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Mike has liked a lot of girls. There was Jane Wilson in fourth grade, a childhood crush. Then, in seventh grade, came El—his first girlfriend. They’d had a good run, actually: made it all the way through sophomore year of high school. His junior year sort-of girlfriend, a jealous blonde girl named Hannah who’d cold-shouldered El and hated Will, certainly hadn’t lasted long.
So here Mike is, seventeen years old, just a few months out from graduating. Girlfriendless, true, but not friendless.
And then Chicago happens.
“James V. will be paired with Michael W.,” Mrs. Ellis announces, and Mike stands from his seat to find the other boy.
The Historical Artifacts Appreciation elective of Hawkins High is on a trip to Chicago to check out some museums, and they’re being assigned students from a local school to give them tours, answer questions, and room with.
Mike honestly isn’t thrilled; he’d ended up in the class by mistake, anyway. He’d applied for a senior year art elective and an intro to college writing, but something had gone wrong and he’d ended up with a room of history nerds—and none of his friends.
Nevertheless, he makes a pact with himself not to let his sour mood negatively impact this James kid. He won’t even let a sneer slip out at the sound of his name, because it’s not this guy’s fault he shares a name with an asshole. Yeah, Mike is fine.
“There, Michael,” Ellis points, and he turns to see a boy standing a few rows back.
Mike almost yells in anger, because this goddamn kid looks nothing like a James, and now he’s gonna have goddamn conflicting feelings about the name he’s hated for years because of this stupid boy without an ugly face. He’s around Mike’s height, brown hair, green eyes, and a very friendly smile that Mike totally won’t slap off of his face at the first opportunity.
No, Mike really won’t do that, because he doesn’t hate this kid. This James hasn’t done anything wrong.
So instead, he takes a breath, hoists his bag over his shoulder, and makes his way over.
-
“What’s your deal?” James asks after dinner, and Mike cranes his neck to see him.
“Hmm?” he says, shoving his suitcase under the tiny bed and sitting back on his legs.
“Your deal,” James repeats. “No offense, but you’re a little… prickly. And I’m just, you know, trying to be nice.”
His mouth tilts down into a slight frown, and Mike does feel a pang of guilt when he sees hurt in the other boy’s eyes. “No,” he assured him quickly. “No, I just…” He shakes his head, because it sounds stupid to say that the reason I’ve been cold to you all evening is because you have the same name as a bully I knew.
“Like, I get if I did or said something earlier, and I’m sorry,” James rushes on, “but I don’t think I did so—”
“No, I’m sorry,” Mike relents. “You just… remind me of someone who hates me.”
James blinks. “Oh. Well.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Really. I’ve been a dick, and you didn’t deserve that.” He laughs a little. “I don’t even know you, you could be really nice, for all I know. So I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to say that you’re sorry so many times,” James replies. “But yeah, you don’t know me, I don’t know you, and you weren’t very nice. So how about you make it up to me, Michael?”
“Mike,” he corrects. There’s something playful in James’ tone, and for some reason it sends a nervous shiver down Mike’s neck. “How?”
James shrugs. “Let me show you around the city, Mike . There won’t be any time after the museums tomorrow, before you leave, so might as well go now.”
Mike considers for a moment. On one hand, he’d been planning on writing in his notebook for a bit and going to bed. On the other hand, this actually very nice guy wants to show him goddamn Chicago.
“Sure,” he agrees. “Let’s go.”
-
James shows him the building “Spider-Dan” climbed up, the public library with giant statues outside, and the strange-looking State of Illinois Center. It’s all a far cry from what can be found in Hawkins, and Mike revels in it. He almost protests when James begins steering them back to the hostel, but realizes it’s almost one in the morning and gives in.
James is funny , too, which Mike is almost shocked to learn because he hardly looks it. But he is, and he has a nice laugh, and Mike grins whenever he says something stupid enough to weasel a chuckle out of James.
They’re still laughing as they clumsily sneak back to their room, trying not to wake everyone. Mike shuts the door quietly behind them as James ambles into the room. When Mike turns, he sees that James has moved to the window and thrown the curtains open, letting the dim city lights in. They throw James’ features into shadow, add a shine to his dark hair, turn his green eyes molten, and—
Goddamn, he’s pretty, Mike thinks, before he can even begin to stop that thought cold in its tracks.
Then James turns and looks at him, and Mike realizes he’s said it out loud.
“Fuck,” he says. “Um.”
He has no fucking clue what he’s doing. What he’s thinking. Can he be thinking this? What the hell is happening? This has literally never happened before.
“Thanks,” James says softly, shrugging. “I’d be glad you didn’t get roomed with anyone else, if I were you.” He strides back across the room, over to Mike, and before Mike can process anything James has pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Just remember where you are. Who you’re with. Who you are. You’ll figure it out, Mike.” Then he flops onto his bed, and Mike stands frozen for what feels like forever.
“Boy, what a week,” Lucas sighs. “I don’t even want to do anything except sit.”
Max rolls her eyes and leans into her boyfriend, nearly kicking Mike in the shin as she shuffles across the Byers’ couch. “You had, like, two tests. Calm down.”
“Yeah, Lucas, I had four tests and a project due,” Dustin says. “You could have had worse.”
Worse , Mike thinks idly. Like accidentally telling a boy you think he’s pretty. That was probably worse.
Thankfully, he keeps his thought inside his head this time, though he nearly bites his tongue off in surprise when Will nudges him.
“You okay?” he asks. “You look a little… out of it.”
“I’m fine, just tired,” Mike says, which is at least half true.
Mostly, he just doesn’t know what’s happening. In the five days since he got back from Chicago, he’s been scanning through every memory, every thought he’s had to try to figure out where the hell that came from.
And the more he thinks about it, the more uneasy he becomes because he isn’t sure it was just a one-off thing anymore.
He remembers being absolutely obsessed with being Lucas’ friend back in first grade, knowing now it wasn’t the same as how he’d grown to appreciate Dustin’s company in fifth grade. He remembers Matthew from summer camp when he was twelve, his absolute favorite camp friend who he could never get enough hugs from. He remembers his English teacher freshman year, and how his admiration got to a point where friends would joke about how Mike should ask him to the school dance instead of El. He knows how he’s never felt out of place holding Will’s hand. And in his mind’s eye he can see James, and—
“Dad’s upstairs,” El says softly, disentangling her limbs from Will’s and startling Mike out of his thoughts. “We can give you a ride if you want, Dustin.”
“We’ll head out too, then,” Lucas says, obviously referring to himself and Max. “We all still on for the mall tomorrow?”
After a few murmurs of assent, El and Dustin take off, Lucas and Max right on their heels. That leaves Mike and Will, and Mike knows when a party is over, so he stands.
“You don’t have to—“
Mike shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” In reality, he just wants to be alone with his thoughts for a while. But he can’t say that, because then he’ll have to tell Will why, and—
Will laughs. “Mike, you never intrude.” He shrugs. “But if you have to go, that’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Mike replies, opening the front door, because if nothing else, a Party is a Party. He picks up his bike from the front—his parents are using his car, theirs broke down—and turns to go when Will catches his arm.
“Mike, wait,” he says, and there’s a note of real, sweet concern in his eyes that warms Mike to his bones. “Seriously, are you okay?”
Mike wants to lie. To tell him yes . But Will stares at him, hazel irises flecked with gold, and he can’t in good conscience tell him an obvious untruth.
“I like boys,” he says without really deciding to, and as Will freezes, Mike realizes what he’s just done. He pedals away.
Mike forces himself to look away from Will as he approaches the Party in the mall, instead electing to wave at El. She grins back at him, wiggling the fingers on the arm not thrown around Max’s shoulders.
“Finally,” Lucas drawls as Mike walks up. “Took you long enough, Wheeler.”
Mike’s afraid of saying something stupid, as he’s made a habit of doing so lately, so he just rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He’d considered just radioing in and saying he was sick, but then they would probably check on him, so Mike decided to just stick it out.
El seems to notice the nervous energy radiating off of him and, bless her, pipes up. “Ice cream?” she asks, smiling slyly at the others.
“El, it’s ten in the morning,” Dustin laughs, and El smiles even wider.
“Yes,” she acknowledges. “Second breakfast.” She gives them all her best innocent eyes, and though they’ve built up a little tolerance, they’re not infallible.
Max cracks first, sighing through the fond expression on her face. “Let’s go, I think Robin’s on duty today, so maybe we’ll get a generous serving.”
They head for the stairs, but as they do so, cold fingers clamp over Mike’s wrist and he jumps.
“Sorry,” Will mutters. “Just me.”
Mike only manages to avoid his eyes for a moment before Will effectively steps in front of him. “What?” he asks reluctantly.
Will bites his lip. “Are you doing anything after this?”
“What would I even be doing?” Mike replies, and immediately regrets how harshly he lets it slip out. “Sorry,” he says hastily as a hurt frown flits over Will’s face. “No. I’m not doing anything. Why?”
“Let me show you something,” Will says firmly.
“Will, I’m not sure—”
“ Please , Mike,” Will cuts him off. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”
I’m regretting a lot of things at the moment, Mike thinks resentfully, but Will’s expression is so open and genuine he stops the cruel tone from escaping his mouth. “Okay,” he sighs, and he almost can’t bring himself to feel upset about it when he sees Will’s smile.
“Hurry up, slowpokes!” Dustin yells from the top of the stairs, and Will takes off running without another word.
Startled, Mike watches him barrel up the stairs for a moment before following him.
-
“Did you bike here?” Will asks, and Mike nods. “Okay, go grab it and then we can put it in the car.”
“Will, what are we doing?” Mike asks for the third time in five minutes.
“Just trust me, Mike.” With that, Will turns and heads for the Byers’ car. Mike stares after him incredulously.
“Seriously? ‘Trust me’?” he yells. Will doesn’t turn around, just shrugs, and Mike sighs in frustration and pulls his bike lock’s key from his pocket.
Will is waiting in the front seat for him when he comes back over, tugging his bike alongside him.
“Drop it in the back,” Will says, and Mike obeys before clambering into the passenger’s seat.
“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” Mike asks yet again.
“No,” Will says simply, flipping the car radio on. “Wait and find out.”
-
“Five more minutes and you’ll see,” Will says shortly, anticipating Mike’s question.
They’ve been driving for about thirty minutes, and Mike is getting antsy. “Will, can we just—”
“God damnit , Wheeler!” Will finally snaps, slamming a hand on the steering wheel, and Mike startles into silence. “I’m trying to do something nice for you. Jesus Christ. Don’t try to be all moody just because—because you told me your thing, okay?”
Mike’s blood freezes, because he’d really really been hoping Will wouldn’t bring it up. “I didn’t mean to,” he says quietly. I didn’t mean to be moody. I didn’t mean to tell you.
“I know,” Will replies, not taking his eyes off the road. “No one ever does. But it’s a little late for that.” He turns the steering wheel and they cruise into a mostly empty parking lot. “Just trust me, okay, Mike? I promise—I’m helping you find your place.”
“In a creepy abandoned parking lot?” Mike raises an eyebrow. He sees Will’s look and holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Do tell.”
Will parks sloppily and turns in his seat to face Mike. “We’re not here for the parking lot, we’re here for that .” He points over Mike’s shoulder, out the window, and Mike turns to look.
It’s a building. A small building with an old and rusted sign out front that reads Happy’s Place .
“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Mike admits after a moment.
Will sighs frustratedly, though there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Mike Wheeler, you’re an idiot. Let’s go.”
He hops out of the car and Mike follows, walking in his footsteps. Will pushes the door open, and the first thing that hits Mike’s eyes is a bright purple light.
“Jeez,” he mutters, blinking to clear the dots from his vision. Then his eyes clear and he’s stunned into silence.
There’s a rainbow banner on the back wall, multi-colored lights on the ceiling, and scattered across the actually well-spaced room are people—colorful, loud, laughing people, boys and boys, girls and girls, people who he thinks could be either—nothing like in Hawkins.
He spots someone who looks like James and has to look away.
“It’s a bar,” Will admits. “But they’ll let us be here, to—to talk and stuff.” He mutters something under his breath like they won’t really check, either.
“Talk about what?” Mike says, knowing it’s a stupid question but worrying he may have misread the situation.
“Boys, Mike,” Will says like it’s obvious. “I—I kinda thought that, you know. It could help.” When Mike doesn’t answer, his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “But if you don’t want to stay, we can go! I’m sorry—”
“No, don’t apologize,” Mike says instantly, because he doesn’t want Will to feel like he’s done something wrong. He hasn’t. “This is—yeah.” He takes a breath. “I’ll be back.”
He glances over his shoulder as he enters the fray, sees Will watching him over a drink that has appeared seemingly out of nowhere on the bar counter. He sends him a small smile and turns back around, trying to scope out someone who looks friendly.
-
“So, is that your boyfriend? Saw you two walk in together,” Emily asks.
She’d seen Mike looking a little lost and ushered him into a little alcove in the corner. And, well, Mike is a little intrigued by her. She has bright lipstick and colorful makeup, probably around twenty three or so, and she gives off an aura of I’ve been there too, kid.
Mike shakes his head frantically, feeling a blush rise onto his face. “No, no. He’s my best friend. He just brought me here because, well. I guess I belong here. He’s just being a good friend.”
Emily grins at her girlfriend—Catherine or something?—who’s sitting next to her. “Best friend, huh? That’s what we said a few years ago.”
Mike knows his face is getting redder. “He’s—he’s not like me, and—I don’t want to—”
“I’m teasing, Michael,” Emily grins. “But, well. He’s ‘not like you’?”
“Well, look at him,” Mike protests, gesturing behind him to where Will is still hovering over the same drink, ignoring every guy who walks up to him.
“Hon, just because he doesn’t like those boys doesn’t mean he likes no boys,” Catherine snickers.
Mike splutters, because Will would have mentioned if he liked boys, too, right? It’s kind of an important factor, now. He’s just being a good friend, trying to help Mike figure stuff out. “I—he—we’re—”
Emily pokes Catherine’s side. “Leave the kid alone, babe. He’s just getting used to this whole thing.”
Mike’s ears burn, because yeah, he’s new to this, but he’s not a kid and it’s a little embarrassing to be called out like that. “Whatever,” he mumbles petulantly, and Emily pats his arm good-naturedly.
“You’ll be fine, Michael,” she assures. “Just take your time, make sure you’re in a good place. You’ve already got one thing going for you if your friends care enough to show you a place like this. You’ve got good people.”
Mike glances over his shoulder at Will, who’s staring into his glass as if the secrets of the universe are hiding at the bottom of it. Just for a moment, Mike lets himself get swept up in the whole vibe of the place; lets his gaze trace over the furrow of Will’s brow, the concentrated twist of his bottom lip, the way hair falls over his eyes and ears.
“Yeah,” he hears himself say distantly. “Yeah, I do.”
-
“So,” Will says.
It’s getting dark, and Will seems to be doing his best to keep up with the fading light as they head back toward Hawkins.
Mike just hums in response. He can feel Will’s eyes flicking from the road, to his face, then back again. He’s about to crack a joke, ask if he’s so beautiful Will can’t keep his eyes on the road, when Will beats him to it.
“How did you know?”
Mike knows what he’s asking—he’s been asking himself the same question for the past few days. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “I think I’ve known for a while, but I only sort of realized a little while ago. I think… I’m not sure. I like girls. I do.” Will doesn’t say anything, his fingers only tapping on the steering wheel, so Mike takes that as a signal to continue. “But…” He takes a breath and takes the plunge. “In Chicago, my roommate, he—I don’t know, he was just really something . And it got me thinking about stuff I ignored as a kid, y’know?” He shakes his head. “Like how much I liked being around Lucas—yeah I know , that’s over and I’m definitely fine with that—and that kid Matthew I told you about, and that goddamn teacher, and—” he cuts himself off before he can say something stupid, like and you .
“And?” Will prompts.
“I—it’s nothing.”
“You sure?” Will says, giving him a brief disbelieving glance before looking forward again.
Mike nods. “Yeah. It’s nothing.”
Will is still focused on the road, but his eyes are soft in the dimming light. “You should have told me sooner, Mike. Or, if not me, then someone . Nancy, El… anyone. You shouldn’t have pushed that all aside for so long.”
Mike twists his fingers together. “I didn’t know how. I don’t think I even really knew .”
“I know,” Will sighs. “It’s… it’s not an easy thing to figure out how to talk about.”
“Well, how would you know?” Mike asks, and it comes out a little more challenging than he intends.
Will gives him a weird look. “Mike. You know I’m gay, right?”
And, no, Mike didn’t know that, what the fuck ?
His blank expression must tip Will off, and Mike watches, frozen, as the other boy literally throws his hands up. “For fuck’s sake , Michael!”
“Please put your hands back on the wheel,” Mike says, eyeing the way the car is drifting a little on the (thankfully empty) road.
Will does so, still looking absolutely flabbergasted. “Mike—did you—how did you not know? I brought you to a secret gay club!”
“You never actually told me!” Mike protests. “After I told you my thing, I guess I thought you would be a little more transparent! I thought you were just being supportive!”
Will looks like his head is going to pop off his shoulders. “How many times do I have to say ‘I’m not gonna get a girlfriend’ or ‘I’m not like everyone else’ or actually, literally, ‘I like him’? Mike!”
“I thought you just meant, like, he was cool!”
“ Mike !”
“I’m sorry !”
Mike sits in awkward silence for a moment because, yikes, he’s a huge idiot.
Then Will bursts out laughing. Mike watches worriedly as his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel and he nearly keels over.
“Will. Road. Watch it. Please.”
Will regains his composure rather quickly, though his face is a little blotchy. “Sorry. Sorry, I just—Mike, everyone knows. El knows. Jonathan knows. Lucas knows. Even Hopper knows.” He shakes his head. “I thought you knew, I thought that was why you told me before anyone else.” He laughs again. “Of course you’re the only one who didn’t know.”
“What do you mean, ‘of course’?” Mike asks, affronted.
“Mike, face it,” Will shrugs. “You are absolutely oblivious. You didn’t even realize that you liked boys or that it made you bisexual until, like, a week ago.”
Mike pouts. “Hey, I—wait, bi-what?”
“Bisexual,” Will repeats. “Isn’t that what you said? You like boys, but you also like girls. My friend says that that’s called bisexual.”
“Huh,” Mike says.
Will glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Is that… okay?”
Mike shrugs. “I think so. I don’t know.” He laughs. “I don’t know much about any of this. I guess I gotta figure stuff out.”
“We all do,” Will agrees. “At least you’re not alone in that.”
As the last sliver of the sun slips beneath the horizon, Mike lets his gaze settle on Will’s sharp features. The light brings out the green and gold in his eyes, casts half of his face into shadow, and adds a glow around his head like a halo. It sounds ridiculous in Mike’s head, but he thinks that Will is what the sunshine is. He’s caught in orbit, left to drown in fire and light that doesn’t hurt to touch.
“You know,” he says abruptly, and he can feel Will’s attention focusing on him single-mindedly. “When I was telling you how I knew I liked boys, and I stopped… when I said it was nothing, I lied.”
“I know, Mike.” Will puts a hand on his knee. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to—”
“No, no, I do,” Mike says determinedly, and he doesn’t let himself just blurt it out this time. He looks at Will’s face and decides on words. “I just. I knew, because I like being around you .”
Will’s face doesn’t change, but he swallows. “Huh.”
“I hope that’s okay,” Mike adds.
“Yeah,” Will says hastily, pink rising high in his cheeks, and Mike lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah, that’s—that’s definitely okay with me.”
A burst of confidence gives Mike enough momentum to put his hand over Will’s, still on his knee. For a moment he flickers in a memory: eighth grade, in Will’s room, when they’d both been terrified for their lives and so not ready to give up. Will’s hands feel the same as they did then—a little more calloused, a little colder, a little clammier, but the same nevertheless.
His heart catches in his throat for a moment as he wonders if he might have overstepped. Then Will turns his hand and weaves their fingers together, and Mike’s pulse flutters before settling.
“We’ll figure it out,” Will says, and even if his eyes look a little unsure, his voice is firm.
Mike holds back what is undoubtedly a dopey smile, focusing on the North Star appearing just over the horizon. He squeezes Will’s hand. “We always do.”