Chapter Text
There was no jacket thick enough to prevent the Chicago cold from seeping into his bones. The frozen lake made the frigid temperatures almost unbearable, worse than any winter he’d had in Hawkins. The skyscrapers provided little protection from the bitter wind, and the slush from the road soaked the cuffs of his jeans.
This time of year was always difficult for Mike. He was sure it was hard for everyone else, too. It had been years, but the fear lingered. He tries not to think of how Will felt back then, if the cold of the upside down bit his skin the same way that the city wind stings Mike’s.
He found himself thinking of Will often these days. He wondered if Will still wore a scarf to prevent the goosebumps. He wondered if Will got more nightmares around this time of year. He hoped that Will’s roommates knew not to wake him when that happened, even if he was screaming or gasping for breath. He just needed to be held and reassured, a hand rubbing circles on his back or fingers combing through his hair.
It was awful to think of Will waking up scared and alone. Mike wished Will were living with him and Dustin so he could watch over him on those nights. Their universities were only a few blocks apart, but Will chose to live in Halstead, or what he called 'Boystown'. He said it was safer to be near other queer people. Mike thought the safest place for Will was by his side, but whatever. It was fine.
It wasn’t Mike’s fault that he had to walk in the cold. His Professor sent him on a wild goose chase for the required readings, and the shop he was headed to was his best bet. Also, it was in Will’s neighborhood.
They didn’t call often, and they hadn’t had a real conversation for a long time now. Mike ignored his excitement at the potential of bumping into him.
Given everything he’d experienced in his life so far, he didn’t feel scared or uncomfortable very often. The things that normal people were nervous about didn’t compare to interdimensional monsters, after all. So this was fine. Plus, when Mike signed up for English 309: Taboo Identities in Classic Literature, he’d assumed he would end up in a place like this. Not that he knew places like this existed until he'd moved out here.
The city had a lot of things that he never could’ve imagined. Two airports, 24/7 restaurants and stores, public transportation, specialty museums, a zoo with a skyscraper view, buskers, a 200 foot ferris wheel… Mike really liked it here. It would be better with Will, though.
He was distracted by looking for Will in the faces that passed him on the sidewalk, and he nearly walked past his destination. It was a small bookstore tucked in between a cafe and a barber, with an overhead sign that read 'Dorothy’s'. He shoved his shoulder into the glass door, tapping the snow from his boots before entering. His eyes adjusted to the room's darkness as the overhead bell slowed its ringing.
A polite hum grabbed his attention. The cashier looked sweet, despite the sleeve tattoos and Joan Jett haircut. She smiled, “I haven’t seen you here before. You new to the area?”
Mike’s throat was dry. Which was weird, because he was totally fine and not nervous at all. He cleared his throat, “Uh.. no. I’m. I live south of here. Like, west of the loop? But, uh.”
She raised an eyebrow, looking him over. “Are you a friend of Dorothy’s?”
His mind blanked. Maybe in his hometown, he could recognize someone by their first name, but that wasn’t really possible here. “Is that like… the owner?”
The cashier laughed, which Mike thought was a little rude. She hadn’t even answered his question. “Never mind,” She tapped the counter lightly with her palms, “what can I do for you today?”
He stammered, “I go to UIC. I need a… there’s a book I need to get for the semester. My professor recommended this place? The book is called Maurice, I think.”
The cashier nodded, “Ah, Dr. Callen?” Okay, so, apparently this girl knew a lot of people.
Mike nodded awkwardly, “Yeah, she said you guys might have other books for the course too. We’re reading taboo literature.” Mike realized that sounded kinda shitty. Fuck. “Not- not that this, being… not that it’s taboo! That’s just, like-”
She laughed and raised a hand in a calming gesture, like she was trying to calm a wild animal. Mike was only a little bit offended. “It’s okay, man, I know what you mean. We definitely have that one. If you give me the list, I can tell you the ones we have.”
He reached into his pocket, but didn't find the syllabus. It probably flew out in the wind. Stupid fucking windy city. He hated it here.
The cashier seemed to understand. “You can come back another time, too.” She gestured towards the back wall, “Maurice is in the ‘F’ Section.”
Mike turned to check out the rest of the store. There were a few bookshelves in the middle, nowhere near the scale of a typical library. He assumed that there weren't many published books in this… genre? Was this a genre? So that made enough sense. A large rainbow flag hung like a tapestry above the bookshelves, and papers lined the corkboards on the wall with what looked to be protest dates, fliers for underground concerts, local advertisements, and more that he couldn't make out.
As he walked towards the section, his fingers traced the spines of the books. He distantly wondered what the contents might be. How many were fiction? Were there any thrillers or mysteries? Novels? Maybe some were fantasy, like he writes. He’d have to browse a bit more next time he comes.
His eyes scanned the titles under ‘F’ until he found Maurice. His finger pulled a copy from the shelf, the soft velvet cover grazing across the surrounding copies. The title was scratched in shaky letters across the top. It was plain and unremarkable, and gave no hint towards the contents inside. Mike supposed that was on purpose.
When he turned to bring the book back to the front, he was faced with a rack of pamphlets. Sex pamphlets. Guides, if the titles were anything to go by. The Joys of Oral Sex, A Guide to Anal Sex, and Beginner BDSM stood out to him. Magazines called GRAB and International Male sat on the rack, too. There was a curtain on the wall next to the rack, which he assumed lead to a back room. He resisted the urge to check.
He realized then that queer people didn't get sex-ed like everyone else did. Sure, most of what the average straight guy knew was from locker room conversations or awkward questions to his older brother, but Mike doubted anyone would talk about queer stuff in those situations. How did queer people know what to do?
Pamphlets, apparently.
A magazine with an article titled HIV/AIDS SAFETY caught his eye. He tilted his head. All he knew about that stuff was what he’d heard on the news, he wasn't actually super sure how any of it worked. Did Will know how it worked? Was he, like, being safe? Mike felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach thinking about it. If Mike saw Will again anytime soon, he would try to bring it up in the least weird way possible.
Shit, Mike didn't know what safety looked like either. He wasn’t entirely sure how it passed or how to avoid it. Like, was it just gay guys getting it? Did condoms 100% prevent it? Did kissing spread it? Was it always fatal?
Fuck. Maybe he should buy the magazine.
“Those ones are 20 cents,” Mike startled, and the cashier clarified, “if you’re interested. 50% off for that edition, since it's educational. We would rather people learn the important shit from us than from 60 Minutes, y’know?”
He took that as a sign to buy it. Nodding, Mike grabbed a magazine and placed it on top of the book, walking both towards the counter. The cashier smiled again, placing both into a black plastic bag, and began typing on the cash register.
She breathed in, seemingly debating whether or not she should say something. As Mike handed her cash, she mumbled, “I work most days, if you want to come back for the other books. I know it can be scary being in a place like this, so if you’d feel better with the same worker, you know when to find me. My name is Liz.”
Oh. This store was really nice. “Thank you. I, I’m Mike,” he responded, awkwardly gesturing towards himself.
She grinned in amusement, “Nice to meet ya, Mike. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
Mike nodded with a smile and turned to the door. As he stepped back into the cold, he thought again about Will. Had he ever been to this store? Was there another queer place like this near him? Did he feel like a part of a community, feel safe?
He’d have to bring it up next time they talk. Whenever that may be.
Mike stepped through the door of his apartment, finding Dustin on the couch. He was fiddling with the VCR, barely sparing Mike a glance. “Jesus, there you are. The stupid fucking tape has been stuck for hours, come hold this for a minute while I fix it?”
Mike shed his winter jacket and toed off his boots, “What’s in it for me?”
Dustin groaned. “Son of a bitch, you’re really no help at all, are you?”
“Don’t call my mom a bitch, dude,” he joked.
Dustin scoffed, “That was about your dad, actually. Ted is the only person more useless than you are.” He glanced up and grimaced as he noticed the bag in Mike’s hand. “Got some… porn?”
“What the fuck, man? No. Why is that your first guess?”
“What else would be in a little black plastic bag?” Dustin shrugged, as if it were obvious.
Okay, that was fair. Mike sighed, “I had to pick up a book for my lit course. Turns out the store I went to was like, a bookstore for queer people or something.”
A sly smile grew from the explanation, “Oh, so they do sell porn, you just didn’t buy it?”
Mike looked at Dustin incredulously, “What’s with your porn obsession today?”
Dustin huffed a sigh, nodding towards the device in his hand. “Ask the VCR. You gotta help me get this out, or our next movie night is gonna be a little weird–”
Mike recoiled, “Gross, dude. In our living room?”
Dustin raised his palms in defense, “It’s not like I have a TV in my room.” His excuse turned to an attack as he pointed to the other boy, “Why are you so prude, anyway? We’re both guys.”
Yeah, they were both guys. But still, the living room? What if he had walked in? “Because ew.”
“Whatever, man. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Dustin's eyes narrowed, “Wait, you have tried it, yeah? Or are you, like, a nun?”
He rolled his eyes and walked towards his room, hoping his flush was muted in the dim light. “Goodnight, Dustin!”
Dustin called after him, “Mike, you’ve watched porn right? Mike?”
He closed his bedroom door and cleared his desk. He had more important things to do right now.
He was glad that Dustin didn’t ask to see the contents of the bag, though, because the magazine cover was a little suggestive. A… well-endowed man stood shirtless on the front, his tight pants leaving nothing to the imagination, and similar pictures lined the first few pages. There were probably some more explicit pictures further in, surrounding the articles, but he got this for educational purposes, so he’d have to ignore the sexy parts.
Despite what Dustin thought, Mike wasn't a prude. He’d looked at his fair share of porn, he just didn’t really see the appeal. It made him feel kinda weird, gave him a strange pit in his chest, so he avoided it.
A lot of the stuff he liked only existed in the expensive movies, anyways. And he’d always felt guilty afterward. That wasn’t to say that he didn't jerk off, though. As a writer, he had a decent enough imagination to get by.
He flipped through the glossy pages, skimming for the article. An uncomfortable feeling stirred in his stomach as his eyes caught on the models. Big, hairy men working on construction sites, glaring down at the camera like it was their prey. Handsome, buff men in gyms and locker rooms, wrestling and changing. Young, skinny men photographed from above, in seductive positions, with an innocent look in their eyes.
An uncomfortable feeling stirred in his boxers, too, and Mike realized that he was a little turned on. To be fair, the pictures were really suggestive. Men could be attractive, he could agree with that, but he liked girls, so who cared? He continued to flip the pages, ignoring the situation in his pants.
He flipped another page–
And immediately felt his heart drop into his dick. His stomach, he means. Or, like, to the floor.
He practically threw the magazine onto the ground in front of his desk, shocked. He could have sworn that his room was suddenly 400 degrees, or that he broke out into a spontaneous fever or something. And maybe the fever was making him hallucinate, because that model looked exactly like…
No, there was no way. Like seriously no way. He’d just been thinking about Will a lot recently. Will was far too shy to pose for pictures like this. He just… wouldn’t do that. Not his Will. Mike would just find the page again and prove it was someone else. He would open the magazine and see a stranger on the page, and everything would be fine.
As he flipped back, he prayed to a God that he didn't believe in. Please, let that model be a stranger.
The boy in the picture, definitely not Will, was lying on his stomach, on a towel, in the grass, shirtless. He wore what looked to be swim trunks, a dark blue contrasting with his lightly tanned skin. His hair and body were wet and dripping, like he had just gotten out of the pool. Some kind of summer-themed shoot, then.
He held a popsicle up to his mouth, the tip resting against his slightly parted lips, juice staining them a cherry red. It was starting to melt down his forearm, leaving a sticky, messy trail. His green eyes stared up into the camera, like he was daring the viewer to do something. Do what, Mike wasn’t sure, but he didn't want to think too hard about it.
He looked bratty. No way it was Will, then.
But the model had a mole on his upper lip, to the right of his nose. The same one as Will. All the same beauty marks spattered his neck, and the same tiny scar sat on his left cheek. Which was pretty damning evidence.
Before he could properly lose his mind over it, there was a knock at his door.
“Hey, dude, you want the rest of this popcorn?”
Not now, Dustin, Jesus Christ.
Mike tried to steady his shaky voice before responding. “No, uh. I ate. All good.”
“You sure…? It feels like a waste to throw this much out. But one of the shells got stuck in that spot between my gums and my teeth,” please stop talking, oh my god, “and it made my mouth bleed, so I don’t really feel like eating it anymore. Kinda just wanna floss.”
Mike wanted to scream. “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want it.”
“...Super sure, though? The box was pretty expensive. It’s the fancy one from that store down the bl–”
Mike relented. “Okay yeah, fine, I’ll eat the damn popcorn. Just leave it on the kitchen table.”
Dustin paused to think, which was never a good thing. Mike could hear the smirk on his face when he leaned closer to the door, “So you did get porn, then?”
“Goodnight, Dustin! I’m going to bed! Sweet dreams!” Mike yelled.
The floorboards creaked as Dustin walked away, stifling a cackle. “Knew it.”
Now that he was alone, Mike realized he had two problems.
1. This picture was definitely, undeniably Will.
2. Mike was excruciatingly hard. Like, borderline painful levels of hard.
He always knew that Will was pretty, but holy shit. He was stunning. He was hot. When did Will get so hot?
Mike’s hand inched toward his lap. How weird would it be if he…? Really weird, for sure. This was a picture of his friend, and the boy wasn't even naked in it. Mike had probably seen Will in swim trunks every summer since they first met, so it really shouldn’t affect him this much.
But there was something so alluring about the angle. It almost felt like Mike was there, standing above Will. A perfect view of his teasing eyes, curved lips, and unfairly fat ass. The implication was hotter than any actual porn Mike had ever seen.
To be honest, it didn't matter how weird it would be. If Mike didn't touch himself in the next two minutes, he was sure his dick would explode. He sadly had no choice but to jerk off. For health reasons.
Kicking his jeans off, his fingers moved to lightly trace his cock through his boxers. A small wet spot was soaked through the fabric already.
He imagined Will laying before someone with that innocent look in his eyes. Maybe he’d palm their cock like this. Maybe he’d lean forward slowly, kissing the tip through the fabric. He’d probably lick his lips afterwards, just to taste it. He’d be a tease.
A sheen coated Will’s lips, like he was drooling for it. Would Will like giving head? Had he done it before? Mike doubted that Will could pose like this if he was a virgin. The idea that someone claimed him, made their mark on him, had Mike feeling both nauseous and desperate.
His hand reached below the band of his boxers, and he sighed in relief.
What would Will look like with his lips stretched around a cock? Would he close his eyes to focus, or keep eye contact as he fought tears? Would he use his hands, or push down as deep as he could go? How much could he take? Would he like being treated rough, fingers desperately grasping the towel beneath him as his face is fucked? A pretty flush across his cheeks, eyes fluttering shut and rolling back slightly, spit dripping down his chin, and tears spilling down his cheeks?
Mike had no idea. He didn't know this side of Will, yet. He wasn't supposed to know about this side of him at all.
He was also, like, 101% sure that Will wouldn’t be as slutty as Mike was imagining, but he couldn’t stop his train of thought. This was how Mike liked it, so this was how he imagined it. Accuracy wasn't his biggest concern at the moment.
His hand gained speed, and he felt his orgasm approach rapidly. He took deeper breaths, feeling his heart rate begin to increase.
He imagined how Will’s face would look covered in cum. He would look so pretty waiting for it. Would he beg? Or, would he want it in his mouth? Would he like the taste? Would he swallow?
"Fuck."
The pleasure rushed through Mike's body. His cock jumped as his abdomen contracted, forcing every drop out. He had no idea if he was making any noise.
He was pretty sure his brain shut off momentarily, and turned back on just to find his ropes of cum painting the magazine page. They dripped down onto Will’s face, exactly how Mike was picturing him a second ago. He needed to stop thinking about it before he passed out.
He breathed deep as he stared at the ceiling, recovering from whatever the hell that was.
Fuck, what was that?
Now that blood had returned to his brain, Mike realized that there were three more problems.
3. Will was, apparently, modeling for lewd photoshoots. Will, the boy who had only ever wanted to blend into the background, was posing like this, knowing how many people were looking at it, getting off to it. And Mike had no idea why. He really hoped that it wasn’t a money issue. Fuck, was Will broke or something? Was this his only option?
4. Mike just jerked off to a picture of Will, his old best friend, who he hadn’t had a real conversation with in months. Maybe years. Any chance of continuing their friendship without guilt was officially gone.
5. Dustin was aware that Mike went to a gay bookstore, and was now probably convinced that Mike was getting off to gay porn. Which wasn’t really wrong, because that was what Mike just did. And there was a chance that Dustin heard how much Mike enjoyed it, which was beyond mortifying.
Well. These were problems for tomorrow, he guessed. Maybe he wouldn't even remember this whole thing when he woke up.
Distantly, he wondered what this meant for his sexuality. It was, objectively, a pretty gay thing to do. But maybe he was just turned on because it was Will? Like… maybe he missed Will so much that his brain mixed up the wires, or something?
For years, he had known every side of his best friend, knew him better than anyone else did, but he’d never learned about this side. He wanted, needed, to know more, needed to know everything there was to know about it. If Will wasn’t interested in maintaining their friendship, this might be the only way for Mike to get his fill.
Plus, if Will was in some kind of trouble, Mike needed to help him. An injured cleric needs his paladin, after all.
Mike looked back to the magazine, noting that the picture’s caption had a fake name. Liam Stone. Maybe he could keep an eye out for that name next time he went to the bookstore.
After cleaning himself and his precious magazine, which he decided to keep for research purposes, Mike turned off the light and laid in bed. He would deal with this in the morning.
He realized, as he began to drift off, that he never read the article.