Chapter Text
“Do you want to talk?” Jane says while Mike picks out a shirt. There are clothes scattered on the floor, and he used to feel embarrassed whenever Jane would see his room being anything but neat, but they aren’t together anymore. They haven’t been for three years, not since they returned from his spring break trip to California.
It didn’t matter what Mike had said to Jane while she was in the tub, mind-fucking with Vecna to save Max. When they returned, and things settled, Mike had tried to kiss her, and she told him she didn’t want to do that with him anymore.
“It’s fine,” Mike says, distracted. He holds out a blue shirt and then changes his mind. Why is he overthinking this? It’s just a graduation party. A party he doesn’t even want to attend.
“Mike.”
“Yeah.” Mike slides all his shirts to the right and goes through them one by one in case he’s missed the perfect shirt that definitely doesn’t exist.
“I’m officially dating him. Did you want to talk about that?”
Mike faces Jane, whose sitting on his unmade bed, her legs crossed, her hands holding her knees. There’s a touch of pity in her eyes.
“Dating. Yeah. I heard.”
“You’re not acting like you’ve heard. And last month, when I told Max I liked him, only for Lucas to tell you, you were weird. Holly said you wouldn’t leave your room.”
“Weird. Right. I’m over it.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” Jane says.
Mike sighs. “I’m not trying to be. It’s fine, Jane. Date whoever you want.”
“You need to talk to him.”
“I will.”
“At the party?”
Mike shuts his eyes. “He’s going?”
“Yes, of course. We all are.”
Mike digs though his pants drawer, tossing the no’s behind him.
“Mike…”
A rough sigh blows out of Mike, and the words rush out without him wanting to. “He’s betraying the party, you know.”
Jane has her pity eyes back. “Talk to him. Dustin thinks you hate him. You don’t hate him, right?”
“No,” Mike says, pouting a bit. “Just annoyed.”
“Because you’re jealous?” she asks curiously.
“No. It’s just…weird. Friends aren’t supposed to date each other’s exes.”
“I wasn’t aware of this,” she says, her brows dipping. “Why?”
“Do you love him?” Mike asks instead of trying to explain. “And he loves you?”
“Yes. He told me right after I told him. He was waiting for me to understand my own feelings. I think I’ve liked him…for a long time. But not while you and I were together. After he lost Eddie, he said I felt like a safe person. I was the only one he didn’t have to keep smiling around. I felt the same. We sort of found each other in our pain. You know, with all that happened in California and with Brenner. I love Dustin. And Dustin loves me. He tells me a lot.” Jane smiles, and Mike can see how sincere her words are, even if he doesn’t want to.
Mike turns back to his drawer, so Jane won’t see him swallow. In the years they were together, he struggled telling Jane he loved her. He’s not sure why his body reacted like the phrase would kill him. He couldn’t even tell his sisters or parents he loved them.
But Dustin could tell Jane without feeling like his skin was crawling. And she deserves a boyfriend like that.
Still. Why did it have to be fucking Dustin?
“I’ll talk to him,” Mike says. “Can you please help me find something to wear?”
Mike is three drinks in at an unfamiliar house, listening to unfamiliar but catchy music, smelling weed and god knows what else. He’s tipsier than Will, having drunk from the punch bowl instead of beer like Will had safely chosen. This is probably why Mike’s next words are, “You look…” Mike stares at Will, stares at his mole and his hazel eyes, and the hair he gelled to look messy. Then Mike stares at Will’s buttoned-down shirt he saves for nice occasions, like a wedding or Stacey’s fucking party, Mike guesses. And god, he does look cute, but Mike’s not supposed to say this to his best friend. Even when that best friend makes him have interesting dreams and was the reason he changed his outfit a dozen times. He tries again. “You look…”
Hot.
Attractive.
Like his shirt was made for Mike to tear off his body…
Will opens his mouth, but it takes a while before he says, “I look, what?”
Shit, what should Mike say? “Cute’s the wrong word.”
“I don’t look cute?”
Mike hadn’t meant to say that aloud. He puts his drink down because apparently it’s fucking up his brain’s filter.
Will is blushing, but he’s also smiling, like he finds drunk Mike amusing…and possibly cute, too. But that’s Mike feeling hopeful.
“You look nice,” Mike says, and clears his throat. Because this is not how they talk. They don’t compliment each other. They don’t sit with their thighs touching. Okay, maybe sometimes they do, but it’s never felt…like this before. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s Will leaving for New York soon. Ever since he announced he changed his plans and is going to attend a small art school in New York City, it’s fucked up Mike enough to look for apartments in New York. Even at the cost of his father killing him for taking a year off of school to figure out his plan.
Lucas plops down next to Will, throwing his arm around him, and Will closes his mouth on whatever he meant to reply to Mike.
“I’m going to miss you, Willy,” Lucas says, and he’s drunk, too, because when has he ever called Will Willy? “But New York is going to be so epic for you. Tons of guys are gay over there.”
“How the fuck would you know?” Mike asks quietly, and he picks his drink back up and takes a burning sip. He’s rather annoyed with the arm around Will’s shoulders. It reminds him of what Will confessed in a game at the last party they attended a month ago. Will admitted he used to have a crush on Lucas when asked if he ever liked anybody from school. Mike glares at Lucas’ arm until Lucas slowly retreats it.
“Dustin just arrived,” Lucas says, leaning over Will’s lap to meet Mike’s eyes. “You going to talk to him or be a dickhead?”
“Probably a dickhead,” Mike mumbles.
Will laughs and suddenly Mike’s mood improves. A drunken thought hits him: I wish we were alone.
Mike stands because there’s an interesting tingle happening in the part of his leg that was pressed against Will’s. He doesn’t trust his drunk self to not lean into that good feeling.
Mike sees Jane before Dustin. He’s holding her jacket and purse, and they look…like a couple.
Dustin has his curls slicked back, and Mike’s sure Steve is at fault. Dustin says something to Jane, and she nods, and Dustin touches her upper arm lovingly as they move through the crowded house.
“Are you okay?” Will says, and Mike realizes that while he’s been staring at Dustin and Jane, Will has been staring at him.
“Yeah,” Mike says, but he gets a little lost in Will’s concerned eyes, so he’s forgotten what question he’s answering.
Then time does a funny thing. It slips from Mike with every blink. He’s sitting next to Will. Then he’s standing in a swarm of bodies, swaying. Hands grip his arms, but he can't see whose they belong to.
“You okay?” Will asks in another blink, but Mike can’t see him. He’s staring at the spinning ceiling. He blinks, and he’s in a car.
“Woah!” Mike says, hands holding the dashboard, like he’s bracing himself for a crash.
“We’re here,” Will says.
Mike turns to look at him. Is Will driving? Mike closes his eyes again. He’s lying down. And he feels like someone’s trying to pull him through the mattress. He laughs before he starts to cry at the weird sensation.
“I love you,” he says, and all he can see is Will's beautiful face.
Will laughs, and he must not understand, so Mike tries again to say the words.
“No. I’m in love with you. Do you love me?” Mike’s not sure what else he says. But he does remember one thing before he wakes up with a splitting headache, alone in his bed.
Will replying, “I can't.”
Mike spends the morning vomiting. He showers, only to vomit again, having nothing in his stomach so only bile comes up before he’s dry heaving. He weakly makes his way downstairs, making sure to put on a long sleeve shirt. He must have fallen down the stairs because his body is sore, and he has the most curious bruises.
Mike’s far from feeling hungry, but he knows he needs something in his stomach. He sits at the table to catch his breath. He lets his head fall, trying to gain the will to get himself back up to finish his journey to the kitchen.
The front door opens, and Mike’s mom greets, “Hi, Will! I don’t think Mike’s feeling all that well. I heard him throwing up in the shower.”
“I brought him some stuff,” Will says.
"You're such a kind friend," Mike's mom says. "My favorite of Mike's, but don't go telling Dustin or Lucas."
"I won't." And it sounds like Will is grinning. Mike's not sure how he knows what Will sounds like when he's grinning, but he does.
“Mike must have caught something at that party,” Mike’s mom says, and there’s a touch of knowing in her words that tells Mike she’s not fooled as to what was served at Stacey’s party.
"Yeah... Maybe," Will says, easing out of the conversation.
Mike tries to lift his head, but gravity keeps it on the table. A bottle gets set down in front of his eyes.
“Wish you were dead, yet?” Will says, taking the chair next to Mike. Will touches Mike’s back, but because he’s overly sensitive from his hangover, he flinches. Will removes his hand.
“I got you some meds from Hopper’s cabinet. He takes them to kill his morning headache. It’s a bit stronger than Tylenol.”
“Lime,” Mike mutters, staring at the Gatorade Will got him. “My favorite.”
“Do you want to go up to your room? I can make you some soup, or something.”
“You going to spoon-feed me?” Mike meant to sound teasing, but his stomach clenches and it comes out as a grunt, and Will shifts back like his feelings were hurt by Mike's unintentional tone.
“Mike," his mom calls from the other room. "Looks like Agnes left another voicemail while you were at the party last night.”
Mike only grunts.
“I think it’s time you take her out again,” she calls. "Okay?"
“Okay,” Mike echoes, not really hearing his mom because his brain is throbbing. He takes Hopper’s pill and swallows the Gatorade. And he’s feeling grateful for Will coming over and he wants to tell him this, but then he remembers. Remembers telling Will he loves him. That he’s in love with him. And that Will...can't.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Mike can’t look at Will, suddenly. And his cheeks are burning. He needs to save the situation. Needs Will to think he was just drunk. It was just alcohol.
“What happened last night?” Mike asks, still not being able to meet Will’s eyes. “Because I can’t remember a fucking thing.”
“Really?” Will asks after a beat of silence.
“Yeah. I drank way too much. I think because of the whole Dustin and Jane thing… It was a bad idea.”
“Bad idea…”
“Mistake,” Mike says, and he believes he’s saved himself. That he sounds convincing.
“Who’s Agnes?” Will asks after a longer beat of silence.
Agnes is Mike's grandmother’s friend’s granddaughter, who he went with to her cousin’s wedding a few months ago. She hasn’t stopped calling. She’s nice and beautiful. Mike should want to date her. But the entire time they were at the wedding together, he had wished Will was there. When they were dancing, he wished he was dancing with Will. And it was then, while on a date with a girl, that he truly started to realize his attachment toward Will was not platonic nor was it just a crush.
The next weekend, he had plans to possibly share these feelings with Will, no matter how scary. But then Will confessed to liking Lucas. By the time Mike gained the courage to address his feelings a second time, Will announced he was moving to New York instead of staying in Indiana. Mike couldn’t leave his room for a week after that. Pretended he had the flu. And his mom let him miss school, which was unlike her, but Mike thinks even she could tell he was having a rough week.
“I’m going to go,” Will says, and Mike realizes he never answered Will’s question.
“Okay,” Mike says. “I’ll see you later. Uh, thanks for the pill. And the drink. That was…”
Will waits, and Mike still can’t look at him.
“Nice?” Will guesses, and there’s something in his voice that Mike needs to fix. But he doesn’t.