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The world is ending. Theoretically, Mike should be thinking about that. This might be his last day on earth. There’s a lot of things he should be thinking about. His parents are in the hospital in critical condition, Holly is trapped with Vecna in the Upside Down and he has no idea if she’s even alive, Nancy is in the Upside Down chasing Vecna without any preparation. He’s the only Wheeler left (relatively) unscathed.
Barely. He shouldn’t be, even. He thought he was going to die. He almost had. Vecna surely intended to add him to his list of gravely injured Wheelers. When his hands flew up to cover his face, he had known it was hopeless. All he could think about was Bob, and the sound of Joyce Byers bloodcurdling scream as he held Will’s lifeless body. The way he’d glanced back into the lab and the glimpse of him he’d caught, lying prone with a demodog on top of him. That was about to be him.
But it wasn’t. And not for any reason that it should be. He wasn’t smarter or faster or braver than Bob had been. No, he couldn’t be. It was Will. He had done it all. He had killed it, he had saved him. And then he had fallen to his knees, blood trailing from his nose. It was a familiar sight he’d seen Eleven do a million times, but it was different, somehow, when it was Will.
He knew exactly why it was different. So did she, even. Her knowing gaze as she dumped his ass eight months ago proved that. It didn’t make it easier to face.
He had run to him, jumping over the dead demogorgon with it’s broken bones and cracked neck and catching Will just as he crumbled, cupping his cheek in his hands.
“Will,” he’d breathed. “Holy shit. You just saved my life.”
“The others,” Will croaked. “And the kids. Are the kids—”
Something in Mike’s expression must have exposed the truth, by the way Will squeezed his eyes shut, devastation painting his features. But still, he was beautiful.
“We’ll get them back,” Mike had told him firmly. “All of them.”
But for now, they’re just waiting at the Squawk. Joyce had run up to them, helping Mike who was helping Will, and Erica had come running from her tower as soon as the bullets stopped flying. Her eyes were teary and wide, and Mike wished she didn’t have to face something like this.
It’s just the four of them, for now. Maybe forever. Will is asleep on the couch, his head on his mother’s lap, with Erica passed out on the floor next to them. They have no idea if any of the others are even alive.
There’s the slam of a door overhead, and Mike tenses, locking eyes with Joyce.
“I’ll check it out,” he assures her, grabbing a bat from the corner of the room. He wouldn’t be any good with a gun, though it might make him look dangerous. If this is more military, he needs something he actually knows how to use. Exhaustion pounds at his skull along with the pain of the past few hours, but he’s the closest of any of them in any shape to fight.
“Oh thank god,” Robin says, Lucas’s arm over her shoulder. “You’re alive.”
“Where are the others?” Murray says, and Mike is almost bowled over with relief at the sight of the trio, mainly Lucas. They’re alive. All of them. They made it out.
“Downstairs,” Mike tells him. “We’re all okay. Lucas, your shoulder.” It’s coated in blood, his jacket haphazardly held over the wound to add pressure.
“I know,” he grimaces. “It was… it was something. We don’t really know what happened.”
Mike walks with them back down the stairs, Murray running ahead to grab the first aid supplies.
“What happened then? At least, from what you know,” he asks, trailing behind Robin, who is supporting Lucas’s uninjured shoulder.
“The kids are gone,” Robin says, which is funny, since Mike didn’t ask her anything. He’s not fond of her, he’ll admit, if only because of the way she talks to Will. It’s always like they have some secret joke going on behind everyone else’s backs, and he hates it. “And there was a demo about to kill me, Sinclair was the same way.”
“I thought I was a goner, man,” Lucas admits as Mike and Robin help him sit up on the table, pulling his shirt off with a grimace. His shoulder is bad, and Mike happily steps aside to let Murray do the dirty work. “It was right there, about to kill me.”
“It just stopped,” Robin takes over, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. It’s a casual move, as though anything that’s happened today could result in casual. Why can’t she take this seriously? “Like - like it’s string was cut or something. And then it lifted, and—”
“It’s bones,” Mike says, realizing. That was what Will meant, when he asked about the others. He hadn’t just saved Mike. He saved all of them. “They snapped, didn’t they?”
It’s weird, how quickly that makes a string of jealousy curl in his gut. He had liked feeling special. Feeling like Will had chosen him, had been focused solely on him.
“Like Vecna,” he adds. Lucas nods, and Mike can see the pain on his face. God, he hadn’t even thought of that. The memories that must have brought up in him, of Max. It had been insane enough for Mike, who had never seen Vecna killing someone, but for Lucas… “But it wasn’t Vecna,” he tells them, though they’ve likely figured that much out by now.
“You know what it was?” Robin asks, eyes wide.
Mike smiles, strained after everything they’ve been through, and gestures to the couch, where Joyce is watching them in silence. She doesn’t want to wake Will or Erica.
“That, my friends, was our very own sorcerer.” They stare at him. “It was Will. He took over the hive mind and he killed them. He saved me too.”
Robin’s eyes glimmer, filled with tears, and the pride in her eyes is staggering. She doesn’t even know him. Not really. What right does she have to that? Mike is proud of Will because it’s Will. He’s always been the strongest person in the room, even if no one thought of it like that. Mike always believed in him. What right does she have to show up at the finish line and claim the grand prize?
Mike bites back his thoughts, taking a deep breath. He’s being ridiculous. Of course she’s proud of Will. Who wouldn’t be? And Will isn’t some kind of prize to be won. He’s… He’s Will. He’s the best person Mike has ever met. If he wants Robin… then… then he deserves Robin. He deserves anything and everything.
“I’d be dead without him,” he says, glancing over. For a moment, he lets the feelings he’s been suppressing for years rise to the surface as he stares at the boy he—
“We all would be,” he adds, turning away. Robin is watching him like a hawk. Mike grimaces. He doesn’t want to think about what that’s supposed to mean.
“Knew he had it in him,” she says, curling her fingers in a half wave to Joyce. Joyce, who had been on Mike’s side at first, but now, apparently, is totally fine with the idea of her sixteen year old son dating a grown woman.
Mike can’t control the way his lip curls at that. “Right,” he says dryly. “I forgot how well you know him.”
Robin frowns at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mike scoffs. “Nothing. It’s just odd, how suddenly you’re, like, obsessed with him. Isn’t he a little young for you?”
Robin stares, and it feels a bit like she’s peeling back layers of his skin to stare down his insides. Like she knows. “You’re not Tammy Thompson,” she says quietly, like she doesn’t expect him to hear it. Her eyes widen, and Mike wonders if she meant to say that part out loud. She does that a lot. What does Will see in her?
“Isn’t she that… terrible singer?” he asks, confused by the subject.
For some reason, that makes her eyes sparkle in amusement. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.” She turns, cutting off the conversation before it begins. “I’m gonna go see if we can’t scrounge up some food in this dump. Sound good?”
Lucas gives her a thumbs up as Murray wraps his chest, and then she’s running off to do whatever it is she does.
“What was that about?” Lucas says once she’s made it up the stairs.
“What was what about?”
“You, being weird,” Lucas says, giving Murray a quiet thank you as the man leaves to wash up now that Lucas is taken care of. “I thought you were gonna bite her damn head off.”
“I just think it’s weird that this older woman is taking such a strange interest in Will all of the sudden,” he says, defensive. “Is that not weird to you?”
There’s a glint in Lucas’s eyes as he looks at Will, then back at Mike. He looks like he knows something, but nothing in his expression gives away what that might be. “Maybe they just… have a lot in common,” he says slowly.
“Like what?” What could they possibly have in common that Mike doesn’t already have with Will? He’s known Will for more than half their lives. If Will needed to talk to someone, he could talk to him. What could she offer that he can’t?
Lucas gives an awkward half shrug, trying not to move his injured shoulder. “I’m just saying. I spend a lot of time at the hospital, you know? Robin’s there a lot too. There’s…” He presses his lips together, like he’s already said too much. “I don’t know,” he finishes lamely. He clearly does know, is the annoying part, but Mike doesn’t press him on it.
Instead, he moves back over to Joyce and Will, stepping over Erica carefully to sit on the arm of the couch. Will looks peaceful, sleeping like this. His hair is still damp, as is Mike’s, and Mike’s jacket is draped over him like a blanket. The air is cold through his damp sleeves, but you could hold a gun to his head and he still wouldn’t take that warmth away from Will.
“You should get that cleaned up,” Joyce says, gesturing to Mike’s head. He presses a hand to his temple, frowning when it comes away with flakes of dried blood.
“It’s fine,” he tells her. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“Mike,” she reprimands. “You need to take care of yourself.”
“So do you,” he tries, knowing before he says it that it won’t be enough to convince her.
“I’m his mother,” she says. “Taking care of Will comes first.”
It’s the same with Mike, but he can’t say that. How could he? He could be bleeding out and it would still matter more to him that Will is safe. She has a reason to feel that way. He doesn’t. Not a good one.
“I will,” Mike promises. “I just… need a moment.”
“They’ll be okay,” she says. She’s not just talking about Will. “Your parents are doing better, El and Hop are heading to get Holly right now, and now they have Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin, and Steve to help them.”
“Maybe not their best idea,” Mike quips.
There’s a weight in Joyce’s eyes. “I hate Jonathan being there. Hypocritical, I know. It just… it feels too much like back then. Just a different kid.”
“I know what you mean,” Mike says, staring at the way Will’s chest rises and falls in a rhythm. “Feels like someone I love is always getting… taken.”
He doesn’t even realize what he’s said until Joyce looks up at him, a smirk on her face. “Oh yeah?” she says, teasing. Mike feels his face light up in fire, his shoulders creeping up to his ears.
“I, uh, I just meant—”
“Mike,” she interrupts, reaching out to put a hand on his knee. “I know what you meant. It’s okay.”
It doesn’t feel okay, but there’s nothing but fondness in her gaze, and nothing but affection in the hand she squeezes him with. “It’s okay,” she repeats, and Mike tries to believe her. “Now, go clean that out before it gets infected.”
“You need a hand with that?”
Mike drops the wet rag he’s been using to dab at his face into the sink, spinning around to see Will leaning against the open door of the bathroom.
“You’re up,” he breathes. “Hey.”
Will steps into the room, and it feels like the space compacts with him, so that the only room in the building is the half foot of distance between them. He picks up the rag, holding it up.
“Need some help?”
Mike nods, not trusting his voice to speak. “Yeah,” he tries, the word coming out high pitched and broken.
The towel is gentle against his temple as Will wipes away the dried blood, pausing when Mike hisses in pain.
“They really did a number on you,” he murmurs. “Might scar.”
“Good,” Mike says. “It’ll be badass.”
Will snorts, a smile on his face, and that is the biggest miracle of the entire night. That after everything he’s been through and everything he’s seen, Will can still smile like the sun is shining through his face.
“I’d say you could make up cool stories to tell girls, but I don’t think there’s any story cooler than the truth.”
“You’re the one who could impress all the girls,” Mike says. “I mean, Jesus, Will. You were incredible.”
Will pauses, a fear in his eyes. “It wasn’t - I wasn’t… scary?”
“No,” Mike says, reaching up before he realizes and catching Will’s wrist before he can keep dabbing at the wound. “I could never be scared of you.”
Will’s cheeks go red as he stares at Mike’s hand around his warm wrist, and Mike watches his mouth as he swallows. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I, uh, I don’t need to impress any girls.”
Any joy Mike was feeling curdles in his chest. “Right,” he says numbly. “That makes sense.”
Will seems confused as Mike drops his hand, taking the chance to wet the rag more and clean with a bit more pressure. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just - you seem happy,” he says. “With Robin.”
A burst of laughter spills from Will’s throat, and Mike is almost too happy to hear it to be offended Will’s laughing at him. Almost.
“What are you laughing about? What did I say?” Even in his offense, he can’t help but smile, listening to that voice in it’s giddiness.
“I don’t like Robin, Mike,” he says. “Not like that.”
The words send a balm of warmth down his body and through his fingertips, and Mike bites back at the smugness he feels. Take that, Robin.
“She’s not my type, anyway.”
And that is officially too much for Mike Wheeler. The idea of Will having a type, of Will seeing girls and wanting them, wanting them the way Mike wants him. It’s too much. Of course that means he has to stick his foot directly in his mouth and beg for more.
“What is your type then?”
Will scoffs, but there’s a confidence in him at the question that has been missing every other time the Party has talked about girls. Before, it was like he was afraid of the question, or afraid of the answer, but now it’s like there’s an inside joke that Mike isn’t getting.
“I don’t know,” he responds, sounding amused.
“Then how do you know she’s not your type?”
“I know what my type isn’t.”
“Then how do you not know what it is? Just use - like - process of elimination.”
“Process of elimination?” Will says. “To determine what my type is?”
“Yeah,” Mike mumbles. “Why not?”
The confidence fades from Will’s eyes as he sets the rag down, Mike’s wound apparently deemed clean enough for now.
“I just - don’t think it matters. Or it won’t for some time.”
“Of course it matters,” Mike says, offended on his behalf. “Why wouldn’t it? Any girl would be lucky to have you, Will. And I’m not just saying that because you’re a sorcerer now. You’ve always been… cool.”
“I don’t want any girl,” Will says.
Mike frowns. “Do you have someone in mind? Because, like, maybe that’s your type then.”
“Mike,” Will says, sounding frustrated. His hands are shaking, clenched around the wet rag. “I don’t want any girl.”
Mike’s world implodes, but all he does is take a shaky breath.
“Oh,” he says dumbly. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Will says, voice cracking. He looks scared, scared in the way he had when he had that vision at lunch, when he thought Vecna might be returning. Like this is just as scary as that had been. Mike can’t stand the idea of Will hurting like that. Hurting because he’s afraid of Mike. He understands, now, why Will had asked if he was afraid of him. Even the thought of Will fearing him makes him sick to his stomach.
“Me either,” he says, and Will’s face freezes, shifting into something more baffled than anything.
“What?”
“I don’t want any girl,” Mike confesses. “I… not the way I’m supposed to.”
“Are you messing with me right now?” Will says lowly. “Because if you are—”
“I’m not messing with you, I’m coming out. Don’t tell me I’m messing with you when I’m trying to come out to you.”
“You’re stealing my coming out is what you’re doing. Can’t even give me a single moment’s peace, can you?”
There’s a fond look in his eyes, and it’s charged now, in a way it wasn’t before. Mike has laid some of his cards on the table, to match Will’s. He knows, now, that Will likes boys. Will likes boys. And Will knows that he likes boys.
Now the only thing hidden is Mike’s feelings for Will. Or maybe… maybe Mike could be so lucky. Maybe… maybe that’s not the only secret left. Will started this with his bravery. He was brave facing Vecna and brave fighting the demos and brave telling Mike he was gay. Maybe… maybe it’s Mike’s turn to be brave.
He lets his hand come up, brushing Will’s hair out of his face, and watches as Will’s eyes flick down for one, two, three seconds before meeting him in the eye once more. His hand falls, landing on Will’s waist.
“Mike,” he says hoarsely. They’re close now. So close Mike is breathing the air straight out of Will’s lungs. He would do that forever. He wants to do that forever.
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Are you—?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Can I—?”
“Yeah,” Will says, and Mike crashes into him halfway through the word.
It’s too much, at first. Their noses clash awkwardly, and it’s more of a press of closed mouths than a kiss, but it’s Will and he’s not pulling away, no. He’s reaching out, his hand threading through Mike’s hair and holding him close. Mike moves his mouth, and Will reciprocates hesitantly, turning the press of mouths into something new, something real. He wonders, distantly, if this is Will’s first kiss, and the jealousy that lives in his gut twists smugly at the thought. His hand snakes from Will’s waist around to his back, pressing them chest to chest. The bathroom is silent save for the sound of their heavy breathing and mouths moving in sync.
Will tilts his chin up, changing the angle slightly, and it’s so good, it’s perfect. It’s everything Mike has ever wanted in his life, and it’s his. There’s no room in his thoughts for Vecna, or demogorgons, or Robin, just Will’s mouth on his and Will’s tongue pressing against his teeth. He opens his mouth without a thought, and Will presses forward with his whole body, desperate, shoving Mike against the wall of the bathroom. The sound of him hitting the wall echos loudly, and they freeze, breaking apart for a moment to see if anyone is coming. Will’s lips are swollen, his mouth wet, and it’s so enticing that Mike pulls him back in without hesitation, Will following easily.
It’s cramped and awkward and everything Mike has ever needed. It’s better, so much better, than he ever imagined, because it’s real. It’s not the fantasy he spent years pushing down, only seeing in flashes at night while he dreamed. It’s Will Byers, choosing him.
“I lied,” Will says quickly, so he can dive right back into kissing him. “I do know what my type is.”
“Yeah?” Mike asks, too caught up to say anything else.
“You.”
Mike groans, pulling Will impossibly closer. The world is ending, almost everyone he’s ever loved is in danger, but the only thing that matters here and now is Will. It’s the only thing that’s ever really mattered to him.
Will is the one to finally pull back. “Mike,” he warns. Mike follows his head, craning his neck forward to kiss him once more. “Mike,” he laughs. “They’re going to worry.”
“Let them,” Mike says. “Besides, your mom definitely knows I’ve got a thing for you, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she knows you have a thing for me.” He pauses. “You have a thing for me, right?”
Will looks baffled. “Did anything about the last five minutes suggest I don’t?”
“Right.” Sue him if he likes the confirmation.
“Either way, we still need to put something on that. The last thing we need is you getting an infection.”
Worry claws at his expression as he brushes his fingers over Mike’s scrape. “I’m fine,” he says, catching Will’s hand in his. This time, he gives in to the urge to twine their fingers together. “I’m more worried about you. If anything happens to you…”
Will squeezes his hand. “I’ll be okay, Mike. I promise.”
Mike smiles wryly. “You can’t promise that, Will.”
“I know. But I am. I have spent years waiting for this. I’m not going to die just after I finally got what I’ve always wanted.”
“Always, huh?” Mike teases, unable to resist.
“What can I say? You’re… hard to beat.”
Mike pauses. “You like me better than Robin, right?”
Will blinks. “What?” he huffs.
“Like, obviously you like me different, but you like me better too, right? She’s not your favorite.”
“Oh my god,” Will mutters. “Yes, Michael. I like you better than Robin.”
“Cool.”
Will rolls his eyes. “Cool, he says. I can’t believe you.”
Mike can’t find him in himself to be offended. “Yep. That’s me.”
“Have you been jealous this whole time?”
Mike scoffs, looking away. “What? No.” Will narrows his eyes. “Maybe,” he mumbles. “You guys were being weird, always sneaking off and whispering and giggling. What was I supposed to think?”
“Mike,” Will laughs, catching his flailing hands before he can hit him in the small space. “Robin knows I like you. That’s why we were talking.”
“Oh,” Mike says, dumbly. No wonder she had looked at him with those eyes. She was trying to determine if Mike liked Will back. “Well now I feel like an asshole.”
Will blinks. “Wait, what did you say to her?” Mike presses his lips together. “Oh my god,” Will groans, dragging a hand across his face.
“It’s fine, she’s fine. I just, maybe, implied that she had a thing for you and that that was weird.” He pauses. “Wait, does Lucas know you like me? Because he was being weird too.”
Will hesitates. “Uh. I never told him, but, to be fair, I haven’t really been subtle about it.”
“Yes you were. You were totally subtle. I had no clue.”
Will gives him a deadpan look.
“Okay, that’s uncalled for. I am not oblivious.”
“I didn’t say it,” Will says with a laugh.
Mike’s grin softens into something deeper, warmth flooding his whole body. He understands, now, the magic coursing through Will’s veins, because he feels like he could do anything right now if he tried to. “You didn’t have to,” he says.
Will kisses him in response, and Mike thinks that’s probably the best answer Will could give to anything he has to say, ever. There’s a million things he wants to say; questions, answers, apologies, and everything else he could think of. But when he looks in Will’s hazel eyes, he feels like he already knows. There's nothing he could say that Will doesn't already know the answers to.
"Let's go save the world," he says instead.
Will finishes cleaning up his wound, though it takes twice as long because Mike keeps interrupting him with kisses every time he remembers he's allowed to do that now. Robin is standing by the couch where Joyce is half asleep when they exit, and for once, Mike doesn't feel overwhelmed with the urge to shoot lasers through her with his eyes. She cocks her head to the side slightly, and Will gives her a thumbs up. Her face lights up and she pumps her fist in celebration. Mike just buries his face in his hands.