the boys knew that this was more than a crush or petty infatuation–they had been absolutely necessary to each other since the day they met. Mike didn’t think he could feel anything for Will that wasn’t a form of deep, longing, aching love.
“What are we going to tell everyone else?”
Mike frowned, “Do we have to tell everyone? Right now, I mean.”
“You have to talk to El. And Nancy, probably.”
Mike groaned, covering his face with his hands, “What am I going to tell El?”
“That I’m a better kisser than her?” Will teased. Mike swatted at him and Will caught his hands, leaning down for another kiss, and Mike leaned up to meet him half way. The angle was awkward for the both of them, and the kiss was short, but still better than anything else Mike had ever experienced with El, he had to admit, even if the thought felt mean.
“Tell her,” Will murmured against his lips, “that you love her, but not in the way she wants you to.”
Mike hummed in agreement, pressing one more kiss into the other boy's lips before laying back down and closing his eyes as Will's hands made their way back into his hair.
“I think that I’ll tell her the truth.”
“Which is?”
“It’s always been you.”