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“Code red, Mike paging Will. Ground control to Major Will. Over.” The voice crackles through Will’s radio while he’s groaning over some stupid fill-in-the-blank assignment for his AP Economics class that he’s been struggling with for the past two hours.
Will shoves it away gladly, extending the antenna of his SuperCom to catch Mike’s signal.
“This is Will, what’s up?” Will responds.
“You don’t have anything important to do at school tomorrow, right?” Mike asks quickly, almost too fast for Will to catch it.
“This is worth a code red? Seriously?” Will asks, more amused than annoyed, relieved that code reds aren’t anything more serious than the possibility of skipping school these days.
“Just answer the question, Will.” Mike demands, clearly on a mission of some kind.
“I don’t think so… why?” Will asks.
“Awesome, okay… can you meet me at six AM outside your house tomorrow morning?” Mike asks quickly, excitement obvious.
“That’s so early, Mike—" Will starts to complain before Mike’s voice interrupts him over the radio.
“Just— trust me. It’ll be cool.” Mike says.
“Fine.” Will resigns himself to an early morning, “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Just yourself. Oh and um…” The radio crackles, a burst of sound indicating that Mike’s moving around nervously on his bed, sheets ruffling and causing the audio to pop, “Wear something… nicer? Not that you don’t uh, look nice normally, but like… We want to look like… like adults.”
Will can’t see him, but he can practically hear Mike wincing at how weird that sounded.
“Wow rude, implying that I don’t dress like an adult every day?” Will can’t resist teasing him though.
“No! You do, you definitely do!” Mike’s voice comes through panicked, “It’s just… you’ll see.”
“Says the guy who doesn’t own a pair of jeans without tears at the knees.” Will points out.
“I do too!” Mike fires back immediately.
“Uh-huh. Sure you do. Right next to your clean white converse and polo shirts.” Will says.
“You know I gave all those away ages ago, c’mon Wiiiill.” Mike draws out Will’s name with a whine and it’s a bit lame, but it’s so Mike that Will can’t help but smile anyways.
“Well, I’m excited to see how you ‘dress like an adult’ tomorrow then.” Will says amused.
“How did you turn this around on me so fast?” Mike grumbles.
“You make it easy.” Will responds, and hears Mike’s sigh crackle through the line and then the distant sound of yelling, Karen Wheeler calling out for something.
“Fine, whatever, you win this round. Congratulations. I gotta go, but I’ll see you at six tomorrow morning?” Mike asks.
“Yep, see you then. Over and out.” Will says leaving his antenna extended.
“…Over and out.” Mike says quietly.
The radio clicks off.
Will realizes that without Mike to distract him, all he has left is… his economics assignment on the federal exchange rate. Great.
♩♫♪
Will rolls out of bed at 5:30, alarm blaring as he jumps into the shower first, knowing he barely has enough time before whatever weird thing Mike’s got planned for them today. He’s quick about it, but by the time he’s finished, he barely has a moment to throw on clothes, jeans and one of his nicer plaid shirts, green and brown, before pulling on his bomber jacket and lacing up his boots, heading out the front door right as the clock turns to 6:00 AM.
Mike’s parked outside, leaning on the hood of his shitty hand-me-down Honda Civic from Nancy but waves Will over. Mike’s wearing a surprisingly-not-ripped pair of jeans with a plain t-shirt under a leather jacket. It’s simple, but put together and Will can appreciate that. Mike’s still gangly and awkward, but he’d finally stopped growing taller a year ago so his clothes actually fit him now.
Mike looks great, Will thinks but finds himself still a bit too shy to say it out-loud.
“Hey, looking good!” Mike says, giving him an awkward salute before he even really looks at Will, like he’d made up his mind to say that regardless. When he does look at Will, gives him a once over that makes Will feel hot and embarrassed because of how long it lasts, Mike visibly swallows.
Mike collects himself after a few long seconds, finally pulling his eyes away from Will towards the car before taking a deep breath.
“So, I thought we’d go out and you know, take a drive to the city for the day.” Mike says, aiming for casual but not quite sticking the landing as he fidgets with his car keys, waiting for Will to say something.
“You mean Indianapolis?” Will asks, not terribly interested in the boring capital that all the kids in Hawkins visit for their eighth-grade field trip. Will Byers hadn’t gone, of course, busy recovering in the hospital from being possessed, but Dustin and Lucas complained about how boring and stupid it was in solidarity for hours.
“No way, Indianapolis sucks," Mike scoffs dismissively before shoving his hands in his pockets, "Think bigger."
“Mike, there’s not another ‘city’ anywhere near us.” Will reminds him slowly.
“Not in Indiana.” Mike says, with a hint of a smile, clearly waiting on Will to catch onto his plan.
“But— wait, are you talking about—"
“Chicago!” Mike exclaims.
It’s a three-hour drive to Chicago and Will’s pretty sure Mike’s lost his mind.
“Are you serious?” Will asks.
“Uh, duh? C’mon you’ve been such a good student, skipping one day’ll be good for your health.” Mike says.
Mike talks a big game, is definitely the most rebellious member of the Party, but even he’s put a lot of effort into his schoolwork this past year, the beautiful mirage of an escape from Hawkins through getting into a good college on the horizon.
None of their grades were great, but man, their college essays about the earthquakes and the general destruction of most of Hawkins were killer. Add that into some guilt-ridden government officials willing to write enthusiastic recommendation letters, and they were all pretty much set if they could keep their grades up for the next few months.
“C’mon Will, it’ll be fun.” Mike begs with that smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle adorably, begging Will to go along with whatever he’s planned.
Will sighs in defeat.
“Okay, okay… but only if you can convince my mom to let me go.” Will says, long since having made peace with the fact that he can break any rule so long as Joyce Byers-Hopper knows where to find him.
“Already done.” Mike says simply, like that’s not the most shocking part of this whole thing, “She’s okay with it as long as I call her to update her when we get to Chicago.”
“How?” Will asks incredulous and Mike just gives a little shrug, smile turning into more of a smirk, clearly proud of himself.
“That’s for me to know, but seriously: It’ll be fine, Will.” Mike says, stressing the fine as he opens the car door on Will’s side, eyebrows raised in clear invitation.
“Get in, we’ve got a long drive ahead of us and a full agenda.” Mike’s giddy with excitement and it’s a bit infectious, so Will hops in the passenger seat as Mike shuffles back around to the driver’s side.
Mike doesn’t drive too often, leaving it to Will whenever Will’s allowed to borrow the car from his mom. And when Will drives them around, Mike’ll chatter away in the passenger seat, knowing better than to touch the radio dials. Will always slaps his hand away because Mike’s eclectic pop and heavy metal taste in music is a disaster that even Will can’t salvage.
Today though, Mike’s got his mom’s old Honda Civic ready to go, with one of the mixtapes Will made for him playing already at 6 AM, Joy Division playing softly in the background.
—is my timing that flawed? Our respect runs so dry, yet there's still this appeal that we've kept through our lives, but love, love will tear us apart again, love, love will tear us apart again—
A water bottle and a brown sugar cinnamon Poptart sit on the dash, waiting for him.
Will raises an eyebrow, reaching to grab them both, slowly tearing open the Poptart package.
“Wow, you were really sure I’d agree.” Will comments.
“I mean, I was going to convince you one way or another,” Mike admits as he turns the key, car roaring to life, “I might have had a few other bribes prepared.”
“And you decided that cinnamon Poptarts would sell me?” Will asks.
“They’re your favorites.” Mike says with a shrug. Will can’t help but roll his eyes, smiling a little despite himself because they are his favorites.
“Well, I hope you’ve got a better plan for lunch then, if we’re really doing this.” Will says slowly and Mike smiles at him, bright enough to light up the too-early morning as Mike drives them out onto the road.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a few ideas.” Mike says.
♩♫♪
It’s a surprisingly nice day, the sun rising around the time they leave Hawkins, lighting up Mike’s profile with the soft orange of the morning as they chat quietly. Neither of them are morning people, Mike even less so than Will, so the conversation is slow but steady. It’s a soft sleepy atmosphere, almost like they both don’t want to wake the rest of the world, careful to maintain their own little bubble of comfort.
It’s a bit like what Will imagines their mornings would be like if they lived together. And that thought is so embarrassing, so impossible that Will squashes it back down immediately.
Will leans his head against the car window, letting the motion of the car lull him into a calm drowsy haze after a while, watching the occasional highway sign and car that they pass.
—when in this charming car, this charming man, why pamper life’s complexities when the leather runs smoothly on the passenger seat?—
Mike doesn’t skip The Smiths and that’s when Will knows something is weird, because Mike likes most of Will’s music but he finds The Smiths particularly depressing, always presses fast forward the second any of their songs pop up.
“So… any particular reason you wanted to do this?” Will asks slowly.
Mike shakes his head, eyes determined and focused on the road.
“Nope, just didn’t want to sit through another boring day of useless classes.” Mike says, refusing to elaborate. Will sighs, letting it go when he sees that Mike’s stubbornness is fully active.
“Do I at least get to know where we’re going?” Will asks.
“Soon enough. It’ll be good, trust me.” Mike says earnestly.
“You know I do.” Will says simply and Mike smiles shyly at that, pleased, his eyes glancing quickly to meet Will’s for a brief second, “But three hours is a long time to keep me in suspense.”
“Less than two hours now.” Mike points out, gesturing at the clock on the dashboard.
“Fine, less than two hours. Can you at least give me a hint?” Will asks.
Mike hmms, thinking for a minute before he finally says a single word, “Dots.”
“Dots?” Will asks confused.
“Dots.” Mike says with a nod.
Will sighs, leaning back in his seat as he wonders what the hell Mike means by that.
♩♫♪
When Will sees the bronze lion statues while Mike looks around for a place to park, Will suddenly realizes exactly where they are.
“Oh my god, Mike, tell me we’re not skipping school to visit the Art Institute of Chicago?” Will blurts out, astounded as he leans forward in his seat to get a better look.
“I mean, that’s not the only thing we’re doing but the building’s right here so, we might as well check it out.” Mike replies with glee as he parks the car, “But hey, we can always go somewhere else if you don’t want to—”
“Shut up, of course we’re going.” Will interrupts him immediately, unbuckling his seatbelt, “You can’t change your mind now.”
Mike laughs, pushing Will inside while he’s still too stunned to say anything.
Mike buys their tickets and then takes Will into the gallery as Will gasps in awe at all the art, immediately going to grab a map.
“Ah, no no no, that’s my job for today,” Mike says as he snatches the map out of Will’s hands, “Allow me to give you a tour.”
“You? A tour guide?” Will asks, doubt clear in his voice.
“Why, of course… William,” Mike says his full name in a stupid accent, “I’m incredibly well-educated on all things artistic. I’m a top graduate from Art School, after all.”
Will rolls his eyes, smothering a laugh, but gestures at Mike to continue, letting him take the lead.
Mike moves them to the back of the gallery first, taking Will to the crown jewel of the exhibit, ‘Un dimanche après-midi à l'Île de la Grande Jatte’. It’s an incredible painting, much bigger than the blurry print-outs Will remembers seeing in his art class.
The museum is surprisingly uncrowded. The crowds are thin to non-existent at this hour, still too early in the morning on a weekday so Mike’s quiet supposedly informative comments on the art are only heard by Will.
Will lets Mike pretend to be a tour guide for about five minutes before Will starts correcting him.
“It’s called pointillism Mike, c’mon, you were in my Art 1 class with me, there’s no way you don’t remember that.” Will says.
Mike shrugs, “The famous dot-point-thing style has many names, William.”
“Yeah, and the correct one is pointillism.” Will says, turning his head away from the painting to look at Mike judgmentally.
Mike can’t hide his smile at that, a tiny chuckle escaping him as he breaks character and turns his back to the painting entirely. His eyes glitter with extreme fondness as he gazes at Will. It’s an expression Will’s come to recognize over the past few months, but it still makes his heart jump in his chest, skipping a few beats.
Will breaks eye contact, feeling a flush start to crawl up his neck as he looks back at the painting. It’s not really to Will’s taste, the whole picture difficult to make out once you start to focus on the details, but he can admire the amount of time the artist must have put into it, hours and hours spent on tiny dots slowly filling up a whole canvas without truly knowing what the end result would look like.
After a few more minutes spent analyzing the painting, Mike tugs on Will’s wrist and Will follows, letting Mike drag him around the museum, stopping whenever Will wants to spend a few more minutes looking at something.
It’s all incredible, the number of different paintings and styles on display and Will finds himself getting increasingly lost in them to the point that he starts grabbing onto the sleeve of Mike’s jacket, pulling him around.
“—oh, look at this one!” Will says excitedly, pointing at Nighthawks, “The artist wanted to capture the loneliness of life in the city and he kept it simple, a lack of details to express the emptiness of it all.”
“… Isn’t this the painting where the guy forgot to paint a door into the restaurant?” Mike asks, “I think I remember reading about that.”
“I… oh huh, there isn’t a door. You’re right.” Will admits before catching onto the last part of Mike’s statement, “Wait, what do you mean you read about it?”
Mike sputters for a second, caught.
“I dunno, I wanted to make sure the art here didn’t suck.” Mike mutters before clearing his throat, “Anyway, did you know that this place is one of the oldest art museums in the world? Like, over a hundred years–”
Mike spouts off more fun facts nervously as it slowly dawns on Will that Mike researched this place thoroughly before bringing him and it’s… it’s sweet.
They take their time, walking around, not in any particular hurry.
Will catches Mike glancing down at Will’s hand, brushing it with the side of his own before he looks up to see a security guard nearby. Changes his approach, pulling back, hand going to his chin like he’s deep in thought about art.
It’s exciting, flattering that Mike would want to hold his hand, makes Will’s heart speed up a bit because he’s still unused to the change in their relationship. Will still can’t quite believe that Mike Wheeler actually wants to hold his hand, long fingers intertwining with Will’s sturdier ones whenever they’re alone.
Mike’s a dork, but he’s so earnest about it all, hinting about what he wants but never quite saying it. For someone who spends his days writing and talking on and on about whatever interests him, Mike can’t seem to spit out what he’s actually thinking half the time, backtracking and stumbling over muddled words.
Will wonders why Mike wanted to do this, really. Maybe Karen and Ted were fighting again? But Mike would have mentioned that by now, always quick to snap and pull away when things aren’t going well at home.
Or maybe Mike really was caught up in the general exhaustion and fuck-it-all attitude that seemed to characterize senior year. All of Mike’s college essays and most of Will’s were sent in already, so they were just waiting to hear about early acceptance.
It did make their high school classes feel pretty pointless, and Will couldn’t blame Mike for wanting to escape the restless boring droning of their teachers that Will found harder and harder to care about on a good day.
Regardless of the reason behind their impromptu delinquency, Will’s swept away in all the amazing art pieces and after they do one full fast circuit around the museum, Will finds himself wandering back towards a few pieces, pulling out a pad of paper to pencil out some quick sketches, more ideas than anything else.
Mike peers over his shoulder occasionally, but mostly leaves him to it, making silly comments on the art that Will knows Mike knows are wrong, but Mike keeps doing it, seeming to enjoy the way Will rolls his eyes and smile.
It’s all so terrifyingly easy, the way they fit together.
It bubbles up in his chest still exciting, this new thought that maybe Mike… could stay in Will’s life forever instead of trapped in Will’s past, confined to their childhood memories. Will still doesn’t really believe it, that Mike could… want him around, enough to skip a day of school just to hang out with Will in an art museum, watching Will more than enjoying the art.
But Mike seems perfectly content, happy even, to be here and Will’s still trying to figure out how to accept that. He keeps expecting Mike to disappear, like one day he’ll blink, and they’ll be in college, Mike on the other side of the country, leaving him forever and— Will sighs, redirecting his thoughts back towards the figure on the page.
Will promises himself that he won’t forget this moment, even when it inevitably ends.
♩♫♪
It’s afternoon by the time they leave the art museum, Mike stopping by the gift shop for a moment but refuses to show Will what he bought, shoving a small plastic bag into his pocket before Will can get a good look at it.
“Hey Mike, why—" Will tries to ask as they exit out onto the street
“Okay, onto the next stop.” Mike interrupts him, “You didn’t think this was the only place we were going to today, did you?”
“Next… stop… Wait, there’s more?” Will asks, stunned, “But we’ve already missed basically the whole school day.”
“Hey, we’ve already missed it, so why not skip a little more?” Mike says with a carefree shrug, leather jacket scrunching around his thin shoulders as he turns on his heels, walking in the opposite direction of their car.
Will stares after him for a moment, open-mouthed in confusion before Mike looks over his shoulder,
“What’re you waiting for?” Mike calls out, “Don’t you want to see more of Chicago?”
Will follows, falling into step next to Mike. They’re closer than normal friends should be, shoulder-to-shoulder, knuckles brushing against each other with every step. Normally, they’d never dare to do this in public, but they’re far from anyone who knows them and it’s like the tight taunt thread of tension in Will’s chest unwinds, just a little bit.
Will’s hyper-aware of all the places they touch, but when Mike glances at him and catches his eye, he sees that Mike’s just as aware, sneaking glances down to where their hands are brushing. Suddenly, this secret held between the two of them feels exhilarating but light, like two kids whispering and giggling on a swing set.
Chicago doesn’t look like any place Will’s seen before, the cold wind intense between the tall buildings, blowing yellow leaves all throughout the city and messing up Will’s clothes like the wind wants to steal Will’s jacket away. Even with that though, Will can’t stop looking around, head turned upward towards the sky as he takes it all in.
It’s a nice day, chilly but the sunlight dances around them, reflected off all the windows of the office buildings they pass while Mike directs them towards another unknown destination.
This one is harder to hide however, as it quickly becomes obvious that Mike’s leading him towards the tallest building in the area. It’s the tallest building Will’s ever seen, so tall that even as he cranes his neck back, it’s hard to see the top of it towering over them the closer they get to it.
When they get to the front of the building, Mike turns so quickly his long curly hair flips and slaps him in the face. It’s gotten tossed around by the wind and has turned into a tangled mess, but Mike doesn’t let that faze him, pushing it back of his face.
“Okay, I think you’ll like this. It’s the tallest tower in the world and it’s—oh you’ll see.” Mike says and he’s smiling, but he’s still bouncing with nerves, looking back at Will every few seconds to check his reactions as Mike pushes open the door for them both.
“That sounds… neat,” Will says cautiously as he steps into the building, “Please tell me they have elevators.”
“Of course they have elevators, Will.” Mike says exasperated, “Why wouldn’t they have elevators?”
“You never know! Neither of us would survive climbing like, a million flights of stairs.” Will exclaims.
“Okay, first of all, we’ve survived worse and secondly, it’s a super tall building, of course they’d build in an elevator.” Mike says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out two crumpled tickets, one of which he hands to Will. He wants to object, can’t believe Mike paid for both of their tickets today, but Mike’s already walking ahead.
They find the line to the elevator (“See Will, what did I tell you?”) and it’s short, but it gives Will a few moments to fix himself, smoothing out his clothes from where the wind nearly blew his jacket off. When Will looks over to Mike, he sees that Mike’s dark curly hair is still a wreck from the wind.
Will’s hand twitches at his side to fix it, but they’re in public, so he doesn’t move.
Mike turns to look at him curiously after a moment, feeling Will’s eyes on him.
“What’s on your mind?” Mike asks, seemingly oblivious to the strand of hair caught in his eyelashes.
Will can’t help himself, reaching a hand up to gently pull apart the worst of the knots.
“Your hair’s a mess.” Will says, trying to sound scolding but like everything he says to Mike these days, it comes out too soft, affection flowing through him. It’s embarrassing, but Will tries to pretend it’s normal and Mike never calls him out on it.
Mike looks around a bit nervously, eyes on the other people waiting in line in front of them, but he doesn’t pull away as Will teases the tangles apart, black hair always surprisingly soft under his fingertips. Will really likes Mike’s longer hair, even if Mike sometimes forgets that it requires more effort.
Will can’t spend as much time as he’d like, thinks he could probably spend hours gently combing through Mike’s hair with his fingers if he was ever gifted the chance, but he can feel the tips of Mike’s ears starting to warm as he pulls one last big knot apart. So instead, Will moves back, finishing it off by pulling the strand of hair caught in Mike’s eyelashes away and tucking it behind his ear.
“Th-thanks.” Mike says, visibly shaken. He’s staring intently at a spot over Will’s shoulder, unable to meet his eyes.
Will suddenly realizes how weird that was, feeling himself flush with embarrassment.
“Sorry, uh, I just wanted to help.” Will mumbles, taking a small step back away from Mike, creating space between them that Will realizes hasn’t existed all day.
“You…” Mike swallows noticeably, “You did. I didn’t realize it was so bad.”
“Yeah, the wind’s pretty brutal here.” Will mumbles, feeling that tension that occasionally rises between them that makes the air between them feel like it’s buzzing, the pull towards Mike so strong that resisting it feels impossible, like fighting gravity, but Will grits his teeth and looks away.
It’s a long awkward minute that feels like forever before the elevator comes back down and they’re escorted onto it, an attendant pushing the button for the observation deck.
When they get to the top, Will rushes off the elevator and towards the observation window.
The view is takes Will’s breath away, floating so high above as he stares at the world beneath him from the tallest building in the world. Will’s never been on an airplane, but he imagines that this must be what it feels like. The buildings are so small, and the people are barely visible from this high up, more like moving dots. Incomplete details in a larger picture.
Will wants to sketch it, hand itching for the pencil he handed to Mike earlier, but he also knows that he’ll spend ages trying to capture this feeling and never quite be satisfied with it.
He turns to Mike, who’s been watching him almost nervously.
“Mike, don’t tell me you paid four dollars to stare at me, instead of the view from one of the tallest buildings in the world.” Will whispers quietly.
A splotchy blush rises on Mike’s cheeks immediately as he sputters incoherently for a few seconds.
“I-I was looking at the view! Just, wanted to know what you were thinking.” Mike eventually spits out, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he leans his back against the observation window.
“Just that it’s all so small. I’ve never been this high up before, you know?” Will remarks, because it’s true.
“Huh that’s right, you’ve never been on a plane before.” Mike comments, “Not like I can remember anything from the time I flew on one though.”
“Oh yeah, when you came to visit us in Lenora.” Will realizes, remembering the only time he’s ever been in an airport.
“Yeah, I didn’t really take the chance to look out the plane window.” Mike mutters, tilting his head down so that his hair covers some of his face.
“Why’s that?” Will asks curiously. Will mostly just remembers that he’d been so nervous for Mike’s visit that he hadn’t slept at all, insides twisting themselves into knots as he stayed up all night to put the final touches on the painting that now hangs proudly over Mike’s bed.
Mike looks too embarrassed, pulling away and for a moment, Will thinks he won’t say anything. But, Mike’s been pushing through these moments more and more lately, and surprises Will by answering.
“It’s dumb, but I kept thinking about what I was going to say… to you and El. I kept writing down different stupid ideas on napkins but… I don’t know what I was thinking, nothing sounded right.” Mike explains, shoulders slumping as he looks down at his shoes.
“You seriously planned that entire thing? Outfit included?” Will blurts out, unable to resist even as Mike sighs.
“Yeah, I dunno, I guess I thought if I did it all perfectly then maybe… I could make everyone happy. Like if I said just the right words, treated both of you the way I thought we were supposed to be, it would fix things.” Mike says quietly, fix me going unstated but mutually understood ringing out in the silence between them.
Will nudges him softly, bumping their shoulders together in lieu of reaching out to grab his hand.
“Hey, we’re here now. Looking out at all the tiny people together.” Will reminds him, “Everything turned out okay, even if it took us a while to get here.”
“Yeah, it all worked out somehow.” Mike says, the corners of his lips quirking up at the edges as his dark eyes meet Will’s, the sun starting to set behind him bringing out the flecks of deep umber hiding in Mike’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his cheeks.
Will knows this view of Mike, eyes crinkled up with fondness as he smiles at Will in front of a large window that makes Will feel like he can see the whole world is one of those snapshots he’ll treasure forever, one he’ll tuck deep down inside his soul to hold onto when this tentative unbelievable miracle of time together eventually fades away.
♩♫♪
After watching the sun dip below the horizon from the tallest building in the world, soft oranges and pinks fading into a darker blue, they decide to head out. Mainly because the observation deck is closing soon and they don’t have much of a choice, not matter how badly Will wants to finish his sketch of the skyline.
Mike suspiciously dashes off for a few minutes when they get close to a gift shop. Will raises an eyebrow, but lets Mike do what he wants, pretending to be distracted by the view.
“Dinner?” Mike asks when he gets back and Will’s stomach grumbles as if on cue.
“You did promise me a good lunch…” Will reminds him.
“I know, I know, I wasn’t expecting us to take so long in the museum, but there’s a few places nearby that should be good.” Mike says apologetically, but Will knows it’s his fault they spent so long in the museum to begin with, so he lets it go.
Dinner is a quick and easy affair, burgers that they munch on while Will chats away about the new ideas he has for the comics he’s been drawing in his spare time.
By the time they step back out into the world, Chicago’s city lights twinkle around them like stars. It’s too cloudy to see the moon or anything else, it doesn’t matter to Will at the moment with Mike tucked against his side as they slowly make their way back to the car.
“-And that’s why the X-Men are better than the Justice League, obviously.” Will says, finishing the conversation they started over dinner.
“No, the X-Men are more interesting, but the Justice League has Superman. Will, you gotta admit that Superman overpowers everything.” Mike says causing Will to sigh.
“You’re just obsessed with Superman.” Will complains, “You don’t even like DC most of the time, I don’t understand why you like him so much.”
They’re walking so close, too close, but the city lights aren’t so bright and the few people around them barely give them a second glance, so caught up in their own lives and thoughts.
“I’m not *obsessed* with him, he’s literally designed to be the strongest person ever. He’s *the* archetypical superhero, so he’ll win every time.” Mike says.
Mike’s head swivels back and forth to check the sidewalk around them before he scoots a bit closer to Will and then finally, finally grabs onto Will’s hand with his own, stuffing them both into the side pocket of Mike’s jacket where no one else can see them.
Will forgets what he was going to say, instead staring at Mike, shocked. Mike’s eyes are facing straight ahead, a sheepish smile on his face.
“You—That’s not how it works.” Will responds weakly, feeling the warmth of Mike’s palm pressed against his.
“It totally is.” Mike says, stroking his thumb over the back of Will’s hand as they stop and wait to cross the street, a surprisingly strong gust of wind blowing through them both and Will can’t help himself, he steps even closer to Mike to avoid the worst of it.
Will can feel himself starting to flush, heat rising into his cheeks as Mike pulls Will as close as he possibly can under the streetlight, moving his body to block Will from the wind.
Mike’s hair is caught in the wind again, blowing dramatically to the side in a way that looks cool, like Mike’s a character in one of those dramatic fantasy films. Will wishes they were at home right now so that he could grab Mike and—
For the first time today, Will hates the fact that they’re so far from home and his mind races as Mike squeezes his hand, guiding them across the street in the direction of their car.
Will doesn’t want the day to end, even knowing that they have a long drive home and school bright and early tomorrow morning.
When they get close to their car, Will finds his courage. He pulls his hand out of Mike’s warm hand and instead wraps his fingers around Mike’s wrist, yanking him into a narrow alley, out of the way and behind an old sign.
“Will—” Mike says, stumbling to follow, but Will can’t wait another second so without saying a word, he reaches a hand up to hold Mike’s cheek, tilting his head down so that Will can easily slot their lips together.
It’s like coming home, the tension that’s been running through Will finally finding an outlet as he kisses Mike hard, his fingers digging into the leather of Mike’s jacket to hold him in place.
Will feels Mike gasp out in surprise before he immediately reciprocates, lips parting to let Will in. Will feels Mike’s arms wrap around Will’s shoulder as Mike pulls him in close.
Will loses track of time, perfectly content to kiss his boyfriend while leaning against the wall of a filthy alleyway in a hidden crack of a city Will’s barely seen, marveling at the idea that home can be found even in this dirty forgotten corner of the world if he’s here with Mike.
Eventually, Mike pulls away, pupils blown wide as he stares at Will, breathing heavily.
It’s like all of Will’s actions catch up to him and his face burns.
“Wow.” Mike breathes out. It’s hard to see him clearly in the shadows of the alleyway, but Mike’s bright red.
“Wow.” Will repeats, catching Mike when his eyes dart to Will’s lips and he starts to lean in again for another—
A loud crash nearby causes them both to jump, fear pulsing through Will as he steps away.
“I—uh, we should go.” Will says awkwardly. Mike takes a few moments to respond, mind a bit delayed.
“T-totally, yeah. We’ve got a lot drive back and uh, stuff to do tomorrow.” Mike stutters out.
“Tons of stuff.” Will nods, agreeing while he privately curses their luck.
♩♫♪
—I hear the drums echoing tonight, but she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation, she's coming in, 12:30 flight, the moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation—
After two hours of driving, Will quietly hums along to yet another mixtape he put together for Mike, but this one’s from when they were kids. The first mixtape he ever put together, “FOR MIKE” written in squiggly letters on the side, surrounded by doodles of swords and stars.
He’s happily surprised Mike kept it, a box of Will’s mixtapes kept separate from the rest in the glove box of Mike’s car.
The song switches over, tape catching for a second from its age before *Twist and Shout* starts blasting, embarrassing Will when he remembers how much he liked this song when he was ten, forcing Jonathan to dance around to The Beatles with him in the living room when Lonnie and Joyce were gone at work.
He hadn’t thought of that in years, and wait, wasn’t the last time he heard that song when he saw—
A lot of dots start to come together, the whole picture becoming obvious when Will takes a step back and thinks of it. Will looks at Mike, astounded.
Mike, oblivious to the incredible realization Will’s come to, smothers a yawn behind his hand, tapping his fingers with the beat as they rest on the steering wheel.
“Did you seriously copy all of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and expect me not to call you out on it?” Will blurts out incredulous, breaking the comfortable silence between them, “Am I supposed to be Cameron?”
“No!” Mike denies, glancing anxiously at Will for a second before turning his eyes back to the road, “No dude c’mon, you’re definitely Ferris, all the teachers love you. And I didn’t copy it, I would never take you to a baseball game.”
“Oh my god, is there a crazy teacher following us too? Is Mr. Hanson going to arrest us for skipping AP Econ?” Will asks, hiding his rising amusement behind his teasing.
“Oh my god stop, no.” Mike protests, “That’s not it—”
“He saw that we didn’t show up and just repeated your last name like twenty times ‘Wheeler… Wheeler… Wheeler…” Will drones out, copying the only joke he remembers from the movie.
Mike tries to keep a straight face but cracks at Will’s questionable Ben Stein impression, laughter ringing out in the tight car and echoing through Will, filling him with pride.
“It’s nothing like that, I swear.” Mike says between chuckles, “I wouldn’t pull you out of class just to reenact a movie.”
“Then why take us out of school today?” Will finally asks the question that’s been running through his head all day.
Mike looks at the clock on the dashboard, 11:57 in bright blocky red letters shining out in the darkness between them, and then sighs.
“Give me like, five more minutes and then I’ll explain, promise.” Mike says, seriously.
“… I don’t remember this part of Ferris Bueller.” Will says lightly causing Mike to sigh while Will continues, “Can we at least get home before you send your Honda flying into the woods?”
“Oh my god Will, let it go.” Mike groans loudly, but he can’t do anything, hands stuck on the steering wheel.
“Not until you admit that you knowingly copied a John Hughes movie.” Will teases.
“Nope, not happening.” Mike proclaims, stubborn as always.
The clock ticks over, 12:00, midnight exactly before Mike glances over at Will, hands drumming rapidly on the steering wheel, out of beat with song.
—Take me out tonight, because I want to see people, and I want to see life, driving in your car, oh please don't drop me home—
“Do you know what today is?” Mike asks softly, eyes on the road
“Um… Wednesday? Wait, Thursday now.” Will says, wondering if he forgot an anniversary or something, “What’s so special about Thursday?”
“No, not that, the date.”
Will tries to think, but he doesn’t ever check the date in November because-
“It’s the sixth.” Will says, as the realization slams into him
The day he went missing.
“Well, it was yesterday.” Mike admits quietly, “I didn’t want you to think about it though.”
Will hadn’t, he realizes with dawning awe. For the first time in years, Will hadn’t thought about it all day.
But Mike had been thinking about it all day. Had this whole trip planned out in advance, from the tickets to knowing where to go, to knowing fun facts about the stupid museum paintings.
“What… did you get my mom to agree with this?” Will asks, stunned, not fully understanding.
“She helped me plan it. Well, not the— the date bits but… I asked and she agreed. I called her earlier too, updated her,” Mike starts to ramble, “I mean, I wanted to do this anyway, but I-I don’t know, I thought telling you why I was doing this would ruin the whole point like, I didn’t want you to think I was doing this just because of the date, but—"
“Was it okay?” Mike asks, voice small, his shoulders so tense that they’re hunched up around his ears, fingers still nervously tapping an out-of-rhythm tune.
“Mike this is…” Will doesn’t have the words. It’s sweet and caring in a way that Mike’s always been, but this is… this is… this feels different, bigger than shy smiles and stolen kisses.
It’s a kindness done for the simple fact that it might make Will’s horrible November a little better. Simply because Mike wanted him to have a good day.
It feels huge, his heart swelling with the impossible belief that maybe… Maybe this fragile thing between them could grow into something long-term.
Maybe Mike being by his side for the rest of their lives isn’t an impossible dream, that these few months aren’t just a tiny miracle Will’s been gifted that’ll be pulled away the second he starts to believe in it.
“… was it okay? I know that taking you away from home might be a stupid move but I—"
“This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Will says causing a blush to start blooming on Mike’s pale face as he awkwardly runs his hands up and down the steering wheel.
“Nah, you’ve got so many people who care about you Will, this is just…” Mike shrugs a bit, trying to hide his face behind his hair but unable to take his eyes off the road, “I just wanted to do this.”
The overpowering urge to kiss Mike runs through Will and he pushes it down, reaching across to put his hand solidly on Mike’s knee instead. He feels Mike jump under his hand in surprise, but the drive stays smooth.
“I…” love you Will can't bring himself to say it, even after multiple repetitions, the words still too heavy and honest, “You’re my favorite person.”
Will wants to kick himself, annoyed at the fact that he still can’t say it properly.
“Yeah? You’re my favorite too,” Mike says softly, “Thanks for skipping with me today.”
“Always.” Will responds.
The car goes quiet, music playing through the silence as the streetlights fly by in streaks. Mike starts humming, and then singing along to whatever song happens to be playing, swapping out one mixtape for another.
—so for once in my life, let me get what I want, lord knows, it would be the first time, lord knows, it would be the first time—
Every time Mike smiles at him, every time their hands brush, Will feels like he’s shouting at the world, fighting back in the most crucial way. Sure, he’ll lose eventually but it’s worth it for every second he can hold onto this.
And maybe, Will thinks as he watches Mike badly sing along to The Smiths with an affection that overwhelms him, maybe they can make this work.