Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

March 21^st, 1987 – 11:51pm

Will sits on the edge of his bed, bouncing his leg and chewing absently on his left thumbnail. In less than ten minutes, he’ll turn sixteen, and… well, his life could change forever. Doubt after doubt runs through his mind like water through a lock, draining it of confidence and flooding it with panic.

11:52

What if his soulmate is younger than him? Jonathan told him that he hadn’t seen the little red string around his pinkie finger until nearly six months after his sixteenth birthday – coincidentally, on the occasion of Nancy’s birthday. If he doesn’t feel anything in – he checks his alarm clock – eight minutes, how long will he wait before giving up hope altogether?

11:53

What if it’s a girl? Will feels slightly sick at the thought. It’s been a long time since he worked out that he’s just not interested. Since the Upside Down, or possibly before. In fact, he convinced himself for a long time that that week, the subsequent year from hell, and the Mind Flayer’s attacks were all some sort of punishment for being the way he was. All the same, he privately thinks that he would prefer to have no soulmate at all than to have to spend his life pretending to be straight.

There’s another idea, he thinks with some concern, as the blocky red numbers flick to 11:54. What if the horrors of the Upside Down rendered him incapable of having a soulmate at all? What if his ability to love was burned out of him with the Shadow? He often wonders, after a fight with a Party member, or being scolded by his mother, if he’s too damaged to be properly loved.

11:55

Will stands up and starts to pace back and forth across the room. Hearing a snuffling outside the door, he smiles and turns the handle to let Chester in. He kneels down to let his faithful dog bury his face in his shoulder, pressing his nose into Chester’s fur and breathing in his familiar scent. “Hey, boy,” he murmurs. The contact helps calm him, and he slumps down onto the floor and leans against the wall. He glances up at the alarm clock.

11:56

He thinks of his other friends. Apart from El, he’s the youngest in the Party, so all the others already have their soulmate marks, most of them different. Lucas turned sixteen first, and gloomily reported that nothing had happened. Nothing, that is, until Max’s birthday six weeks later, when a red string appeared around his finger. Giddy with excitement, he sped over to her house; he had barely turned off Maple Street when he was knocked off his bike by a milk truck, breaking his arm in two places. When Max and the others hurried to the ER, the red string around their fingers connected across the room.

11:57

Mike and Dustin are a slightly different story. Dustin’s birthday was next, and the words, “Is this seat taken?” appeared on his right shoulder-blade. Concluding that these must be the first words his soulmate would say to him, he spent weeks listing everyone they knew, to the growing irritation of the rest of the Party. However, despite his efforts, he could think of nobody who had said that to him on their first meeting, forcing him to conclude with some disappointment that he hadn’t met them yet.

11:58

As for Mike, he’s told them absolutely nothing, not even Will. The Party have their theories as to why this is, of course, the most likely of them being that nothing has changed, although they tossed the idea around for a while that it’s one of them. “But that’s ridiculous,” Dustin said when El suggested it. “Obviously it’s not Max, and you two broke up.” Will’s still holding out hope, though. Actually, no, he isn’t: Mike likes girls. That much he’s sure of. He gave up on the idea of Mike ever liking him some time ago – although those irritating feelings are still there.

11:59

One minute. Holy shit. In one minute he might have a soulmate. Or not. Shit. Will gives Chester’s ears one final scratch before going back to pacing, his eyes glued to that infernal clock. He’s halfway through thinking that this is the longest minute of his life when the numbers click once more, and the clock starts to beep.

12:00

He slams his hand down on the button so as not to wake anyone. He set it in case he accidentally fell asleep, and now lets out a quiet laugh at how ridiculous that idea was.

He strips down to his underwear and checks all over his body for writing, or marks where the first touch might be. Nothing. One glance at his hands tells him there’s no string. He pulls his pyjamas back on, wracking his brains for more soulmate identifications that he’s heard of. He remembers the lost objects, and starts hunting his room for things his soulmate might have misplaced. However, he’s not the messy type, and the few things he finds under his bed are most definitely his.

What are you looking for? says a voice in his head. He scowls. Not exactly the best time for his self-doubt to kick in.

“Yeah, I know,” he mutters. “It’s a lost cause.”

What is?

Will blinks, more than a little confused. That doesn’t make sense: how can his own subconscious not know what he’s doing? Suddenly it hits him, a realisation so intense, so obvious that he feels slightly dizzy. “I was trying to find my soulmate,” he says, testing the water.

Oh, says the voice in his head. I guess that’s me.

Despite himself, Will feels himself breaking out into a smile, relief flooding his body, until a nasty thought occurs to him, and his heart starts pounding again. “Are you a boy or a girl?”  

A boy. There’s a brief pause. Is that okay?

“Yes! Oh, god, yes,” Will murmurs, flopping back onto his bed. He pats the eiderdown, and Chester jumps up, curling up by his feet. “I’m a boy too,” he adds. “Is that okay?”

Yes. A little surprising, though.

“Really? Why?”

I… I like both.

Will thinks about this. Huh. He’s heard of this, but as far as he’s aware, he doesn’t know anyone who likes both.

“That’s cool,” he says. “What… uh, what’s your name?”

Maybe it’s best if we don’t use our real names.

“Perhaps you’re right,” says Will. “What would you like me to call you?” There’s silence for a moment.

Gabriel.

“I like that,” Will smiles, trying to think of a pseudonym for himself. “You can call me… Alexander. Or Alex, if that’s easier.”

Alright, Alex. Nice to meet you, says the voice in his head, and Will feels an unfamiliar warmth. He has the distinct impression that he’s being hugged. Feeling a little self-conscious, he wraps his arms over his chest, and bizarrely, it feels like he’s really hugging Gabriel back. And happy birthday, I suppose.

“How do you know it’s my birthday?”

I already turned sixteen, and never heard you until now. Either it’s your birthday today, or you were just really slow in finding me.

Will laughs gently, stopping when he hears a floorboard creaking somewhere down the hall. Can you still hear me? he thinks.

Yes, says Gabriel. I heard your laugh too – it’s nice.

Will feels himself blushing. Thanks, he thinks. You’re funny.

Well, I do my best.

Will grins again, and suddenly all his tiredness, along with the stress of the last few hours, hits him all at once. I’m tired, he thinks, stifling a yawn. Can we talk more tomorrow?

Sure thing, says Gabriel. Good night, Alex. Sleep well.

You too, Will thinks sleepily, before crawling under the covers. As he drifts off, he’s vaguely aware of Gabriel squeezing his hand. He got lucky with this one, apparently.

The next morning, Will wakes up and immediately feels disappointment. Nice dream. Weird, and entirely improbable, but nice nonetheless. As if finding his soulmate would be that easy.

You awake?

Will almost falls out of bed. Hi, he thinks excitedly. Only just!

Hey, Gabriel says, and Will thinks it sounds like he’s smiling. Did you sleep well?

Yes, actually. Will is surprised at how well he slept. Even these days, he dreams about the Upside Down twice a week, and even when he doesn’t, he normally wakes up at least once during the night. This is the first time he can remember sleeping through the night in about a year.

Do you not normally?

Will hesitates. He supposes that at some point, he’s going to have to tell Gabriel about what happened to him when he was twelve. But that definitely is not a conversation you have when you met less than nine hours ago. He’s apparently bound to Gabriel for life, and he doesn’t want to scare him off.

Alex?

Yeah, sorry, lost my train of thought. I sometimes sleep badly, I guess.

Well, you can always talk to me in the night if you need to.

Will smiles. Are you sure it won’t bother you?

Of course not, Gabriel says, I doubt you could ever bother me.

Flirt, Will thinks, chuckling.

Is that what you think? Gabriel’s voice is laced with mischief, and Will feels his heart stop.

Can you hear everything I think? he asks with some alarm. What if he heard him thinking about the Upside Down?

I don’t think so, Gabriel says thoughtfully. I think I can feel what you feel though, and… I don’t know. I can always hear you when we’re talking like this.

I think I share your feelings too, Will replies. Maybe we can tap into each other’s emotions.

And understand what each other wants to say. That makes sense, says Gabriel. Will looks out of his window and sees bikes pulling up. “Damn,” he gasps, jumping out of bed. “I’m late, I have to go,” he says aloud to Gabriel.

Oh, okay, says Gabriel. Talk later?

“Sure,” says Will, tugging on a pair of jeans. The silence that follows is weird, like a dial tone. Instantly Will misses him, but he barely has time to acknowledge this before the doorbell rings. A short spray of deodorant under each arm, a day-old flannel and a quick sweep of his hair, and he’s ready. He’s not quite as well put-together as he usually likes to be – no shower, not-quite-clean clothes and yesterday’s hair gel – but he’s presentable, and it’s not like he’s going out. Besides, he had other priorities this morning.

The doorbell sounds a second time; apparently his mother and Jonathan have already gone to work. “Alright, I’m coming,” he mutters, half-jogging to the door.

“Happy birthday!” the Party cheers as he lets them in, hugging him briefly as they pass. Dustin, then Max and Lucas, and El comes in last, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and a smile as she pulls away from the hug.

Mike’s late again.

He’s been doing that a lot lately, but this time it irritates Will. “No Mike?” he asks, forcing himself not to sound disappointed. Lucas rolls his eyes.

“He’s coming. He radioed me to say he overslept.” Will twitches an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t matter. Mom bought waffles, who wants some?” An enthusiastic clamour meets this suggestion. El perks up and they follow him through to the kitchen. “I can do eggs if anyone wants some,” Will adds. Max scrunches up her nose.

“With Eggos?”

“What? You have scrambled eggs with pancakes, it’s not so different.”

“I’m good,” she says delicately. Will drops a couple into the toaster oven and presses the lever down.

“So,” says Dustin, and the four of them look expectantly at Will.

“What?” he asks, feigning ignorance.

“Oh, shut up,” snorts Dustin. “You know what. Your soulmate!”

“Yeah,” Max chimes in. “Tell us!” Will sighs.

“Alright,” Will sighs, “I’ll tell you.” They collectively lean forward, and Will fights off an urge to laugh at how intrigued they are at this. “So, it’s a mental link.”

“Holy shit,” Lucas says, his eyes widening. “That’s, like, the rarest kind!” Will nods, and smiles.

“Then you must know more about her than any of us,” says Dustin excitedly. Will pauses, then bites the bullet. Screw it, he thinks.

“That’s the thing,” he says, his heart pounding. The radio silence in his head softens a little. Will can feel Gabriel’s hand in his own, and squeezes it. Gabriel briefly squeezes back, then the link goes quiet again. “It’s a guy.” Lucas’ eyebrows flicker in surprise. Max beams at him. Dustin seems to be trying to process this. El is wearing her signature concerned frown.

“That’s unusual,” says Dustin thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard of a platonic soulmate connection before.” El smirks, and Lucas puts his head in his hands.

“It’s not a platonic link, Dustin,” Will says slowly, willing him to get it.

“Penny’s in the air,” Max whispers. It takes a moment more before his eyes go wide.

“Oh!”

“Penny’s dropped,” Max laughs, and Dustin grins, clearly feeling foolish.

“Well, uh, good for you, Byers,” he says, clearly being careful with his words. “Have you ever, uh – ”

“No,” Will interrupts, anticipating his question, and El shoves him.

“Jeez, I was just asking,” Dustin grumbles. “Seriously though, Will, it’s all good.”

“Yeah, man,” Lucas smiles. “What’s…” he pauses. “…his name?”

“I don’t know,” Will says simply, but he’s saved from having to elaborate by a clink from behind him as the toaster pops up.

“Mine,” El says swiftly, jumping up and seizing a plate. Will fetches syrup and orange juice, and has just put some more waffles in the toaster when the doorbell rings again.

“That’ll be Mike,” he says, rinsing his syrup-sticky hands and wiping them on his jeans on his way to the door. He opens it to see Mike standing on the porch, looking windswept and a little breathless.

“Hey,” he says, pulling Will into a hug. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay,” Will shrugs. Mike hesitantly pulls a clumsily-wrapped present from his backpack and holds it out.

“Happy birthday,” he says, looking a little embarrassed.

“Thanks,” Will smiles. “Entrance fee accepted,” he jokes. “Admittance granted, good paladin.” He stands aside to let his best friend in.

“Thank you, kind cleric,” Mike nods, trying to keep a straight face, but the corner of his mouth twitches as he kicks off his shoes and jacket. Will hears a yell from the kitchen and hurries away. He hastily shoves the gift onto the kitchen table as he runs towards the smoking toaster and starts fanning it with a dish-towel.

“You cannot be serious,” he says, bemused. “Four of you and not one of you noticed the waffles were burning?”

“It’s Dustin’s fault,” El interjects.

“Yeah,” Max puts in. “He turned the heat up.” Will gives him a withering look before extracting the charred Eggos and tossing them in the trash.

“Open the windows, will you?” Mike enters the room, hands in pockets, looking a little sheepish.

“Look who decided to show up,” Lucas says drily. Mike grimaces.

“My bad.”

“Don’t grill him,” Will says, putting two more waffles in the toaster. “Can we open presents now?”

“I’ll watch the toaster,” says El, lifting herself onto the counter, and Will takes her seat at the table. Mike pulls the piano stool up to the space next to Will and sits down, while Will takes the gift closest to him and shakes the small packet gently.

“That’s mine,” Lucas says, as Will unwraps it to find a pack of playing cards, a box of new colouring pencils, a bag of Reese’s Pieces, and a three-inch R2-D2 figure. Elated, Will presses the button on R2’s front, and a light flickers on and off, emitting his signature whistling sounds from a speaker somewhere. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” Lucas admits, “so I got a bit of everything.”

“It’s all awesome, Lucas,” Will says, tearing open the candy, taking a couple and passing them around. “Thank you.”

“You didn’t put this much effort into my birthday present,” Max teases.

“I broke my arm for you,” Lucas protests, making everyone laugh.

“Open mine next,” she says. “It’s that silver one.” Will reaches for it. It’s soft, and he squeezes it. Intrigued, he tears at the paper to find a thick scarf with green and gold stripes. Wrapped up inside the scarf is a mug which reads Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee. Will laughs and pulls a matching bobble hat from the mug.

“Thanks, Max,” he smiles, pulling on the bobble hat. “They’re really nice.” The next one is wrapped in sea-blue tissue paper.

“That’s from me,” El says, mouth full of waffle, pulling Eggos from the toaster. Mike reaches over, takes them from her and passes them over to Dustin, as Will carefully unties the ribbon and pockets it, before ripping open the paper. He pulls out two crisp paperbacks, The Fatal Shore and a detailed drawing guide. Will holds up the former and narrows his eyes playfully at El.

“How did you know I wanted to read this?” he asks, and El adopts an expression of mild surprise.

“You do?” she says innocently, and Will shakes his head and smiles. He’s noticed that El has a knack of getting people exactly what they want for Christmas and birthdays, apparently with no prompting. Will suspects she spies on them from the Void for clues.

“Well, thank you,” he says, putting them down on the table. Mike, who Will thinks is being uncharacteristically quiet, picks up The Fatal Shore and flips through the first few pages. Dustin hands over his gift, and Will opens it, intrigued. He’s pretty sure it’s some kind of puzzle cube, although it’s one Will’s never seen before. He turns it over in his hands, examining it, unsure what to make of it. “Thank you,” he says a little doubtfully. “What, uh, do I do?”

“Here, I’ll show you,” Dustin says, holding out a hand. He opens the box and shakes it, and half a dozen or so pieces of different shapes rattle onto the table. “You have to reassemble the cube.”

“Oh,” says Will, his eyes lighting up. “Cool! Thanks, Dustin!”

“No problem, man.” Dustin offers him a toothy grin, which Will returns. Mike taps him on the shoulder.

“Now me,” he says quietly. It’s an odd shape: mostly flat, with a bump in the middle. Whatever it is, Mike’s made no attempt to disguise it, Will thinks fondly as he slices the paper open with a fingernail. Giving gifts has always been one of Mike’s strengths – wrapping them, not so much. He pulls out a large sketchpad and smiles, opening the pages; the paper is thick, slightly rough and very good quality. Will wonders where Mike bought it, as Hawkins doesn’t have a stationer’s this upmarket. He remembers the lump in the package and tips it up, catching it as it slides out of the paper.

It’s a thin black box, and instantly, intuitively, Will knows what it is. A memory flashes through his head, when he, his mom and Jonathan went to Indianapolis to see his grandparents the previous summer. Will spotted an art shop in the street, and Joyce let him go and have a look. “You deserve a treat,” she said. “Ten-dollar limit, though.” He spent over half an hour there, looking at all the different art and craft supplies. A set of oil paints stared him down from a shelf just above his eyeline, gloating at him. He lifted them down, his fingers tracing the smooth velvet of the box. He opened it and breathed in the scent; it smelled like pure opulence. Joyce wandered over, and he looked hopefully at her. She glanced at the price tag, winced and shook her head. “I said ten, Will, these are nearly fifty.”

“What if I don’t get an allowance until next year?” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and Will knew she meant it. “I can go up to fifteen if you see something else you like, but we just can’t afford this.” Will nodded sadly and replaced the box, choosing instead a small tray of watercolour paints.

Now, Will opens the box and stares at the oil paints inside. “Will?” Mike’s saying. “Are they okay?” Will’s throat is dry. These paints aren’t quite as stylish as the ones he looked at in the city, but that doesn’t change the fact that Mike must have spent about thirty dollars on him. He feels a little dizzy. “Will?” Will leans over and wraps his arms around his best friend. Mike hesitates, before hugging him back. Hugs are hardly unusual for them, but they’re not usually so affectionate, least of all in front of their friends. Will pulls away and clears his throat, before standing up.

“Who wants coffee?” he asks, his voice a little thick. A murmur of assent goes up. He busies himself with the coffee machine, and the others chat among themselves and examine Will’s presents. El sidles over and puts a plate of waffles in front of him.

“You okay?” she asks quietly. He nods and smiles at her.

“Just… it was a really nice gift. I didn’t expect it.”

“He did better than me,” she jokes, and Will chuckles.

“First time for everything,” he teases, and she nudges him with her elbow. He pokes her back, making her giggle, which launches a tickle war, which quickly turns into a play fight.

“Oh, it’s on,” Max says, putting her hair up and joining in. Presently they’re all going at it, and Will and Mike are laughing together, evaporating the tension in the room.

Joyce arrives home at about five, bringing half a dozen frozen pizzas and enough garlic bread to feed a small army. Jonathan arrives back from the Hawkins Post half an hour later to join in the evening celebrations, slinging his suit jacket and camera over the hooks and wrapping Will in a hug, before presenting Will with his own gifts – a personal Thermos for his coffee, and a promise to give him some driving lessons, much to Will’s excitement.

Later, the Party puts Return of the Jedi on for the hundredth time at Will’s request and crash in the lounge with ginger beer and a collection of snacks, courtesy of Dustin. Max, Lucas, Mike and Will squash onto the sofa, and El and Dustin sit in front of them on pillows on the floor, throwing popcorn and booing whenever the Emperor appears onscreen.

Will’s sort of paying attention, but he’s opened the connection with Gabriel and so is mostly chatting silently with him. He tells him about his day and his presents, although he’s a little vague on details. He isn’t sure exactly why, but he gets the impression that Gabriel isn’t ready to know too much about him yet, and doesn’t want to risk the possibility that they might already know each other. Privately, Will doesn’t understand this, but he’s still getting used to this new arrangement, so he’s happy to oblige him for now. Gabriel reports a quiet morning, before meeting up with his own friends in the afternoon. He, too, is now relaxing and watching a movie – also Star Wars, by coincidence, which launches an excitable back-and-forth of favourite characters, movie moments and theories. Through the film, his right hand is warmer than the left, and he knows instinctively that Gabriel is holding it.

By nine, Will’s waving the Party off, and watching as their tail-lights disappear into the night. He closes the front door, and starts to clear up the candy wrappers and chip packets the six of them have left scattered across the room. Joyce comes in to help, and she smiles at him as their eyes meet across the room.

“Have you had fun today?” she asks tentatively.

“Yeah,” he beams. She smiles but says nothing, and Will knows what she wants to ask. “And I met my soulmate,” he adds casually. He can tell she’s relieved, but then she pauses.

“‘Met’?”

“It’s a mental link,” he says, and her eyebrows lift.

“Whoa,” she says, as they walk into the kitchen. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Mm-hm,” he says, tipping Pringles crumbs into the trash. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Were you and Dad soulmates?” She flinches, and he instantly feels bad. “Sorry.”

“No,” she sighs, “you don’t need to be sorry. It’s a valid question.” She pauses, and Will waits, noticing that she’s rubbing her pinkie, in the same way one might twist a wedding ring. “I thought we were, but the truth is that he lied to me. Our strings never met, mine always hung loose. He told me that he saw them connected, and I thought that as time went on, they eventually would.” She lets out a shaky breath. “They never did.”

“Love you,” Will says quietly. She smiles sadly, before crossing the room to give him a hug.

“I love you too,” she says, kissing his cheek. “Take good care of yours, hm?” He nods. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

“Thanks, mom. Good night.”

He climbs into bed, exhausted by the day’s events, and opens the channel one more time. Good night, he calls, in case Gabriel’s listening.

Good night, Alex, says the warm voice in his head. Sleep well.

Chapter Text

Will’s alarm beeps obnoxiously at him, piercing through the fog of sleep which shrouds him. He groans, fumbling blindly for the clock to shut up the awful sound. As the room falls silent, he flops back on his pillow and rubs his eyes. How is it possible that he’s more tired than he was when he went to bed? He yawns and sits up. Time for school? says a teasing voice in his head, and Will pouts.

No, he thinks. Won’t. Don’t wanna. He hears a laugh in his head.

You gotta go, Alex, says the voice. Gotta pass those classes!

What’s your school like? Will asks, gently probing for details. There’s only a slight pause before a reply comes.

Oh, your typical American high school. His voice is predictably dismissive and vague. Annoying teachers, overly sweaty teenagers and more homework than is good for anyone. Will chuckles.

Same here, basically, Will thinks, simultaneously relieved and disappointed. He had hoped for a few more details – he wants to learn more about Gabriel – but at least he knows he lives in America. Not that he’d have minded him not being American, but this way it makes things simpler long-term. And the other kids are mean sometimes.

Oh yeah, Gabriel sighs. Had my fair share of wedgies and locker-stuffings too. Will blinks, surprised – that’s the most revelatory he’s been so far. He stands up and considers his response on his way to the bathroom, but Gabriel speaks again before he can reply. Can I ask you something?

Sure, says Will, anything.

When did you know you were… A pause. You know.

Queer? Will supplies.

Yeah. Queer.

Will considers his answer, then decides to be candid. Honestly? I’m not sure. I guess I figured it out when I was about twelve, but I’m sure I suspected before then.

When did you decide that it’s okay? Will is thrown off guard at the bluntness of this question as he twists the shower dial towards himself.

Got to say I’m still working on it, he says truthfully. It’s getting easier, but where I live… well, it’s not exactly the most progressive place.

My town isn’t either, Gabriel says. Will holds a hand under the shower, but snatches it away almost immediately. Still freezing.

Can I assume you didn’t realise until quite recently? Will asks tentatively. The water’s finally heating up; he leaves it until it’s almost scalding, then climbs in. He has to have the water hot, since… well, since that Halloween week.

Yeah, I spent a long time thinking I would grow out of it and just like girls… Jesus Christ, what are you doing? Are you in a fucking sauna?

I’m just in the shower, Will replies, puzzled.

Well, turn the temperature down, will you? I’m breaking into a sweat.

Are you serious? Will asks, alarmed and intrigued in equal parts. You can feel that?

Yes! Gabriel says. If Will could see him, he could imagine him wincing. He twists the dial a little.

Better?

A bit, he says, but he still sounds a little uncomfortable. Will makes a mental note to not shower when they’re communicating.

You were saying? he says, hoping that the moment hasn’t passed. Gabriel takes a moment to think, then continues.

Yeah, I’ve had crushes on girls like my other friends, but I think I’ve had crushes on boys for nearly as long. I don’t know why it took me so long to realise.

It’s not exactly easy, Will reassures him as he massages shampoo into his hair. Especially these days.

True, Gabriel says gloomily. My parents are super conservative, I could never tell them. Will nods in understanding, and a drop of shampoo trickles down his forehead into his eye. Will sucks in a breath, pained, and rubs it uselessly. Soap in your eye? Gabriel asks sympathetically. Yeah, I feel it too. Bad luck, dude. Will chuckles.

Thanks for the support, he jokes. Can I ask, who was your first crush on a boy?

Oh, god, this is embarrassing, Gabriel mutters. Promise you won’t laugh?

Why would I laugh? Will blinks a few times, then shuts off the increasingly cool water, steps out and reaches for his towel. He wraps it around himself and blows a puff of air upwards to push his bangs from his eyes.

I should preface this by saying that looking back, this guy probably wasn’t my first crush, but it was the first time I realised that I liked a boy.

Okay, says Will, wondering where this is going.

So, there was this kid in my Spanish class in, like, seventh grade, who always chatted to me.

That’s not so embarrassing, Will says, tucking in the edge of the towel to hold it in place and returning to his room to get dressed.

Wait for it, Gabriel says, his voice tinged with regret. I was like, “oh my god, I shouldn’t be feeling this”, so one time it got too much, so I punched him. Will almost laughs, but then remembers that he promised he wouldn’t, and bites the insides of his cheeks to keep his face straight. I got detention, and he never spoke to me again.

Ouch, that’s rough, Will says, conflicted. It’s a hilarious story, but his heart is also breaking a little bit. Because as far as he knows, Mike has only ever been in detention once, right at the beginning of eighth grade, when he vandalised the bathroom stall. Conclusion: there’s no way Gabriel can be Mike.

Yeah, it’s kinda funny now though. Go ahead, laugh, Gabriel says, and Will does laugh, despite his mixed emotions. He suddenly realises that Gabriel may be able to hear him, so rapidly buries the thought. Okay, laughing boy, your turn. First boy you liked?

Just one of my friends, Will says simply as he pulls on a clean pair of jeans. No humiliating story here, I’m afraid. He could elaborate, now he knows Gabriel isn’t Mike, but what’s the point? That means he’d have to confess that he’s been hung up on the same guy for nearly four years, and that’s a far more mortifying admission than getting a detention for hitting a kid.

I guess that’s the way sometimes, Gabriel says, and Will hums an affirmative. He’s now fully dressed and is looking for his glasses. He spots them on his desk, seizes them and jams them on. They’re a relatively new accessory to him, and he’s still getting used to them, including keeping them in the same place each night. I think we’ve all had a crush on at least one of our friends at one point, Gabriel adds.

Ain’t that the truth, he says. He opens the bedroom door and wanders down the hall to the kitchen. Maybe it’s a queer thing?

Oh, I don’t think so, Gabriel says, and if Will didn’t know better, he’d say he sounds almost bitter. The amount of straight relationship drama I hear about in my friendship group and my classes… it’s ridiculous.

I guess, Will says as he starts up the coffee machine. People are confusing.

You can say that again.

People are confusing, Will repeats, smiling smugly.

Oh, shut up, Gabriel laughs, but there’s no malice in it. I’m leaving for school in a few minutes. Signal if you need me today, yeah?

Thanks, Will smiles, pouring coffee into the mug Max bought him. You too, of course. He feels Gabriel squeeze his hand, then the connection goes silent. Once again, Will instantly finds that he misses him, He glances at the clock. 7:55, earlier than he thought. He’s got a little while before he has to leave. He raises the drink to his nose, breathing in its strong aroma. He’s just thinking about the playful way Gabriel told him to shut up when Jonathan stumbles into the kitchen.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks, looping his pre-knotted tie around his neck and tightening it.

“Soulmate,” Will says fondly, and Jonathan grins.

“Young love,” he teases, and Will gives him a look which says, really? “I’m kidding,” he laughs. “It’s sweet. I remember when Nancy and I first found out we were soulmates,” he adds. “Gotta say, I was sceptical.”

“Really?” says Will, leaning back against the counter and sipping his coffee. “Why?”

Jonathan shrugs. “I just… didn’t really think it was likely that the universe would align you with one person. Let alone someone who you happened to already be dating.” Will blows into the mug and Jonathan smiles. “But unless you’ve been keeping a lot of secrets, I’m assuming that hasn’t happened to you,” he adds.

“No, I’m almost certain it’s no one I know,” Will says. “Although you don’t know what secrets I keep,” he continues in a mysterious voice.

Jonathan laughs. “I guess not.” He glances at his watch. “Shit, I’m late. Have a good day, buddy.” He ruffles his hair and dashes out of the door. His mother dashes past a few minutes later, briefly pausing to kiss him on the cheek and to remind him to eat breakfast, then she’s gone as well, and Will’s alone. He considers opening up the connection again, but remembers that Gabriel said he was going to school. Best not to distract him.

He takes another mouthful of coffee and glances up at the kitchen clock. 7:55, he muses. That’s a lot earlier than he expected, actually. He’s still got time to sort his hair and –

He freezes, mug halfway to his lips. Oh, no. He stares at the clock, and there’s no doubt. The damn thing isn’t ticking. He practically throws his still half-full coffee mug into the sink, dashing back to his bedroom to look at the clock on his nightstand.

8:42. He’s already ten minutes late.

“Shit!” Will shouts, alarming Chester, who’s made himself comfortable on his bed. He shoves his feet into his sneakers, pulls on a baseball cap to hide his (now slightly unkempt) hair, throws a few random books unceremoniously into his backpack and speeds out of the door. Dragging his bicycle to the front of the house, he starts pedalling frantically towards Hawkins High School.

He skids to a stop in the schoolyard and is panting hard as he locks up his bike. He’s very aware that he’s an absolute mess: his jeans and t-shirt are sticking to him, his cheeks are scarlet, and sweat is streaming down his cheeks from under his baseball cap. As he hurries up the steps in front of the school, he takes off the cap and wipes his sodden forehead. He catches sight of his reflection in the glass doors and groans – a tight hat, plus damp hair, equals a very bad look, apparently, and he swiftly jams the hat back on.

He braces himself for the worst. Mrs Winter is nice, but she can be strict, and likes students to be punctual – which is problematic, as the hallway clock informs him that he has missed homeroom altogether and is now late for the lesson. With the same teacher. He cringes, writing the day off as he pushes the door open.

“Mrs Winter, I am so sorry,” he says, closing the door quietly behind himself. He almost laughs when he sees the rest of the Party across the room, as every single one of them is wearing the exact same expression of flat, amused disappointment.

“Mr Byers, you’re nearly twenty minutes late,” she says, frowning at him. “Where on earth have you been?”

He’s pretty sure she wouldn’t believe him, so he decides to keep it vague. “My bike got a puncture, I had to walk most of the way.” Or he could just tell a complete bare-faced lie, that works too.

“Well, take your seat. And come see me at the end to catch up on what you missed.” Will nods and heads towards the others, his eyes widening as soon as she can’t see him. How the hell did he just get away with that? Maybe this day isn’t such a bust after all.

“Are you shitting me?” Dustin hisses as he sits down. “Last week I rocked up six minutes late and she gave me detention for two days.”

“What can I say?” Will murmurs. “Must just be my natural charm.”

“Mr Byers, don’t push your luck,” Mrs Winter warns him.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, flashing a pleasant smile. She restarts the lesson, and Will reaches into his backpack for his notebook and pencil case, only to realise he has neither. “Mike,” he whispers when their teacher’s back turns, but Mike has already torn out a few pages from his own notebook and is passing them over with a pen. Will stares blankly at the paper for a moment after taking it, but Mike just keeps making notes as if nothing happened. Will clicks the pen a few times before starting to make notes. He feels eyes on him and glances behind, only to see El looking hurriedly down at her work. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at her before turning back to his own paper.

He’s just started writing when Mike leans over to him and whispers, “You stink, by the way.”

The day seems to drag, even though it’s not quite as bad as he thought it would be. There’s a fire drill in math, which is quite fun and wastes a lot of an otherwise mind-numbing lesson, but his biology lesson just before lunch seems to last a full four hours. He doesn’t even have art today to break up the monotony of the other lessons – just two full hours of American history to round off the day. By the time the bell rings to mark the end of the day, the entire class has slipped into some kind of collective stupor, and it’s with heavy limbs that Will stands up and packs his things. And it’s Monday, so he’s still got track to get through. That said, it’s been pouring with rain for the last six hours, so he’s hoping it’ll be called off, especially since he left his running kit at home as well.

He says goodbye to the others and heads to the gym changing rooms. Coach Callaghan is standing outside, waiting.

“Not today, Byers.”

“Too wet?” Will says, his heart lifting.

“Track’s a marsh,” Callaghan says mournfully. “We’ll try again next week.” Will briefly says goodbye and hurries back, hoping to catch either Mike or Lucas to leech a lift home. His limbs are still sore from the frantic ride this morning, and he really doesn’t fancy doing it again in the rain. He almost slips over on the wet tiles as he rounds the corner, but Mike’s still standing at his locker, talking to El. They seem to be arguing, but they haven’t seen him yet, so he hastily backs out of view. He doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but since breaking up two summers ago, they don’t often fight, and Will wonders what’s set them off.

That was a weird situation, if Will was honest. Will always thought they were an odd couple. They officially started dating after the Snow Ball in ’84, after… well. He frequently found himself resenting El: until then, Will had been Mike’s main interest. They used to spend almost every afternoon at either his or Mike’s house. Will was always the first one Mike said hello to. They would go out by themselves without Lucas and Dustin.

But Mike and El became inseparable, and at the time, it really pissed Will off. Mike started spending every afternoon at Hopper’s cabin with her, until it got dark. The friend who had faithfully stuck with him throughout the nightmare of the Shadow practically vanished into thin air, and it almost broke Will’s heart. The only thing that stopped him from giving up on Mike altogether was the fact that when the two of them were together, it was as though El didn’t exist: things were just as they always had been, but such moments were rare. And Will could never quite shake the feeling that he was suddenly only the second most important person in Mike’s life, which he was unused to.

Then came the summer. The whole Party knew things had been off with Mike and El for some time. They had started fighting more; Max told Will once that when she asked El how they resolved their arguments, El, not knowing any better, had casually responded that they didn’t, they just pretended nothing had happened. Will, Max, Lucas and Dustin all agreed this was alarming, and did not bode well for the couple’s longevity.

The reason, Max claimed, was obvious: neither of them knew anything about healthy relationships. El had grown up with practically no social interaction at all, and the boy she was dating happened to be the first person of her own age she had ever met. Everything El knew about romantic relationships, she’d learned from television. For Mike’s part, his parents’ stilted, loveless marriage was hardly a good example to learn from. Max said she was surprised they’d even lasted eight months, and guaranteed the others they’d have broken up by the time the new school year started. She was right, of course.

The final week of the vacation, in Will’s opinion, was the best week of the entire summer combined. Mike wasn’t quite himself, predictably, but Will saw him daily, and things were almost back to the way they used to be. Sure, it was awkward the first time the six of them hung out together for the first time after the split, but all it took was one evening for El and Mike to work things out. They talked. They cried. They apologised. And they forgave each other.

That’s as much as either of them has ever told Will, and he’s actually fine with that. What they discussed is between them, and is nothing to do with him. Since then, he’s always just been pleased to have his best friend back, and to form a friendship with El, too.

Now, though, he’s perplexed by their behaviour. He can hear El; she’s getting annoyed.

“But how do you know if you don’t ask?”

Mike’s reply is blunt and irritable. “Because I’m not that lucky.”

“But you don’t know,” she insists.

“I know enough.”

“But you don’t really,” she tries to reason.

“I’d rather not know, than know and be wrong,” he snaps. “Now will you drop it? It’s not worth it.” Will is completely mystified. There is nowhere near enough context to have any idea what they’re talking about. He hears Mike’s locker slam shut and tenses, backing down the hallway a short distance. He sees Mike stride past and calls out.

“Hey, Mike!” His friend visibly jumps, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Jesus,” he gasps. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you had track today?”

“Called on account of rain,” Will shrugs.

“Oh, sure,” says Mike. He glances back at El, and Will follows his gaze. El fixes Mike with a look and narrows her eyes, then turns and walks away.

“What was that about?” Will asks.

“No idea,” Mike says wryly. “Want a lift home?”

“Love one.”

“Grab your bike, I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

It’s a relatively quiet ride. Mike’s mostly focusing on the road, but occasionally Will becomes aware of him glancing over at him. “Everything okay?” Will asks after a few minutes. Mike brakes for a red light.

“Uh, yeah.” There’s silence for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” says Will. “Anything.”

“Did you meet your soulmate yesterday?” The question throws Will a little. He forgot that Mike wasn’t there when he told the others.

“Yeah, I did.”

“What are they like?” Will notes with interest that Mike, unlike the others, did not assume that Will’s soulmate is a girl.

“Nice,” says Will. “Funny. I don’t know, I don’t know him very well yet.”

“Him?” Mike says, and Will tenses.

“Yup.”

“Huh.” The subsequent silence probably only lasts about a second, but it seems much longer to Will. “Cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Mike pauses again. “Just… be careful, okay? Hawkins isn’t the most progressive place.” Will lets out an empty laugh.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Mike grins foolishly. “Sorry. I know you know that. You did a good job at hiding it, by the way.”

“Really?” Will’s sceptical. “Practically everyone in our grade has called me a fag or a fairy at some point.” Mike winces.

“I know. But… I don’t know. When we looked round Chicago for Nancy’s college, the gay people there were very, uh, obvious.” Will can feel himself blushing. What the hell is he blushing for?

“God, I can’t wait to get out of here,” Will sighs. He’s never said it aloud before, but it’s true. He’s so looking forward to leaving Hawkins, going to college, finding more people like him – maybe finding a boyfriend. Maybe even finding Gabriel.

“Me neither,” Mike says, as he turns into Will’s street.

“Really?”

“What, you think I want to live here forever?” he scoffs. “Hell, no. I liked Chicago, I could see myself living there.”
“Yeah,” Will says softly. “That’d be nice.” They’re silent for the rest of the journey.

“Uh, Will?”

“Hm?” He’s shaken out of his reverie, and only then realises the car’s stopped. “Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Mike chuckles. “See you tomorrow. Try to be on time, yeah?” Will gives him a look, before stepping out into the downpour to retrieve his bike.

“See you!” he calls out as he pulls the trunk down. Mike waves as Will runs to the porch, before turning the car around and driving off. Will turns his key in the porch. “Mom? Jonathan?” There’s no reply, of course – they’re both working late tonight. Besides, they wouldn’t be home anyway: it’s not even four o’ clock, although the kitchen clock is still reading 7:55. Will rolls his eyes and reaches into the drawer where they keep the spare batteries. No way is that happening again tomorrow. He makes himself some coffee (he’s still bitter that he had to throw most of it away this morning) and grabs a couple cookies from the tin in the back of the cupboard which his mother thinks he doesn’t know about.

He glances over his homework, decides there’s nothing he needs to do right now, and flops down in front of the TV for a while. He subconsciously opens the link to Gabriel, but doesn’t say anything. He just lets the channel flow, and waits for Gabriel to talk to him. He doesn’t for a while, although Will thinks he hears him humming to himself, which is exceptionally endearing. It’s not until Will’s just going to bed that he tunes in.

Oh, hi!

“Hi,” Will says aloud, taking advantage of the empty house. It feels more real when he’s talking. “How was your day?”

You know, Gabriel says, voice a little flatter. School. Long, less fun than it used to be.

“I feel that,” Will agrees. “Don’t you miss kindergarten when all you had to do was count a cookie, colour in the lines and point out what a circle was?” Gabriel laughs, and as always, Will feels his heart melt a little bit.

Yeah, those were the days. A comfortable silence falls again for a few minutes before Gabriel speaks again. Alex, you still there?

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Do you think everyone finds their soulmate?

Will considers this. “Why do you ask?”

I was just wondering. Soulmates are supposed to stay together forever, but so many relationships break up. Does that mean they were never soulmates… or that they were, but the theories are wrong?

“Oh, wow,” Will says, a little stumped. “I… I have no idea. I know a few people who have met their soulmates in real life, and…” He thinks a moment. “I mean, they’re not perfect, they fight and stuff, but they get through it.”

And the ones that don’t?

“I don’t know,” Will says simply. “Maybe some people get it wrong. Or maybe there are people like us, but that don’t accept it.”

That’s possible.

“And what if someone’s soulmate lives, like, on a different continent? Or worse, if their soulmate dies before they get their mark?”

I… hadn’t thought of that.

“I guess it’s not a foolproof system,” Will says. “But… that makes us lucky, right?”

Yeah, I guess it does. Thanks, Alex. Sorry, that wasn’t a fun conversation. We can talk about something else.

“It’s okay,” Will smiles. “If you can’t talk to me about that kind of thing, who can you talk to?”

True!

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to bed now, I’m really tired.”

Night, Gabriel says, then as an afterthought, love you. It’s reflective, and questioning, as if he wasn’t really planning on saying it, but it just jumped out.

Will bites his lip to hold back the smile that’s spreading across his face. “Yeah, love you too.” The connection goes quiet, but then from his desk his SuperComm stutters. He goes over and pulls up the aerial. Huh, it’s Mike’s channel. He twists the dial, and speaks. “Mike? Everything okay? Over.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to check you were alright, I know you had kind of a weird day. Over.”

“I’m all good. Thanks for checking though, I appreciate it. Are you sure you’re okay? I can come round? Over.”

“No, I’m fine. Just… also a weird day. It doesn’t matter, we’ll talk tomorrow. Over and out.”

Chapter Text

Will isn’t sure why he’s nervous when he arrives at school the next day, nor why he spent half the night awake thinking about what it could be that Mike wants to talk about. He’s not exactly in peak condition this morning: his mind is thick and foggy, his thoughts and movements slow and uncoordinated. His only consolation is that Gabriel was almost always awake when Will was; even so, he can’t shift the guilty feeling that he was staying awake for him.

When he sees Mike at his locker, Will’s alarmed to see that he looks as much of a mess as he does – worse, even. His eyes are red and blotchy, and Will wonders if he’s been crying. He’s in sweats and a rumpled hoodie, quite a change from his typical jeans, button-downs and oddly-patterned sweaters. His hair, normally ruffled and windswept, is more than usually unkempt, bordering on wild. Will has a bizarre flashback to Dustin’s hairdo at the Snow Ball a few years ago. He wanders up to Mike and gently touches his forearm, as he hasn’t noticed him.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s going on?” Mike’s lower lip trembles, and Will is now on full alert. He hasn’t seen Mike cry since the night in the shed, and he certainly never cries in public. “Come on,” Will says, and Mike closes his locker and dutifully follows him. Once they reach the room they’ve commandeered for AV Club, Will closes the door behind them and perches on one of the free desks, crossing his legs. Mike’s slumped down on the grubby linoleum floor, and is leaning back against a bookshelf. “Take your time,” he says. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.” If they’re late for homeroom now, so be it – after all, yesterday he missed it entirely and reaped no consequences.

“It’s finally happening,” Mike eventually says. Will knows better than to ask him to elaborate. He will. “My parents,” he adds, lolling his head to look at Will, and Will can’t help noticing how tired he looks; his eyes, normally so earnest and emotional, are dull and lifeless. “They’re splitting up.”

“Oh,” Will says, sort of at a loss.

“They told me last night. I knew they’d been verging on it for years,” Mike says, leaning back again and closing his eyes. “I don’t think they’ve ever… loved each other, or whatever, but…” He lets out a deep sigh and covers his face with his hands. “I never thought they’d actually go through with it. Fuck,” he adds softly, and Will hears his voice crack. He jumps down from the desk, sits down next to Mike and rests his head on his shoulder, feeling it shake as Mike cries into his hands. In the distance, the homeroom bell rings.

“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” Will asks, cursing himself for not probing further when he talked to Mike.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I was still… in shock, or whatever. And I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I worried anyway,” Will says with a small chuckle. Mike doesn’t answer. “I’m sorry,” Will says quietly. “I know how awful this is.”

“I know you do,” Mike chokes. “I don’t even know why I’m upset,” he continues, giving a derisive, watery laugh. “It’s not like they’re winning any ‘Parents of the Year’ award.” He wipes his eyes and dries his hands on his pant leg. Will seizes the opportunity and reaches for Mike’s right hand with his left, interlacing their fingers and squeezing gently.

“Neither was my dad,” Will says, “but it’s still crap. It’s a big change in your life.”

“I guess I…” Mike starts, but falters.

“What?” he asks, trying to encourage him, but Mike shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter.” He sniffs, squeezes Will’s hand and lets go. “We’d better go, we’ll be late.” He stands up and brushes himself off.

“Hey,” Will says, getting up too. “What if we didn’t?” Mike looks blankly at him. “Screw it, let’s get out of here. Last thing you need today is Ms Patel’s lectures and two hours of Mr Phillips’ frog voice. Let’s cut.” Mike gives a weak smile.

“Who are you, and what have you done with Will Byers?” Will laughs, and Mike raises his hands in defeat. “Alright, screw it. I’m in.”

The hallways are all empty by now, with only two or three stragglers filtering in and out of classroom doors. No one pays them any attention as they walk nonchalantly out towards their bikes. Mike makes a wry remark about the appalling security as they cycle off the site completely unchallenged, and Will chuckles.

“So where do you want to go?”

Mike shrugs, lifting himself off his seat as he pedals to keep up with Will, who obligingly slows down a little. Old habit. “I don’t know, this was your idea.”

“Yeah, to cheer you up!”

“Okay,” Mike says, thinking. “How about we go to Castle Byers?” The suggestion surprises Will: he’s normally alone there these days. The Party is too big now – in size and number – to spend a lot of time there. In fact, he doesn’t think anyone else has been there for over a year.

“Uh, sure,” Will says. “If that’s what you want to do.” They swing a left, off the sidewalk onto the muddy track into the woods, still damp from yesterday’s rainstorm despite today’s clear skies.

“Wow,” says Mike as they pull up. “You’ve redecorated.” Will laughs, as he’s exaggerating, but he’s not altogether wrong: he has made some modifications over the last year or so. Mike wanders around its perimeter, taking in the changes. Will’s fitted a new tarpaulin (taped and tied down for maximum waterproofing), and he’s removed the tattered American flag. A few new beams have been added here and there, and the limp old blanket which hung in the doorway has been replaced by a piece of thick carpeting, cut perfectly to size. “Is this a window?” Mike asks, fascinated. “Did you do this?”

“Found it in a dumpster,” Will says, slightly embarrassed. “It was practically new, though. Jonathan helped me fit it over the summer. I’ve started using Castle Byers as a place to practise drawing, and it helps to have some natural light.”

Mike’s clearly impressed. “You didn’t tell me you’d done that.”

“I don’t tell you everything,” Will says, a teasing edge in his voice.

“Fair enough. And it never lets the rain in?”

“Not once,” Will says proudly. “Hey, Mike?”
“Mm?”

“There’s something you should know,” he says nervously. Mike turns to look quizzically at him. “I… sometimes draw you and the guys for practice. From memory,” he hastily adds.

“Oh,” Mike says, with the closest thing to a smile Will has seen all day. “Cool. Why do I need to know that?” Will lifts the carpet back and looks pointedly inside. “Oh..!”

Will’s currently cringing, dying of shame inside, as Mike stoops to enter Castle Byers. There are drawings pinned on every wall – some are landscapes and still life, but most are people. His mother. Jonathan. El. Lucas. Max. A lone self-portrait, almost hidden behind one of Dustin. Will is praying Mike doesn’t notice there are significantly more of him than any of the others. But if he does notice, he doesn’t comment on it. “It’s weird, I know,” Will says, more in an attempt to make himself less uncomfortable than anything.

“No, it isn’t,” Mike says seriously, examining each one in turn. “These are awesome, Will.” Will doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he’s saved by Mike speaking again. “And I see now why you needed to be sure this place is waterproof.” Will lets out a slightly shaky laugh. His gaze finally rests on one of him. At least it’s one of the better ones, Will thinks. Mike instantly looks confused, and shakes his head.

“Something wrong?” Will asks anxiously.

“Not at all,” Mike replies immediately. The ghost of a frown passes across his handsome features and then he’s looking earnestly at Will again. “Do I really look like this?”

The question takes Will aback. “Of… of course?”

Mike shrugs. “I guess our idea of what we look like is different from other people’s.”

“I suppose so,” Will says. The truth is, he’s aware that he draws Mike with a very definite bias of finding him very attractive. They say love blinds, and perhaps Mike thinks it looks different simply because he doesn’t think he’s as good-looking as Will does. Will just hopes Mike doesn’t reach this same conclusion. That is not a conversation he’s ready for.

“Aw,” Mike says, “you’ve been hoarding.” Will phases back into reality and sees Mike looking at his little table with photos, small toys and various other knick-knacks which he has… well, hoarded, over the years. “Hey, your X-Wing!” Mike says excitedly, picking up a large plastic starfighter from under the table. Well, as a distraction, it’s definitely working, Will thinks, and once again Mike’s eyebrows knit together in a confused frown. It only lasts a moment though; immediately he’s turning the starfighter over in his hands, grinning from ear to ear, all thoughts of family problems temporarily forgotten. “What’s all this stuff doing here?” Mike asks, before zooming the X-Wing through the air, making laser-gun noises between his teeth.

“Hoarding,” Will concedes, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Stuff I’ve saved from garage sales and Goodwill boxes, mostly. I think there’s a TIE Fighter here, too – somewhere.” He rifles around in a carboard box at the foot of the mattress in the corner. “Yeah, here it is!” Feeling a little self-conscious, he starts mimicking Mike’s movements and sounds.

“This is Red Five,” Mike says, muffling his voice as though through a radio. “I got a TIE on my scanners.” Will makes some shooting sounds of his own, and Mike spins the X-Wing in his hands to represent dodging the blaster bolts. “That was too close. I’m making another pass.” Mike makes the whistling pew-pew through his teeth again and –

“I’m hit!” Will exclaims, and spirals his TIE Fighter to the ground, emitting a low rumble from his throat to simulate an explosion, before allowing his amusement take control and collapsing on the mattress in laughter. It’s the type of game they’ve played countless times over the years. It’s so silly, so dorky that Will just can’t help but laugh, and Mike apparently feels the same - he’s leaning back on the ground, just as amused as Will.

Very suddenly, it dawns on Will why Mike wanted to come here. He well remembers the night his father walked out for the last time, and Jonathan took him out into the woods to build Castle Byers. The following day he brought Mike here; they ate sweets, and played games, and just talked – all to help Will feel better. Quite spontaneously, he feels an odd ache in his chest, a sort of sad contentment. He’s not quite sure if he’s feeling it, or Gabriel is elsewhere. He wonders what’s going on in Gabriel’s life that’s invoked that particular emotion, but whatever it is, it makes sense for his situation too. And probably Mike’s, too, actually. He’s suddenly aware Mike’s speaking, but hasn’t registered what he’s saying.

“Pardon?”

“I asked if you have any games or anything out here,” Mike says, bringing his X-Wing into land on the table.

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Will says. “Hunt around under the table, I’ll look in the box. There’s probably something.” Mike sifts through the various items, to no avail. “I found a chess board?”

“You always beat me at chess,” Mike grumbles.

“We haven’t played chess in at least three years,” Will says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s assuming I can even find all the pieces.” To his surprise, they find thirty-one pieces, missing only a black knight.

“No problem,” Mike says brightly, picking up the X-Wing again. He removes the little R2-D2 figure from its little seat on the starfighter, and puts it down where Will’s knight should be. It’s a little big, but it works. Will nods his approval, and Mike makes his first move, pushing forward the pawn in front of his king.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have done that,” Will says immediately.

“Piss off,” Mike says, but Will, knowing full well that he doesn’t mean it, moves the pawn in front of his bishop two spaces. Mike moves a different pawn, and Will lifts R2 over the line of pawns. Mike looks him straight in the eyes, before saying in a flawless impersonation of C-3PO, English accent and all, “Do be careful, my little friend.” Will can’t help himself and collapses into laughter once again. “What’s so funny?” Mike says, completely straight-faced, and this sets Will off all over again, creasing up on the old mattress. When he finally gets over it, he has to pull of his glasses and wipe his eyes. Mike opens his mouth again, but Will interjects.

“Don’t say another word,” he gasps. “Take your goddamn move.” Mike moves his queen along a diagonal line.

“Checkmate,” he says triumphantly, and for a short moment, Will is flummoxed, but then he smirks.

“You sure about that?” He moves R2-D2 in the knight’s L-shaped motion and captures Mike’s queen.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Mike crossly knocks over his king. “I forgot that was a knight. I concede.”

“Coward,” Will teases, but Mike’s already collecting the pieces up and tipping them back into the cardboard box.

“I’m hungry,” Mike complains. Will looks at his watch.

“It’s barely ten-thirty.” Then it occurs to him. “Did you eat this morning?” Mike shakes his head. “That explains it,” Will sighs. “Come on.”

“Hold on,” Mike says as Will reaches the entrance. “Can I keep one or two of these?” He gestures to the drawing-covered walls.

“Uh, sure,” says Will, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “If you really want to.” Mike nods, and casts his eyes over the plethora of sketches once more, eventually reaching for one and pulling it gently down. Will feels a little disappointment, as the one Mike’s chosen is his personal favourite, but he’s obviously not about to change his mind, especially when Mike needs cheering up. Once outside, they pick up their bikes and start walking towards Will’s house, but they don’t get far before Mike stops.

“I’m sorry,” he says, slapping his forehead. “I didn’t pick up my backpack.”

“Oh,” Will says, and then realises something. “Actually, since you mention it, I didn’t either.”

“I’ll get them,” Mike says. “Can you hold my bike?” Will nods, and Mike jogs away, coming back a few minutes later with the two bags. Will doesn’t think anything of it. Why should he?

The rest of the day passes relatively peacefully. Mike seems determined to spend most of it acting like they’re half their age, which Will is totally okay with; he never quite shook the feeling that the Upside Down robbed him of the end of his childhood, so going back to it for a day is a welcome change. Reality comes crashing down though when Mike’s SuperComm crackles at the end of the day.

“Mike, do you copy? Over” Dustin’s muffled voice is almost drowned out by Will’s radio across the room.

“Will, are you there? Do you copy?”

“Oh, god,” Mike says gloomily. “Here we go.”

“On three?” Will suggests.

“Sure, why not?” Mike sighs. “One, two, three. Dustin, it’s Mike, I copy. Over.”

“Max, what’s up? Over.” Will sinks into his duvet and tries to drown out Mike’s conversation so he can listen to Max.

“Where the hell were you today?” She’s already forgotten the proper radio etiquette, but of the four boys, Will’s the least fussy about it, so he doesn’t pick her up on it.

“Mike, uh, wasn’t feeling too well, so we ditched.”

“Bullshit, he’s not ill! Dustin and Lucas are talking to him right now!”

So they’re all together, Will thinks. That would have been good to know.

Tell me about it. Will is so focused on trying to work out what to say to Max that he doesn’t register the silent response.

“He’s not ill,” he admits. “He was just having a rough day.”

“Did something happen?” El’s voice this time. Will remembers their squabble for the first time and wonders if it was anything to do with this. Then he realises that Mike only found out about his parents last night, so it must have been something different.

“Yeah,” Will says. El always seems to know when he’s lying. “But it’s not my place to tell. We’re at my place if you guys want to come over, I’m sure he’d be pleased to see you.”

“On it,” says Max. “Be there in ten.”

“Over and out,” El chips in, then the line goes dead. On the other side of the bedroom, Will and Mike hear a garbled altercation over Mike’s radio, then that goes silent too.

“They’re coming over,” Will says. “I’m guessing that’s okay?”

“I may as well tell them,” Mike says. “Judging what my mom and dad are saying, there’ll be a scandal in the paper anyways.”

El, Dustin, Lucas and Max sit in dumbfounded silence as Mike regales the story to them.

“Shit,” Dustin says with feeling. “I’m sorry, dude.”

“Yeah, man,” Lucas adds. “That’s gotta suck.” Max uncharacteristically says nothing, but reaches out and gives Mike’s arm a sympathetic squeeze. Of course, Will thinks, she understands as much as I do. For the third time today, Mike gives an impromptu look of confusion; this time, though, Will puts it down to the atypical display of affection for him on Max’s part.

“Is there anything we can do?” El asks, ever rational.

“Just keep me out of my house as much as possible,” Mike says, completely seriously. Everyone nods.

“I think we can manage that,” Will chips in, and a murmur of agreement goes around the group. “Okay, no offence, but I don’t think my mom will be thrilled to have to give five extra people dinner tonight.”

“Are you kicking us out?” Dustin asks, looking wounded.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Dustin shrugs with a grin. “See you tomorrow, guys.” As they say their goodbyes and go their separate ways, Mike gets up to go with them. Will catches his arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home?” Mike asks, puzzled. “You just asked everyone to leave.”

“I obviously didn’t mean you! Mom won’t mind you staying for the evening,” Will says kindly. “Although I doubt she’ll let you sleep over.”

“That’s fair, it’s probably best that I go home for the night anyway. Don’t want my parents thinking I’ve run away,” Mike jokes, though Will can tell his heart’s not completely in it.

Once again Will goes to bed that night on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. All the same, he actively opens the link with Gabriel as he’s getting ready for bed, just because he’s aware that all his focus has been on Mike today, and he hasn’t spoken with his soulmate once.

Hi, he thinks (everyone else is asleep, and he doesn’t really fancy being overheard. Sorry I’ve been quiet, how was your day?

Honestly? Kind of weird.

Will smiles. Oh yeah? What kind of weird?

Well, let’s just say some stuff’s going down in my personal life, I won’t bother you with it.

You can, Will thinks. I don’t mind.

I kind of don’t really feel like talking about it right now, Gabriel says. Sorry. I’ve talked about it a lot today and… yeah.

That’s alright, Will thinks, finding Gabriel’s hand and squeezing it. Whenever you feel like talking about it, I’m here.

Thanks, Alex, Gabriel says. Although it’s funny you should say that, because my friend said that to me today, pretty much verbatim.

Will freezes. “Oh, my god,” he says aloud, and there’s an almost audible clunk in his mind as everything simultaneously slots into position. Every single moment from the last three days that has made him say, “Huh, weird,” suddenly makes sense: the responses to his thought processes today, and the subsequent funny looks of confusion that have happened at least three times. The absolute refusal to give information about soulmates for more than six months. Bullying in his younger days. Super conservative parents. The odd coincidences of their timings and activities. The uncharacteristic quietness over the last few days. The contented, but sad feeling that Will felt him feeling earlier. The argument that he overheard yesterday. Asking about whether or not soulmates always last forever. “Oh, my god,” Will breathes again, closing his eyes in disbelief.

Alex? What’s wrong?

What’s wrong is that he’s stupid – really, really stupid. He’s been so determined to not get his hopes up that he’s ignored every clue. He’s automatically denied every sign. He…

Well. He needs to pay someone a visit.

Chapter Text

Will opens his door silently and peers across the hall through the crack. Through the tiny gap under the door to his mom’s room, the faint glow of her bedside lamp can be seen, and Will curses internally. She’s still awake – he’s going to have to be silent. He’s sixteen now, so she’s unlikely to ground him (although it’s still a possibility) but he still doesn’t really fancy explaining that he’s sneaking out to see his soulmate, who just so happens to be his best friend.

Holy shit. His best friend. He’s still trying to wrap his head around it. He’s spent so many years insisting (to himself and everyone else) that he doesn’t have a crush on Mike that he’s now having to work very hard to force himself to believe that it’s true.

Will leaves the door in its slightly open position as he tugs on a pair of jeans, and pulls a sweater over the faded green t-shirt he wears to bed. Glasses, socks, sneakers, and he’s ready to go. As an afterthought, he pulls out a stick of mint-flavoured gum to chew on the way over. It might be prudent to have slightly fresher breath if… well, he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself.

He prises the door open, stopping short of the point where he knows it creaks and slides through the gap, silently pulling it closed behind him. He tiptoes down the hall, sticking close to the walls to minimise the chance of any floorboards giving him away. He spares half a second to consider that he won’t be able to slide the chain back across the door, before shrugging and slipping out of the front door anyway.

He ducks low as he passes his mom’s window, but leans back to see if she’s closed the curtains already. To his relief, she has, but the window’s open: he’ll have to stay quiet for now. He retrieves his bicycle, but loops his arm through the frame and carries it on his shoulder until he’s near the end of the road, just to be sure. He switches on the lamp on the handlebars and presses his foot down on the pedal, scarcely believing what he’s about to do.

He’s still kicking himself for taking three days to figure out who Gabriel was. Three days of being more honest with Mike than he’s been in quite a long time. And, actually, three days of Mike being more honest with him than he’s been in quite a long time.

That said, there’s still quite a lot Will doesn’t understand – what Mike told him about his first crush is first on the list. He’s wracking his brains, but still can’t remember Mike getting that detention. Admittedly it had to be at least three years ago, but all the same… No, it’s too late to start second-guessing himself now. He automatically brakes for a red light as he passes through the town centre, but upon realising that there’s absolutely no one around, he shrugs and starts pedalling again. He’s so preoccupied that he doesn’t notice that his bike’s light has gone out.

He’s beyond the town centre now, and has started to squint as the streetlights grow further apart. The realisation is fully kicking in, and Will’s enjoying the elation that comes with it. He’s riding in the middle of the road, arms spread wide, steering with his knees, enjoying the cool night breeze blowing his hair around. He hears an indistinct shout from somewhere near, and instinctively grabs the handlebars. He sees another bike light and swerves far too late. He feels the other bike hit his rear wheel, making him skid on the asphalt and topple over, throwing him off onto the road.

Fortunately, he doesn’t hit his head, but lets out a groan all the same. He did twist his ankle on the way down, though, and it hurts. For some reason, though, his wrist hurts more, and there’s a dull ache in his stomach. He doesn’t know why, since he didn’t hit his wrist too hard, and his stomach hurting makes no sense at all. He hugs his wrist to himself, wincing, before remembering that he must have hit someone, who may be more hurt than him. Will feels around for his glasses, which fell off in the collision, and sits up to examine them. Thank god they’re not damaged. He puts them back on, and only then becomes aware of someone whimpering, clearly in pain. He gets to his feet and limps over to the figure who’s currently curled up on the ground. He narrows his eyes, trying to see through the darkness. God, his wrist hurts.

“Are you okay?” he asks timidly. “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t concentrating.” He crouches down; as his eyes adjust to the low light, he recognises the figure with some horror. “Mike?” The figure freezes. “Mike, oh, my god,” Will gasps. “Are you okay?” Will gently rolls him over, confirming his suspicion as he stares into the pained, grazed face of his best friend. “Come on, sit up.” Will puts one knee on the ground and putting a hand onto his back to help him. Mike’s clutching his wrist, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Hurts,” is all he can say.

“Hang on,” Will says, unclipping the rather dented light from Mike’s bicycle and shining it on him. “I need you to let go for a moment. Mike shakes his head violently. “Mike, please,” Will urges. “I need to see how bad it is.” Reluctantly, Mike rests his arm on his leg and removes his other hand. “Oh, Jesus,” Will mutters, instinctively averting his eyes. It’s bent at an ugly angle, and is already swelling from the bruising. A surge of pain runs through his own arm, and realisation dawns. Of course – Gabriel said he could feel his scalding shower! “Okay, we need to get you home.”

“No,” Mike says, panicked.

“Then what?” Will asks, frustration creeping into his voice. “My house is too far.”

“My parents,” Mike groans, wincing terribly as Will feels agony in his hand again; presumably Mike felt it too. Probably worse. “They don’t know I’m gone.”

“Mike, you’ve almost certainly broken your wrist,” Will says, more gently. “They’re going to notice.”

“Fucking hell.”

“That sums it up,” Will says, nodding sagely. Mike manages a smile, and they suddenly wince in unison.

“What have you broken?” Mike mutters, as Will helps him get gingerly to his feet.

“Nothing,” Will admits. “That’s why I was coming to see you.” His heart is hammering so hard he momentarily wonders if a rib will crack. “I think… it’s your arm that’s hurting me.” Mike’s eyes widen.

“Alex?” he asks cautiously, and Will feels his heart switch into yet another gear.

“Gabriel,” he breathes, and Mike lets out a shaky laugh.

“Well, shit.” He extends his unhurt arm and Will slips his arms around Mike’s slight figure. “Hey,” Mike murmurs.

“Hi.” Will feels Mike lift his head to rest his chin on the top of Will’s head, and he smiles against Mike’s hoodie until he hears Mike inhale sharply through his teeth, and feels a stab of pain in his arm again. “Okay,” Will says, stepping away from Mike and taking charge. “We need to sort out this wrist.”

“But what about – ?”

“We’ll just make up some bullshit story about you sneaking out,” Will says, picking up their bikes and checking for damage.

“Well, I did sneak out,” Mike says, reasonably. Will frowns at a bad scratch on his bike’s paintwork and lifts up Mike’s with his other hand. “I got it,” Mike says earnestly, but flinches as he reaches for the bike. Will sucks in his breath sharply and shoots him a look.

“Stop it. Not least because it hurts me each time you jar your arm.”

“Alright,” Mike grumbles, and lets Will push them both along as they walk along the road towards Mike’s house.

“So…” Will says, and Mike’s brow furrows anxiously. “You punched your first crush?” It’s too dark to tell, but Will expects that Mike is blushing.

“Sort of.”

“Why don’t I remember that?” Will asks, starting to laugh.

“It was the week after… you know,” Mike says. “You were still in the hospital.”

Will sobers up immediately. “Oh.” Then he thinks of something. “But El..?”

“I don’t know,” Mike sighs, shrugging his unhurt shoulder. He’s still cradling his other hand. “I think I was crushing on him beforehand, but then everything happened with you, and then I was crushing on El, and was sad she was gone, and I guess I just got worked up, and smacked him.”

“That makes sense.”

“You can understand why I didn’t say all of that the other day,” Mike goes on. “Not knowing it was you, and all.”

“About that,” Will says, “when did you realise?”

“I… suspected from the start, of course,” Mike says. “It did seem a little coincidental to have no soulmate for the best part of six months, and then start hearing him the same night.”

“Good point.”

“But then I figured that there must be like seven hundred thousand people in America that share your birthday.”

“You deliberately worked that out, didn’t you?” Will teases, and Mike ignores him.

“And I guess I thought…” Mike hesitates.

“Thought what?” Will presses gently, but Mike seems to be holding something back. “Go on.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Mike mutters. “It’s cheesy.”

“We literally spent today flying X-Wings and playing old board games we haven’t touched since we were ten.”

“Touché. Fine, I thought… I couldn’t get that lucky,” Mike almost snaps, and Will has a bizarre sense of déjà vu.

“You said that to El yesterday,” he says slowly. “Did she guess?”

“You heard that?” Mike asks, and now Will is certain that Mike is blushing.

“Yeah,” Will admits. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” he says. “El was right, as it happens,” he adds, with a low laugh. “She said it would be better to find out if you were Alex and risk being wrong, than to spend my life wondering.”

“Well, we would have figured it out eventually,” Will points out.

“I guess so.” They walk in silence for a bit. “Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I sort of said this already, but…” He hesitates. “But… I’m glad it was you.” Will smiles up at him.

“Me too.”

“Ow! Jesus, Will, careful!”

“I’m trying, but believe it or not, it’s kind of difficult to help dress you without being able to see what I’m doing!”

“Well, you’re not looking! We are not there yet.”

“Mike, we’ve been sharing a locker room for over a decade, I’ve seen you without a shirt.”

“That’s different!”

“How is it different?”

“Just do up the fucking buttons, Byers. Do it by feel! You don’t look when you do up your own shirt, do you?”

“Firstly, I’m doing this back-to-front, which is a lot harder. And secondly, shut up, you’re going to blow our cover! Remember the plan!”

Okay, Will is perfectly willing to admit that it’s a fairly terrible plan, and there’s a lot that could go wrong. Step one – sneak into the Wheelers’ basement and set up the room for a sleepover – was pretty easy. Step two – change into pyjamas – is proving a little more troublesome, and it’s over this that the impromptu squabble has broken out. Step three – convince Mike’s parents that he fell down the basement stairs, and that they agreed that Will could sleep over on a school night – is looking less and less plausible by the minute.

“There,” Will says, stepping back to examine Mike. “Presentable enough.”

“You say the nicest things,” Mike says crossly, and Will bites back his own snarky response. He knows why Mike’s acting out: his arm hurts, and now on top of that, he’s worn out, and just wants to sleep. Add that to the prospect of a difficult conversation with his parents and a trip to the ER, and Will can’t bring himself to be mad at him.

“Come on,” Will sighs. “Step three.” He leaves Mike in the basement and sprints up the stairs, where Ted Wheeler has fallen asleep on the recliner in the lounge. He goes past him, though, heading first to the bedroom. He knocks loudly on the door. “Mrs Wheeler!” He hears the click of a light switch, and sees a crack of light under the door, which presently opens. Karen Wheeler looks at him in utter confusion.

“Will? What are you doing here?”

He feigns a puzzled look of his own. “You said I could stay the night, to keep Mike company.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “Because of, um…”

“Oh,” she says, embarrassed. “I’d forgotten.” Remarkable, Will thinks. She’ll accept any explanation to avoid embarrassment. Good to know. “But why are you up here, is something wrong?”

Will nods. “Mike fell down the basement stairs. He’s hurt his arm, and it looks pretty bad.”

“Oh, god,” she mutters, tightening her robe and following him down the stairs. Will can hardly believe their luck – she bought every word of it. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Will says, thinking fast. “He, uh, went up to the kitchen to get some water, and I guess he tripped.” She swears under her breath.

“Ted,” she hisses as they pass the lounge. “Ted!” He wakes with a start and follows them downstairs, clearly bemused. “Mike, my god, are you okay?” She crouches down in front of where he’s sat on the couch, cradling his arm. He shakes his head sharply.

“What happened?” Ted asks, and Will starts to fill him in.

“Can I see?” Karen says gently, and Mike gingerly pulls at his sleeve. “Oh, good god.” It’s worse than before, Will thinks – more swollen and the bruising is darker. He notices Mike turn slightly grey as he surveys it. “I’m going to take him to the hospital,” Karen says, addressing her estranged husband. “You should stay here with Will and Holly.” Ted nods dumbly, but Mike speaks up.

“Can Will come?”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll want to,” Karen says, and Will hastily interjects.

“I do.”

“Please let him,” Mike says, looking his mother full in the face with his wide, dark, eyes that have always let him get away with everything.

“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll go and get dressed. Find a sweater, or a jacket or something, and meet me in the hall. Will, can you take care of Mike?”

Will looks fondly at him. “I think I can handle him.”

It’s a long night – nearly an hour’s drive to Indianapolis, followed by another hour in the waiting room. Then Will spends over two more agonising hours hanging around at the hospital while Mike’s treated. By the time Mike reappears, with a pale plaster cast swallowing up his forearm, and a sheepish look on his face, Will’s shattered. He seems to spend most of his life tired at the moment. Soulmates – so much effort, he thinks sleepily as Mike and his mother come back. Will slips his arms around Mike, ignoring Karen, and squeezes his hand when she isn’t looking. Their mental link has been totally silent for the last two hours, which Will thinks was deliberate on Mike’s part. Either way, it’s opened again, and there’s a warm hum of happy delirium coming through as they walk back to the car. Will suspects it’s a combination of sleep deprivation and the local anaesthetic, but it’s nice nonetheless.

It’s nearly five in the morning by the time they get back. Karen suggests they both stay home from school, and when she tells Will she’ll call his mom in the morning to tell her what’s happened, Will’s too tired to consider why this might be a bad idea. He and Mike go into the basement and lock the door, then bunk down in the epic blanket-and-pillow fort they constructed earlier. For the first time in his life, Will settles down with Mike pressed up against his back. The exhaustion of the night catches up to him all at once, and he’s fast asleep in minutes.

It seems that it’s only moments later that he’s blinking at the sunlight streaming through the window, and he lets out a soft moan of disappointment at having woken. He squints at the clock on the wall, but it’s too blurry to make out. Of course, he left his glasses on the other side of the room. Typical. He sighs and closes his eyes again, trying to doze off, to no avail. Instead he turns carefully over and buries his face into Mike’s shirt to block out the light. He feels Mike’s chest vibrate as he lets out a subconscious hum of satisfaction, and holds Will a little tighter. Will smiles, and feels sleep washing over him again.

Mike’s shaking him awake, and he groans again. “No,” he grumbles. “I didn’t wake you up.”

“Come on,” Mike says gently, tapping his nose with his good hand. “I’m hungry.”

“Shan’t.”

“Oh yeah?” Mike says, lowering his voice. It sends a weird shiver down Will’s spine. With one sudden movement, Will is flipped out of the fort, and rolls out onto the floor.

“Ow!” Will protests. He quite literally just got kicked out of bed, and he looks at Mike in disbelief. “You’ve broken your goddamn arm, how the hell did you manage that?”

“I can still kick,” Mike shrugs with a smirk. “Come on, let’s go and get some food.” Will hesitates. “What is it?”

“I should probably go home,” he says nervously. “My mom’ll be worried.”

“Oh,” says Mike, disappointed. “Well, can I come over later? They’ll be arguing about hospital bills or something.” He plays it off as a joke, but Will knows he really wants to get out of the house, and truthfully, he gets it.

“Yeah… yeah, I’d like that. I’ll ask, but I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“Cool,” Mike says with a smile. “I’ll… leave you to get dressed.” With that, he gets to his feet and starts up the stairs, glancing back at Will as he nears the top. Will stretches and yawns, and starts the hunt for his glasses.

His bike chain clicks gently as he rolls to a stop. He can see his mother looking out of the window: she looks like she’s doing the dishes. Did she take the day off work for him? He hopes not. He’s also really hoping he doesn’t get grounded. He turns the handle and braces himself.

“Hi,” she says, a little stiffly.

“Hey.” He shrugs off his backpack.

“Karen Wheeler called me,” she says conversationally.

“Oh?” Will says, his heart sinking. She hums an affirmative.

“Got to say, Will, it’s a little alarming to find out that your son is across town in someone else’s house when you thought he was in bed.” She turns to face him, her eyes flashing, and Will knows she’s pissed. Like, really pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it.

“Do you do this every night?” she asks sarcastically. “Have you ever slept in your bed, or is this house merely a restaurant to you?”

“Stop it,” he mutters uncomfortably, involuntarily starting to sway on the spot.

“Where was the water, Will?” He looks back at her, confused by this curveball of a question.

“What?”

“You told Karen that Mike fell down the stairs when he was fetching a glass of water,” Joyce says, gesticulating as though she’s thinking carefully. “But she said there was no spillage. No broken glass.”

“Oh, god,” Will says, his face paling. He sinks into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “Did she…”

“Figure out that your entire story was total bullshit?” She stares him down. He might be four inches taller than her these days, but honestly, he’s slightly shitting himself. She’s never been this angry at him. “You can thank whatever god there might be that she didn’t.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “My guess is that she’s so wrapped up in her problems with Ted that it flew over her head.”

“But you don’t believe it,” Will says, as if there was any doubt. She laughs.

“I’d sooner believe that Kennedy wasn’t killed by his own government.” Will’s still trying to piece together this analogy when she sits down opposite him at the table and leans on her elbows. “It’s just you and me, Will. What’s going on?”

“Mike didn’t fall down the stairs,” he says quietly. She raises an eyebrow, which very clearly says, no shit, but stays silent. “We crashed into each other. On our bikes.”

“What were you doing out?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. He’s screwed.

“I was going to see him,” he says. “I… had just worked something out, and I needed to talk to him.” She says nothing, but it’s clear she isn’t convinced. “It’s true, I swear.”

“Why couldn’t it wait until the morning?” she asks, and Will notices the fury has slowly faded from her eyes.

“It was… important,” he says lamely. She rolls her eyes and stands up, turning away from him and throwing up her hands in despair. He can’t bear it. “Alright!” he adds quickly, and she looks back. “He’s… he’s my soulmate.” Her eyebrows shoot into her bangs and she blinks several times. “I’d just figured it out, and I wanted to be sure. And he just so happened to be coming to see me to confirm the same thing.” She’s still silent. “That’s the truth,” he sighs. “The whole truth. And nothing but the truth,” he adds for good measure. She almost smiles as she circles the table to come to him. She ruffles his hair and kisses the top of his head.

“Okay,” she says. “I believe you. Of course,” she continues, “if you’d just told me that at the time, I would have taken you to see him, and we could have saved all this trouble.”

“But Mike would still have been coming to see me,” he reasons. “You’d have run him over with the car, which would have been way worse.” He offers her a mischievous grin, and she flicks his ear.

“Get out of here,” she says good-naturedly, and he beats a hasty retreat to his room, but then remembers something and pokes his head back out of the door.

“Hey, mom, can – ?

“Yes, Mike can come over later,” she sighs, and Will’s taken aback.

“How did you..?”

Joyce rolls her eyes fondly. “I don’t need to be your soulmate to know what’s going on in your head, William Byers.”

That evening, she very graciously leaves him and Mike in peace in the living room. They put on Back to the Future and curl up on the couch to enjoy it. Will leans into Mike and interlocks their fingers.

“No one’s signed your cast,” Will muses, and Mike chuckles.

“Haven’t exactly seen anyone.”

“School tomorrow,” Will suggests. “People will be tripping over themselves to sign it.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious! Everyone loves a good cast. That’s why theatres have cast parties.”

“Oh, shut up,” Mike laughs, poking him in the ribs, making him giggle. They collapse on each other, and Will reaches up to stroke Mike’s face.

“We got so lucky,” he breathes, unable to contain himself. Normally Mike would push him off the sofa for saying something so sappy, but tonight, he smiles.

“I guess we did,” he murmurs back, leaning down to kiss Will. Will leans earnestly in, and closes his eyes as he feels Mike’s lips against his own. He feels Mike’s smile spread across his face, and fails to stifle a laugh. They really did get lucky.

Chapter Text

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Hey, mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?” Karen Wheeler looks up from the magazine she’s poring over. The late afternoon sunlight streams through their living room window, the golden beams bouncing off her face and making the area around her seem to glow. As he leans around the doorpost, Mike notices for the first time how tired she looks. “Do you have everything you need for tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says hastily, before adding, “thanks,” for good measure. “I just wanted to check that it’s okay if I stay over at Will’s tonight?” She considers it for a moment, then smiles.

“Of course. If Joyce agrees, that is.”

“Oh, Will already told me, she said yes.”

“Then that’s fine,” she says, putting down the magazine and glancing at the carriage clock on the mantel. “Goodness, don’t you need to be getting ready?”

“I’m okay,” he shrugs. “I showered this morning, so I don’t have a lot to do.”

“Well, make sure you look your best,” she says, in a tone of mock severity. “You never know, you might meet a special girl tonight.” Mike forces a smile, hoping it doesn’t come across as a grimace.

“You never know,” he echoes, before turning away and rolling his eyes. He knows she means well, but… never mind. He’d rather have to deal with such comments from time to time, than have to admit to her that he’s going to a school dance with Will Byers as his date.

That… sounded worse than he intended. He’s not ashamed of Will. Well, not of Will specifically. But he’s not stupid either – Hawkins certainly won’t be hosting a Pride parade this year, so they’ve had to be careful these last few weeks. He just hopes Will doesn’t get overexcited tonight, and do something to give them away.

God, that sounded mean too, Mike thinks, frustrated, as he pulls the plastic bag off his suit and examines it. He’s glad he definitively closed the channel earlier that afternoon, because Will would be very hurt if he heard that. He really didn’t mean to be unkind, it’s just… Mike never really saw Will’s impulsive, rebellious side until they started dating. He’s always been on the quiet side, and very introspective, and it was even more noticeable after the Upside Down. Dustin and Lucas never really thought much of it, but it always bothered Mike how different his friend became, particularly after the Shadow. Will’s improved with time, of course, but it’s surprising how much he’s changed for the better over the last two months. Or perhaps, Mike considers, Will’s simply been more open and honest with him recently.

All the same, Mike doesn’t remember Will ever having the mischievous streak he’s been demonstrating lately. From time to time, he’ll glance around the school corridor, and once he’s sure no one’s around to see, he’ll quickly lean up to kiss Mike, always taking him by surprise. He’ll hold his hand when they go up the escalators at the mall, always standing close so that they’re not visible – but still, it’s a bolder version of Will than the one that kept his sexuality a secret for sixteen years. Last week, he nearly gave Mike a nervous breakdown when Troy cursed them out in the corridor, and Will simply turned around and told Troy he should piss off, and that if he wanted to pass calculus, he should find some teacher’s shoes to lick for extra credit.

In fact, he can’t help but notice that Will’s confidence has been stronger since the night Mike broke his arm. He winces at the memory – it’s only been about a week since he got the cast off, and god, is he glad to be rid of it. It was cool at first: as Will predicted, people were fascinated, and wanted to sign it (although they were always a little disappointed when he told them he broke it falling down some stairs).

But after just a few days it started to get on his nerves – it was his right arm, which meant he couldn’t write. He had to wrap it in clear film every damn time he wanted to shower. Dressing was a nuisance. Playing on Will’s Atari was a nightmare. Riding a bike and driving were nearly impossible. Now, though, his life was back to normal – with the very welcome addition of having Will even more present in his life than before. He suddenly remembers he’s supposed to tell Will that his mom said yes, and opens up their channel.

Across town, Will blows on his coffee and nervously eyes his mother. He’s so grateful to her: she’s been totally supportive of his budding relationship with Mike, even though he knows it came as a surprise. To both of them, he thinks. However, ever since, she’s always raised an eyebrow when Will suggests staying over at Mike’s alone, or vice versa. He’s not quite sure how this conversation’s going to go down.

“What is it?” she asks wryly, startling him. She’s standing on the kitchen table changing a light bulb, something Jonathan normally does, but he’s retreated into his room to study. She’s not looking at him, for which Will’s relieved – he doesn’t have to pretend to be nonchalant.

“Can I stay at Mike’s tonight? The rest of the Party’s going, and his mom says it’s okay.” She still doesn’t look down, but her tongue slips out between her lips as she concentrates.

“How about I make you a deal?” she says, examining the light fitting and frowning.

“A… a deal?”

“Yeah, a deal.” She shrugs at the fitting and starts twisting in the new bulb. “You tell me what you’re actually planning, and I’ll cover for you if Karen asks.” Once again Will is glad she can’t see him, because he blinks noticeably in surprise.

“Why – how – what makes you think we’re planning something else?” Will curses the tell-tale squeak in his voice. What is it about his mom that makes him such a bad liar, something he normally excels at? Joyce sighs and climbs down from the table to test the bulb. She flips the switch and the light flickers on, illuminating the room. He’s reluctant to make eye contact, but when he does, he sees that she looks more amused than annoyed.

“Hopper already told me Max is staying over with him and El tonight,” she says. “So clearly, the Party isn’t staying at the Wheelers’.” She’s definitely smirking now. “So, I’ll repeat my offer: tell me what’s actually going on, and I’ll cover for you.”

Will can’t hold back a smile and laughs into his coffee, tutting as steam clouds his glasses, obscuring his vision. He pushes them up to sit on the top of his head. “Okay,” he says, sipping from the cup. “Mike’s borrowing the car for tonight, and he told his mom he’s sleeping over here.”

“Right,” she says, twirling the screwdriver in her hand. “Where will you be?”

“We were going to take a drive,” he says, a little embarrassed. “Go up the hill, make a campfire, and, I don’t know, watch the stars.” He looks away; this was not really a conversation he was wanting to have.

“Cute. Where will you sleep?” This is getting more humiliating by the second, not least because Will is pretty sure he knows what she’s leading up to.

“Mike folded the back seats of the car down and put a mattress in it.”

“Were you planning to sleep with him?” Joyce asks bluntly. Well, there it is. Will blushes scarlet.

“God, mom!” He presses his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, utterly mortified, and shakes his head. “No, I am not planning that.” She twitches a vaguely sceptical eyebrow but hums an affirmative.

“Okay,” she shrugs. “I’m not saying I completely condone it,” she says, raising a finger, “but I did promise you a deal.” She holds out a hand, and Will shakes it, still unable to look her in the eyes.

“Okay,” Will says tonelessly. “I’m going to go and hide under my bed for a little while and pretend we didn’t just have that mortifying conversation.” She smiles and ruffles his hair.

“No funny business,” she warns sternly, before adding fondly, “Have fun. Go on, go get ready.”

We’re good, he thinks to Mike, heat still burning in his cheeks.

Cool, Mike replies happily, then after a moment’s thought, adds, Are you okay? You seem on edge.

Just… mom being mom, Will replies. I gotta get ready, see you soon. He closes his door firmly behind him and pulls off the t-shirt he’s been lounging in. Tonight’s going to be special – he’s going to make damn sure of it.

Mike tugs on his sleeves – only a half-inch shorter than he’d like – and examines himself awkwardly in the mirror. He’s already given serious thought to climbing out of his window to avoid his mom’s insatiable camera, but he doesn’t trust himself not to tear his suit on the way down. He sweeps his hair across his forehead in a futile attempt to make it slightly neater, and hears a derisive sneer in his mind’s ear. For one horrifying moment he thinks it’s Will, then realises it’s only the voice in his head: the one he’s heard so many times, whenever a cute boy caught his eye, whispering, what are you doing? You know this is wrong. He hasn’t heard it in a while, actually – only once or twice since Will’s birthday, in fact. Shut up, he thinks, pulling irritably on the jacket sleeves once more before taking a deep breath and heading downstairs. He barely has the hallway in sight when a camera flashes.

“What the…” he mutters.

“I wanted a candid shot,” his mother says excitedly, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“Well, you got it. Can I go now?”

“Of course not,” his mother says firmly, and Holly giggles from her side. “It’s your junior prom, Mike! It’s exciting!”

“It’s not my junior prom,” he shrugs, flinching as the flash blinds him again. “And I’m just going with the Party and sleeping at Will’s. Probably won’t even dance,” he adds dismissively, as Karen takes another photo. “Mom, there are spots in my vision. Can you cut it out?”

“One more,” she wheedles. “Yes, it’s a shame you don’t have a date,” she muses as the camera flashes another four times. “It’d be more fun that way.”

“Mom!”

“Is Jane still single?” she asks, slipping in another picture as he stalks past her.

“We’re done here,” he says shortly, seizing his smart coat from the hook as he pulls the front door open. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have fun,” she calls out. He waves to Holly and closes the door.

Will paces up and down the living room, glancing sporadically at his watch. Jonathan watches him from his position on the sofa, flicking idly through a textbook.

“Would you relax?” he calls, closing the book and coming over to Will. He rests his hands on Will’s shoulders and looks earnestly down at him. “What’s up?”

“He’s late.” Will chews his lip anxiously.

“By, like, three minutes,” Jonathan laughs. “Besides, he’s just giving you a lift, what’s the big deal?”

“He’s not just giving me a lift,” Will mutters. “He’s… my date.”

“Oh, I see,” Jonathan says with a smile. “Well, I’m sure he hasn’t bailed. He’s not like that.” Will hums an affirmative and looks out of the window. “You excited?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Will mumbles, plunging his hands into his pockets and scuffing the sole of his shoe against the floor, avoiding eye contact.

“Do what?”

“The whole ‘big brother’ thing. Making a big deal out of it.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Jonathan says, and Will believes him. “And I am your big brother.” Will looks at him, and he’s grinning. Will manages a smile.

“Not much bigger,” he teases. “I think college made you shorter.”

“Oh, give over,” Jonathan laughs, shoving him gently. “Come here.” He hugs Will until he starts to squirm. “You’ll have an amazing time tonight, I know it.” As he’s speaking, headlights shine through the window, and Will wriggles free.

“That’s Mike,” he says, a little breathlessly. “Gotta go.”

“No, wait,” Jonathan says. Will pauses, but gives his brother a puzzled look. Presently the doorbell rings, and Jonathan gestures to the door. “Have fun, bud.” He gives Will a knowing smile and retreats to his room. Will exhales deeply, tugs the hem of his suit jacket down and opens the door.

“Wow,” he says, before he can stop himself, as he takes Mike in. A fitted charcoal suit and burgundy tie, his permanently-ruffled curls sitting low over his eyebrows. His eyes are wide in the same kind of surprise that Will is sure he’s exhibiting himself. “You…” Will clears his throat, slightly embarrassed. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” Mike says, smiling, although Will knows Mike too well to think that he fully believes him. “You do too.” Will offers a pleased half-shrug as he takes Mike’s hand.

As they pull up to the school, Mike can hear the strains of A-Ha!’s Take On Me blasting from within the building. Hawkins High School might not be the most romantic or dynamic location for a dance, but as they cross the parking lot and enter the gym building, Mike can’t help but think that the student council has done their best, decking the room out in purple and cream drapes. After the logistical disaster that was the previous year’s masquerade ball, this year, they’ve chosen a colour scheme over a theme, and Mike has to admit that it’s pretty classy.

What do you think? He hears Will’s voice in his head and looks down at him.

Not bad, he replies with a small shrug. I don’t know, you have a better eye for this than me.

Well, I like it, Will says. “Hey, look,” he says out loud, and Mike follows where he’s pointing, spotting El and Dustin sitting at a table, laughing about something. They weave through the students bopping along with the bouncy song, and El waves them over, jumping up to greet them. She gives Will a hug, then Mike, while Will admires Dustin’s “Harrington” hair, which he’s been sporting to every school dance for nearly three years.

“You did it,” El says with a quiet smile. Mike blinks, as they haven’t actually told anyone else about them yet, then wonders why he’s surprised that El knows. El always knows.

“Well, he instigated it,” he admits.

“Say I was right,” she smirks, nudging him with her elbow.

“You look nice,” he says instead, and she rolls her eyes.

“Spoilsport.”

“Who’s a spoilsport?” Will interrupts, as Max and Lucas stumble back among the group, hand-in-hand.

“Mike,” El says swiftly, eyeing Will mischievously, making him chuckle.

“Well, what’s new?” Lucas teases, and Mike splutters at the indignation.

“What is this?” he grumbles. “I didn’t come here to be victimised.”

“Sanctimonious little shit,” Max laughs. “Who wants punch?” Dustin and Lucas readily voice their approval of this suggestion, and the three of them head off together. The song comes to an end, and U2’s With or Without You starts up in its place. An unfamiliar girl shyly approaches the three of them, and Mike feels an odd sense of déjà vu.

“Hey, Will?” Will looks mildly at her. “Want to dance?” Mike feels a surge of jealousy, but Will stays cool.

“No, thanks, I’m good. I’m flattered though.” He considers a moment. “That guy with the big hair by the punch table would probably say yes, though.” She casts a doubtful eye in Dustin’s direction, before nodding and wandering over.

“Nicely handled,” Mike says, impressed. Will shrugs modestly. “You can dance if you want to, though.”

“I said I was good,” Will says, lowering his voice to add, “I know who I want to spend this evening with.”

“How flexible is that?” El pipes up, and Mike and Will jump, having almost forgotten that she’s there. Will looks up at Mike, who tilts his head toward the dance floor.

“Come on, then,” Will says, holding a hand out to her. She takes it, and he leads her out onto the dance floor, glancing back at Mike as he does. Mike nods and smiles, and thinks, I’m fine, you have fun.

“So,” El says, raising an eyebrow as she and Will step in time to the beat. “You found your mysterious pen pal.”

“Not exactly a pen pal,” Will laughs. “But yes, I did.”

“I’m happy for you,” she says softly, as Will lifts her hand and spins her around.

“Yeah?” She nods and takes his other hand again.

“Of course. You’re great together, I’ve never seen Mike so content.”

“Well, thanks for all you did.”

“I didn’t do much,” she says, shaking her head slightly.

“You did,” Will insists. “You convinced him to take a chance. I mean, yeah, I figured it out, but you persuaded him that it was worth the risk.”

“I suppose,” she admits. “Well, you’re welcome.” He twirls her around once more as the song draws to a close. “Thanks for the dance,” she says. “I’ve missed hanging out with you these last few weeks.”

“Mike has that effect when he’s dating,” Will says wickedly, and she opens her mouth in shock at his audacity.

“You are so rude!” she hisses, slapping his arm as they wander back towards Mike, Max and Lucas. “I never meant to keep him to myself!” Will bursts out laughing, which sets her off, causing the other three to look at them in bemusement as they return.

“We’re good,” Will says, wiping his eyes.

“What was that about?” Mike asks out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, nothing,” he smiles, using the channel to take Mike’s hand and squeeze it. “Nothing at all.”

A few hours later, once the gym and hallways have emptied, Will and Mike enact their plan. Mike’s heart races as he carefully places his folded suit into his locker, dressed far more casually in a black polo shirt, jeans and a navy zip-up hoodie. He hears footsteps behind him and whirls around to see Will opening up his own locker. Instantly Mike misses Will’s formal get-up. Not that Mike doesn’t think he looks good however he dresses, but god, Will can pull off a suit, Mike thinks, distracted. Now though, he’s wearing knee-length shorts and a striped t-shirt, sweater tied around his waist, smiling shyly at Mike as he stows his suit away. Still cute, Mike thinks fondly.

“Thanks,” Will grins, and Mike blushes. He didn’t realise the channel was open. He coughs awkwardly and Will laughs, closing his locker and approaching him. He glances around the empty hallway and leans up to kiss Mike. Mike responds in earnest, leaning down to meet him in the middle, cupping Will’s jaw in his hand. Will breaks away first with a sigh. “I’ve been wanting to do that all evening.”

“God, me too,” Mike murmurs. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Mike, wait,” Will says, catching his hand. Mike looks questioningly at him. “Dance with me?” Mike smiles and nods, twisting Will around with the hand he’s holding, before catching his waist.

“There’s no music,” Mike says, and Will shrugs.

“Don’t care.” He puts a hand around Mike’s waist, and they start to dance, stepping and turning slowly around the hallway. Will starts to hum as they get into it; it’s not fully in tune, but still sounds nice, and it’s rhythmic enough to dance to. Mike takes a minute to identify the song, but gets it eventually: Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us. The perfect song for us, Mike thinks.

As he starts the car, Mike glances at Will; he’s looking a little cramped in the passenger seat, with both of their backpacks in the footwell. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he says. “Throw those in the back if you like.” Will nods gratefully, tossing his own bag behind them, then lifting Mike’s. A sheet of paper slips out of the front pocket and partially unfolds, and Mike’s heart stops. He reaches for it, but Will has already picked it up and unfolded it. Well, this is embarrassing, Mike thinks, as recognition passes across Will’s face, mirrored in the self-portrait he’s holding.

“You kept this?” Will says hoarsely. “When… when did you get it?”

“I stole it,” Mike says guiltily. “When I left my backpack at Castle Byers. Might have done that on purpose.”

“Why?” Will asks, perplexed.

“Because it’s good,” Mike says. “It’s really good, and I thought it was… criminal to keep it almost covered in your studio.”

“And you’ve been carrying it around with you?” Mike shrugs, embarrassed. “Aw,” Will teases. “Mike Wheeler’s a romantic after all.” Mike rolls his eyes as he puts the car into reverse and backs out of their parking space.

“Shut up, dork,” he mutters. “I want that picture back,” he adds.

“You got it,” Will smiles, putting it in the glovebox.

The Wheelers’ old car ploughs determinedly up the steep hill which overlooks the whole of Hawkins, before rolling up a stop at its peak. Will’s almost dozing off, but Mike leans across the gear shift to shake him gently. “We’re here.”

“Sure,” Will says, snapping his head upwards and shaking it to wake himself up a bit. “Cool.” He switches on the radio and dials up the volume a little, as Mike stretches a blanket across the grass and flops down on it, gazing up at the night sky with his hands behind his head. Will lies down beside him and shuffles close until he can feel Mike’s warmth radiating into his side. “Good idea, Wheeler,” Will murmurs, and Mike turns his head to kiss Will’s temple.

“Nice night for it,” Mike says, and he’s right – Will can only see a few wisps of grey cloud blocking their view of the stars, more visible here than anywhere else in Hawkins. They’re silent for a while, as Mike wraps an arm around Will and intertwines their fingers.

“Do you think we’re insane?” Will asks softly.

“Hm?”

Will sighs. “I don’t need to tell you, of all people, what we’re risking with… this.”

“Well, if we stay out too late, we’ll catch a cold,” Mike agrees, and Will turns to him with a little scowl.

“Be serious,” he says, poking Mike’s arm. “I mean – ”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Mike says, stroking his thumb across the back of Will’s hand. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know, I never thought I would get something like this.”

“Me neither,” Will says. “Not here, anyway.”

“Exactly,” Mike says. “That’s what makes us special – of all the people in the world that could have been my soulmate, I get to have my best friend as my boyfriend.”

Will stares at him. “We’ve not used that word yet.”

“Do you want to?”

Will nods, slowly at first, then more confidently, a smile breaking out across his face as he leans in to kiss his boyfriend. Mike’s lips are soft and unusually smooth, and Will tastes blackcurrant chap-stick.

“Maybe we are insane,” Mike admits. “But I don’t care. You’ll be in my life forever, but Hawkins won’t. I’d leave all this behind in a heartbeat to be with you.”

“You should write novels,” Will murmurs cheekily, and Mike responds in kind.

“Fine, no more kissing for you,” he says mischievously, and rolls over to face away from Will.

“Mike, no,” he laughs, shaking his shoulder. “Mikey,” he says in a sing-song voice, before pulling Mike onto his back and leaning down to kiss him, pressing his lips hard against Mike’s. “There’s no get-out clause, you know.”

“Well, shit,” Mike grins, lifting his head off the blanket to kiss him again. “There I was, fully set to break up with you after tonight.”

“Asshole.” Will chuckles against Mike’s lips. “It’s a good job I’m in love with you, or you’d be in serious trouble right now, mister.”

“I guess it is,” Mike murmurs between kisses. “Then it’s a good job that I love you too.”