Work Text:
June 23, 1995
"Oh my god. Seriously, Will? What did you even think? It was just a stupid game between two stupid kids. We're grown-ups now." He sighs."And I'm getting married. You should forget about all this. I'm not like that." Michael pauses. "I'm not like you."
"But, I thought...
"You thought wrong. Now, leave me alone. Please."
December 12, 1987
The darkness in Mike's room almost doesn't allow Will to see his friend's face. But he knows Mike's there, with both of his hands holding Will's naked waist and his mouth leaving wet kisses all over Will's face.
"I don't want today to end. Ever."
"I know." Will agrees. "Me neither."
The clothes of both boys are lying on the floor, right beside Mike's bed.
The present (May 21, 2000)
Her face as she leaves the green car reflects the sadness that haunts her. It's the third time it's happened.
Mike tries to comfort her. He doesn't know what to say anymore. They both get into the house, still not saying anything at all. The drive home from the hospital was also quiet.
"We'll try again. It doesn't matter how many times we have to try; we'll just keep doing it. It's going to be okay." He hugs her from the back, the floral scent of her hair filling his nose.
"No, Mike. We won't try again. It's not going to happen. I know it." She wipes away her own tears, filling a glass with water.
"We'll just search for another doctor, okay?"
"No. It's over." She doesn't dare look at him.
"Then we'll go to an adoption center." He shrugs. "I'm sure we're going to figure this out."
"Stop it, Mike." El shakes her head, putting her gaze on Mike. "I'm going to Max's. Don't wait up for me."
The front door of their house closes a moment after she walks through it.
"Fuck," Michael whispers after a moment.
His eyes are somewhere lost on the kitchen floor.
He looks to his right; the phone has been ringing for a few seconds. He holds the landline to pick it up.
"Michael, it's David." The sound comes from the other line.
"Yeah. Hey David, what's up?"
"Well, remember when I sent your work to one of Random House's offices in LA last month?" Mike nods, even though he can't see him. Jackson takes the silence as a yes. "Well, there are some people who enjoyed it very much. They want to have a meeting with you as soon as possible."
"LA? You mean, Los Angeles?" Mike inquires. He wouldn't have asked that if he knew what to say. But he didn't.
"Is there any other LA?" David laughs.
"Oh my god." Finally, good news. "That's amazing. I'll try to get there as soon as possible. Thank you very much." His lips curl in a smile.
"You're welcome. And good luck."
December 18, 1995
"I'll miss you." El hugs Will one last time.
"I'm not dead." He laughs. "I'm just moving to California."
The airport is almost empty.
"Still, what will I do without my brother?"
Only if you knew, El.
Mike is not there. Nobody is there. Just Will and his sister.
His mother must be waiting for Will, along with Hopper, back in Lenora.
It's time. Will needs to get on the plane.
"You'll be fine. I'll call you, I promise." He smiles without looking back before boarding the plane.
The present (May 25, 2000)
When he told El, she didn't even hesitate. It was almost like she didn't care at all. 'I assume it's only going to be for a week, tops,' Mike had said. She agreed. Maybe it was good for them to get a change of scenery; their days had been stuck in the same routine for years. And they were both getting sick of it.
The flight attendant asks him something irrelevant, and he shakes his head.
He peers at the incredible view next to him: a perfectly blue sky filled with clouds whiter than a sheet of paper; it is worthy of a painting.
This last thought that crosses his mind turns on a light in the very back of his head, reminding him of something he wished he'd forgotten years ago.
He is also there. In California.
But what are the odds?
The flight lasts exactly four hours and thirty-eight minutes, which he spends watching some mid movie he found and trying to keep writing. Even though his novel is completely finished, he's always writing something. He doesn't want to let any idea slip out of his mind. Still, he cannot fully concentrate on anything at all; his head is somewhere else.
The yellow cab drives him easily to the hotel he'd found a few days ago.
A king-sized bed greets him as he opens the white door that says 107 in golden handwriting. He laughs. He wishes he wasn't so lonely that he didn't even need the king-sized bed.
The rest of the room is pretty normal; there's not much to describe.
The meeting is on the 26th. He has a few hours to sleep.
He doesn't call his wife to let her know that he's arrived in Los Angeles.
Mike doesn't unpack. He gets instantly into the king-sized bed; the white, immaculate bedsheets give him the feeling that he's in some kind of hospital. Still, he's too tired to worry about that stuff. The spot fills with darkness as his eyes close slowly.
December 1st, 1987
He kisses Will again. His hands are both in Will's shirt, desperately wanting to take it off. They ran out of breath a while ago. Will sits on top of the desk, throwing to the floor every single object that used to be there: books, pencils, etcetera. The kiss gets more and more intense while Mike places his hands now in Will's waist and pulls him closer. Michael removes his lips from Will's at the same time he hears the footsteps getting closer to Will's room.
"It was probably just Jonathan going to his room." Will says after the footsteps can no longer be heard, Mike nods.
"I should probably be heading by now. My mom told me not to stay here too late." His gaze doesn't leave Will's wet lips.
"Okay."
"Okay." Then kisses him again.
Mike doesn't leave Will's house until two hours later.
The present (May 26, 2000)
He doesn't know how it was possible for him to wake up; he was so tired he could've slept fifteen hours straight and not noticed. But his watch, leaning on the nightstand, lets him know that it's only six a.m. After a cold shower, he's ready to go.
It is not difficult for him to find the big building of the publishing house. The Random House logo is recognizable from miles away.
He walks through the main door, looking everywhere. He doesn't really know where to go.
"Excuse me." He calls when he finds the receptionist. "I'm Michael Wheeler. I've got a meeting today with Jackson Stewart." He lets her know.
She seems to be checking his name on the computer that's in front of her. Then she smiles and nods.
"Mr. Wheeler, nice to meet you. Mr. Stewart is waiting for you in his office; it's on the last floor, the first door to the right."
"Thank you. Have a nice day."
October 6, 1986
"I love you, El. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to say it before. It doesn't mean that I didn't feel it." He kisses her again. "I love you, and I don't ever want to lose you." He lies, looking at her like she's the most beautiful person he's ever seen. Pretending has become such a common thing to do.
Maybe this was the right thing to do. Get together with his girlfriend before his feelings towards his male best friend take over him.
Or maybe it was too late.
The present (May 26, 2000)
"We have a deal, then." They both share a handshake.
This is the perfect opportunity. The money he's going to make with his novel—that's actually going to become a comic now—will help him and El. They may actually be able to have a kid after all; Mike doesn't care if they have to adopt one. They both know they want it.
He hopes El is going to be happy for him. Most of the time, she begs him to stop wasting his time by writing 'trash that no one is ever going to read'.
But first, he has work to do. Jackson told him there are a few things about the book that he needs to correct, and he's planning to do that as soon as possible. That entails Michael staying at the Random House office for a while. Or maybe it doesn't. Jackson gave him the option to go back home and send the work when it's done. But he'd said no.
Of course, he is never going to admit that he hopes to find someone in California. That's the only thing he's been thinking about lately. And he's been wishing it so hard.
What would he do if he found him, though?After all, he's married now. But he can't handle it anymore. He knows he wants to see him. Just take a look at his fucking beautiful face; that must be so changed by now.
He dreamed of him last night, now that he's able to remember. It was one of those many times they shared kisses in Mike's basement. But it was different this time. Because they were both the same age as they are now. And, unlike every other time he dreamed of it, this kiss wasn't interrupted by anyone. Not by Jonathan, not by El, not by Joyce.
When he dreamed of him, he always woke up in tears. Or screaming. And his wife would ask him what was wrong, and she would hug him until he fell asleep again. Of course, he wouldn't tell her what was wrong. He wouldn't even talk about Will to El; his wife had thought that Mike and Will were both mad at each other for some silly fight. If she cared about it, she didn't show it, because she wouldn't talk to Will about Mike or to Mike about Will.
What an idiot he'd been.
He'd been an idiot who thought he was actually over Will Byers.
All the time he spent cheating on his girlfriend.
All the times he was kissing Will's lips, with his own girlfriend in the room next door.
When he finally understood that it was wrong, he talked to Will. They both knew it was wrong. It was unnatural.
He didn't want to be a fucking queer. And nobody wanted him to be.
The worst thing about it was probably that he knew it was wrong but wanted to keep doing it.
And he did.
They did.
For seven years.
Seven fucking years, Jesus Christ.
He calls El when he gets back to the hotel. He lies, telling her that it's required for him to stay at least one month there. She doesn't question him.
February 2, 1995
Dear Will:
I'm only writing this because I know I won't ever be able to actually pronounce it.
The reason I'm writing you a letter is to let you know that we can't keep doing this. And I'm sure you know what I mean. I'm in love with your sister, Will. I've told you a thousand times that this is wrong, and yet you did nothing to stop it.
I'm planning to propose to El soon. We're going to get married.
Please, I beg you to forget everything that ever happened between us. I can now understand that it was a mistake.
Also, don't reply to this letter.
From Mike.
December 3, 1986
"There you are." Mike steps on the last stair from the basement before entering the kitchen. "I was wondering why you'd just left." He gets closer to Will, whose back is to him. His hands are lying in the sink.
"I just wanted to grab some water." He lies. He couldn't stand seeing Mike and El holding hands and giggling anymore. Mike doesn't need to know that.
"You okay? You've been here for a while." Mike ponders, getting closer to his friend.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"The movie's about to end, y'know?" Mike gets closer. Will doesn't look at him.
"I've watched it a thousand times already." He shrugs. His voice is shaking.
Mike doesn't think he's going to be able to keep hiding it from Will. Another step forward.
Will turns around the second he feels Mike's hand over his shoulder, and the dark-haired boy gets the chance to admire Will's features. He's as beautiful as always, with the difference that now both of his eyes are scarlet and the tears are running from his eyes through his cheeks.
"Oh my god, Will." Mike wipes away his tears. "What happened?"
Will doesn't say anything. Neither does Mike.
Still, they know what the other is thinking.
Their eyes meet for an eternal moment. Will's pink lips are wet, and Mike is wishing to taste them.
Will's gaze is on Mike's lips, too. They stay that way for some time.
Then Mike gets even closer, trying to breathe. It's unsuccessful.
Will puts both of his hands in Mike's face, dragging Mike to him. Then their lips meet, softly pressing together. Their eyelashes brush, as does every part of their body. They physically couldn't be closer.
Both Mike and Will run out of breath after the first kiss of so many they'd share later.
The present (May 29, 2000)
"William, this is Mr. Wheeler. The author of the project I mentioned last week. He just came from Indiana. His office will be right next to yours. You two will have a lot of work to do together." Jackson smiles, introducing the two men.
They don't need to be introduced.
Mike Wheeler knows by heart every single detail of Will Byers' body.
He's speechless, almost wanting to pinch himself to see if this is actually happening or just a dream.
And Will's expression is blank.
"Nice to meet you, Michael." He pulls a hand up in the air, waiting for Mike to shake hands with him.
Now it must be a nightmare. There is no way Will just did that, pretending that he didn't know Mike.
The dark-haired man suddenly feels sick, but still, he shakes his childhood best friend's hand without saying a word.
It's embarrassing to see Will's expression; he looks like he's just met some co-worker for the first time. He looks like someone who doesn't want to be there right now.
But the hand he's shaking belongs to so much more than just a co-worker.
Maybe it meant nothing to him after all this time. Mike had told him to forget about it, right? Apparently he did.
Mike can understand Will's reaction. Mike had been such a dick to him for so long.
Their hands would still be together if Will hadn't pulled his apart.
"Well, I'll let you guys to it. You've got a lot to catch up on." Jackson leaves Will's office.
Will has changed a lot. His eyes are still that dark shade of green that haunted Mike's dreams so many times. His features are somehow more manly now. His jawline is way more marked than before, and his new hairstyle also gives off more manly vibes. Not to mention the fact that now he's incredibly jacked.
And his mouth, which Mike has tasted so many times before, opens as he says something that Mike is not able to focus on.
"What?" He says, still peering at Will's lips.
"I said, what the hell, Mike?" He frowns. Mike has probably never seen him this mad. Mike tries to say something, but Will doesn't let him. "What the actual fuck are you doing here?" He steps closer to Mike.
"Will, I-" Mike mumbles. The cold sweat starts running through his face. "You know what I'm doing here. I got this job, and honestly, I had no idea you-"
"No, Mike. We're not doing this." He waves a hand in the air. "You're gonna go to Jackson's office, and you're gonna tell him that you're really sorry, but you changed your mind, and you've got to go home." He points at the door behind them.
Was it that bad to be with him?
"Will, I can't do that." He shrugs.
"Yes, you can and you will. I don't want to see you again. Please, leave." He begs, and his expression shows how heartbroken he is.
"I need this job. I really need it. Me and El need it. We've been trying to have a baby, you know?"
Will's face is blank again.
Of course he knows. He and El call each other every week to catch up. It had been hard for Will to accept it, but they're not kids anymore. This was going to happen one day. Mike and El would get married, and eventually, they'd want children.
Mike continues. "We could afford a better doctor with this money."
Will doesn't dare look at him. He doesn't say anything.
Give up, Byers.
It's time for you to let him go.
He wants to start a family with her.
September 7, 1987
Michael's gaze is focused on the brunette boy sitting across the table.
"Mike." His girlfriend calls, sitting to his left. She's holding a fork with the pasta her plate contains.
"Yeah?" His eyes finally leave Will's to focus on the girl next to him.
"I said, are you okay? You seem, I don't know, closed off."
Will's eyes meet Mike's again. He raises an eyebrow. Mike swallows.
It was only ten minutes ago that he'd been in the garage, kissing Will's lips until they both ran out of breath.
"I'm fine." He smiles, looking at her.
The present (May 29, 2000)
"I haven't read your work yet. But if Jackson did, and he wants to turn it into a comic, it's probably good. He has very high standards." Will explains, trying to keep it professional.
"Alright." Mike sits in front of Will, with the white desk between them.
"I guess I could read it now, and I'll tell you tomorrow what I think. That's it for now. Thanks for coming." He pours himself a glass of water from the dispenser.
It amazes Mike how self-controlling Will is.
"Will, can we?" he pauses. "Can we talk it out?"
Will looks at him for the first time in a while. The pink shirt he's wearing matches his lips. Will closes his eyes for a millisecond, trying to rub off any thoughts about Mike's lips. Then he sighs strongly.
"There's nothing to talk about. Come back tomorrow."
Will gets up from the chair and goes to the door, then opens it to let Mike leave. He doesn't.
Mike gets up and steps closer to Will.
For a minute, he feels like all those years didn't pass. Like it's a normal day after high school, they're both tired, and they go to Mike's to hang out in the basement. And Mike couldn't focus on anything at all because Will was next to him. And when Will was next to him, his entire world changed in the most amazing way possible.
He wished, and he still wishes, that he could ever feel this way about his wife. About the woman he's going to spend the rest of his life with.
Plenty of times he wished that Will was a female so he could be with him forever. But he can't. Because he is a he. Not a she.
And that's wrong.
Everyone knows it's wrong.
"I'm sorry." He blurts it out. "I'm so fucking sorry, Will. You have no idea how-"
"Cut it out, Mike. I don't want to hear it. Leave." He's holding the door, but Mike won't leave.
"Let me explain to you, please." He begs. He hadn't noticed before, but there are a few tears running through his face. "I'm not leaving until you let me explain it."
Will sighs. Then the door closes.
"I'm listening."
"I'm really sorry for everything I've ever done to you. I was such an asshole." Mike fixes his dark hair. "I'm sorry if I ever made you think that..."
He doesn't know how to continue. 'I'm sorry if I made you think that I loved you'? That's a lie. Of course Mike loved him; that's the part that hurts the most. He couldn't help it.
"You ruined my life, Mike. Did you ever wonder how that made me feel? And the fact that you didn't have the guts to say it to my face," He laughs sarcastically. "You wrote me a fucking letter, Mike." He yells. "You're so messed up." His gaze goes to Mike's entire body with a disgusted look.
Mike starts bawling uncontrollably. He can't breathe; he can't speak. Suddenly, he wants to throw up. He tries to wipe his tears away, but his hands are too weak.
He feels so embarrassed and disgusted of himself right now. Will should be too.
"Don't you think it was hard for me, too? Jesus Christ Will, I'm married." He whispers, fidgeting with the golden ring on his finger. "And I still-"
He can't keep going.
"You still what?" Will whispers too.
Mike looks up. The tears stopped coming from his eyes just a few seconds ago. His eyes meet Will's.
"The only thing I could think about when I heard about this job was you." He swallows. He doesn't think he needs to say anything else. "You never leave my mind, Will. Even after five years without seeing you. Or hearing from you at all." The whisper is barely heard.
Will holds Mike's face with both of his hands.
Their eyes meet again. Will's green; Mike's dark brown.
Will has that one look on his face—the look he only uses with Mike.
They get even closer, with only a few inches between their faces.
December 13, 1986
"Is it true that your friend is one of those homosexuals?" His dad asks.
"What?" The dark-haired boy startles.
"I heard your sister saying something about it. Is it true?" His father's face seems more serious than he's ever been
"No, it's not. Will is not like that, dad. I promise." Mike shakes his head.
"How did you know I was talking about Will?"
The present (May 29, 2000)
"I can't do this. Not again." Michael says, stepping away from Will. He wipes his tears one more time before walking through the door and leaving the place.
Because, how could he? How could he ruin once again everything he and El had been building these years?
December 13, 1986
"I wish you were a girl."
The present (May 30, 2000)
"So, what do you do for a living, Will?" His date asks. She is a brown-haired, twenty-five-year-old woman. They met in an art gallery only two days ago. She'd given him her number.
The cafe is almost empty at this time of night.
"I'm a book illustrator, actually." Will takes a sip of Coke. Her eyebrows raise.
"Wow, that's so interesting! I love reading books with-"
"Will?"
Will's gaze moves from the woman in front of him to the dark-haired man that just appeared out of nowhere.
"What are you doing here?" He asks, knowing it's none of his business.
"What am I doing here?" Will laughs. "What am I, five? What are you doing here?"
Mike feels embarrassed; he just blurted out the question without thinking at all. Or maybe thinking too much.
"I mean, I didn't know you-"
"Hey, I'm Olivia." The woman smiles.
"Hey Olivia, I'm Mike. Mind if I sit?"
"Actually, yeah. We're on a date here." Will responds quickly.
Mike raises both of his eyebrows. His jaw drops.
"A date?" He inquires; that was the last thing that crossed his mind.
"Yeah. Any problem?" Will glares at him.
Mike shakes his head, too surprised to say anything.
"Were you following me right now?" Will inquires.
"What? No, oh my god,no. I was just hungry, and I wanted to grab some food. That's it." Mike explains.
The woman—whatever her name was—gets up and goes to Will. "You seem busy. Call me later, so we can hang out another day." Then crosses the door.
"Olivia, i-"
"It's okay." She interrupts.
"What the hell was that?" Will frowns. Mike sits in front of the brunette.
"Same question over here." Mike responds. "A woman, Will? Really?" He's speechless.
"Well, you're one to talk." Will's eyes meet Mike's. "You married one, remember?"
"It's different."
"How is it different?" Will shrugs as he asks the question.
He's right. How was this any different from what Mike did with El? She was just some beard.
Oh my god, Mike. You are actually so messed up.
"I don't know." He holds his temple. "It's just different."
"Why didn't you show up today?" Will changes the subject.
"Assumed you didn't feel like seeing me." He shrugs.
"It seems like I have no escape from you anyway."
"Can we, like, actually talk?" He begs. Again, Will has no escape. He nods, then.
"We could go to my place." He sighs.
December 13, 1986
"I'm not, though." Will looks at Mike as he says it. "I'm not a girl."
"I know." Mike nods. That's the most hurtful part. That he's not a girl.
"And still, you like me." It's not a question.
"I know." He sighs.
Why does it have to be so difficult?
The present (May 30, 2000)
"I don't understand, Will. Everyone knows you're gay. Everyone has already accepted it. You don't need to fake anything." Will should be thankful he doesn't have to fake it.
Mike is sitting on Will's blue couch. So is Will.
"You don't understand." He looks away.
Of course he doesn't.
"What is there to understand?"
Will finally looks at Mike.
"What if I'm the one who doesn't want to accept it?" Mike swallows. He knows how that feels. "I didn't ask to be born like this, Mike. And I've been trying to change it my whole life."
So have I, he wants to say.
He doesn't, though.
"So you've never..." He starts. He doesn't want to know the answer. "You've never dated any other guys? Besides me?" Mike inquires. Will's eyes are filled with tears.
"I've never dated any guy, Mike. Because you and I never dated. I was just your little experiment, wasn't I? Whenever you wanted to experience homosexuality, you just came to me. With your girlfriend sleeping next door."
Ouch.
The reality hits Mike as Will says it.
"That's bullshit."
"Is it?"
"You've no idea what you're talking about."
Mike gets off the couch, standing up. Will imitates the dark-haired.
"Then what is it? What's the truth, Mike?" Will looks at him with resentment filling his entire body.
"I was in love with you!" He blurts it out.
"No, you weren't." Will looks at him blankly.
"You're right." Mike laughs, on the verge of tears. "I wasn't. I am." He pauses to look at Will, whose expression has changed completely in the last few seconds. "But that doesn't matter anymore, does it?" He puts a hand in the air, showing Will his wedding ring. "Because I'm fucking married."
Will is speechless. He doesn't pronounce a sound for a while.
Mike is begging him to say something.
"Leave." Will whispers, then swallows, not daring to look at him.
"What?"
"I said, leave. Now. Get out of here." He goes to his room, not checking if Mike left or not.
The dark-haired man walks through the doorway.
February 10, 1994
"I think I'd want to marry you one day." The dark-haired says.
"That's pretty impossible." Will ponders, half heartbroken and half amused, because he's glad to know that Mike would want to spend his entire life with him. "But I think I'd want to marry you too."
"I just-" He sighs. "I want to be with you, Will. I want to be with you forever."
Will was the only person who could make Mike say that kind of sentence.
Will bites into his chocolate-flavored ice cream.
Mike's lips taste like strawberries.
February 10, 1995
"Will you marry me?" He finally asks the question she has been dreaming about for months. The ring he'd pulled out is still in his right hand, while he's on one knee.
She couldn't be happier. This is all she's ever wanted—a future with him. Nothing else but to spend her entire life with the love of her life.
Tears are shed by both Mike and El.
Although Mike's tears are for a different reason.
"Yes! Oh my god, yes!" Their lips press together.
In the back of his mind, he wishes she was someone else.
The present (May 31, 2000)
Saturdays are Mike's least favorite days.
He doesn't know what to do, so he just stays in bed all day. He wonders what Will is doing. He rubs his eyes, trying to make his thoughts leave. He shouldn't be thinking about him. He should be thinking about his wife.
He hasn't called her yet. He does not want to.
He wants to call him. Of course he does.
Because Will has always been the only person he's wanted to talk to. Or be with.
March 22, 1986
"You've called maybe a couple times. It's been a year, Mike. Meanwhile, El has like a book of letters from you."
"That's because she's my girlfriend, Will."
"And us?"
"We're friends. We're friends."
The present (May 31, 2000)
"What are you doing here?" The dark-haired man looks at Will, who's standing in the doorway of his own apartment.
"You called, remember?" Mike makes an obvious gesture. "Can I come in?"
Will nods, moving to one side.
"I just didn't think you were actually going to come."
"It's not like I had much to do anyway." Mike shrugs.
Both of them feel like they need to apologize to each other. But neither of them does.
They don't move for a few seconds and just stare at each other.
It is amazing the way they have both changed over the last few years. There are no signs or any traces of their teenage years in their features anymore. They're both adults.
"I shouldn't have said that before. I know you-" He starts, but his voice is interrupted by Will's.
"Jesus, Mike. You're married to my sister. I can't believe you just-" He shakes his head slowly. "It's wrong."
"It's not like that's ever stopped us." Mike takes a deep breath.
"It's different now. Before, you were just dating her. Now, you guys are going to start a family. That's insane." Will looks at him, waiting for him to say something.
"Will, I can't believe you. I never could."
"What?"
"You're the one who should be mad at her. I met you first. I fell for you first, when we were just little kids. And-" His voice is interrupted by Will's now.
"You could've broken up with her whenever you wanted to, Mike. No one ever forced you to date my sister."
"It's not that simple. I wish it was."
Mike gets closer to him, moving his right hand to place it over Will's brown hair. He fidgets with a strand of his hair.
"Then why did you come?" Will inquires.
"You know why." He whispers in Will's ear and slowly puts his head on Will's shoulder. Will doesn't back up.
The proximity makes Will startle. Now Mike's hands are holding Will. He doesn't want to let go; he doesn't want to lose him again.
Then Mike's head moves from Will's shoulder, and they're face to face, with the dark-haired man's hands still on Will's waist. Then those hands get Will even closer to Mike.
"Stop, Mike." He almost can't breathe; he can barely hold eye contact with the man in front of him. "It's wrong."
It's wrong; Mike knows. But, again, that's never stopped him.
Now both can feel each other's breath brushing against their faces, getting closer and closer every second.
Then Mike asks, barely heard by Will. "Is it okay if I..." He takes a deep breath again. "Kiss you?"
Will nods. "Yeah." His voice is shaking, and his heart is racing.
Mike gets closer, pulling Will. Then he strongly presses his lips against Will's, feeling like he'd slip out if Mike didn't hold him tight.
The kiss lasts as long as it feels for both of them; they don't want it to stop. The feeling is too good for it to be abruptly cut.
December 4, 1986
Dear Will:
Something changed inside of me last night.
The moment you pulled me closer, I knew I was going to regret it.
But I don't.
I don't regret anything about what happened last night.
And it's so confusing.
I know I'm the one who got close to you; I shouldn't have.
But you were the one who kissed me.
And I know it's wrong. But it felt great. I want to do it again.
You haven't talked to me since.
Please reply whenever you read this.
We need to talk.
Love, Mike.
December 4, 1986
Mike watches the unsent letter as it burns under the yellow flames of fire.
It's better this way, he tells himself.
The present (June 1, 2000)
The bedsheets in Mike's hotel room feel warm under Will's presence. Neither of them wants to get out of bed, despite the time: almost five in the afternoon.
Will's naked chest inflates and contracts with the same rhythm as Mike's.
And Mike cannot pull his eyes away from Will.
"What are you thinking about?" Will inquires after a long silence. His gaze is on Mike's dark eyes—those eyes he'd gotten the chance to closely observe for nine whole years. Those eyes that belonged to Will and only Will. And Mike knew it.
"Everything." Mike sighs, still looking at Will.
"Mind being a little more specific?" The brunette smiles, admiring every single feature of the dark-haired man next to him.
Both of them wish they could go back in time to when they were just high schoolers. And they'd spent hours and hours together. Sometimes doing nothing at all, sometimes doing too much
And nobody would suspect anything because they were best friends. Just best friends.
"I don't-" Mike starts, admiring the slight curve of Will's nose. "I don't want to waste my life anymore, Will. These past few years without you have been hell." He doesn't mention Will's sister's name. "And I don't want to live like this. This is not the way I want to spend the rest of my life."
Not with her. He doesn't even need to say it. Will understands.
"What are you going to do, then?" Will stops breathing for a few seconds.
Mike's lips form a small smile, and then his right hand holds Will's jaw, dragging him closer.
I'm going to leave her, Will. I'm going to be with you.
But he doesn't get the chance to say it. And maybe that's what changed it all.
Before he gets the chance to say anything, before he gets the chance to even kiss Will like he wanted to, they are interrupted by the phone as it rings.
Mike sighs before picking up the landline to answer the call. "Hello?"
Her voice sounds different than it has in the last few months. It sounds happier. She sounds happier.
"Mike," she sighs, and Mike can hear the way she's smiling.
"Hey babe. Is everything okay?" Mike focuses his gaze on the brunette man next to him.
"Someone from the hospital called me yesterday, Mike. They said that my results from the last test were wrong. They were mistaken for someone else's." Her calm voice pronounces.
Mike shakes his head, trying to understand what his wife is saying.
"What does that mean?"
She takes a deep breath from the other line. Then she explains, "I'm pregnant."
And there it is.
That's how easily two lives can be reduced to ashes.
With one mistake and only two words.
But it changed it all.
Because from this moment on, from the moment Mike hears her voice and actually realizes what it means, it's all gone.
Everything between Will and Mike. It's gone.
Denial is the first stage, they say.
It's not a lie. Mike doesn't dare to believe a word of what El is saying. He doesn't want to believe her. He knows what it means.
"I can't believe it. It's the best news I've ever received, Mike. I wanted to tell you in person, but I just didn't know when you were coming back home. And I really wanted you to know. You're going to be a dad, Mike! Isn't that amazing?" She continues after a brief pause. Mike doesn't pronounce a word. He is not listening to her anymore.
His gaze never moved from Will the whole time he was talking to El on the phone.
"What's wrong?" The brunette inquires, admiring Mike's terrified expression.
The present (June 27, 2000)
The purple suitcase feels so much heavier than it did a month ago, when he just arrived in Los Angeles.
The airport is full of different people going to different places to live different experiences.
And Mike is there.
And Will is there.
' I'll fix this.' He'd said, the moment Will asked what was wrong 'We can still be together, Will.' He'd said.
Bullshit.
Will knew deeply that this was a lie. They should have never been together in the first place.
He wants Mike to completely disappear from his life.
And Mike is leaving now, with the job done. The comic is almost ready.
"If you change your mind," Mike's eyes are on the verge of tears. "Just call me, please. I can get a divorce. I'll do anything to be with you, Will."
Will smiles, forcing himself not to cry.
"Too late. You're having a kid." He shrugs. "Goodbye, Michael."
His plane is ready to board.
He doesn't want to leave.
He doesn't want to go back to Indiana, to his old life.
"Jesus, Byers. I love you." He doesn't hide his tears anymore.
"I know."
"What am I-" he sobs. "What am I supposed to do without you?"
The question makes no sense; Mike has lived without Will for five years now.
But now, they both know this is the last time they'll ever be able to be something else.
And it's too late now.
If Mike had gone to California just a couple weeks before, it would've been different.
They're not even friends anymore; they're strangers.
And they're in love.
"Take care of the wonderful wife you have, Mike."
Mike looks at him; they're standing right in front of each other.
"She's not you." He whispers.
"That's the best thing about it."
Mike says something that Will can't hear; he's not able to think anymore. He just watches Mike as he gets on the plane, leaving him again.
December 7, 1986
The water stops running through Will's hands the second he sees Mike's figure through the mirror in front of him.
"Mike, what are you doing here?"
The school's bathroom is somehow cleaner than it usually is.
The clock marks the time; the lunch break is over in fifteen minutes.
Mike doesn't know what to say; his best friend has been ignoring him for a couple days. He doesn't want to lose him.
"Are-" He starts, pausing because he has no idea what he wants to say. "Are we okay?" The dark-haired fifteen-year-old steps closer to his friend, who turns around as Mike says it.
"Why wouldn't we?" Will inquires, his gaze crossing Mike's eyes.
The boys' bathroom is empty. Just the two of them.
"You've been ignoring me ever since-"
Will's eyes were wide open, stopping his friend from finishing the sentence.
"It's not like that. We're fine, i promise." The brunette lies. Mike gets closer to him, who's still next to the sink.
"We need to talk about it." He steps even closer to Will.
Will doesn't want to talk about it.
"It was a mistake. And it won't happen again, I swear."
But that was not what Mike wanted to talk about.
He wanted to talk to Will about the way he'd felt after it happened. And during it.
"Not for me." He blurts it out before realizing what he just said. "I don't regret it at all."
Will startles; he doesn't know if he's actually living this moment or if it's just a dream.
One of his many dreams about Mike.
"What are you-"
He doesn't finish the sentence. His dark-haired friend gets closer and closer; it's almost scary.
Mike looks back to the door, searching for someone who may see them. No one is around, though.
Now both of his hands are holding his brunette friend's face, and he can't help it anymore.
His stomach drops, and so does Will's.
It's just one kiss, he tells himself.
It doesn't count as cheating.
He just wants to try.
Just once.
All of these thoughts leave his mind the moment he presses Will's mouth against his own, tasting every single particle of him.
He can feel his own heartbeat slipping from his chest to the outside of his body.
When they separate, he can't breathe. And he can't take his eyes away from Will.
"Is it crazy if I told you that I think I love you?"