Chapter Text
Monday, July 28th, 1986
“Can I draw you?”
The way Mike looked at him after he said this was the greatest compliment Will had ever received. “Yeah, of course.”
Will grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil off Mike’s desk, settling on the floor with his back against the bed. Mike was lounging across the floor, but had propped himself up on his elbows. He was all long lanky limbs, a sliver of his stomach exposed from under his shirt. His face was the same as always, prominent cheekbones and angular nose, freckles, soulful eyes, and— “Are you blushing?” Will heard himself laugh, and Mike fell back onto the floor.
“Maybe?”
“You’re totally blushing!” Will exclaimed. “God, you really do like me.”
“Mmmm, no. No, I just kissed you for fun, not because it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last week or anything,” Mike joked, the goofiest and most endearing grin spread wide across his face.
“Oh, well I’ll be sure to remember that,” Will returned. He knew it was a lame response; he was never very good at joking around with friends, much less flirting.
After that, they settled into a comfortable silence, just the sound of Will’s pencil scratching against the paper, and occasionally the words of Mrs. Wheeler scolding Holly floating up the stairs. Will watched as the curve of Mike’s nose took shape, dark circles forming into eyes. He’d drawn Mike so often that he didn’t even have to really look at him to remember where to darken a line, where to curl the hair over his browbone, where to— “How long?” Will had been so focused on the drawing, Mike’s words startled him.
“What?” Will couldn’t quite seem to wake up from this dream, dotting out Mike’s freckles with Mike’s pencil in Mike’s room, Mike staring at him and having just kissed Mike.
“How long have you been in love with me?”
“Who says I’m in love with you?” Will knew this teasing question was rendered entirely pointless by the way he was looking at Mike. But he was just so beautiful, how was he ever supposed to look at him any other way?
“Well, judging by the fact that you’re looking at me—not even the drawing, but me—like I’m your latest artistic masterpiece, I think we’re at least pretty close to love.” Mike was smiling, kidding with Will like they used to. Like they were kids again. Like they were happy again. Maybe they would be happy now.
“I look at everyone I draw this way,” Will said, tracing out the fringes of Mike’s hair.
“No, you don’t,” Mike said, and Will could feel those gorgeous, soulful eyes boring into him.
“Do you always watch me when I’m drawing?” Will was joking, but Mike’s nearly too serious response caught him off guard.
“Yes.”
Will looked up, and Mike was still looking directly at him. “A while, I guess,” Will finally responded, studying Mike’s eyes. He didn't think he ever wanted to stop looking at those eyes now. “I’ve loved you for a while.” This was, of course, a blasphemous under-exaggeration, but Mike didn’t need to know that.
“I think I’ve loved you forever,” Mike said. “Maybe longer than I’ve known you. It’s like we were predestined. Like I’m the Sam to your Frodo.”
Will knew he was blushing, he could feel even the tips of his ears turning pink. “God, you’re so cheesy,” he said, laughing and looking back at the drawing taking form on the paper. Mike had always been nice to him, spoken to him more softly than he had to Dustin or Lucas, or even El, but this soul-bearing affection was definitely new.
“You know you love it,” Mike laughed, a sound like the first songbird of spring.
“I do,” he said, letting the words linger in the air. “I really do.” Pausing the drawing, hair under-rendered and freckles only spread across one cheek, he looked at Mike. God, he looked so perfect. A ray of sun had moved from the wall to lay across his hair, sending the curls into dark brown relief against the blue background of the wall. Will leaned forward and kissed Mike, not long this time, but short and sweet. “I think I’ve loved you forever, too. Ever since that day on the swingset.”
Mike grinned, sending his freckles into new constellations. Will had only ever seen him that happy at the end of a campaign. He’d never dreamed he’d be able to make someone smile like that, much less the boy he’d loved longer than he’d known the meaning of the word.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Now Mike was the one blushing, like watercolor spreading across a sketch. “Shut up.”
“Mmmmm… no. No, actually. I don’t think I’m ever gonna shut up about you ever again, Michael Wheeler. Not if I can help it.”
Mike’s laugh was so melodic; so bright and clear, like sunlight in late winter. “Does that mean you want to… I don’t know, date?”
“We just made out and told each other we’re in love, and you’re asking if I want to date?” Will couldn’t believe what he was hearing, not only because it was somewhat a ridiculous question, but also because it was what he’d wished for every day for years. Every dandelion, every birthday cake, every 11:11. All he’d wanted was Mike. Even when he could’ve wished for the Mind Flayer or Vecna to disappear, it was always Mike. It had always been Mike. Of course, the wishes had changed slightly over the years. They’d gone from I wish Mike and I could be friends forever when he was young and innocent to his own feelings, to I wish Mike was here during those endless nights in the Upside Down, to I wish Mike felt the same.
“Yes, Mike. I want to date,” the words floated out of his mouth like they’d been waiting there all along, waiting for the right time.
“Great.” Now Mike was smiling even bigger than he did at the end of a campaign, his eyes flitting over Will’s face. “Boyfriends?”
“Boyfriends,” Will responded. Even if his dad had been right about one thing, he’d been wrong about another. Will was loveable, and he was important, and he had a strength Lonnie Byers could never understand.
He kissed Mike again, long and slow this time. He curled his fingers into Mike’s hair, Mike’s hands at his waist. This kiss was different than the first. If the last one was a painting, it would’ve been yellow with strokes of bright blue and red. This one was deep red, with glimmers of purple and the familiar yellow. Suddenly, Mike moved a hand to Will’s shoulder, pulling him forward until Mike was lying flat on the ground and Will was on top of him. A sort of rhythm developed between them, a give-and-take like waves on a beach. He broke away for a moment, to look at Mike. His boyfriend. He studied the curve of his nose, the line of his jaw. Those beautiful freckles, his eyes which could turn from unreadable to wells of emotion within a fraction of a second.
“What?” Mike laughed, eyes locked on Will’s.
“You’re just so gorgeous, I can’t believe you’re actually mine,” Will said.
“Now who’s the cheesy one?” Mike teased.
“Shut up,” Will grinned, moving to kiss Mike again, but being interrupted by Mrs. Wheeler shouting up the stairs.
“Boys, come help Holly and I with the chores!”
Mike groaned. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so sad to have to do chores. And I really hate chores.”
“There’ll be time later,” Will said, standing up. “C’mon, Holly’s gonna come yell at us in ten seconds if we don’t go help her.”
“I was never that bratty at her age,” Mike complained, causing Will to raise a dubious eyebrow. “Do I look okay?”
“You mean do you look like you’ve been kissing your best friend?” Will said, smoothing down the back of Mike’s hair to its usual mildly tousled state. “No, you do not.”
“Awwww,” Mike pretended to pout.
“You’re so stupid,” Will said, opening the door and starting down the stairs.
“Yes, I am,” Mike agreed jokingly, bounding past Will.
Will Byers looked over his shoulder at his best-friend-turned-boyfriend’s room, with the comforter askew and a half-finished drawing of a beautiful boy on the floor, and thought that’s what heaven must look like.