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Frankly, Will Byers can go fuck himself.
Okay, Mike didn't mean that, not really, but his frustration had gotten the better of him — like it often did — and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why everybody else in the party was in on something he wasn't. Something to do with Will . Something that Will was keeping from him for reasons unbeknownst to Mike.
It had been frustrating enough when it was just Will and Lucas giggling about god knows what whenever they got a second away from the rest of the group, but now it was the entire party — Lucas, Dustin, El, and even Max who had spent a month in a goddamn coma and yet knew something he didn't.
And if there was one thing Mike couldn't handle, it was not knowing. In fact there was nothing he hated more than not having the answers to whatever was weighing on his mind that day. Sometimes it would drive him insane, lying in bed at night just thinking (and thinking and thinking). He would spend hours combing through that encyclopedia set Joyce had given him for his birthday, scouring it for the answers he so desperately sought.
Some would say he was too nosey for his own good, but he'd prefer to echo Dustin's words and simply call it scientific curiosity.
So, yeah, Mike was rightfully pissed that his best friend in the whole world was confiding in just about everyone but him.
(He didn't want to think about the possibility of that title being outdated)
See, here's the thing — Will had always had a talent for keeping shit to himself. It was something Mike had learned to accept over their many years of friendship, even if it worried him to no end. Sometimes it felt as though he would have to waterboard Will to get information out of him, to try and get a peek into the workings of that labyrinthian mind of his.
Other times, though. Other times it felt as though Mike was the only one that could get through to Will. Even during his stint with the Mind Flayer, he had kept both Dustin and Lucas in the dark for days , all the while baring his soul to Mike. He would never, ever forget the conversation they had that day in Will’s room, and the paralyzing hopelessness he felt as a result of it. Mostly because of the fact that he was the sole trustee of Will's problems.
So what had changed since to make Mike last in line to be let in on the mysteries of Will Byers? Seriously, he’d like to know. What the everloving fuck had he done wrong this time?
Admittedly, a too-long list of potential fuck ups sprung to mind, stretching back to the previous summer.
He really hadn’t been the best friend back then, and part of him doubted that he had done an adequate job at making up for it. Of course Will wanted nothing to do with him. After all of the shit he had pulled, he couldn’t blame him.
Still, it sucked. It sucked because Will was the one person he trusted with just about anything, and he clearly didn’t feel the same way about Mike anymore.
No matter how badly he fucked up from time to time, he always took for granted that his space in Will’s life would remain unchanged. Maybe that wasn’t the case anymore, and maybe Mike was having a hard time trying to accept that fact.
Life had undeniably gone to shit since that week in March; watching El wheeze and suffer while he did everything in his power to snap her out of whatever trance she was under, coming back to Hawkins to see everything he’d ever known falling to pieces around him, Max in the hospital, Eddie dead, becoming public enemy number one for liking a goddamn fantasy game. The list went on and on, and even Mike – the perpetual complainer he was – couldn’t keep up with it.
And then El broke up with him which, sure, maybe he should’ve seen it coming, but he’d been so hellbent on keeping her close these last few months that it came as a shock anyway. Because, honestly, Mike had been under the impression that the only way he could ensure El continuing to have a role in his life was if they stayed boyfriend and girlfriend. Maybe that was naive of him, but he didn’t think she’d want him any other way.
But he was wrong – so fucking wrong – because having El as a friend felt so much more organic than what their previous arrangement had turned into. It was an unnecessary pressure off both of their shoulders, he knew that much. After their year of distance, it was more clear than ever that they both just needed to figure themselves independently.
He really did love El, and for a while romance really did seem like the answer for them. But ever since things had gotten unnecessarily complicated, it wasn’t healthy for either of them to be that dependent on another person. And even though she was the most selfless, thoughtful, and fucking badass person he had ever known, he had to let her go. He had to let her heal, just like he had to let himself. Sure, that was fucking painful, but it was tether he needed to partially break for both of their sakes.
So, yeah, they were on pretty good terms these days. Thank god for that. With everything else that was going on, it was nice to have her in his corner.
(Even if Will wasn’t)
Grow up, Mike. Just grow the fuck up. You don’t have to take everything so personally, even your best friend purposely withholding information from you and pulling away just when you need him mo—
Fuck.
Mike snapped himself out of it, focusing his attention back to the television screen. The party — minus Max, who had a physio appointment — was down in the basement watching The Outsiders on the family’s old set — partly because El hadn’t seen it, but mostly because it was one of few tapes the Wheelers actually owned as an unfortunate remnant of Nancy’s Tom Cruise phase.
It’s fair to say that Mike wasn’t the biggest fan of the movie, but it wasn’t awful. The plot was interesting enough, but he’d seen it enough times that the novelty has worn off. And the ensemble cast was big enough that he doesn’t give half a shit about most of them, with the exception of Dally and maybe Johnny (although he was sick to death of hearing about this Ralph Macchio guy from El and Max, making him hate him just a little bit for that reason).
Rob Lowe’s character had just gotten out of the shower, dripping wet and with a low-lying towel wrapped around his waist, and Dustin was nudging Will in the ribs for whatever reason, making him blush and exaggeratedly shush him like… well, like they’ve been doing for months.
Mike crossed his arms against his chest, sinking into the sofa in a huff. He didn’t know how much more he could take of being out of the loop like this, out of the world’s longest running joke, apparently.
Part of him worried that he was the joke, and it had just taken his friends this long to realize it.
Maybe it was him they were laughing at, and Mike thinking it was about Will was just some sick act of self-preservation. But that wouldn’t explain why it only ever seemed to be a thing when Will was around.
All the knowing looks, the laughing, the hushed voices and the general secretiveness of it all. It was all within Will’s proximity, and never so much as alluded to outside of that. And god forbid Mike brought it up to the others, because all he’d get was a series of scoffs and off-handed dismissals in return that made him feel clinically insane. To Mike, it seemed like Gaslighting 101.
Lucas, Dustin, Max, and even El – who he had once thought would tell him the truth when the others didn’t – were all immovable on the subject, point blank refusing to let him in on whatever the hell was going on. That, and refusing to acknowledge that such a secret existed in the first place.
And Will… Well, Will was his last resort. The end of his rope, if you will.
He hadn’t asked Will yet due to what he can only explain as unbridled, crippling stubbornness on his part. Because he shouldn’t have to beg on his knees for his best friend to talk to him about whatever’s going on with him these days.
Screw Will for singling him out like this. Screw him for making Mike over analyze every moment they’ve spent together these past few months. Screw him for relegating Mike to his least trusted friend. Screw him for—
“Mike?”
He blinked a few times, being snapped back to reality by the voice of the very problem for his internal spiraling himself. Will Byers with his stupid attentive eyes and slight smile, looking at Mike like he’s so much more important to him than he’s been treating him these past few months.
Because god-fucking-dammit Will is important to him, and he simply can’t handle feeling as though that mutual feeling has become disproportionate.
He’d always seen his and Will’s place in each other’s lives as a… placeholder of sorts. Each other’s person until they got girlfriends, or in between points like this. Until he could find some girl who meant half as much as Will meant to him, and vice versa.
El had filled in that position for himself, but Will hadn’t progressed at the same rate. Now it seemed as though the tables had turned.
Oh, shit! What if Will had a girlfriend? Maybe that was what he’d been hiding this whole time, what he didn't want Mike to know presumably because he’d just gotten out of a breakup and didn’t want to rub salt in the wounds.
That made sense, right? Will having a girlfriend.
(There was something about that thought that Mike couldn’t quite stomach)
El had mentioned a girl back in Lenora she was sure he liked so…
Still, something about it didn’t quite add up. But, whatever, it’s a theory at least.
“Fucking hell, Wheeler. Why’d you go all catatonic on us?”
It was Dustin’s voice that snapped him back to reality this time, making him shudder and extend his spine so that he was sitting up straight.
“Really, man, as if we haven’t seen enough of that shit,” Lucas piled on, referring to the whole Vecna incident (or incidents ). “Oh, wait, you weren’t here. You guys were too busy playing Griswold Family Vacation in California.”
Mike rolled his eyes at that half-joke. The trauma of that week in March had been processed enough that they had resorted to making jokes and subtle digs about it, knowing it was better that way than it continuing to be this huge thing in their lives.
“Isn’t a guy allowed to think every once in a while?” he retorted.
“That’s not something we knew you were capable of, but whatever,” Dustin deadpanned, forcing his arm into his jacket sleeve. “Carry on. Don’t strain yourself by trying too hard.”
Mike flipped him off. “Screw you guys.”
“Jonathan is outside to take us home,” El told him, changing the subject as she pulled a beanie over her head. Her hair was growing back slowly, styled into a pixie cut of sorts that framed her face well. “Thanks for inviting us over. I liked the movie, even though they had weird names.”
He gave her a small smile in return, not knowing what to say otherwise. Will stayed quiet throughout this whole exchange, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his puffer jacket with half a smile settled on his face. He hated the cold, always bundled up when temperatures began to drop.
His friends turned on their heels, starting to advance towards the staircase, and a sudden rush of courage flowed through Mike’s veins. He sucked in a breath before calling after them.
“Hey, Will?”
Will stiffened in place, planting his foot on the bottom step and turning back to Mike. “Yeah?”
“Do you think we could, like, talk for a minute? It won’t take long, I promise. I just… I need to talk to you real quick.”
Mike watched Lucas’ brow furrow at this, so over exaggerated it made Mike cringe, but he stayed focused on Will. He looked just as confused, but didn’t make as much of a deal out of it as Lucas did.
“Yeah, sure,” he replied with a nod. Briefly, he turned to his sister. “Tell Jonathan I’ll be out in a sec.”
The rest of the party disappeared up the staircase, taking with them an aura of confusion and slight suspicion, and left Mike and Will to stare at each other like a couple of lost toddlers. Mike had suddenly forgotten everything he planned to say, feeling his throat close up in a refusal to let him embarrass himself by talking.
“What did you want to talk about?” Will pressed, slightly distrusting.
What did Mike want to talk about? His ability to think had vacated his brain, leaving him standing there like a slack-jawed idiot.
Will tried again, growing frustrated now. “ Mike .”
In possibly the least strategic move he could’ve made, the words came tumbling out of Mike’s mouth without so much as a warning from his brain.
“Why do you hate me all of a sudden?”
Shit.
Fuck .
Holy fucking shit, that wasn’t what he was trying to say at all, and definitely not in the accusatory tone it came out in.
Why does he even try? His brain hates him, that much is clear.
“Mike, what are you–” Will damn near gasped, recoiling from such a heavy accusation. “I could never hate you. Never . How could you even think that?”
Okay, this is fine. Here’s your out, Mike. Just calmly deescalate the situation.
“Well, you’re acting like it! Jesus, Will, I know you’re keeping something from me,” he continued, still as hostile despite trying to be anything but. “Lucas, Dustin, El, Max . They all know something I don’t, right?”
Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with his brain? If anybody was to be the poster child for forced lobotomies, it would be Mike Wheeler. Seriously, just put him out of his misery already.
Will looked like a deer caught in headlights, taking sharp breaths like he had been taken aback by this sudden confrontation.
“It’s not what you think,” he replied in a near whisper.
Mike bit down on his lip. “So you admit it, you are keeping something from me.”
“Yes,” Will admitted with a begrudging sigh. “But, Mike, it’s… it’s not personal.”
“Well, it sure as hell feels personal considering everyone knows but me!”
Okay, he’s too far gone now. There’s no point trying to pull himself back together because he’s desperately, utterly lost in his own frustration at this point.
Hearing Will admit it, that’s what sent him over the edge. He consciously knew he’d been singling Mike out this whole time.
“Seriously, Will, do you have any idea how shitty that makes me feel?” he started to rant, feeling less and less in control of his words as he went on. “You’re my best friend, always have been, and now, what, you don’t trust me anymore? Is that what this is?”
“Of course, I trust you–”
“Is that why you told Max of all people before me? The others – okay, fine, whatever – but Max?” he continued, conscious of the fact that he was being unfair to Max but not looking past his own emotions enough to stop himself. “Since when did you like her more than me?”
He just kept going, not letting Will get a word in. His words became such a jumble that he barely kept track of half of them, letting them control him instead of the other way around.
“And I’ve gotta say, Will, I really don’t think–”
Getting visibly stressed out by Mike's incessant accusations, Will pursed his lips and had a split-second change of heart, shaking as he shouted loud enough to overpower Mike’s loud, loud ramblings.
“I’m gay!” he shouted, so sharply, so suddenly that it made Mike flinch. Panic flashed in his eyes as he realized what he had just shouted in a household like the Wheelers’. He lowered his voice to a safer volume and continued. “That’s the big secret. I’m… gay .”
Mike’s breath caught in the back of his throat, so taken back by this that he momentarily forgot how to do that thing he’s pretty sure is called breathing.
“Will, that’s not funny,” he replied, submitting to the denial stage right on schedule.
He couldn’t be. Will – his Will – couldn’t be all those things people said about him to make him feel small. Troy and James, they couldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing they were right when they hurt him like that. He couldn’t prove them right. He couldn’t have another target on his back, he just–
He wasn’t going to end up as another statistic on the news. He wasn’t .
“Do you really think I’d say it if it wasn’t true?” Will retorted, a mixture of annoyance and utter hurt in his voice. “Mike, you know what this place is like. I’d never stick my neck out if I wasn't absolutely sure.”
There was something so genuine, so wounded in the way he looked back at Mike that gave him no choice but to believe him. And, god, he felt so helpless.
Not to mention that a searing sensation of guilt was spreading through every vein in his body, realizing what he had just pretty much bullied Will into admitting. If he had known what Will was really hiding, he would’ve never been so pushy. He hoped he knew that, even despite his flaws, he never intended for that to be the case.
God, he was the worst friend in the world. No wonder Will didn’t want to tell him, knowing Mike was bound to screw things up one way or another.
“I don’t know what to…“ Mike trailed off as quickly as he began. “Shit, Will, I—“
Will exhaled deeply, backing away from him. “It doesn’t matter. I need to get going anyway.”
Without saying another word, Will ran up the staircase without so much as another look in Mike’s direction. That hadn’t gone the way either of them had wanted it to, Mike knew that much.
But his legs wouldn’t let him move and his mind wouldn’t let him think, so his plans of chasing after him were well and truly crushed. It’s not like he would’ve known what to say anyway.
So instead, Mike just stood there completely and utterly stunned like the coward he was.
—
Admittedly, Mike hadn’t slept well that night. Still, he found himself swinging by Lucas’ because they had all agreed to play the new game he had gotten for his Nintendo.
He was sitting on the couch with Max when he arrived, all loved again in the most nauseating way. It was about time they figured out their shit, but it didn’t make their corniness any less intense. She was sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest and receiving neck kisses every minute or so.
Dustin arrived next, bringing with him some snacks and subtle eye rolls at Lucas and Max. Then El followed suit not long after, arriving alone and immediately greeting Max like nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Where’s Will?” Mike asked, his gut filling with dread as he began to believe he had something to do with Will not showing up.
“Sick.”
El’s reply was so blunt that it pretty much confirmed his suspicions. Will hadn’t come because of the events of the previous night, because Mike hadn’t known how to react to him saying… what he said.
He didn’t push any further due to the general aura of hostility in the room – not just from El, but from Dustin and Lucas who Will presumably told on the car ride home – and any chance of him staying in Max’s good graces was thrown out the window when she and El migrated to the Sinclairs’ guest room for what Mike could only assume was to update her on the Will situation.
Surprisingly, neither Lucas or Dustin decided to give him shit at that particular moment, instead booting the console and taking the first few shots of the game. Mike sat on the carpet with his back against the couch, finally getting handed the controller sometime around the ten minute mark.
Of course, that was when Lucas started pressing him for his version of events. Waiting to throw Mike off his game and not beat his high score, he assumed.
“Wanna tell us what went down with Will last night? He seemed pretty distraught when he got to the car, and, well, you were the one that said you wanted to talk to him.”
Mike internally rolled his eyes, because of course Lucas was putting everything on him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he rebutted quickly, relaying the very question that had kept him up the previous night. Well, one of them at least. “About Will, I mean. You guys could’ve given me a heads up that it was something… sensitive so I didn’t confront him all guns-a-blazing and make an absolute ass of myself.”
“Is that what you did?” Dustin piped in, almost amused.
“Yes!” Mike exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in an exaggerated manner. “Now, he hates me, and he thinks I hate him in return because he’s…”
Fuck.
“You can say the word, you know. It’s not gonna rub off on you,” Lucas began in a completely dry, unamused tone. He was already getting pissed off, and conversation had barely started. “ Gay . Will’s gay . Queer. Homosexual. Whatever.”
It rolled off his tongue so easily, unlike when Mike tried to say it. It felt like cotton in his mouth when he did, clogging up his throat and preventing anything from coming out. Lucas seemed so casual, so removed from it in a way that Mike wasn’t.
He let out a slow breath, continuing to smash the buttons on the controller. “And you guys are cool with it?”
It felt like such an obvious question, but he found himself checking anyway. Just in case.
“It’s Will, man,” Lucas said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “We know he’s a good person, no matter what those assholes say on the news. More importantly, he’s our best friend. It would be pretty shitty of us to turn our backs on him now.”
All Mike could do was nod, feeling his heart speed up just a little. He didn’t understand why that had made him feel so paralysed, hyper aware of every sensation in his body.
“Are you cool with it?” Dustin challenged, raising an eyebrow at an unreadable Mike.
He cleared his throat. “Like Lucas said, it’s Will . We have to be.”
After everything that boy had been through, he deserved unconditional acceptance. Mike knew that — really, he did — and so he tried to push away any… weirdness he had about… gay people.
Because Will was gay, even if Mike wasn’t. And that was totally fine… Will being gay, not Mike. Because he wasn’t… really . He loved El, so there was absolutely no way that he was. And he could still support his friend without… having his own desires questioned.
So, yeah, Will liking guys was a thing Mike was cool with. Really cool. Yep.
And Will was great, so any guy would be lucky to date him. Well, not any guy, but you get it. Like Mike, for example, totally wouldn’t date Will — because he was totally, completely straight and Will definitely didn’t make his heart do that little flutter thing sometimes — but some other guy, sure. Some other guy that liked guys (a category that Mike didn’t fall into, in case that wasn’t already clear).
(And Mike was pretty sure there was a reasonable explanation for why the thought of Will getting a boyfriend made a strange sense of jealousy burn in his cheeks)
“You don’t sound too convincing,” Lucas scoffed, as direct as ever.
Seriously, there was never any beating around the bush with that guy. Mike didn’t know if he admired or hated him for it. Maybe a bit of both.
“I am cool with it, okay? I just– I don’t know, I guess I’m just overthinking all of this,” he breathed out, enunciating each word so Lucas couldn’t twist them back on him. He got nothing more than a blank, expectant stare in return, so he continued. “Do you guys ever worry that, like, you’ve sent him mixed signals or something?”
Maybe that wasn’t exactly what he meant to say, but when were his mind and mouth ever on the same page? He’d take what he could get.
“What the hell are you talking about? What mixed signals?”
Mike sighed, knowing he was walking a tricky line and so trying to pick his next words carefully. “Like stuff you’ve said or done that might be construed in a… gay way.”
Tactical error. Shit. Shit.
Amusement flashed over Dustin’s face, making Mike want the mother-gate (that’s what Dustin had been calling it, anyway) to swallow them whole right there and then. “Did you mean it in a gay way?”
Of course not. Nope, nope, absolutely not.
Because, and he didn’t know if he had mentioned this before, Mike was straight . Straight as… he didn’t know what, but that’s not the point. He was straight. H-E-T-E-R-O-S-E-X-U-A-L.
It was totally normal to overthink every interaction you’ve had with your best friend, fearing that he’d unintentionally said something flirtatious or looked at him in a marginally suggestive way. The duration of the looks were also fair game, making sure his very platonic stares in Will’s direction weren’t prolonged enough to give him the wrong idea.
(Not that Will being gay automatically meant that he’d like Mike even if he did like guys – which he didn’t, like he said – but he knew that whatever special (but very platonic) thing he and Will had always had may give others the impression that they had some sort of mutual crush thing going on)
And it was also very normal that those exact worries had kept him up all of the previous night, inducing some sort of panic response out of him.
Super normal. Yep.
“I like girls, Dustin,” he basically spat in return, maybe a little too defensive for the given circumstance.
Dustin shrugged his shoulders in the most nonchalant way possible, popping another Sour Patch Kid in his mouth. “Cool, me too. Doesn’t mean you can’t like both.”
And Mike swore to god his brain short-circuited, even if it was just for a second.
What is he even trying to suggest?
“ Both ?” he repeated with a scoff. “Dustin, you’re being ridiculous.”
That wasn’t how it worked, right? Sexuality, as far as he was aware, was a pretty black and white thing; either you liked the opposite gender or the same one. If there was an in between he didn’t know about then maybe–
It didn’t change anything, he told himself. He still liked girls and only girls. It just had to be that way.
“Seriously, it’s a real thing,” he continued, talking so casually, as though it was common knowledge, and making Mike feel severely undereducated. “I learned about it when I was doing some research for Will. Bisexuality.”
Huh. Bisexuality, that almost rang a bell.
“I can show you my notes, if you want,” he then added, looking at Mike with a withdrawn, analyzing look. “Well, the ones I didn’t give to Will, but he’s not bisexual so…”
Dustin drew out the last syllable, resting his lips in an ‘o’ shape long enough for it to become awkward. Mike began to feel his skin crawl at that offer, heat flushing in his cheeks and his chest heaving. He was starting to feel cornered, put under a microscope, whatever the fuck. All he knew was that this chat was delving into territory he never wanted it to go into, and part of him wanted to flee the scene before Dustin’s hints got any more direct.
Because of that, he dug his nails into his palms and grit his teeth together enough that he was sure a few cavities had begun to form.
“I don’t need your fucking notes, Dustin,” Mike snapped, voice sharp and direct to show him that he wasn’t fooling around. He tossed the controller onto the couch between him and Lucas, not in the mood to play anymore. “Now, stop thinking you know everything for once and play the fucking game.”
He watched as Dustin and Lucas exchanged a look, both pretty shell-shocked by the sudden mood shift, but turned back to face the TV before either of them said anything. Mike then tuned them out, focusing the aggressively bright pixelation and bouncy theme music of the game instead.
—
For the second consecutive night, Mike found himself unable to do anything but numbly stare up at the popcorn ceiling above his bed, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time.
This night was different from the first, though, as he actually felt like he had a reason to have gotten himself into a state like this. And what was that reason, you ask? Mike couldn’t admit it, not even to his inner monologue. But that deep, aching sense of dread had settled in the pit of his stomach, telling him all he needed to know.
It was Will’s fault, he concluded. His fault he felt this way. His fault that Mike was becoming conscious of something he never, ever wanted to unearth from the darkest recesses of his brain. God, it was all his fault.
Will, who was probably still stewing over Mike’s non-reaction to his coming out. Will, who may very well be staring up at his own ceiling at that exact moment. Something about that thought made Mike feel less alone, even if he was to fault for Will’s anxieties.
He rolled over onto his side, sick to death of the sight of the ceiling, and immediately found his gaze trailing towards his closet door. It was there where he had hung the painting that Will had given him while they were on the road, tacked proudly in the center of it. It was one of his prized possessions, and he had wanted it to be somewhere where he could just appreciate it whenever he was in his room.
Most nights he stared at it as he drifted off the sleep, even conjuring some unfortunate nightmares about three-headed dragons. Those weren’t fun, but he couldn’t blame the painting for his own overactive imagination and fear of just about everything.
Admittedly, a lot of the time he spent staring at it was an attempt to compensate for the fact that something just… didn’t add up about its origins. And while he couldn’t place a finger on exactly what that was, he couldn’t get that feeling out of his mind no matter how hard he tried to think it away.
At first, he had just taken what Will had said at face value. It was Will after all, he had never been one to lie… especially not to Mike. As far as he was concerned, if Will said El had commissioned it then she had.
Even though El had said in her letters that Will hadn’t let her see the painting he was working on.
Maybe she just said that to throw him off the scent.
And how she didn’t have a working knowledge of their D&D lore.
Whatever, Will must’ve just filled in the blanks for her.
And how she wasn’t even in the painting herself.
She never liked being posed as a superhero anyway.
And how she had gone quiet when he brought it up to her the last time she was in his room, thanking her and watching as her brows furrowed into a confused line.
Maybe she had just forgotten. A lot had happened since California, after all.
And how… how she had thought Will was painting it for his crush. Some girl, she said. Someone he liked. Someone who was making him act weird.
But Will didn’t like girls, even though he had been acting pretty weird that day in the van. Throughout the whole trip, actually.
Like he said, it didn’t fully add up. If there had been some truth to Will painting for his crush then how did Mike of all people end up with the painting?
Unless—
No. You’re being ridiculous now, Michael. There’s no way that Will–
His blood ran cold as he recalled the speech Will had given him as he handed the painting over.
Heart. Different. Mistake .
Those words, they took on a whole new meaning now that Mike had finally removed his head from his own ass (or so Max would say). They weren’t from El, and maybe a part of him always knew that. Deep down.
Was Will… talking about himself? About his former secret?
He was really clutching at straws at this point, but something deep in the pit of Mike’s gut couldn’t shake the feeling that that was the case (and the feeling of helplessness that came with it).
It was at that exact moment that he decided that he might keel over and die an anxiety-induced death if he didn’t ask Will about it at that exact moment.
He had to see him. Right now.
He couldn’t wait until morning, or until whenever Will could stomach seeing him again. Right fucking now .
So, that was exactly what he did.
He grabbed an old hoodie from the inside of the closet, unpinned the painting and rolled it up, and then pressed the parchment against his chest and zipped the hoodie up so that it would stay there. It seemed like the best way to protect it, knowing that he couldn’t adequately carry it otherwise without the risk of ruining it.
Nancy was over at Robin’s for a sleepover, so once he had haphazardly tied up the laces of his sneakers, he slipped out his sister’s window and onto the roof.
While he had never attempted it himself, he knew that Steve used to sneak into his older sister's room way back when they were an item using an old wooden box they had lying about the yard to boost himself onto the roof to get to Nancy's window. He had seen it himself, back during that week in '83 nobody (including Mike) wanted to talk about anymore. While Mike didn't have half of the upper body strength that Steve did, he decided that it would be a problem for later.
After all, all he had to do was get out of the window right now. The getting back in was Future Mike's issue.
He treaded carefully, wary of patches of ice that had formed on the roof. Damn near breaking his ankle in the process, Mike shuffled his body to the edge of the roof and let himself drop into the grass lawn below him.
It had just snowed — an actual snow this time, not just spores — so his landing was softer than it usually would be, but still wasn’t ideal. Luckily for him, he could still ride his bike, so silver linings and all that.
Within fifteen minutes, he pulled up outside of the Byers-Hopper house, so sure that every fluid in his body had frozen solid on the way there. He hadn’t thought through his outfit choice of pajama pants and a fraying hoodie, and how those did absolutely nothing to insulate his body while speeding through a chilling wind. Still, he had made it there in one piece despite the slippiness of the road beneath his bike tyres.
There only seemed to be one light left on in the house – alright for one in the morning, he supposed – which belonged to a bedroom on the upper floor that he was almost entirely sure was Will’s. Clearly, his hunch about Will not being able to sleep either had been right.
He dumped his bike on the grassy lawn, trying to get creative to alert Will of his presence without waking up the whole house. Like destiny, it seemed, the weather had given him the perfect tool to use, and he stuck his bare hands into the freezing cold snow and made a snowball. It was so cold he felt as though his hands were burning, but it was worth it. He launched it at Will’s window, letting it collide with a soft bang.
After a second of no response, he tried again. And again.
He balled up the snow once more, arm at the ready to chuck it, when a figure appeared at the window. Will . Right before the frostbite could kick in.
Quite understandably, his face was scrunched up with sheer bewilderment, looking down at the frostbitten doofus in his front yard like he was utterly insane. Mike supposed that was fair given the circumstance, but he had been driven to a state of near delirium anyway from the mixture of overthinking and the effects of the bitter cold on his psyche.
He made a vague gesture with his arms – one that loosely translated to what the fuck are you doing? – to which Mike responded with a shrug because, really, he wasn’t too sure of that himself. Will shook his head, illuminated by the pale yellow ceiling light of his room, and then turned on his heel, disappearing from Mike’s view.
After a minute or so – all of which Mike spent wondering if Will had just blown him off and gone to bed – the front porch light came on, and Will swung open the front door of the house.
In a half-whisper half-shout, he said: “Get in here, you idiot!”
Mike didn’t have to be asked twice, scurrying into the warm house and huffing warm breath into his hands to heat them up. Will closed the door behind them, locked it, and then ushered him up the staircase without another word from either of them.
When they got to Will’s room, he lent against the door to click it shut and then grabbed a blanket for Mike to wrap around himself. Even though these were textbook nice acts, there was a begrudgement to them as he threw the blanket in Mike’s direction, hitting him in the face with it.
So, he was still pretty pissed. Nice to know.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded in a sharp, no-bullshit tone. “It’s freezing out. Not to mention the fact that It’s one in the morning, Mike. Have you lost your mi–”
Before he could finish his sentence, Mike pulled the painting out from inside of his hoodie and rendered him speechless. Will’s face fell in an instant, reverting into himself as his muscles tensed.
“What does it mean?” he asked, being direct and vague simultaneously.
Will looked put on the spot more than anything, tugging at the collar of his pajama shirt – some hand-me-down from Jonathan with the name of a band Mike had never heard of before splashed across his chest – and chewing at his lips.
He took a breath before going for the approach Mike knew was the bullshit one. “I already told you, El–”
“I know she didn’t commission it,” he replied in an attempt to cut Will off. “In her letters, she told me she didn’t know who it was for. And when I thanked her for it, she looked at it like she hadn’t seen it before in her life. Because she hadn’t, had she?”
Will’s next words came out in a breathy croak. “What are you trying to prove, Mike? I don’t… I don’t want to have this conversation with you.”
“I’m just trying to–”
“No, you’re just being mean.” Will’s words cut him to the bone, making a breath get caught in his throat and his nails dig into his palms. “You’re just trying to prove that I…”
He clamped his mouth shut before he could finish the sentence, cheeks inverting as he chewed at the inside of them. Mike’s eyes settled on his hands – hovering in front of his chest as he anxiously played with his fingers – and he fought against the urge to reach out for them.
Mike knew exactly what he was referring to without him having to say it. Will thought Mike was trying to get him to admit that he had a crush on him.
“Do you?”
The words tumbled out before Mike could stop them, looking up at Will from the edge of the bed with soft, expectant eyes. There wasn’t anything mean – to use Will’s word – about them, more so just trying to figure him out.
He let out a dry, embittered laugh and shook his head – not to deny, but more to disapprove of the audacity of Mike to ask him that. “Don’t pretend like you don’t already know. That’s why you came here, right? To tell the queer to fuck off and leave you alone.”
His heart skipped a beat, even just for a second. And then the second part of what he had said sunk in.
“Don’t call yourself that,” Mike retorted, offended that he’d say such a thing about his best friend in the whole world. Even if it was about himself, it still wasn’t right.
Will might like guys, but that didn’t mean that he deserved the names that had thrown his way over the years. No way.
“Why did you push Troy?” Will asked out of the blue, going off on a completely unrelated tangent.
His accusation didn’t seem right to begin with, but only until Mike remembered that pushing Troy was something he had, in fact, done. Many moons ago, mind you, but it still happened. With all of the crazy shit that had been thrown their way since then, Mike had shoved that memory to the back of his mind.
But how did Will know that, and why was he bringing it up now ? It had happened during his disappearance, Mike remembered that much. Back when the town was reeling from his supposed death, and when Joyce and Jonathan were planning his funeral.
“Will, that’s ancient history,” he dismissed, furrowing his brow. “He was being an asshole, okay? Like a new low, even for him. He deserved it.”
“But why you?”
“What?”
“Why did you push him?” Will repeated, slower this time. “Why not Dustin or Lucas? I just don’t get why you’d stick up for me when–”
“Because I had just lost you!” His words came out without any warning, so suddenly that it made Will flinch. Considering the fact that it was the middle of the night, his volume level probably wasn’t the most appropriate either, so he lowered his voice and continued. “You were dead , Will. Not really, but everyone thought so. You were dead and that asshole was still giving you grief, and I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t understand why it felt so… personal at the time, but now I think I do.”
Will stared back at him with a puzzled expression. “And why’s that?”
The world seemed to slow for a second, syncing to the rhythm of Mike’s breath. That feeling of paralysis had returned, making Mike’s skin crawl once more.
“I like girls, okay?” he said in a flat tone.
Will nodded, looking down at the carpet. “I know.”
“ I like girls ,” he repeated, more desperately than the first time.
“I heard you the first time.”
Will’s eyes met his for a second, an air of concern in his demeanor. God, his eyes were so engrossing sometimes, especially when he was looking at Mike like that.
For what seemed like the first time in his life, Mike’s words refused to come. Once again, cotton filled his mouth and he felt himself choke on it each time he attempted to use his voice. Maybe it was better that way, but it didn’t make his life any easier.
Especially for what he had been trying to gear himself up to say. Something he could’ve told Will a long time ago if his stupid brain hadn’t hidden it from him, if it hadn’t passed his feelings off as something as simple as friendship.
There was nothing simple about his and Will’s connection, he could tell you that one for free. And there never had been, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise. As much as society had taught him otherwise.
Because, god, he liked Will Byers. In the same way he had once liked El, he concluded.
Sue him, damn him, do whatever the assholes in this town – in this world – see appropriate. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t rewire his brain. It wouldn’t make Will any less special to him.
And even though that thought terrified him, he knew he deserved to be honest with himself. With Will .
Slipping the blanket off his shoulders, Mike rose to his feet at a snail’s pace. Will studied his every move, eyes darting back and forth in their sockets as he tried to make sense of Mike approaching him slowly. He reached out for his arm first, making Will flinch slightly as his cold fingertips grazed his bare skin. His chest heaved, only worsened as Mike’s hand migrated to the side of his jaw and he began to close the gap between their faces.
Will placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.
“You don’t have to do that,” Will told him, breathlessly. It seemed to Mike as though he hated himself for doing so, gritting his teeth together. “You don’t have to take pity on me just because I like you.”
Mike could have laughed in his face. “You think I want to kiss you out of pity ?”
“Yes?”
Okay, he did laugh that time, but it was a fond chuckle more than anything. “Well, I guess you don’t know me at all, Will Byers. Because my stubborn ass only does stuff I absolutely want to.”
He attempted to bridge the gap again, but Will pushed him back once more.
“But you like girls. You just said–”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t like both,” he smirked, echoing Dustin’s words from earlier. He’d never give him credit for this sudden development, of course, but it was pretty clear his advice had helped Mike out. “Bisexuality, ever heard of it? Now, are you gonna let me kiss you or what?”
Will still looked completely spaced, head spinning as he tried to process all of this.
“ Mike .”
He raised an eyebrow at him. “ Will .”
“Tell me this isn’t a trick,” he begged in a small voice. “Tell me you aren’t just messing with me.”
“I’m not messing with you. Promise .”
With that, Will took the reins and pressed his lips against Mike’s, so softly but so deliberately that it made him lightheaded. If you had told Mike that morning that his day would end like this, he would’ve laughed in your face, but now that he had kissed Will, he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
A swirling sensation overtook Mike’s stomach, reminding him of what an impactful kiss actually felt like. It felt like when you drop on a rollercoaster, only better. It felt so… right .
Bashful as ever, Will pulled back a few seconds later and smiled brightly. He had tried to hide it at first by biting his lip, but it proved useless as the smile demanded the overtake his face. And in some kind of butterfly effect situation, Mike found himself breaking out into a grin too.
Wow, so that just happened.
“Worth the wait?” Mike asked him, almost smugly. “You know, since you’ve been pining after me since, like, forever .”
Will rolled his eyes playfully, knowing he was just being a smartass. “Hmm, maybe. We might have to try again. You know, just to be sure.”
Mike finally succeeded in bridging the gap himself, running his hands through Will’s hair as he kissed him deeper, being granted a surprised grunt in return from Will. The formerly shy boy had begun to come into his own, resting his hand on the small of Mike’s back and gripping onto the material of his hoodie for what seemed like dear life.
Mike had to do a double take to make sure this was really happening to him, imagining waking up to the familiar sight of his popcorn ceiling. But he had never felt so in the moment, so alive before, so he knew that, against all odds, his reality had just gotten a little bit more lucid.
And even though the future was still so uncertain, having Will by his side made it all worth the while. Protecting this , that gave him a new purpose in the face of all this impending apocalyptic bullshit.
So, yeah, he felt ready to take on anything.
Do your worst, Henry.