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The basement is cold.
Will lays silently, body curled uncomfortably on the couch. Mrs. Wheeler tried her best to make him comfortable, giving him plenty of blankets and pillows. He appreciated the effort, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing anybody could do.
With everyone back in Hawkins, and the apocalypse going on, Will and his friends were scattered around town. El was staying with Hopper in his cabin, but there wasn’t enough space for the rest of them.
That left Joyce, Jonathan, and Will staying at the Wheelers.
Karen was kind enough to offer up their house as a temporary place to stay immediately, and didn’t give Mr. Wheeler any time to groan. The man did his best to ignore everything and everyone, permanently stuck in his recliner.
Joyce stayed in the living room, and Jonathan in Nancy’s room.
Will got the basement.
Even with everything that had changed over the year he had been gone, the basement was the same. Board games scattered all over, paintings and posters all over the walls. It was nice to see that at least one thing was consistent.
The boy closes his eyes, praying sleep will take him over.
It doesn't.
He sighs, sitting up abruptly. Over the week they’ve been staying at the Wheelers, Will has gotten merely a few hours of sleep. When he is asleep, he’s plagued by nightmares, or flashbacks.
There is a light sound of a door creaking, causing Will to jump up.
He can’t decide whether he would have a demogorgon, or the tall lanky boy to look at when his eyes find the source of the noise.
Mike stands at the doorway, very still.
He knows it sounds terrible. It’s not that he doesn't want to see Mike, it’s quite the opposite. He’s all Will wants to see, but he's trying really hard to rip the bandaid off.
But Mikes just too god-dambed sticky.
“Hey,” Mike says awkwardly. He tiptoes down the basement steps. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Will does his best to ignore his unsteady heart. Mike looks unusually good for someone sleep deprived during the apocalypse.
His hair is messy from sleep, but in a pretty way. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.
‘Hellfire club’ huh. Wonder what that is.
Will musters up a smile at the boy. “Oh, no. I was already awake.” he says quietly, taking a seat back on the couch. Mike looks him over once he’s close enough too.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” he says, his arm reaching to the back of his neck “Just…wanted to check in.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
It’s awkward, and it's miserable. Will wants it to just go back to the way things were- before he was kidnapped and he fell in love with him and the world started to end.
He wishes he was normal.
Mike looks like he wan’t to say something more, instead stepping over Will's legs and taking a seat next to him on the couch.
They’re close, their legs almost brushing. Will pretends not to notice, not to care.
He looks up at Mike, who's looking down at him. The only sign of tiredness was the dark spots under his eyes.
He has this thing with holding intense eye contact with people. It makes a small, insane, part of Will worry he can read his mind. That he can hear his thoughts.
“Are you…okay?”
The question seems to be out of nowhere, but it's not. Even with Vecna being weak, he will be back. And Will can still hear him- feel him. There's no moment where he isn’t whispering things into the back of his mind. There's no rest.
Everyone keeps asking if he's okay. He isn’t.
“As okay as you can be in this situation, I guess,” he says, breaking Mike's intense gaze. He stares at a soda-pop stain on the carpet underneath their feet.
Mike’s breath shudders anxiously. “I don’t mean about the Vecna stuff Will.”
This brings Wills attention back to his face very quickly. What else could he mean?
“What are you talking about, Mike,” he says eyebrows scrunching together. Mike mirrors his expression.
“I mean…just in general. Like- I don’t know. You never told me about what it was like in Lenora for you. If you made friends or anything. And we haven't really talked- really talked- in…a year.”
Will has a hard time holding his snarky response of ‘you never asked’ but it feels out of place, so he does.
He leans back into the couch, moving his gaze to the ceiling. Mike follows his movements, eyes never leaving his side profile.
It was odd, sure. His sudden interest in his life in Lenora. But Will wasn’t gonna sit there and pretend it didn’t feel good. For him to care.
“I don’t know,” he says through a sigh. “Not much to tell.”
Mike turns to him, crossing his legs under himself. He looks like a child waiting for storytime, and it is stupid cute.
“I made friends, but they weren't like you guys.”
They weren't you. Noone could ever come close to you.
“That's good,” Mike says thoughtfully. “Was there like…a DandD club you met them in or something?”
Will thinks back to the last time he saw Mike before leaving for California, when he promised he wouldn’t join another club.
He kept that promise.
“No, just in class. The people in Lenora are actually very nice, for the most part.”
Mike nods along, still looking at him.
It’s nice. Talking to Mike like this. Like everything is normal, and there isn't a fault in the Earth just a few miles from them. Like the odds aren't bet against them.
Will looks back at him. He looks like he wants to say something again. He silently waits for him to gain the courage.
“Listen, about the painting…”
Panic rushes through Will. “What about it?” he says, trying to sound calm.
Mike frowns at him, like his response was disappointing. “El didn’t recognize it.”
Will freezes, blood running cold.
He made up that lie on a whim, that El had commissioned the painting. He doesn't know what he was thinking. Obviously Mike would talk to El about it, and obviously she wouldn't know what he was talking about.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I’m not mad,” Mike says, probably seeing the panic that immediately washed over Will. He feels tense, hunshing into himself. Mike reaches out, setting his hand on his shoulder. “I just…don’t get it.”
It surprises Will. Why isn’t he yelling at him? Cursing at him, telling him to go away. Why isn’t he calling him what he really is?
“I’m so sorry, I-” Will is interrupted first by a sob clawing its way up his throat, but then by two bony arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Hey! Hey, it’s ok!” Mike is ever so gentle, just like he always has been with Will. It’s terrifying, and thrilling, and Will just has to only want what he can’t have.
Will melts into the embrace, whether he wants to or not, he can’t help it.
Mike is the sole purpose of all his pain, but also the one person who knows just how to comfort him.
How tragic.
His long hair tickles his cheeks as he holds back his tears, pulling away from Mike.
He’s looking down at him. “It was you…wasn’t it?”
Will doesn't need to ask. He knows what Mike means. “Yeah.”
Mike stares at him seriously for a second more, before breaking into a giant grin. “Oh, thank god,” he says before pulling Will into him again.
Will sits in confusion for a moment before a sudden burst of confidence rushes through him. He doesn't get it. He needs to tell it to him, straight to the point. He pushes away again, hands on Mikes shoulders
“No, Mike. You don’t get it. I love you. I’m- I’m gay.”
Mike's eyebrows scrunch, and he nods furiously. “No, yeah. I know. Me too. I love you too.”
It’s all very frustrating. Will groans, but his hands never leave Mike. “No- I’m in love with you. In a gay way.”
Mike laughs- all previous tension erased from his posture. He’s relaxed, carefree. “Yes,” he says laughing. “I get it.”
“In a ‘I want to kiss you right now’ kind of way, “ Will continues, mind spiraling. He doesn't see the way Mike looks at him as his face inches closer. He only stops when Mike's forehead is resting on top of his.
“I want to kiss you right now too,” he whispers, eyes shining.
It’s not possible. It doesn't make sense. But that doesn't stop Will from closing the distance between the two of them and brushing their lips.
Mike smiles into the kiss, lips chapped. Just as Will begins to pull away, he grabs him by the shirt, pulling his back in.
It’s short, and they're seated a bit uncomfortably, but it's perfect because it's Mike. He’s perfect.
Mike pulls away moments later, to look at will. The glossy pink, kiss ridden look on his face is irresistible, causing Will to peck him on the nose(cause he can do that now). Mike does something keen to giggling, wrapping his arms around Will's waist.
“I Love you,” he says, with a seriousness Will doesn't think he's seen on him before.
Will abuses the moment to take his hands and put them in his hair. “I love you too.”
It may be a small moment of peace in a world of destruction and chaos. But that doesn't really matter, now does it?