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It had been almost a year since Mike and Will had talked.
A year since the party had split in two, since everything Will seemed to know was torn from him.
That sounds dramatic, but to him, his friendships were the one thing stable in his life. No matter what was going on in Hawkins, Will knew he always had Mike and Dustin and Lucas and El and Max to depend on.
Until he didn’t.
It was a stupid fight. The details were blurry. Mike had said something rude about Dustin’s family. Maybe it was a joke, maybe it wasn’t, but it soon grew deeper.
It only got worse when Will tried to take Dustin’s side. If there was one thing he remembered from that night, it was what Mike had said to him.
“Maybe everyone is right, Will, maybe you really are pathetic!” Mike had clapped a hand over his mouth immediately, regretting his choice of words, but it was too late.
“It’s not like you’re much better, Mike,” Will scoffed. “You’re just as pathetic as I am, you’re just better at hiding it. You’ll do anything just for some validation, and you know it.”
And that was all it took to a dig a rift through the party. Mike and Lucas had latched together, as has Will and Dustin. The girls were thoroughly confused when they met with the party the following Monday to see the group sitting on separate edges of the table, like there was a wall between them.
It had only taken Dustin and Lucas three months to start talking again, after lots of pestering from Max.
“Come on,” She’d groan dramatically to Mike and Lucas, sitting alone, trying to act normal. “I still don’t know what you guys are so pressed about, but El and I keep having to plan around your little boy drama, and it’s getting seriously annoying. Can you just suck it up and apologize so we can have movie night together?”
Just like that, everyone was sitting at lunch together again, hanging out together, watching movies together. Everything had snapped straight back to normal, like they hadn’t just had three months of letting their anger fester.
Well, not for Mike and Will, who still weren’t talking. Most of all, Will was mad that it was Mike who had said that to him. If it was Lucas or Dustin or even Max or El, he would’ve been mad, but he would’ve got over it quickly. But out of everyone, Will was sure Mike was the one who understood him, who would never use his own insecurity against him. But Mike had changed a lot in the time that Will was in California.
Will never liked change. He and his mom tried to grow a little garden by the windowsill when he was little. They had picked up some carnation seeds in the hopes of growing their own bouquet. Will watered the flowers every morning and made sure they were getting optimal sunlight, to assure they would be in the best condition.
And then the flowers began to bud, and Will felt almost uneasy. He had gotten used to the sight of the empty dirt sit in the pot for so long that seeing the green speckle through almost unnerved him.
It only got worse that night he was sucked into the Upside Down, and practically nothing has stayed the same. He knew he could trust in one thing, and that one thing was Mike. So of course he felt betrayed when that one person he could depend on had changed so heavily.
By the sixth month, the group had worked around Will and Mike still not talking. It was awkward, certainly, but manageable. At least they still weren’t split in two. Each party member had taken their own attempt to talk some sense into the boys, each to no avail. Even Nancy and Jonathan had banded together to get their brothers back on speaking terms, which had, once again, failed.
Will certainly didn’t admit it, but he was starting to miss Mike. Will knew that Mike had been horrible to him, so he didn’t know why he felt the need to have him back in his life. Will decided, after lots of thinking late in his bed about it, that he missed the way that Mike wanted him around. There was no one else who really wanted Will like Mike did. But Will wasn’t ready to apologize. Not yet.
He thought about it plenty. When he was finally ready to apologize. What he would say. And the more he thought, the more feelings that he had worked so hard to push down bubbled up. Before he could control it, his apology plans had turned into fantasies about dramatic confessions, where Will would spill out every feeling he had towards Mike, letting his heart out onto the pavement.
He would start by talking about the day he and Mike first met, and Will had been so excited to have a friend. It seemed wherever he went, he never felt like he’d be loved. Not that Mike loved him, obviously, but there was still a feeling there. Mike appreciated Will, Mike wanted to be around him.
Then, Will would talk about when he first developed a crush on Mike. He was so young, he hardly even knew the concept of a crush, let alone between two boys. But he remembered watching Mike play at recess, watched the way his eyes creased when he smiled. He expected the feeling to go away the longer they knew each other, but it stayed present, like the hum of the wind against the sky.
Soon after, Will learned what being gay was, and why it was bad. That didn’t necessarily make him want Mike any less, it just made him better at hiding it.
And then Will went missing, and a switch had flipped in Mike. He was so determined to find Will, and when he finally did, to keep him safe. At first, Will was perhaps a little annoyed, being treated as something fragile. But, in the end, it was Mike brushing his fingers over his closed fist and assuring him he would be just fine.
And from there, it snowballed. The less Will wanted to like Mike, the more he wanted him. To be honest, Will was a little mad when he found out El and Mike had kissed. He didn’t want to be mad. He felt disgusted thinking this way, but part of him wanted to be Mike’s first kiss. He knew it was selfish, he knew it was gross, and he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop his mind from running.
And when Mike and El began to get serious, Will began to see himself as something to be disgusted by. He didn’t want to think of Mike in that way, especially when he had a whole girlfriend. But Will knew he couldn’t control his feelings, no matter how hard he tried. So he distracted himself, engulfed himself in games of Dungeons and Dragons and only let himself dream of a world where he could love Mike when he was safe in the comfort of his bed.
Sometimes Will thought Mike was put on this earth just to taunt him, to trick him into following the wrong path. Everything Mike did felt like it was for Will.
Will would tell Mike every detail of the story in his fantasies, from start to finish, and maybe, if he could let his mind stray far enough, he may even imagine the kiss they might share. He imagined what Mike would taste like, how he would sound. Will wanted to be able to identify Mike by every sense.
But they weren’t friends anymore, and Will couldn’t decide what was worse: Having Mike so close but not being able to have him, or not having him at all. Will began to wish that Mike would just reject him so he could forget about this whole thing and move on with his life. But of course it wasn’t that easy.
By the time a year passed, Will was hardly even mad anymore. More than anything, he was mad that he had let go of Mike so easily; in the blink of an eye washed away everything he loved.
Some people say that time doesn’t substitute as an apology, but Will would disagree with that. Because soon enough, the boys began to feel themselves getting over it, getting over everything they both said. If would probably help to communicate, but Will didn’t even know what he would say.
Mike and Will weren’t not talking anymore, but they weren’t friends. Mike would ask Will if he had the English homework, or they would talk about a comic book they were getting into. On rare occasions, they would even get lost in a world where that fateful day had never happened, and they would be able to laugh about stupid things. On the more mundane days, Will might have asked Mike how Holly was doing, or what Nancy was up to, and some days, Mike may have had some story about something dumb one of his sisters had done.
The relationship was weird. They would have weeks of not talking, then have a conversation like none of this had ever happened, and then go back to their distant state. Some days, Will could have sworn Mike was being almost flirty. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Will hated how vague Mike was about his feelings. He wished that Mike could just pour out every thought he ever had into a glass for him to observe, just to know. Even if he didn’t act on anything, Will just needed to know what was going on in that stupid head of his.
It was cool outside when El had hopped up to Will and Max, sitting at a picnic table; the rest of the party was still on their way over. It was still turning from winter to spring, some days cold and harsh and some days hot and sticky. This particular day was one of those perfect in between days, with the sun beating hard on the ground, but a nice breeze evening out its rays.
“Will, are you going to Max’s party?” Eleven asked, sliding into a seat next to him.
“You’re throwing a party? That doesn’t really seem like… you,” Will furrowed his brow, turning to Max.
“What, am I not girly enough for you?” Max snapped in response, to which Will had tried to stutter out an apology.
“Dude, I’m kidding. It was El’s idea, since my parents are out of town. Are you in?”
Will sighed. “I don’t know. Parties aren’t really my thing.”
Eleven groaned, giving him a playful(a little too aggressive) shove. “Please! It will be so fun. I’ve never gone to a party before, Will.”
Will sighed. “Maybe. Who’s going?”
“Well, Lucas and Dustin for sure. Hopefully that’s not all, but I don’t really know.”
“No Mike?” Eleven asked, and Will was glad she asked it so he didn’t have to. Even though Will didn’t want it to, the question shot a dagger through his heart. He wasn’t the only person who cared about Mike. He needed to remember that.
“I’m not sure yet, he also said parties ‘weren’t his thing’. I’m trying to convince him, though, not to be totally lame. He seriously needs to live a little.” Max joked, to which El gave a laugh.
And suddenly, another one of Will’s fantasies rushed into his head. A confession, an apology. He knew it would never really happen; he would be ruining more than he gained. But still, what was the worst that could happen in going to this party? He had a bad time and went home early?
“I’ll come,” Will finally answered. “When is it?”
Will didn’t know what to wear to a party, and apparently, neither did El, as they spent surely at least thirty minutes rummaging through closets for something to throw on. In the end, Will wore the same thing he usually did, and Eleven yanked on a skirt she had stolen from Max with a plain top.
Jonathan had dropped Will and Eleven off at Max’s house, shouting about a thousand warnings to be safe as they walked up to the door before finally kicking the car alive to drift away. The sun was already starting to set when they got to the door, even though it was only about 5:30.
Eleven only had to knock once before the door swung open. Max was slightly dressed up, but she still very much looked like herself.
“Will! El! You made it.” Max pulled El into a hug as Will walked cautiously into the house.
He had never been to Max’s place before. Most of the group meetings took place in Mike’s basement, and on a rare occasion, the Byers’ house, which was currently a bit of a mess. The Byers had been living for the Wheelers for a while before they finally squeezed back into their own place, and they still hadn’t really unpacked. Jonathan spent most of his time with Nancy, and Joyce spent plenty of time with Hopper. Technically, El didn’t live with the Byers, but she might as well have with how much time she spent there.
Sitting on the couch in Max’s living room was Lucas, who Will quickly greeted. He seemed to be the only other person there.
“This is going to be a small party, huh?” Lucas laughed as Will plopped down onto the couch beside him.
Will gave a small chuckle. “Yeah.”
The boys seemed to have been poorly mistaken. Somehow, the word of Max’s party had got out—to way too many people. The small house was bustling with bodies and Max was struggling to keep it under way, employing both El and Lucas to keep the chaos as low as possible. Dustin was sitting on the couch around, surprisingly, a group of girls, who seemed interested in some dramatic tale he was relaying. Mike was nowhere to be seen. This left Will alone in this loud, congested house, and he desperately needed a breath of air.
Will weaved his ways through bodies, bumping against strangers’ skin as he shoved a path to the back door. It took him a few tries to get the door open before he tumbled outside, the cold hair instantly biting and whipping at his body. He wrapped his arms around his torso, assuring himself that this was better than being trapped inside there, crumbled by the stampede of drunken teenagers.
Surprisingly, no one else had the same idea he did, leaving Will alone on the back porch. Sighing, he rested his back against a wall, taking a second to compose himself, getting used to the calm of the wind compared to the chaos inside. He could still hear people talking and music playing through the door, although faint. He slid down the wall until he was sitting against the cold paved ground, making steady breaths that were visible in the dark air.
The door was soon shoved open, startling Will. He instantly recognized the lanky black haired boy tumbling out of the door, attempting to shove it shut behind him. When Mike finally got the door shut, he sighed and spun around. It was only then when he noticed Will slumped against the floor.
He jumped back slightly, letting out a stupid little yelp that Will couldn’t help but laugh at. Mike sighed when he realized who it was.
“Shit, dude,” He murmured. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” Will shrugged. He didn’t really know what he was apologizing for, but he still said it.
“Can I-“ Mike gestured to the ground beside Will, and Will nodded, scooting over to make room for Mike to fit in next to him.
“What are you doing out here?” Mike finally exhaled once he was down on the ground, leaning his head against the brick wall.
“Getting away from everyone. You?”
Mike pursed his lips and nodded, not glancing at Will. “Same.
“How have you been?” Mike asked.
“I’ve been okay. How about you?”
“I’m good.”
When neither boys spoke for a moment, Will desperately needed to fill the silence again. And part of him wanted this to be the day that he might confess to Mike, confess everything. He knew he was too scared, though. But then again, there wasn’t much for him to lose. It’s not like him and Mike were inseparable, so if it went south, he wouldn’t really be loosing anything.
“By the way, I don’t really know if you give a shit anymore, but can I say something?”
Mike looked at Will as he spoke this time, nodding. “Yeah?”
“I know it was, like, a year ago, but I’m… I’m sorry about, Y’know, what I said to you that night. I know it’s well past the point of an apology but I’ve been… thinking,” thinking and I want you in a way I know I could never have you. “I’ve been thinking, and I’m sorry about it.”
Mike listened intently to Will’s words, then buried his head in his hands, letting out a groan like he had just remembered the fight even happened, like it was forgotten knowledge to him, like it didn’t turn his world upside down.
“Don’t apologize for that, dude,” Mike said, lifting his head back up to turn back to look at Will. “I was a total jerk, and you were just standing up for yourself. I’m sorry for what I said, and… I’m sorry it took me so long to talk about it. I’m gonna be honest, I think I blocked that memory out until now.”
“Blocked it out?” Will laughed, and he didn’t know when Mike scooted closer—or maybe he scooted closer—but their shoulders were now brushing.
“I mean, yeah. I was embarrassed and annoyed and frustrated because, like, you’re one of the only things that matters to me, and I treated you like shit.”
You’re one of the only things that matters to me. Will knew Mike didn’t mean those words in the way he did, but he couldn’t help but imagine. He knew, he knew it didn’t mean anything, but he took a note of the tense of the sentence. You’re one of the only things that matters to me. You are, not you were. He still mattered.
And then, Mike’s fingers brushed Will’s hand, and he realized the situation he was in. He was getting too comfortable, truly thinking all of those fantasies would come true. Will lived in a world where all sorts of monsters and evil creatures existed, but Will did not live in a world where he could love Mike Wheeler, and he certainly didn’t live in world where Mike Wheeler loved him. He needed to stop this, stop this now before he did anything stupid. Mike probably didn’t even know what he was doing, probably just happy to have his best friend back.
Quietly, Will scooted himself over, loosing the warmth of Mike’s arms pressed against him. He let out an exhale—a bit too shaky. “So,” he said softly. “Are we good?”
“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.”
Will wished he could say Mike and him went straight back to normal after their conversation at Max’s party, but that wouldn’t be true. If anything, nothing really changed, there just wasn’t the weight of unsaid apologies between them. But there was some weight, a weight Will couldn’t really place. Maybe it was the weight of something else, something like an apology, but deeper. A profession, an admission, a confession, whatever you wanted to call it. But if this weight was the weight of unspoken confession, Will was sure Mike and him would be in this awkward, half-friends state forever.
Part of Will wished Mike and him never had that talk, because it only made Will want him more, if it was even possible to want him any more than he already did.
Even worse, he read into every interaction he had with him. The way that Mike would laugh at his jokes, or when their hands would get a little too close under the lunch table. Will knew Mike wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it was quite literally driving him crazy. He wanted to be with Mike all the time, but he also wished they would just go back to not talking so he didn’t have to deal with his heart rate rising every time Mike was in the vicinity. He was all he thought about, all day, and especially in the night when his room was dark and he had nothing else to occupy his mind. What made it worse was not being able to talk about it. He couldn’t journal or anything—someone could find it— and he certainly couldn’t tell anyone. He didn’t think he would be judged, necessarily, at least by any of his friends. But it wasn’t like they would get what he was talking about. All of his friends knew what it was like to be weird, to be outcasted, but none of them could ever understand how it feels to take your love, the human experience that’s been so valued since the dawn of time, and shove it deep inside you.
Will made lots of cryptic paintings, staying up through the nights to perfectly encapsulate every feeling onto the piece of paper. Some of them were thought out and methodical, but some nights, they would be messy and panicked. Like the thought of Mike made Will’s heart beat quicker and control of his body be lost in the wind.
Will woke up one morning to the sound of rustling around the house. There were footsteps, drawers snapping open and shut, silverware clanking, maybe even some furniture moving.
Groggy, Will shoved himself out of bed and down the hallway to see what is going on.
“Mom?” He called.
He rounded the corner, to reveal not Joyce, not Jonathan, but El. She was staring intently at the couch, biting her fingernail.
Will stood there for a second, wondering if he was dreaming. Finally, he spoke.
“What are you doing?”
El’s head snapped up to him, like she hadn’t realized he was there, as If it was her house, not his.
“Getting ready.” She replied simply, walking towards the couch to readjust the pillows.
Will opened the fridge, pulling out of a carton of milk before grabbing himself a spoon, a bowl, and a box of cereal from a few separate shelves.
“For?” Will asked, pouring the cereal into the bowl.
“My party.” Eleven perked up at the mention of it.
“What is it with you and parties recently?” Will asked, recalling Max’s party (commissioned by El) from only a few weeks before.
“They’re fun,” El replied simply, followed by a quieter, almost unintelligible, “it’s what normal teenagers do.”
Will shrugged as he sat down at the table with his cereal, shoveling some into his mouth.
“Where are Mom and Jonathan?”
“Jonathan is with Nancy, and Mom is with Hop. They said they had something to do that ‘didn’t concern me’ when I asked to come with.”
“Did Mom say you could do this?”
“Yes,” Eleven responded. “But it may have just been to get me off her back.”
“Are you not worried?” Will swallowed. “That something’s wrong.” He specified.
Eleven shook her head. “No. They would have told me if they thought we were in danger.”
“Who’s coming to your party?”
“Open invitation. Why do you ask so many questions?”
Will laughed, which caused him to choke on his cereal. Eleven didn’t seem to understand what was so funny. She really didn’t mean it in a condescending way, and that’s what Will loved about her.
The first person to show up to the party was Max, who was way too early. She helped Eleven set up, assuring her that, no, nobody cares about the configuration of the pillows on the couch, which El had already switched around about a million times. Steve showed up soon after, wielding all of the things that make a party a party. He had left the house with a warning for the kids to “stay safe” and “not make any stupid decisions”, which he was probably much too late for, seeing as the stupid amount of drinks he has left on the counter.
The next person to show up, also about an hour early, was Mike. He had immediately slumped down into the couch, which Max had not taken kindly to.
“Wheeler, get off your lazy ass and help us set up!” She yelled.
Mike threw up his arms in defeat. “What am I supposed to set up? It’s a house party, not a wedding! All you need is a shit ton of alcohol and some music.”
“Yeah, so get on it. Steve came by with some shit earlier. Mike, Will, go set up the kitchen.” Mike groaned dramatically and shoved himself up from the couch, meeting Will halfway to the kitchen with a bump of shoulders.
“Are you excited for the party?” Will asked, desperate to make conversation as he organized some solo cups Steve had strewn messily across the tile floor.
“Not really,” Mike laughed, and Will furrowed his brow.
“Why are you here, then.”
Mike shrugged. “You’re here.”
He said it so casually. Because it was casual. They were friends. Best friends, even if it didn’t really feel like it. That’s what best friends did, do everything together. Still, Will couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat.
Will was sure Mike was trying to kill him. The whole night, he was surely trying to kill him. He was like a siren in the water, luring Will in with his voice, and Will wasn’t about to fall for it. Sirens are beautiful, but they get people killed.
It started casual. A brush of the hand as they reached for a cup, their legs intertwining on the crowded couch. Mike’s hand on Will’s knee, or his shoulder.
Will made sure not to fall for it. Whatever Mike was doing, he couldn’t let himself get the wrong idea. Him and Mike were actually starting to be okay again, and he wasn’t about to throw it away to get a extra ten seconds of their hands touching.
Had Mike always been this touchy-feely? Will wasn’t sure. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he had, but this just felt different. Like the touches held a different connotation, even though Will knew it wasn’t true. He was reading too far into it. Mike is a very surface-level guy.
So, Will made sure not to melt under Mike’s surface-level touch. He got up from the couch when their legs touched, reached for a different cup when he felt Mike’s fingers brush his.
And then Will lost sight of Mike. He had disappeared from plain sight, not sitting on the couch by Max or El, not talking by the counter with Dustin and Lucas. Will was relieved in some sense, but part of him missed Mike’s fingers ghosting up his arm. Even if it meant nothing.
Will shoved through the crowds to the punch bowl. Why was it so crowded in his own home?
Crunching his body between others, he filled up a cup with punch and tried to weasel his way out, somewhere, anywhere but right there. As he moved, he felt himself shove into a body, someone slightly taller. He looked up, and to his horror, he had spilled his drink onto some bulky senior.
“Watch it, asshole!”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Will murmured. His heart picked up pace. He didn’t know what to do to remedy the situation. Holy shit. Holy shit. He was fucking dead.
“Always you fucking queers!” Yelled the boy. Will’s heart might have stopped at that point. “I-“ he stuttered.
The boy shot him a disgusted look as he took the contents of his own cup and, in half a second, splashed it straight in Will’s face. His shirt soiled through with the liquid.
“Sorry,” The boy mocked with a laugh.
When Will shoved into his room, breathing thick and heavy, Mike was already there, on the edge of his bed.
“Will?” Mike asked, shooting up to meet Will.
“Mike? What are you—what are you…” Will tried to get out a sentence, but he couldn’t push past his gasping.
“Will? What happened?” Mike asked, examining Will up and down.
Will stood there, breathing heavily, loudly.
Mike put his hand on Will’s chest, making his voice gentler. “You’re okay. Breathe with me.”
This wasn’t the first time Mike had done this, but it wasn’t like it was a common occurrence. The first time was in fourth grade, when Will had run to Mike’s house after his dad had taken his one time a year acknowledging him to yell at him. When he had arrived at Mike’s doorstep in the rain, before Will even had a chance to explain why he was there, Mike had lifted his hand, resting it on Will’s heart. “Your heart is beating super fast,” Mike had whispered. “Are you okay?”
Will shook his head no, and Mike had softened the hand on his heart. “Breathe with me, okay?” Will nodded, slowing his breaths to match Mike’s. In a few seconds, he had cooled down, and Mike had let him into the house, plopping down in the basement.
“Aren’t you going to ask what’s wrong?” Will had asked, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.
Mike shook his head. “Not unless you want me to. Do you want me to?”
Will thought about it. He had never really had that decision before. His dad always expected him to have an answer to everything he asked. His mom, well, he loved her, but she wouldn’t take “I don’t want to talk about it” for an answer. It was nice to have someone who could just be there, not trying to solve something that didn’t concern them, just there, a safe presence.
As will breathed, Mike breathed too, muttering quiet “you’re okay”s every once in a while. And once both boys were breathing steady, in sync, Mike removed his hand, slowly. Will’s chest itched for the warmth back on him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mike asked, hesitant.
“Some… it was stupid. Not really.”
Mike looked concerned, but he didn’t press. “Okay. That’s okay.” He nodded. He took a step back, once again taking in Will’s state, which was, quite frankly, a mess. His white shirt was stained in red punch, liquid dripping from his neck, some splashed into the tips of his hair.
“You should take this off, huh?” Mike asked, more of a suggestion than a question. But Will liked that Mike let him feel in charge of things, even when he wasn’t. “Yeah,” Will nodded, and he exhaled. “Yeah.”
Will expected Mike to step back and give him distance so he could peel the soaked fabric off of his skin, but Mike did quite the opposite. Instead, he stepped forward, letting his fingers settle on the hem of Will’s shirt. Agonizingly slow, he peeled the shirt up, which stuck to Will’s skin as he reached the wet spot. They were so close and shit, Will could feel Mike’s knuckles drag up the sides of his torso as the shirt moved. Will raised his hand up for the shirt to rise above his head, finally leaving his body cold in front of Mike. He could barely feel cold with Mike so close to him, breath hitting against his mouth.
With the dirty white shirt now bunched in Mike’s hands, he lifted it back up, wiping across Will’s chest to rid the leftover punch. He let the shirt slide up to Will’s neck before slinging it over the bed frame without turning his body away. Mike placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. This touch, unlike any touch before, felt more precise, calculated. Mike’s thumb rubbed patterns into Will’s soft skin. Fuck, it felt so right to be in Mike’s presence, let alone like this. Will’s heartbeat was quickening once again, for a different reason this time. Mike’s eyes flicked down, for half a second, before meeting Will’s once again. If Will had been in a different reality, he would have leaned in. He would have kissed Mike, slowly, to savor the taste of him. And, maybe he was imagining it, but he could have sworn Mike was leaning in. His eyes were wide, and Will wished he could read the emotion plastered on his face. Will didn’t know if he could stand Mike staring at him like this anymore. He couldn’t do that, not to himself, not to Mike, not to El. It was in that moment that Will even remembered Mike and El were dating. They hadn’t been so close recently. Maybe they had broken up in the time he and Mike weren’t talking. Or maybe that’s just what Will wanted. He shook Mike’s hand off his shoulder.
“Will?” El’s voice bounded down the hall, and Mike stepped back. Will could have sworn he saw Mike’s pupils contract, like he was snapped out of some trance as the connection was lost. Once again, Will felt cold.
There was a light knock at the door, which Eleven didn’t wait for a response from before she opened the door, slowly and quietly. It creaked softly behind her.
“Will?” She asked. “Are you okay?”
Will nodded, and El remained at the doorframe. “I took care of him. Max is sending everyone home.”
Mike cocked his eyebrow. “What do you mean took care?” He didn’t question who him was, which Will was grateful for.
“I used my mind to pull his pants down infront of everyone.” El cracked a smile as she spoke, and Will couldn’t help but reciprocate.
After the party, Mike and Will didn’t talk for a week. Well, Mike talked; Will didn’t. He had always been in love with Mike but never like this, never this deeply. He could feel himself unravel at the sight of him, like he lost control of his own body any time he was in Mike’s presence.
Lucas had begged Mike for a “guys night” in his basement between the four of them the following weekend.
“We never hang out like we used to, just the four of us.” Lucas complained.
“Lucas has a good point,” Dustin shrugged. “I love Max and El, but… I’m sorry, El always finds out the plot twist in the first twenty minutes, and it’s starting to really ruin it for me.”
“Fine,” Mike sighed, giving in. “Movie night at my house, just the four of us. Will, are you in?”
Will hadn’t been paying attention. He had been focused on Mike’s hair, the way it shined in the sunlight.
“Huh? Yeah, yeah. I’m in.”
“Awesome!” Lucas exclaimed. “I’m picking the movie.”
Just like that, they were back in Mike’s basement. Like the old days. Except this time, Will was far too aware of Mike’s body pressed against him on the couch, his hand resting idly against Will’s back. He tried to focus on the movie, but it was getting seriously hard to, when all he could hear was Mike’s heart beating. Or maybe that was his own heartbeat?
Will pushed up from his couch, and Mike tumbled over at the loss of Will’s support, because of course he was leaning against him. “I’m gonna go get a drink. Do you guys want anything?”
Mike pushed up as well, and Lucas took advantage of the empty space, spreading his legs across the entire couch. “I’ll come, too.” Mike said.
Will sighed. Of course, the one person he was currently trying to avoid before his body literally turned inside out was accompanying him up to the kitchen. Alone. Of fucking course.
Will stomped up the stairs, Mike following closely behind him. They made their way into the kitchen, and Will raised on his tippy toes to reach the top cabinet to grab two glasses. He knew Mike’s house like his own.
He handed a glass to Mike, who mumbled a short “thank you.”
“Where is everyone?” Will asked, uneasy at the silence of the house. Electricity hummed quietly, and the movie blared through the floors, but otherwise, it was quiet.
“Not sure,” Mike shrugged. “If I had to guess, Nancy is with your brother, mom is probably getting drunk with her friends, and dad and Holly are doing some weird father-daughter bonding shit.”
“Without you and Nancy?” Will asked, flipping on the tap to fill his cup.
Mike nodded dramatically. “He’s already got his bonding in with me and Nancy; Holly’s the only one left over. I think he has, like, a finite amount of love in him, or something. Not enough to spread evenly with all three of us all the time.”
Will listened knowingly and took a sip of his drink. His father wasn’t exactly different. “That kind of sucks.”
“Eh,” Mike gestured, “It could be worse.”
Will pointed to Mike’s glass. “Are you not going to fill that?”
Mike looked down, like he’s forgotten what’s in his hand. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” He turned on the tap absentmindedly. As soon as the glass was full, he turned back to Will and took a sip.
At some point, Mike had stepped closer, leaving a tiny excuse of a gap between them. The boys weren’t quite touching, but Will could feel Mike’s presence on him, like his soul was reaching out to brush hands.
Will took a step back.
They headed back down to the basement with their glasses. Lucas refused to move his legs from taking up the whole couch until Mike had sat down on top of him, effectively pissing Lucas off enough to retract his legs back with some snarky remarks.
They were only halfway through the movie when they received a call from Dustin’s mom, scolding him for not cleaning his room, demanding that he come home at once. Dustin, who was upset to be left at a cliffhanger in the movie, just before the villain was revealed, had to be dragged out of the house by Lucas like a screaming toddler, who has made Mike and Will promise not to watch the movie without them as he shoved Dustin onto his bike. The other two boys watched as they rode away in the drizzling rain, Dustin looking less than excited.
And just like that, it was Mike and Will. Alone. Again.
“I should probably head out, too, huh?” Will fiddled with the hem of his shirt.
“Probably,” Mike agreed.
A crack of thunder.
“Or not.”
The rain began to pick up speed, hitting in sheets against the windows. Great. Will was trapped here. Trapped right in the presence of something he couldn’t have. This couldn’t have been legal. It was like feeding a starving man one last sip of water. He was relieved in some sense, but he would still end up dead.
“I guess we just… wait for the rain to end?” Mike suggested.
Will nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
“What do you wanna do?”
“Um,” Will murmured. “Whatever you want.” He realized how desperate the words sounded once they were out. Despite himself, Will recognized it was sort of true. He would do anything Mike asked him to. He probably wouldn’t even think twice about it.
“We should probably… I’m gonna do my homework.”
Will nodded. “Okay. Yeah. That’s a good idea.”
After a few minutes, Mike sat on the edge of the living room couch, a textbook and a few sheets of paper strewn around him. He clutched his head in his hand, confusion plastered over his face.
Will, who was sitting beside him, couldn’t help but smile. He had his own math homework laid out on the coffee table, half done. He had gotten one question done in the ten minutes him and Mike had already been silently working.
“I don’t get this,” Mike groaned.
“Let me see,” Will beckoned, and Mike shoved the textbook into his arms, letting Will’s fingers brush his as it transferred. Will pretended not to notice, but he could hear his heart beating in his ear.
“Oh, this isn’t that bad.” Will nodded, scanning the page with his eyes. It was chemistry, the science Will was undoubtedly best at. He always preferred the arts to math or science, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at them. He just found numbers boring. “Do you want me to show you? Or I can just do it for you, if that’s what you want.” God, once again, with the shameless desperation.
“I don’t… ugh, I hate this.” Mike pulled the textbook back, not giving Will a chance to explain. He shoved it to the side and set his pencil down, already fed up with the homework thing(even though it was his idea.)
“I don’t get it. How are you so… how are you so smart? It’s like everything comes so easy to you.”
Will laughed. “It doesn’t. I just don’t give up the second I don’t understand something, Mike.”
“Ouch. Rude.” Mike responded, but it was laced in a smile.
“But seriously. You have good grades, you’re an amazing artist, even after… Y’know, everything. I don’t have anything.”
Will rolled his eyes. “You have a lot, Mike.”
“Oh, really?” Responded Mike, toeing the line of sarcasm and anger. “Like what?”
Will hesitated. “You’re nice, and funny, and you’re caring. Like, too caring sometimes.”
Mike stood up from the couch, heading back for the kitchen. Will followed. “Nice, funny, and caring don’t get good jobs, Will.” He huffed. “That’s if we even make it through all this shit.”
Will bit his tongue. The party had gone so long without a major crisis, sometimes he liked to forget everything going on around him. But just then, it all came rushing to him. Everything that had led up to this.
Mike looked at Will, and his eyes softened. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to be so negative.”
“It’s fine.” Will shrugged.
Mike placed a reassuring hand over Will’s as they stood in front of the kitchen counters. Will’s breath to catch in his throat, and he swiftly pulled his hand back. He could not deal with any more of this. Mike actually had to be trying to torture him, at this point. Why was he doing this?
But to his surprise, Mike was the one to ask. “Why do you keep doing that?” He huffed.
“Doing what?” Will asked, confused.
“That! Every time I touch you, you pull back, like you’re allergic to me, or some shit.”
“You’re doing that on purpose?” Will asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Yes!” Mike sighed, recognizing that he was getting annoyed. But as he spoke more, his voice rose again. “I don’t get it, Will. Sometimes, you act like you’re all for… like, this, and sometimes you act like you’re disgusted by it.” Mike furrowed his brow, genuinely confused.
Will was confused too, for different reason. “What do you mean this?”
“I don’t… I don’t know, Will.” Mike shoved the fridge door open and dug through until he found a bottle of soda, snapping off the cap. He began to walk away, Will trailing after him.
“Wait a minute, what are you talking about, Mike?”
Mike spun on his heel to face Will. “Do you seriously not know?”
“No?”
“Holy shit,” Mike laughed. He was going crazy, Will was sure of it.
“What do I not know, Mike?”
“I don’t— I thought you wanted, to like… I thought you-“
“Spit it out, Mike.”
“I thought you liked me, maybe. Like, like-liked me. But every time I’m around you, you’ll act like your life will end if we touch.“
It all clicked in Will’s brain. Oh my god. Was Mike confessing what he thought he was? No, he couldn’t be. But there really weren’t many other ways Will could interpret it anymore.
Will had spent so long sitting in the mindset that he was the only one that thought that way. He thought—he knew—he was alone in this. And he had come to peace with it. But the more Mike droned on and on, Will realized that he had been so caught in his own mind that he hadn’t thought for one second to humor the slight possibility that he wasn’t alone.
“But, El?“
“We broke up. We have been. Did she not tell you that?”
Will thought for a moment. Well, El had never explicitly said the words “we broke up”, but thinking back, it had been quite obvious. When Will would ask why they never hung out anymore and she would scrunch up her face and say something like, “it’s not like that anymore.”
Will really was oblivious, huh.
”Anyways, I don’t get it, W-“
Mike’s sentence was cut off by Will rushing into him, a decision he made in all of three seconds.
Will had no idea how to kiss. It was sloppy, and not in a good way. But once he actually caught on, once Mike caught on and started kissing back, he couldn’t believe he had missed out on years of this, shoving it into the depths of his mind, knowing it would never really happen.
But here he was, in the Wheeler kitchen, rain beating outside, his lips on Mike’s.
Will had floated before, which was not something a lot of people could say. But that was a bad type of floating, floating filled with pure fear. Fear of what was happening when he was in the sky, with the dark wind figure whirring, coursing through his body. Fear of what would happen when he hit the ground.
He wished he could say this sense of floating was fearless. But it wasn’t. He had many fears. What if the front door opened right now? What would people say if they found out? But the deeper Mike kissed him, with every touch of lip to lip, a fear was washed to the back of Will’s mind, for him to worry about later.
Will was the first to finally pull back—although reluctantly— to gulp in a breath of air.
Mike stepped back and wiped his glossy lips on his sleeve. He stared into Will’s eyes deeply for a moment, a million emotions switching across his chocolate eyes.
Will, meanwhile, was only thinking one thing.
Holy fuck, I must be dreaming.
With one last confused look and a twitch of the lip, Mike finally spoke.
“What the fuck!” He squealed, his voice cracking.
And then the fear settled in Will. His eyes went wide. “Did you not—did you not want-“
“Of course I wanted that, Will, why didn’t you do that, like, a year ago?”
Will couldn’t tell if Mike was mad, relieved, or both. “I’m… sorry,” he finally responded, unsure what to say. He was at a loss for words. Mike must have stolen them off his tongue.
Mike glared at Will until his gaze softened, and with a soft, “fuck it,” he leaned back in, connecting their lips again. This time felt planned, solid. Will thought he might actually be hypnotized, no, scratch that, possessed by Mike’s lips. Every term he had once viewed in a negative light suddenly became endearing, and Will realized why love was so prominent everywhere—in movies, in comics, in his friends’ relationships. If Will’s life had been turned upside down before, it was back on its feet now. Everything that had been torn apart that night a year before was being carefully sewn back together in every rough but calculated kiss.
Mike pulled away the second time, taking a step back. The kiss was over, and Will’s lips were certainly swollen.
As Will let his eyes rake over Mike, taking in every detail, he thought hard. He hated change, but maybe sometimes it could be good. Him and Mike would never be how they were two hours earlier, nor would they be how they were a year before, nor would they be how they were when they were 13. They had grown together and grown apart, and Will recognized that. He was nostalgic, for all that had been, but at the same time, he valued what he was looking at now, Mike’s hungry eyes and pink lips. Yeah. Yeah. Maybe change wasn’t so bad, after all.