Work Text:
Mike knows they need to talk. He knows it, and he knows that Will knows it too. There just hasn’t been much time, between the mind fight and the hospital and the van and El’s eyes everywhere, always there, always watching. Always making Mike sweat, wondering just how well she can read him. Wondering just how much she knows.
But they’re alone now, kind of, in Hopper’s old fucked-over cabin, Nancy and Jonathan outside hammering nails over the rusty boards of their relationship, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, dust motes scattering lazily in the air.
It’ll have to do.
El goes into her room, closing the door behind her without lifting a finger. Mike’s not joining her, but she still leaves it open three inches. Hop would have been proud.
Will and Mike both stare at the door, and Will nudges his arm. The touch burns through denim, sends starbursts of excitement through his veins. Calm down, Mike tells himself. It’s just Will. Stop being weird.
His arm tingles. Just Will. Yeah, right. Will hasn’t been just anything in… well, ever.
“Did she talk to you at all?” Will asks softly, looking into his eyes.
Mike stares at him for a second, cataloguing all the flecks of gold and spots of hazel, before he hurriedly tears his gaze away. “Not really,” he hedges, trying to figure out how to break the news. He’s not really sure how he’ll take it. After all, Will’s kind of El’s brother now. And there was that whole confusing speech in the van about El’s feelings, where Will had seemed… strangely invested. Overly passionate. Mike hadn’t known what to make of it, so he hadn’t said anything at all. God, he’s such a douchebag.
Mike turns and heads to the broken-down couch by the window. He needs to be sitting down for this conversation.
“El kind of…” Mike trails off, takes a deep breath, and starts over. “El broke up with me.”
Will visibly starts in surprise, shoulders jumping and mouth falling slack. (Mouth. Lips. Mike, focus. Fuck.)
“What?”
Mike nods, feeling pathetic and guilty and wrong all over. Now, without El to hide behind, he also feels exposed. Like a nerve, throbbing and raw and submitting itself to scrutiny. It’s just him and Will. Both single. Not that that matters, he reminds himself. It doesn’t matter at all.
“Yeah. She, um… she said she needed some time for herself. After everything.”
Will’s expression drops a little (in disappointment, maybe? Sympathy? Mike can’t tell). “Oh. Well, that’s understandable. I’m sure you’ll be back together in no time, though. You two need each other.” His expression drops even more, though he makes a visible effort to smile. “You’re better together.”
Mike stays quiet for a while, just considering. Weighing the pros and cons of saying anything. Of rocking the boat.
In the end, the pros list, which mostly just consists of Will (Will’s smile, Will’s happiness, Will’s comforting words, Will’s— nevermind), wins out. “That’s the thing, though,” he says, looking to the side. “I don’t know if we are.”
Despite it being the reason for him breaking the silence in the first place, he doesn’t turn to see what Will’s face is doing. He’s too nervous to see if the reality matches the vision in his head. Easier not to check.
“What?” Will says again, more quietly. “That’s bullshit, Mike. You two are… I mean, it’s like you’re soulmates or something.”
Mike doesn’t miss the crack in his voice on the word soulmates. The pain that’s clearly audible in every syllable. And that, more than anything, gives him the strength to turn around. “No. I don’t think we are,” he says steadily.
Will frowns, then opens his mouth, clearly giving up to give Mike another pep talk. The thing is, though, he doesn’t need one.
“In the van,” he starts loudly, effectively cutting off whatever Will was going to say. “You told me that El needs me. That she was scared of losing me.”
Interestingly, Will tenses up, every muscle in his body locking in place. He shoots a hurried glance at the window, like he wants to bolt right out of the room.
They both stay exactly where they are.
“But Will,” Mike says slowly. “I think you were wrong. I mean— no offense. But El doesn’t need me. She never has.”
Will’s eyebrows furrow, a little stressed divot appearing between them. Mike wants to smooth it out with his thumb, like a total weirdo.
“Mike—”
“No,” Mike interrupts, feeling somewhat stressed himself. “I’m sorry. But I need to say this.”
“Okay,” Will whispers, sinking back into the couch. He trains his eyes on Mike, giving him the overwhelming intensity of his full attention. “Go ahead.”
Mike takes a deep breath. “El doesn’t need me,” he repeats. “But I needed her.”
Again, Will opens his mouth, and Mike shakes his head. “I needed her. I felt like— I mean, I thought I needed to have a girlfriend. I thought that was what I was supposed to do, you know? That’s what everyone does. Get a girlfriend, get a job, get married, have kids.”
He hadn’t even fully realized that his poorly-planned speech was leading in this direction. His eyes widen a little with panic, and the words fall from his lips like vomit, uncontrollable and ugly. “So, I. I did that too. And I thought that having a girlfriend would—” he breaks off, breathing heavily. “Would fix whatever was… wrong with me,” he says, eyes burning with the threat of tears.
Will mouths his name silently, a tiny little Mike that seems almost unconscious. Like it was pulled straight from his brain, no filter. Will’s eyes are wide too, but with something akin to understanding.
“And I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass to you lately,” Mike chokes, voice thickening. “Because you didn’t deserve that at all. It’s just… I just…”
“Woah,” Will says, holding up his hands. “Hey, it’s fine. We’ve been over this, you’re good.” He sighs, a small thing that tries and fails to relieve the tension he’s holding in his chest. “Let’s just— go back to El.” He attempts a small smile. “Do you wanna work on, like… a game plan? To win her back? Some big gesture?”
Mike wants to scream in frustration. Will’s listening, he knows he is, but he’s not hearing him. For a second, he’d thought that maybe…
But then Mike looks closer. Sees the tight set of Will’s eyes. The way his hands are running over his knees, anxious and frightened. Oh. Oh, okay.
“I don’t want to get back with her,” Mike says, looking straight at Will. He needs to make sure he understands. “I don’t want to be with her at all. I mean, as friends, sure. But not… like that.”
Will cuts his gaze away. “But you said— you said you needed her,” he says.
Said you loved her, is implied. It hangs in the air, the shared memory of Mike’s shitty little speech.
“I did. I thought I did,” Mike corrects. “But I don’t anymore. Or at least, I don’t want to.”
Will huffs, fingers clenching on his knees. He’s still looking out the window, face lit golden by the sun. (Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.) “Mike, I don’t— what are you trying to say?”
Jesus, Mike’s so scared. He’s never been this scared in his life, not even when he was fighting demodogs with nothing but a candlestick and mindless fury. “I. I, um.” He looks at El’s door again, still cracked. Suddenly, he’s horrified at the idea that she could be listening in, hearing every word. “I.” He swallows over the lump in his throat, and decides to be brave. Decides, fuck it.
After all, the world’s going to hell. He might as well join it.
Just not here. Not six feet away from his very recent ex-girlfriend, who has telekinesis and also possibly super-hearing.
Mike looks up at Will, and reaches out a hand to rest on his knee. His fingers are so close to Will’s that they’re almost touching. “Can we go somewhere quieter?” he whispers, heart in his throat. “Somewhere, um. Private?”
Will stares down at Mike’s hand, eyes the size of dinnerplates. Mike watches in fascination as his skin flushes a blotchy red, spreading from the collar of his shirt up to his ears. “Private,” he repeats, voice thin. “With you. With— go somewhere. Um. Yeah. Yes.”
As soon as the string of words is out, Will squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to wish himself out of existence. Privately, Mike is very glad that he’s here. And that he’s being very cute while he’s at it, though the thought is accompanied by a sharp, fearful pain in Mike’s stomach.
Stop. You’re fine. Be normal. Be cool.
Ha. Mike Wheeler has never been cool. Not once in his short, miserable life.
But Will’s still agreed to go somewhere private with him, as if the word isn’t riddled with heavy meaning, so they stand and head for the door.
It doesn’t hit Mike until they’re outside that Nancy and Jonathan are also outside, hammering boards in a weirdly tense silence. When the boys step outside, they all stare at each other, like they’re aliens seeing other life forms for the first time. Mike counts the number of times Nancy blinks. One. Two. Three. Fou—
“What’s up?” Jonathan says, eyes darting between Mike and Will. His stance shifts into something protective, subtly moving towards Will.
“We’re gonna go look around,” Will says quickly. “Scope out the area. You know.”
Jonathan narrows his eyes, and seems to have a telepathic conversation with his brother. It’s baffling to watch. Mike glances at Nancy and wonders why they can’t communicate through their eyeballs. Maybe they’re doing something wrong.
Nancy notices him staring and flips him the bird. Yeah, they’re definitely doing something wrong.
“Okay!” Will says loudly. “We’re going now. Bye.”
Jonathan nods and waves them off, seeming a little calmer than he was a minute ago. Mike wonders what telepathic message Will sent him. What sort of stuff they talked about.
Once they’re a safe distance away, Mike snorts, amused despite himself. “Scope out the area,” he parrots, doing a silly parody of Will’s voice.
Will turns red, bumping their shoulders together. “Shut up.”
They walk in silence for a few minutes, and it’s not… companionable, exactly, but it’s not not companionable either. It’s a nebulous sort of something that comes between two people that have no earthly idea where they stand with one another.
Eventually, they find a decent-looking tree, and by that Mike means that it’s a totally normal tree. Nothing remarkable about it. He can’t believe that this is the setting for what could possibly be the most important conversation of his life.
That feels a little dramatic. But in his head, it’s true. God, what if he fucks this up?
He’s going to fuck this up, isn’t he.
Mike takes a deep, steadying breath, and sits down against the tree, resting the side of his leg along a thick root. Will hesitates, then settles in alongside him, keeping a healthy amount of space between their bodies.
“So. You wanted to talk?” Will prompts nervously.
“Yeah. Will, I—” Mike sorts through his thoughts. Decides to get the most important thing out of the way first. “Will, I’m so sorry.”
“And like I said, I forgive you,” Will says immediately, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. “We did this already.”
“We did it wrong,” Mike says, startling them both with the ferocity of it. “Sorry,” he says, a bit abashed. “But we did. I didn’t explain why I was an ass, and you didn’t chew me out half as much as I deserved, and, I just— God. I’m so fucking sorry, Will.”
Will leans his head back against the tree, considering this. “Okay,” he says, after a moment.
Mike chews anxiously on his lip. “Okay?” he repeats.
Will lolls his head over to look at him. “You said you wanted to explain. So explain.”
Right. Mike nods, trying to psych himself up. “Okay. Alright.”
Nothing else comes out. Will, the little shit, raises an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Mike says again, shaking out his hands. “I’m just… nervous.”
Will’s expression softens right away. “We don’t have to do this,” he says gently. “I was serious when I said I forgave you.”
“And I was serious when I said you shouldn’t have,” Mike replies. “Okay. So, I… first of all, I should have written. I should have called.”
Will’s face drops. “Yeah. You should have.”
Mike can feel his pulse thudding in his throat, the memory of the past year playing through his mind. “I wanted to. I really, really did. I just— I’ve had a lot of time to think, over the past year.”
Will frowns. “Okay. Um, what… what were you thinking about?”
“You,” Mike says, punched-out and honest.
Will exhales sharply, like he’s been hit. “Okay,” he says again, voice wobbling. “What… about me?”
“How I… feel,” Mike forces out, looking down at the dirt. “About you.” He drags his fingers through an ant pile, feeling tiny stings all over his palm.
Will reaches over quickly, pulling his hand away. “Cut that out,” he mutters, brushing the ants off his skin. After they’re gone, their hands stay tangled together. Will’s eyes flutter up to watch him, eyelashes brushing his browbone. Jesus, he’s so pretty. He’s always been pretty. That’s half the problem.
“How do you feel about me, Mike?” Will murmurs, absently running a thumb over the back of his hand. The question is scared and hopeful and dangerously life-changing. It’s everything. It’s too much.
Mike squeezes his eyes shut, and a hot tear escapes. Will swipes it away with his other hand, then holds him there, fingers gentle over his jaw. “Oh, Mike,” he whispers. “God. Come here.”
Mike stifles a tiny sob, then throws himself into Will’s arms. “I’m sorry,” he chokes against his shoulder, and he doesn’t know who he’s saying it to— Will? Himself? His parents? God, if he’s out there? “I didn’t mean to. I really— I didn’t want to feel—”
There’s a hitch to Will’s shoulders, and Mike realizes he’s crying, too. Solid, unshakable Will Byers. Crying in his arms. What a pair the two of them make, falling apart next to a destroyed ant pile and some dirty sticks.
“I didn’t want to either,” Will says, through sniffles. “But I did. I do.”
Mike sucks in a breath, pulling away to look at him. “You mean you feel… Will, I need you to say it.”
Will laughs, teary and amazed. “You first.”
“Will, I love you,” Mike says, and wow that was too much. That was not what he was going to say at all, maybe something like I like you in more than a friend way or even I like-like you, if that wasn’t ridiculously middle-school of him, but— straight to the L-word. Holy fuck.
It’s true, though. All of it.
“I love you, Mike,” Will says, the words tripping into each other in their haste to escape. Will brings his hands up to cover his face, breathing harsh and calming breaths into his palms. “God,” he says, wiping at his cheeks. “I never thought you’d—”
“I know,” Mike says. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“Stop fucking apologizing,” Will tells him. “This is the best day of my life.”
Mike smiles at him. “Not the day we met on the swings?” he teases.
Will’s happy expression drops a little. “Not the day you met El in the woods?” he counters.
Fuck. Mike leans away, sitting back against the tree. “No. I— I don’t know why I said that,” he mutters. “Of course that wasn’t the best day of my life. It was terrifying. You were missing, everyone thought you were dead.”
“So why’d you say it?” Will asks, eyes sad. Hurt.
“I don’t know, I was… panicked,” Mike says, knowing it’s not good enough. “I thought El was dying, and I was trying to think of… what she needed to hear, and I just. It didn’t come out right. I never say the right thing.”
“You said you loved her,” Will points out, even more hurt entering his voice. A fresh wound, boiling over.
Mike winces. “I do. Just not… like that. You know? And I don’t think I even realized until I was saying it.”
“But you feel that way about… me?” Will says disbelievingly. “I mean, I’m just—”
“You’re not just anything,” Mike says sharply, voicing his thoughts from earlier. “Jesus. You’re everything, Will.”
Will pinks, then looks down to fiddle with his fingers. “Mike,” he says softly. “That’s—”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t show you that,” Mike continues, gaining steam. “I’m sorry I ignored you. I’m sorry I was a dick. Honestly, I just was so scared of all this stuff I’m feeling and I didn’t know who to blame, I didn’t know why I was feeling it and I just. I never handle anything the right way. I never do anything right, I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”
“Hey,” Will says, reaching for his shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing.”
And Mike’s never believed that, not for one second, but the way Will’s looking at him… he wants it to be true. “Okay,” he agrees softly. “I mean, I don’t know. But okay.”
They sit with that for a second, the air heavy with change. Will swallows, and the sound is audible in the quiet.
“So,” Mike says, just to say something.
“So.”
“Are we… I mean, what do we do? With this,” Mike says, practically vibrating with fearful possibility. He just… he has no idea. He’s never known anybody like them before, never even seen them in a book or movie. He doesn’t know what comes next. Do they… touch? Talk? Hang out? They basically already do all that stuff. (Touch. Touch, touch, touch, tou—)
Will laughs incredulously, and throws out his hands. “Mike, what makes you think I know?”
Mike’s face burns. “I dunno,” he mumbles.
“If anything, you’re the one with more… experience,” Will mumbles back, a little jealous and a little shy.
Mike’s face burns even more. “Experience?” he repeats. “Jesus, what do you think El and I were doing?”
Will pulls a face. “Swapping spit?” he guesses.
Mike groans, and hits his head back against the tree with a dull thunk. He brings his hands up to cover his face. “Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut—”
“Sorry!” Will says, laughing some more. “Sorry. But, I mean— it’s fine if you don’t want to,” he says, tone growing more serious. “For real. I’m so happy right now, it’s actually fucking embarrassing. And I’ll be happy as long as I’m… as long as I’m with you.” There’s a pause. “God, that was even worse,” Will mumbles, sounding humiliated.
Mike pulls his hands off his face. “You’re so cute,” he tells Will, then puts his hands back. “Bye.”
“What— where are you going?” Will asks, plucking one of his hands off. “You in there?”
Mike peeks an eye open. “No.”
“Hm,” Will says, amused. “Too bad.”
“You suck,” Mike says.
“You too.”
“I do,” Mike agrees. “You really deserve better. Like, actually.”
Mike can hear the gentle clack of Will’s jaw dropping open. “Michael Wheeler, you take that back right now,” he demands, pulling his other hand off his face. “Seriously. You’re, like— so cool. It’s unreal, how cool you are.”
“Now you’re just making stuff up,” Mike says, rolling his eyes. His face is bright red. He probably looks like a sweaty gym teacher. He pictures Coach Carr, flushed and ready to pop a blood vessel after running a few laps, and grimaces. Gross.
“No!” Will insists, eyes wide. “You don’t even know, do you? I mean, I’ve had the hugest crush on you for, like, ever.”
“Nope,” Mike says. “You filthy fucking liar.”
“I’m serious!” Will says. He is also very red. “You’ve always been so brave, and nice, and smart, and—”
“Stop,” Mike says, squirming against the ground. “Oh my god.”
“It’s true,” Will says, frowning. “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”
“I’m not any of those things,” Mike says quietly. “I’m the opposite of all that.”
“You’re not!” Will says. “You’re—”
“If you say the heart again, I swear to god,” Mike threatens, and Will stifles a laugh.
“No, it’s just— I don’t know. You’ve always been, like, the best person in the world,” Will says softly. “You’re it for me. And I know that’s weird, and too serious, and too much—”
“It’s not,” Mike says, meaning it. “You’re it for me, too.”
Will scrubs a hand over his face. “You’re killing me, Wheeler.”
“You’re killing me.”
Will squints at him, then inches a little closer. “Do you want to… maybe…”
“Swap spit?” Mike teases, wiggling his eyebrows. It’s a joke, but also his palms are sweating, and he can’t remember if he brushed his teeth or not this morning. Probably not. Oh, god.
“You’re the worst,” Will says, wiping his hands on his knees. Like maybe he’s sweating, too. “I can’t believe I like you so much.”
“You like me more than that,” Mike says, and it’s half a question.
Will smiles. “Love you,” he answers, and leans in.
Mike panics. He’s never been this close to a boy before, and something about it rings alarm bells in his head. He’s half convinced that his dad’s about to pop out from the forest and disown him.
He must make some sort of noise, or expression, because Will immediately jerks away, eyes wide. “Sorry,” he says. “God, I— sorry.”
“No, don’t—” Mike steels himself. “You can. I’m ready.”
Will eyes him suspiciously. “If you have to say that, I feel like I shouldn’t.”
At this rate, Mike will be waiting forever to get kissed. He sighs in exasperation. “Just—” He grabs Will’s shoulders and brings him in, shutting his eyes. “C’mere,” he murmurs against Will’s lips.
“Oh,” Will murmurs back, melting into the kiss. It’s… so different than kissing El, right off the bat. And Mike feels like an asshole for comparing them, but it has to be said. Kissing Will is electric, sparks zipping up and down his spine, popping in the dark of his mind. It’s right. There’s nothing wrong about it at all. Nothing dirty.
Mike can’t believe they’ve wasted so much time not kissing. He wants to be kissing Will all the time, every hour of the day. His hands creep up to cradle Will’s face, his jaw, his cheek. “I love you,” he gasps against Will’s lips. “I love you so much.”
Will breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Mike’s shoulder. “Love you too,” he says, voice watery and broken. “Shit, this is… a lot. So much. But I love you.” He kisses Mike’s collarbone.
Mike snakes his arms around Will’s back, drawing him in for a proper hug. “You’re such a good kisser,” he says, still a little breathless.
“Am I?” Will responds, sounding unsure. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“Whatever it is, keep doing it,” Mike laughs, squeezing Will’s waist. “It was awesome.”
“Good,” Will says. “I just want to be— I want this to be good for you,” he says, and it sounds like it’s more than he wanted to admit. “I want you to be happy.”
“Jesus, Will,” Mike says, looking down at him. “I am. I’m so fucking happy.”
And he is. He doesn’t know what’s next, or how this will work, but he knows what they are. They’re together. They’re partners. And shit, it might be crazy, but they’ll be crazy together.
Just like they always have been.