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Will can’t believe they’re moving out, the events of his last Upside Down encounter feeling like just yesterday. He knows, logically, that it’s been almost a year since they all made it back to apocalyptic Hawkins, completing their ride of hell in a weed-stank van.
He knows, logically, that they can’t stay with the Wheeler’s forever, three kids (Mike being one of them, too, you can imagine how hard the job is) being more than enough in one house.
Will knows, logically, that since he got El and his mom got Hopper back, they have to find a place big enough to fit all of them.
But just because he knows doesn’t mean he has to be thrilled. He isn’t.
Truth be told, he’s managed to get quite used to living with Mike, to late night talks with Mike, to taking Mike’s clothes and to, honestly, Mike.
Maybe he shouldn’t have - maybe their friendship only tied them back together, because they had no choice but to be with each other constantly these days. Maybe the second there’s any physical distance between them, Mike will pull away again, repeating the most horrifying experience of Will’s life, bringing Californian nightmares to Hawkins.
There’s no need to dwell on it, though, Will knows it. He has to get packing - to put the small number of his belongings in boxes and bring them downstairs.
Besides, it’s not like he’ll never see Mike again - El lives with the Byers’ now. As much as it breaks Will’s heart, it means that his best friend will come by, at the very least, to talk to her.
They’re not a couple anymore and, according to both of them, they’re not planning on getting back together but Will’s not sure if he believes it. It’s not like they haven’t broken up before - it’s not like Mike hasn’t accused him of being a child for getting involved into his relationship before either.
Will sighs and tries to put his ‘boys don’t cry’ poster down. He wants to be done before Mike comes back to his room, he’s insisted the entire day to help Will with packing.
Will didn’t want to wait for him, though, he didn’t want to have to face another “it won’t tear us apart” promise that he knows Mike won’t keep. Sure, he may be dramatic, but he wouldn’t bet on the time they next see each other - no matter that Will is only moving to the other side of the town.
“Will!”
He turns around to see El, looking at him from the doorframe incredulously. Will tries to bring a soft smile onto his face, but he knows he’s failed, when El comes closer and reaches her hand out worryingly.
“Are you okay?”
She puts her hand on his shoulder, as he sits down on Mike’s bed and hides his face in his hands.
“I don’t know, El.”
It’s true. There’s physically nothing wrong with today, there is not a single thing he has a reason to be sad about - he’s getting his family, his home, his life back. Will knows he should be happy. He doesn’t know why he just isn’t.
That’s a lie.
He knows why he’s miserable - he will just never say it out loud. It’s pathetic and childish and Will doesn’t even want to think about it.
“That’s a bull, WIll.”
It makes him chuckle. It does until he remembers, who she got this expression from. Laughter dies in Will’s throat - it reminds him that he’s never going to get this, to get him . It reminds him that for Will today is just a day - that he has nothing to celebrate, nobody to celebrate it with.
It’s Valentine’s Day .
“I guess, I don’t know, I guess I’m just sad, you know? I’ll miss Mike.”
The confession barely makes it through his throat and Will wants to take it back immediately, but it’s El. It’s his sister and he can be honest with her, he will be.
“Yeah, I know.” She says with knowing eyes and reaches for a quite big box that she’s apparently put on the ground before.
“Here, I think you should take it with you to our new house.”
And just like that, she’s gone again. Will is left with a strange box in his hands, a few peaks of paper visible from under the cover.
Will moves a bit backwards, so he can press his back against the wall under a window and lifts the lid.
He’s not sure what he expected - some forgotten childhood toys maybe - but it was definitely not this. Those are not old D&D figures or kids’ masks.
The box is full of letters.
Will’s jaw goes slack, when he realises it’s Mike’s handwriting. He doesn’t know if he wants to read them - the letters being probably unsent drafts to El - but curiosity takes the best of him.
The first thing he spots, when he picks up the nearest piece of paper is love, Mike at the bottom and Will’s head starts spinning.
He doesn’t get to take a proper look at the top - at something that looked suspiciously like dear Will, but he might as well be hallucinating at this point - because the door bursts open again.
“Will? You were supposed to wait for me! What-”
Mike stops dead in his tracks, when he notices what Will’s holding. His face falls and he looks nothing short of terrified.
“You-you were not supposed to see those.”
His voice is quiet, he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears and Will has no idea why.
“You wrote me letters?”
Will’s question is devastating enough to make Mike slide down the wall and put his face in his hands. They both know the implications and Will can’t wrap his head around why Mike hasn’t told him. Why Mike let Will think that he didn’t care - he didn’t try to contact him.
“I did.”
Mike’s barely audible and Will really needs to hear it all from him. He stands up and sits on his knees in front of Mike, bringing his hands to Mike’s own to tear them away from his face.
And if he doesn’t let go, if he leaves their fingers intertwined, when he speaks up - well, if he does it, it’s only his business.
Mike takes a breath in and looks into Will’s eyes - tears coming down his cheeks. Will wants to wipe them away.
He doesn’t.
“They never sounded good enough, I couldn’t send any of them.”
Mike breaks eye contact and WIll knows he’s lying. He doesn’t press, he takes a different path.
“Mike.” Will says firmly, causing him to meet their gazes again. “I would have loved to hear from you, about literally anything. For six months I thought you didn’t care. A stupid weather opinion would’ve made me happy.”
Will’s voice isn’t angry, but it’s not calm either - he has the right to be pissed after all. Mike is still looking at him and Will can tell that he’s fighting himself inside, before he slowly chooses his words.
“Have you-” Mike’s voice breaks but he tries again, the terrified look is back on his face.
“Have you read any of them?”
Will shakes his head.
“I was about to, when you walked in.”
Mike nods his head a few times, it looks like more of a rocking gesture than anything else.
“Okay.” He says carefully, squeezing their hands, obviously looking for comfort that Will is quick to provide him with.
“Do you want to read one?”
Mike hands Will back the box and quickly moves away from him, climbing onto his bed and almost curling into a ball. His face is back in his hands.
Will takes an envelope.
“Dear Will-” He starts, but his voice fails him, dies somewhere in his throat.
Mike doesn’t move an inch.
“Mike you-did you-”
Will doesn’t know how to form it so as not to startle his best friend. He’s not even sure he’s reading the situation right, he doesn’t know if he doesn’t just interpret it like he wishes it would be.
The question comes out quieter than a whisper.
“Are those love letters?”
Mike sobs shortly and sniffs before wiping his face with his sleeves and lifting his chin enough to look at Will from above his hands.
“Yeah.”
Will’s jaw drops. He can’t find any answer in his head, his mouth seems to have stopped working. He’s frozen - the letter still in his hand, his eyes still directed at his best friend in shock.
Mike curls in on himself even more, when Will doesn’t say anything and it finally makes him move.
Will carefully sits on the bed, right next to Mike, and intertwines their hands. Mike looks up at him in surprise.
“Is that why you didn’t send them?”
Mike nods his head, as Will puts his index and middle fingers under his chin.
“I really wish you had.”
Mike’s eyes widen, as he finally understands what Will’s implying.
“Will, you have to know.” Mike’s face is pleading, begging for Will to understand.
Will doesn’t know.
“You have to know that I’m in love with you.”
Will crashes their lips together before Mike even manages to finish pronouncing the last word.
It’s a sweet kiss, full of hope and longing. It tastes like something they should have done a long time ago, like something they were always destined to do.
Mike opens his mouth and lets their tongues touch, lets Will feel the years of desperation and hidden feelings. Will has no idea how he’s gone almost sixteen years without this, but he’s sure he never wants to go another day not kissing Mike for the rest of his life.
He kisses the corner of Mike’s mouth and pulls away, just enough to be heard.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”