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The motel was probably the best place of solace after being on the run for a week straight, if Will was being completely honest with himself. After having to sleep in the damn van with three other people, he was sure that nothing could deter him more. Sure, the rooms were a little dirty, and who knows what laid behind the curtains late at night when all the lights were off. All he knew was absolutely anything was better than that musty, body odor smelling, pizza van.
That is, until Argyle happened.
Will should’ve known it was too good to be true the second Argyle forked over a twenty to the receptionist when one room was ten dollars. Who knew that Will’s life would end so early because of the dumbest decision that Jonathan’s stoner sack-of-shit best friend has ever made in his entire life? Sure, maybe he was being dramatic, (just a tiny bit), but now he knows he was absolutely, positively screwed.
He was gonna have to share a bed. With his best friend that he’s been in love with crushing on for a good portion of his life. He rolled his eyes at the prospect because of course he was the unlucky soul who had to share a queen bed. Perfect, just perfect.
They exchanged glances with each other, almost knowingly. Mike raised his eyebrows questionably while Will shook his head, forcing himself to look back at the man at the front desk, as if he was doing anything interesting.
“You little guys can handle sleeping together in a room for a night, right?” Argyle asked, a cheshire grin on his smug face, obviously elated at Will's misery. He held in the violent urge to punch him after his stupid implication, and even more so after he actually winked at him. He was just a menace who liked making him suffer, and who was also completely off base. Mike was a friend, just a friend who was moping about not having a girlfriend around. Will knew nothing else would ever come out of their relationship, that the fight last summer solidified that Mike would never, ever see Will Byers as nothing more than his best friend.
Until this road trip, apparently. The soft grins, the subtle arm brushes, and the sharp lip glances, so fast that Will often wondered if he was just imagining it, like he was just going insane, looking for things that weren’t there. It's a classic case of apophenia, Byers, he could practically hear Dustin say.
But what if, that hopeful, nagging voice said in the back of his head, shut down immediately the moment Will pictured Mike laughing with his sister.
There was no way imaginary Dustin was wrong. After all, Mike Wheeler, his totally straight, possibly (but unlikely) homophobic best friend, had El. Sure, they weren’t together anymore, and never mind the blushing, the winking, the stares that looked just like his when he pined for Mike from afar. Mike was just friendly. He was looking way too far into it. Luck was never on his side.
“Hey, Will? You with us?”
The call of his name jumped him back to reality. A hand firmly gripped around his arm, shaking him gently with care. He turned to be met with Mike’s face, who was way too close for comfort than he’d like to admit. He smiled softly.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Will responded, blinking his eyes a little too quickly. The corners of Mike’s eyes crinkled with a smile, and there it was again, he wasn’t imagining it. Mike’s eyes flashed down to look at his mouth, and then back again, having Will unintentionally do the same to Mike’s. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
“Okay. Don’t leave me again,” Mike said lowly, a Mike voice that Will hadn’t heard in so long, not since he’d left Hawkins (and one that he’d wanted to hear again for so long. Tender and sweet, with an edge of something that he couldn’t quite figure out).
He blushed furiously as Mike’s arm lingered far too long, his grip tightening before he let go, leaving Will to trail behind him like a lost dog. He swore he was gonna murder someone out of frustration. Possibly Michael. Maybe Argyle- no. Most definitely fucking Argyle.
As he walked side by side Mike in companionable silence, following after Argyle and Jon, who spoke in hushed whispers, he felt his heart rate beat faster and faster. He was gonna share a bed with Mike, something they haven’t done since they were eleven. Mike was deemed too big for Will’s twin sized bed, which Mike respectfully disagreed with.
He was stopped on autopilot as they approached their shared room, and Will wouldn’t admit it, but his hands shook trying to put the keycard in the lock slot of the door, the nerves getting to him. Thankfully, Mike didn't seem to mind or comment as they got into the room, quietly taking in the plain walls and shaggy carpet.
“I want the shower first, dude. I smell like shit,” Mike called with a huff. He placed his backpack on the side of the bed before digging out for some sleep clothes, pulling out a crumpled, white baggy t shirt, stretched from age, as well as some old sweatpants that Will had seen him wear at sleepovers.
“Go ahead, you reek,” Will teased, he himself pulling out some pajamas as well.
“Bite me,” Mike echoed back lightly, shutting the door behind him, which left Will to stew by himself for a few minutes before he’d be inevitably trapped in this weird tension that he was sure that only he was feeling. There was no Jon and Argyle to be the wall that kept the awkward away, and its not like he could sleep in their room.
He shook his stupid thoughts away from his mind, clearing it instead by hastily grabbing his sketchbook from his backpack. At least drawing always helped with his nerves.
He sketched out his observation of the motel room, trying his best to follow the rules of perspective that his teacher showed him. Loose scratches of pencil filled the otherwise silent room, followed by furious erasing and the brushing of eraser crumbs.
“Whatcha drawing?”
Will intended only to break out of his train of thought for just a moment to respond, just to have it completely shattered. Mike stood there dressed in his night clothes, but with a towel around his neck, his hair still dripping with water and his cheeks flushed from the hot shower.
It’s not fair that he looks so damn good so effortlessly, Will thought. Get your head out of the gutter, Byers!
He tried his hardest to keep the flush out of his cheeks, turning back to his sketchbook in a haste and shrugging.
“Just practicing stuff. The works and all,” he answered, closing the cover and rushing into the bathroom with his pajamas, brushing past Mike in a hurry.
Will took an excessive amount of time basking in the hot shower, glad to finally clean off all the sweat and grime from the week straight road trip. He unlocked the bathroom door with a towel around his neck, greeted by Mike lying down on their bed with a book in his hands. The book he got Mike for Christmas last year, even though it was huge and cost more than he could usually afford.
“You liking it so far?” Will asked, casually plopping himself next to Mike and rubbing furiously at his hair with a towel. Mike looked up from the book with a start, eyes widened like he was jolted from his own little world.
“Oh! Oh yeah, the book is great so far,” Mike replied, using the bookmark that Will had made for him in eighth grade to mark his page and shutting it gently. He tilted his head, giving a wide grin.
“This dumb clown is gonna appear in my nightmares though,” he joked as his eyes glazed over. “You'd save me if it does, right?”
Mike pulled over incredibly closer, lips parted lightly, a ghost of presumed wanting edging at the corners of his mouth.
Will’s breath hitched, forcing himself to let out a laugh. The faint touch of Mike's shoulder burned at his arm, almost tauntingly. He didn’t mean that. He’s kidding.
“Of course I would,” Will said with an edge of sarcasm, not in the mood for his bullshit. He dove under the blanket and shut off his side of the light, throwing his towel across the room. He resolutely faced the blank wall and away from Mike.
“Night,” Will said, feeling himself succumb to edges of sleep. The other light turned off with a click, blanketing the room in darkness.
“Goodnight, Will.”
Will woke up with a jerk, but not because he had a nightmare. He doesn’t even think he dreamed that night at all, just blank sleep. The clock read 1:06, so he’d only been sleeping for about two hours, too little for a full night. Something felt wrong, and he always, always trusted his gut.
Small, quiet sniffles filled the dark room, almost barely noticeable. Mike was a quiet crier, which sometimes Will admired, but most times, hated. He hated having to guess, guess when Mike was feeling bad, although it wasn’t like he wasn’t right all the time. Mike just never told him when he was being emotional, which frustrated him.
It was normally vice versa, and Mike would occasionally confide in him, once in a blue moon. Not to toot his own horn, but he thinks that he’s the only one that Mike actually talks to about his problems, which worries him even more. Mike hadn’t told him anything vulnerable in so long, since he left Hawkins, because god forbid Michael show any sign of weakness.
It’d been a long time since Will has had to comfort him, and he thinks it’s partly because Mike doesn’t really get… sad. More angry and empty, he would say. He could ask Mike, “what’s wrong,” only to be met with a blank, vacant stare and a half-assed response, but never a snippy answer. He was never angry at him.
“Mike,” he whispered, turning over to meet Mike’s pale back, dusted with light freckles. He had taken off his shirt in the middle of the night, something he’d only usually do when he was getting too hot or too frustrated. Mike didn’t turn around, still sniffling.
He placed a gentle hand on Mike’s back, recoiling when Mike flinched at the touch.
“Mike,” he repeated, “are you okay?” Fuck, he could feel his own tears starting to form in the corners of his own eyes.
Mike wordlessly turned over, his swollen eyes visible in the moonlight that painted the otherwise pitch black room. Tears flowed freely down his face, and his cheeks were red. He looks so beautiful.
“No,” he quietly said, his voice shaky and shot, hesitant almost. He closed his eyes and shuddered, letting out a small whimper, to which Will responded by wrapping his arms around his lithe frame, wracking with sobs.
He had always seen Mike as so tall, so strong, so fearless. Almost indestructible, like nothing could get in his way. Mike was their leader, the one that kept the group together. He was Will’s paladin. His protector. His partner.
But here he was, crying in Will’s arms, shaking and curled into himself like he was trying to shrink his body as much as he could. He was still strong, he was still everything that Will thought he was, but he was crumbling. There was no one to protect him from falling, no safety net.
You have me, he wanted to whisper. He wanted so badly to be the one that Mike could confide in, wanted to be the only one Mike looked at in that way.
He wanted Mike to feel safe.
Safe like the Wheelers’ basement felt during the wintertime, when they’d wrap themselves in blankets and Mike would make the Party all hot chocolates just the way they liked it because he would never forget. Safe like when he was being angrily scolded by a dumb teacher and Mike slipped a hand protectively around his waist, cursing him out and earning a detention in the process. Safe like how he felt whenever Mike wrapped his arms around his shoulders, something that was theirs, something he hadn’t ever seen Mike do with his sister.
Safe was Mike, and he wished needed to be that to him. His safety. His anchor.
I love you so much, he wanted to say. I want you to be mine. I want to hug you when you’re sad, kiss you whenever I want, make you feel safe and happy. Would that be so bad? Is it too much to ask?
“Was it the clown?”
He wished he’d said something better than that, but the watery laugh he earned was enough to make the sparks in his chest fly.
“No, it wasn’t the clown, although it was just as scary,” he joked, pulling away from Will and making him burst into tiny giggles. As his laughter died down, Mike’s face dimmed, his eyes no longer meeting his.
“What’s wrong, Mike?” Will urged, acutely aware of how their knuckles brushed against each others. Not the time to think about that.
Please tell me, he said through his eyes. Mike let out a strained laugh, and looked back up at Will, his eyes still glassy. The moon shined on him so brightly, highlighting the beauty of his features.
“What isn’t?” Mike replied, rubbing at the corners of his eyes. A silence fell over the room, and Will waited patiently for Mike to be the one to break it.
“I cry myself to sleep every night, you know. After you and El left home.” Mike whispered suddenly, tearing away from Will’s gaze. “I thought the first night, ‘you just miss them, it won’t be so bad over time.’ My mom said that too.”
Mike’s deep eyes met Will’s again, shining with unshed tears that were threatening to spill. Pretty, pretty, pretty. “Then, I went to school the next day. I turned to tell you something about one of the new teachers, about how annoying they are, only to realize you weren’t there. You weren’t there. You weren’t by my side anymore, and I just… I realized that I’d have to move on, and get used to life without you there, I don’t know.”
“Everyday I couldn’t see you felt like… another day where I couldn’t breathe,” he continued, letting out a weak laugh, “which is ridiculous, because you’re still alive, you’re here, right in front of me.” His hand moved forward to rest on top of Will’s, and Will could hardly breathe, “and I realized, during Christmas when you came out to see us, when you looked at me like I was an answer to all your questions, or something that I’m not, it made me feel whole again. Like I was worth something more than I actually am.”
“And then you left again. I was all alone, and I just… I wished so bad that you were there with me again. To get me through high school, to just be there. I don’t want to move on.”
With a sudden burst of courage, Will flipped his palm over and gathered his hand in Mike’s, squeezing it gently. He stared back at him, his eyes wandering down to Mike’s lips again, mirroring him. Kiss me, please, he wanted to say.
“You have me. I’m still here, I’m your cleric and I haven’t moved on from you,” he said gently, in a voice that he hoped could only convey just how much he cared for his best friend. How much he wanted to make him happy, to make him feel as loved as he made Will feel. He inched closer to him as they laid side by side, so close that their knees were brushing just slightly.
“Remember, crazy together.”
As Mike moved his hand away, Will’s stomach dropped, scared that he’d made the wrong decision, until he felt the same hand cupping his face, fingers ghosting the top of his cheekbone and brushing away the stray tear that planted itself there. His eyes flicked back down again to Mike’s lips as Mike did the same, and no, this wasn’t Will’s imagination. This was so real. He wants him. Mike wants him, just as badly as he wants Mike.
“I can’t wait anymore,” Mike whispered lowly, his mouth parting slightly in anticipation. Will’s heart pounded loudly as Mike moved closer, so close that Mike’s bare chest pressed against Will’s old t-shirt.
Suddenly he leaned in, eyes shut and mouth slightly open. Will does his best to do the same because he’s so close and suddenly their lips are touching and-
He’s kissing his best friend. He’s kissing his best friend of ten years, his best friend that he’s been in love with for at least half of those ten years. His best friend that he was so positively sure was straight until just a couple minutes ago reveals that he basically loves him. He thinks it’s the most secure he’s felt in a long time.
He feels so safe, despite the atmosphere of the room being damp and dingy, like they weren’t just running for their lives a few hours ago. He thinks he’s floating as they connect their mouths gently over and over again, like they were meant to be slotted against each other - the missing puzzle piece firmly shut into place.
Kissing Mike feels like home, he thinks. It’s the only way he can try to describe it. After imagining it in his dreams for years, it’s something he feels he never wants to leave behind ever again, something that he can add to his list of favorite things to do.
He’s not sure how long they’d been kissing for, but it goes on for what feels like hours until Mike pulled away slowly, a relieved, whispered chuckle escaping his lips.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Mike broke the silence under the harsh moonlight that filtered through the blinds, before hesitantly planting a kiss on Will’s forehead that made him want to melt into the floorboards, a tiny, relieved giggle escaping Will's lips. He can't believe it.
“I’ve wanted to do that forever too,” he quietly replied, throwing an arm around Mike’s waist for good measure, reveling in just how much easier it felt to be physically close to Mike without all the added tension. He checked the time through the clock on the bedside drawer and inwardly groaned as the numbers 2:14 flashed in a bright electric red, reminding himself that Jon told him they’d wake them up at 8:00 on the dot. Mike seemed to come to the same realization as he looked over at him, still grinning with red rimmed eyes.
“Sleep now, talk later?” Mike asked, peering up at Will’s eyes with a hooded gaze. His head was snuggled into Will’s chest, a mental image that he would save securely into his memory, something that Will never thought would happen in a million lifetimes. Will merely nodded and pulled him closer, relishing in the feeling of Mike being so close and comfortable with him without any doubts. Safe. He’s safe.
They could worry about it in the morning.