Archive of Our Own

Will jumped as someone knocked on his door. He slammed his sketchbook shut. "Yeah?"

His mother cracked the door open. "Mike is on the phone, hun. He wants to ask you something."

Will nodded and swung his legs off his bed. "Did he say what?" he asked as he followed his mom into the kitchen. She shook her head. "Something about plans for Friday night? I'm not sure."

She picked up her purse off the table. "I need to go pick up Jane and Max from the mall. See you later, baby."

She kissed his forehead before she left, locking the front door behind her. 

Will picked up the phone. "Mike, I swear-"

"Just listen! Lucas is coming, too!"

Will groaned and pressed his forehead against the wall. "For the last time, the answer is no."

"But why? School is starting in a week. One week, then we have to go to high school for one last year, then we're gonna be apart for college! Don't you wanna make memories?"

Will sighed. "Yeah, I do, but my ideal summer memories don't include driving you home while you're shit-faced in Jonathan's car."

"I'm not gonna get drunk again, Will," Mike protested. Will snorted. "You said that last time."

Mike sighed. "Look. If you want me to be completely honest, I don't really want to go. But Lucas got invited, and he didn't wanna go alone, and I don't wanna go alone, and Dustin's still at that science expo thing. Plus, I really need to get out of my house for a few hours. I can't- it's too depressing. Holly's asking every ten minutes why Dad still hasn't come back,  and Mom's on the verge of another breakdown, and it just...sucks right now."

Will closed his eyes and thought back to how many times Mike had showed up on the Byers' doorstep late in the afternoon or early in the morning this summer, sheepishly asking to spend the night, telling Will in whispers what they had fought about this time, and when Ted had finally packed up and left, and how Nancy had called it years ago but Holly was still asking where Dad went. 

Will sighed as Mike waited expectantly. "Fine," he said. "I know you're gonna get absolutely plastered, though, so you're lucky I don't drink."

"Thank you, Will. Pick me and Lucas up at nine, okay? Thank you!"

"Yeah. 'Course."

He sighed again as he hung up the phone. Mike didn't use to be this way. These past few months, ever since the first week of summer, he had been reckless. He would drink, then get sick, and Will or Dustin or Max would have to drive him home while he rambled about nothing at all and his hands fidgeted with anything and everything.

Will wasn't stupid, and neither were his friends. They all knew why Mike had become this way. They had all been there when Karen and Ted had The Fight. 

They had heard the screaming. Mike had shaken his head. "It'll be over in a few. They're just blowing off steam."

But ten minutes later, even after they shut the basement door, they could still hear Mike's parents throwing obscenities and insecurities at each other. Will was sure he heard glass shatter, which made him and Max flinch. 

The screams were mainly unintelligible words from where the Party was in the basement, but they had all heard those four words, the screamed words from Karen Wheeler, those four words that changed Mike's life. 

"I WANT A DIVORCE!"

Will had looked at Mike then, they all had. His face was blank as he stared at the floor, his fingers absently picking at his jeans. The only thing that gave away his feelings was the way his hands trembled. 

Will had wanted to grab his hands, to hold them in his own until they stopped shaking. And maybe he would have if Mike hadn't stood and mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom before locking himself in there as the screaming stopped and the Party left, one by one, casting looks over their shoulders at the closed bathroom door as they left the Wheelers basement. 

Will had been the last to go. He wanted to say something, but what? I'm sorry? I know how it feels? 

I love you? 

He left without saying anything, just nodding to Karen as he did, ignoring her red eyes and raspy voice as she told him to have a good night. 

And a week later Mike turned up at his door at two in the morning. When Hopper opened the door, Mike had asked in a raw voice if he could see Will. 

To everyone's surprise, Hopper said yes. 

Mike spent the next few hours sobbing into Will's shirt, asking him what he had done wrong. 

"I mean, it's not like none of us saw this coming, right, but he's still - I mean, did he even think about Holly? About how -"

And when he finally fell asleep in Will's bed at five a.m., Will slipped out of his room and sat in the kitchen with his parents and siblings and explained that Ted was gone, moved to Ohio to live with his brother, and Holly and Nancy wouldn't know until they woke up. But Mike, who couldn't sleep, overheard his parents whispered conversation and his mother's muffled sobs after the door was closed and Ted Wheeler was gone. 

They had all sworn not to tell anyone, even though Mike told the Party a few days later. Jane, who already knew from Will, just hugged him as he cried. Max couldn't even find it in herself to joke that day.

They never brought it up again, The Fight or the day Mike told them his dad was gone for good. But every time Mike drunk dialed one of them from his basement, or they had to drive him home, or he threw up after drinking too much, they would exchange looks before dragging him through the back door of his house and making sure he was comfortable in his basement before leaving. 

Will hated it. It had been like this for two months, and Mike showed no signs of slowing down as their senior year was about to begin. And Will was sure Nancy knew because he was sure Jonathan had told her where her little brother went almost every night, but if she did, she hadn't said anything. 

So hours later, after Jane had returned home and showed Will everything she had bought, and the five of them ate dinner and Joyce had told Will he could go as long as he was back before three in the morning, and Jane had just shaken her head when Will told her that he was taking Mike to a party, he left to pick up his friend and the boy he loved. 

They arrived, and Will found a place to park, and the three boys entered the crowded house. 

The loud music, flashing lights, and push of people against him were not doing good things for Will's anxiety, and to top it all off, Mike vanished five minutes later. 

So much for not wanting to go alone.

An hour and a half after, Will found himself sitting alone on the hood of Jonathan's old car he had gifted Will when he got his license. 

He was thinking about Mike, because he was always thinking about Mike. 

He wondered what Mike was doing inside the house right now. Probably puking his guts out.

Will sighed and lay on his back, staring up at the stars, the latest pop song carrying down the street to where Will was. 

"How did you know you were in love?" 

Will's voice floated back to him. He closed his eyes. 

Jonathan turned, setting down his plate. "Why do you ask?"

Will shrugged. "I'm just...curious, I guess. You are in love, right?"

Jonathan chuckled. "I am."

He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. "What do you want to know?" He asked. 

Will looked down at his feet. "How did you know Nancy was the one? I mean, when did you know it was love and not just a stupid crush?"

Jonathan took a deep breath. "Well." he paused, looked up. Then he smiled. 

"I knew before she did. I started having a crush on her while she was still with Steve. She was just so nice to me, and I was kind of lonely. My only friend was a lame twelve-year-old."

Will frowned, and Jonathan chuckled. "I'm joking." 

He shuffled his feet and continued. "I think I realized it was love when I became more aware of her, you know? Like, when it was just a crush, it wasn't as serious. Sure, I knew what she liked, what she didn't, her favorite color. I knew what her facial expressions meant, how she played with her jewelry when she was anxious about something. Stuff like that. But then I started to notice everything. Her smile. The way her eyes looked when she was happy, mad, sad. The way her hands looked, the way her hair fell on her shoulders- before she cut it. I became more aware of her than I had ever been. With her emotions, too. It was weird because I could look at her and instantly tell what she was thinking. Maybe it was because we had been friends for a few years before we started dating, but I don't know. But it felt strange, and a little scary. Because I had never liked someone that much before. And when we kissed for the first time, I knew I was a goner."

Will had been staring at the floor the whole time Jonathan had been talking, but now he raised his head and made eye contact with his big brother. 

"I think I've been a goner for a long time," he whispered. Then the tears came.

Jonathan crossed the kitchen and hugged him while Will wiped his tears away. 

As he replayed the week-old conversation in his head, Will felt a strange feeling of resolve settle over him. 

He couldn't have Mike. He had accepted that by now. He was happy to be his friend, his best friend. He would bend over backward to make Mike happy. He would do anything for Mike. 

Will was just happy to be in his life. And that was why Mike could never know how he felt. Because if he did, he would hate Will.

And Will could handle not being with Mike, as heart and soul-crushing as it was, but he didn't know how he would survive if Mike hated him, if Mike kept his distance. 

Will already hated himself. He didn't need Mike to hate him, too.

So he resigned himself to a life around Mike, but not a life with Mike. And he promised himself, right there on the hood of his car, that Mike would never know. Could never know. 

He lay there and stared up at the stars, lost in thoughts that never truly went away, caught up in longing and sadness and fear and the way his friends look at him if they knew, the way Mike would look at him if he knew.  

But he knew, and Jonathan knew, and his mom probably did too, and if he told them he knew deep down that she wouldn't care and Hopper wouldn't care and Jane wouldn't care and they would love him just the same, but the words his father spit at him in his youth with a face full of hatred would echo through his memories and stopped him every time he thought about telling them. So he never did, and he never would, and this secret, this disease, this sin would die with Will and his brother, running through Will's veins, making him unholy, unwanted, and dirty until his heart stopped beating. And then no one else would know, and the disease and sin would leave this earth with him, and so would his love for his brother and sister and friends and mom and Hopper and Mike. 

He took a deep breath to slow his racing thoughts. He ran a hand down his face, and it came away wet. 

He was crying. His father would really have something to say about that.

"Dude, come on, please, his car is right there-"

"Shuddup, Lucas."

Will sat up so quickly that he felt dizzy. "Lucas? Mike?"

He slid off the hood of his car. Lucas was making his way up the sidewalk, dragging a stumbling Mike with him. 

"Will, thank God. Help me out?"

Will rushed forward and put Mike's other arm around his shoulders so he was supported by both Lucas and himself. 

"Your eyes are so pretty," Mike slurred, staring at Will. 

His face turned red, but he ignored Mike in favor of shoving him in the back seat, Lucas riding shotgun this time. 

He drove them back to Lucas's place, glad that he lived so close to Mike so he wouldn't have to listen to Mike rambling nonsense for much longer. 

Lucas frowned as Will stopped in front of his house. "We can go to Mike's first if that's easier. I can help get him inside."

Will shook his head. "It's fine, Lucas. Really. I can handle it."

"Are you sure?"

Will nodded. "Yeah. It's fine."

Lucas sighed. "If you insist. I'm sorry we dragged you along to this, Will. And I'm sorry if we've been shitty friends to you recently." 

"You haven't done anything wrong, Lucas."

He shrugged. "Thanks, but I have. And I'm sorry about Mike, too. He's...going through a lot. Be nice to him, okay?"

Will frowned. "Yeah, I know he is. That's why he's like this, right?"

Lucas nodded. "Yeah, but besides, y'know, his parents, he's really in his head right now. He's got a lot going on up there."

Will opened his mouth to ask for more details, but Lucas spoke again. 

"Sorry. It's getting late. We can talk tomorrow, okay?"

He got out of the car and closed the door. Will waited until he saw Lucas's front door close behind him before driving off.

He got to Mike's house and parked the car. 

"Alright, let's go. Open the door, come on."

Mike opened the door and almost fell out of the car. Will sighed and pulled him to his feet. He was taller than Will but was all skin and bones, so he didn't weigh much. 

"Is your mom still awake?"

He shook his head as Will helped him up his driveway and around the back of his house. He opened the back door, closing it behind him as quietly as possible. 

Tiptoeing down the stairs, closing the basement door, and sitting Mike on the couch was something he had done a dozen times before. Mike was mumbling something under his breath, and Will thought he heard his name somewhere in the meaningless words Mike was spouting in his drunk state, but he wasn't sure. 

So he made sure there was a trash can and a water bottle within Mike's reach and turned to go.

"Will?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

Mike looked at him, a plaintive look in his eyes, and for a second he sounded sober. 

"Can you stay?" 

And because Will was a fool in love, and because he would give Mike the world if he only asked, and because he was looking at Will like that, he lowered himself onto the couch next to Mike. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Mike picking at his shirts, then jeans, then fingernails. 

"Do you ever want something even though you know you can't have it?"

Will looked over at Mike. "What?"

Mike sighed. "I want a lot of things, Will. I want so much. But I don't deserve any of it."

"Don't say that. You deserve everything you've ever wanted, Mike."

He shook his head. "No, I don't. Because I have a secret, and if you knew - if anyone knew - shit, Will, you would never fucking look at me again."

Will reached out and grabbed Mike’s wrist. “That’s not true,” he whispered. “That’s not true at all. Nothing could change the way I see you.”

If only he knew how deep those feelings really went, how much Will really meant those words. 

But he could never know.

Mike laughed. “You’re wrong. God, I just, I don't know, I just want so much, y'know? But I feel like, the moment I get close, it all slips away."

His words were slurred and his hands were fidgeting drunkenly with his shirt. "You don't know what I'm talking about, though. Jesus, Will. You're so - so fucking perfect, you wouldn’t know."

Will felt his face turning red. "I do know. I know exactly what you mean, Mike."

Mike shook his head violently. He tossed his head back against the couch. "No, Will. You don't. Because the thing I want most of all, the thing I hate myself for wanting, is sitting right next to me. And the universe is cruel enough to remind me every day how I can never have what I want."

Will yanked his hand back, away from Mike’s wrist. His face was on fire. His whole body was on fire. His thoughts were running a million miles a minute, and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, so loud and fast he was sure Mike could hear it and that it would explode at any second. 

"I want so much. But I don’t deserve any of it."

"You’re wrong."  

"You’re so - so fucking perfect, you wouldn't know."  

"Because the thing I want most of all, the thing I hate myself for wanting, is sitting right next to me."  

Mike’s voice played in Will’s head as he fished around his brain, searching for something, anything, to say. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he finally whispered. “You’re drunk, it’s late and you’re confused. You don’t - you don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Mike shook his head, staring at Will with the same look in his eyes as when he asked him to stay. 

“Maybe I don’t, Will. Maybe I don’t know exactly what I’m saying. But I’m just…I’m so in love with you, you know that? I'm surprised people don’t, honestly, because it’s so fucking obvious.”

Will couldn’t move, couldn't breathe. But, mercifully, Mike’s eyelids were closing as his voice slowly got quieter and quieter. 

“And you hate me now, don’t you? Fuck, Will, I fucked up bad, didn’t I?”

Will didn’t respond. What would he say? What could he say?

So he waited until Mike’s breathing evened out, his eyes closed, and his fingers stopped fidgeting to sneak out the back door and drive himself home. 

And as he collapsed into bed, the only voice in his head was Mike’s.

“Maybe I don’t, Will. Maybe I don’t know exactly what I’m saying. But I’m just…I’m so in love with you, you know that? I'm surprised people don’t, honestly, because it’s so fucking obvious.”

“And you hate me now, don’t you? Fuck, Will, I fucked up bad, didn’t I?”

Three days. 

That's how long it had been since Will left his house. He told his family he was sick, and barricaded himself in his room, coming out at ungodly hours of the night to eat, then laying in his bed and hearing Mike's voice again. 

"How did you know you were in love?"

“And you hate me now, don’t you? Fuck, Will, I fucked up bad, didn’t I?”

No, Mike. I don't hate you, I could never hate you is what he should have said. But he didn't, because Mike Wheeler was drunk and exhausted and angry at the world and he was glad Will was avoiding him, glad Will had locked himself in his room, glad to be rid of sin in the form of Will Byers. 

"You're a little fag, Will. Why are you crying, boy? Why the fuck are you crying? Men don't cry, goddamn it! Only queers and pussies cry. Get up. Get the fuck up!"

Will flinched as someone knocked on his door, interrupting his father's voice and pushing him back into his box in the back of his mind. 

"Come in," he said. 

He was expecting his mom, coming in to ask him if was hungry or feeling better or wanted to go on a walk, so he was a little surprised when Jonathan walked in, trailed by Jane, who didn't bother shutting the door behind her. 

"We need to talk." She said as a way of greeting. 

Will's hand twitched. "About what?"

Jonathan sat on the edge of Will's bed as Jane took his desk chair. 

"We know you're not sick, Will."

"Wha - What do you mean?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "I hear you in the kitchen every night after you think everyone else is asleep. And you've had some visitors. One in particular keeps coming by."

His sister nodded. "Mike has knocked on the door five times a day for the past three days. I love him, but he's starting to piss me off."

Jonathan nodded. "And Lucas has been by a few times. He asked me to tell you to call his house or radio him whenever you feel better." 

"So," Jane asked, raising an eyebrow, "We need you to tell us what's going on."

Will sighed. "I...It's complicated, okay?"

She shrugged. "We have time. Mom and Dad are out for date night. They won't be back for at least an hour."

She looked at him expectantly. Jonathan just gave him a small nod, and Will understood that he wasn't going to tell her anything Will didn't want him to. 

"Something happened," Will whispered.

He wasn't planning on telling them everything, but once he started talking it all spilled out. 

He told his sister everything he already told Jonathan, and then some. He told them what Mike had said, how Will was hiding from him, from himself, from his feelings. 

He told them about the disease rushing through his veins, the sin he had been plagued with the day he was born, and the emptiness in his heart.

And when he was done, they held him as he sobbed. For the first time in ten years, Will allowed himself to cry. He allowed himself to be held.

And after ten minutes, when his sobs ebbed and he wiped his tears away, Jonathan and Jane still held him in their arms. 

Will didn't understand why. After all, he was dirty, a stain on society, an embarrassment as a son.

"It's okay,' Jane whispered. "It's okay."

Will shook his head and pulled away from his siblings. "No," he whispered. Then, louder, "No."

"You can't tell me that it's okay. It will never be okay."

"Will-" Jonathan reached out for him, but Will slid out of his bed and stood on shaky legs. 

"No! You don't- you should be disgusted right now! You should be pushing me away! You should be - you should be swearing at me, calling me a - a stupid fag, a mistake, an embarrassment to our family! You shouldn't be telling me that it's okay! Nothing about me is FUCKING OKAY! I'm alone, and I will be until the day I fucking die, and I'm okay with that because at least I can't infect anyone else, but for you both to say that it's okay, that what I am is okay? It's a joke. It's all a fucking JOKE!"

Will collapsed in on himself. His knees buckled, and the world spun as he fell. He felt his siblings rush to his side to help him up, but he pushed them away. 

"Leave," he said. "Please, just - leave."

But they didn't. They sat by his side as Will fought his head, his heart, his father's voice. He didn't have any tears left to cry, but he screwed up his face and squeezed his eyes shut like he did when he was little and his parents would fight. 

He felt like he was drowning. He had shown too much emotion. He couldn't go back now. They saw. They had seen who he really was, what he really felt, and they would surely leave him now. Any minute now, they would leave. Just like his father did, just like Mike was bound to. 

"Will? Look at me, please," Jonathan whispered. 

Will dragged his head up. His limbs felt so heavy, and his head was certainly weighed down by his thoughts and regrets. He looked into his brother's eyes, expecting to see hatred and disgust, but all he saw was love and tears threatening to spill out. 

"I'm not Dad. I'm not him, Will. And I'm not - I don't think those things, especially not about you."

And Jonathan was crying now, tears running down his face as he gripped Will's shoulders like a lifeline. 

"And you are not a mistake, Will. And everything about you is beautiful and perfect, just the way it is. You're not - you're not some sort of illness, Will, you're an amazing teenage boy who survived a shitty childhood and deserves all the happiness in the world, and then some."

Will thought he was out of tears, but as he watched Jonathan cry, he felt fresh tears trekking down his face. These tears were different than the previous ones, though. They felt less angry, less desperate. They felt like something he should have released a long, long time ago. 

"You are not a mistake. Never fucking think that, Will. You are perfect, exactly as you are, and we love you more than you know. I love you more than you know. What you are, who you are, is beautiful. You are not disgusting, you are not a mistake, and you are not useless. You are William Byers. You are seventeen years old. Your favorite color is green, and you have a family that loves you more than life itself and will never leave you, never turn their backs on you."

Jonathan pulled Will forward and hugged him with all the strength in his body, and Will let him. 

He could hear Jane quietly crying beside him, so he reached out and took her hand. She leaned her head on his shoulder. 

That's where Joyce and Hopper found them when they got home thirty minutes later, still in a pile on Will's bedroom floor. 

And when Will sat them down in the living room, eyes still red and puffy, he clutched Jane's hand for comfort while Jonathan sat next to their mother on the edge of the couch, he told them the truth that he had been hiding from everyone, even himself. The truth he had been running from for years.

Joyce rushed to hug him, to stroke his hair and tell him that she loved him no matter what. Will's hand shook in Janes's as Hopper stood and walked towards him, but he didn't push him or hit him or drive him out of the house using hateful words and empty beer bottles. 

He hugged him as tightly as Jonathan and Joyce had. "I'm proud of you, son," he said. 

And Will cried again. 

Much later that night, after Will had showered and eaten a proper meal for the first time in three days, he was laying in bed, working on his latest sketch when Jane knocked on his open door. "Hey. Can I come in?"

Will closed his notebook and set it aside. "Of course. What's up?"

"You need to talk to Mike," she said.

Will sighed. "I know. But -" 

She held up her hand. "I know. But, listen, Lucas just called. He asked if you could go to his place at ten tomorrow morning. I said you could."

She ignored Will's protests. "You're a vampire. You haven't seen the sun in, like, four days. You're going tomorrow, and then you're going to go to Mike's house and talk to him. Okay?" 

"What if he hates me, Jane? I can't handle it if..."

He trailed off as she crossed the room to hug him. 

"He could never hate you, Will. Never." 

She kissed him on the forehead, the same way their mother did. 

"I love you, Will. Goodnight."

He hugged her back. "Love you too, Jane. Goodnight."

He went back to his sketch, a new energy in him. Even as the hours ticked by, he continued drawing, erasing, and perfecting until it was finally finished.  

He turned it over and scrawled two words as the sun rose outside his window. 

Will wandered into the kitchen, grinning when he saw his coffee mug sitting on the counter, just like always. So he really didn't hate him. 

He yawned as he joined Hopper in their backyard, leaning heavily against the railing of their fairly new porch. 

"Jesus, kid, ya look like shit. Did you sleep at all last night?"

Will chuckled as he took a sip out of the cup of coffee his stepdad had made for him. "No. Is it really that obvious?"

Hopper grinned. "Your eye bags have bags, kiddo."

He ruffled Will's hair. "Why don't you go take a nap? Jane told me you have plans with Lucas today. I can drive you over there later if you want."

Will yawned. "Are you sure? I feel bad, leaving you out here by yourself."

Hopper shrugged. "Eh. It's alright. You've put up with drinking coffee with me every morning for years now. Go sleep, kiddo."

"Thanks, Hopper," Will said, setting his cup down on the railing. 

He collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep instantly. 

Hopper woke him up three hours later. "Hey, kid. You feel better?"

Will yawned and stretched. "Yeah, actually, a little."

Hopper nodded. "We're leaving in ten, okay?"

He left, and Will threw on a shirt and shorts. He brushed his teeth, then went to leave.

He hesitated as he walked past his room. He looked back to where his sketchbook was laying on his nightstand from a few hours ago. 

He grabbed it before he could change his mind, said bye to his mom and Jane, and joined Hopper in the car. 

It was quiet for a minute. Will fidgeted with his sketchbook, wondering if it was a good idea after all to bring it. 

Hopper cleared his throat. "What you got there?"

Will flipped it over, looking at his name scrawled in messy pen on the front. "Just my, um, sketchbook. I - I made something for Mike. I'm going to his house right after Lucas's. We, uh, have some things we need to talk about."

Hopper nodded. "Important things?"

Will sighed. "Yeah. Really important."

He hesitated, then looked over at Hopper. "Have you ever had someone tell you something that you really wanted to hear, but you were afraid they didn't mean it? Or that they wouldn't mean it anymore if they knew the real you?"

Hopper blinked. "That's an - oddly specific question. But, uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so."

He sighed. "When I first met your mom, we were in high school. And I was completely in love with her. Only problem was, she was dating that son of a bitch Lonnie. And me and Lonnie couldn't stand each other. Oh, we fought all the time, drove your mom crazy. I gave him a black eye at prom, and your mom didn't speak to me again until I moved back to Hawkins. Sometimes, I wonder if he, y'know, messed with you and your brother to get back at me. To remind me what I did.

So I dated other girls. I gained a reputation. I started drinking and smoking young. Too young. Then I moved as far away as I could get from this shithole the week I graduated. Couldn't wait to escape. 

You know the rest. I got married. I had Sara. I lost Sara. I moved back here, re-met your mother. Fell in love again." 

Will looked up and realized they had reached Lucas's house. "I know. What does it have to do with -"

Hopper chuckled and parked the car. "I'm getting there, hold on."

Will shrugged and leaned back in his seat. 

"Well, your mother still couldn't stand me. Even after I adopted Jane, she thought I was just going to go straight back to my old ways of being - well, being a douchbag.  But then we started talking again. We opened up to each other again. 

But I was just so angry. All the time. I would wake up and just be...angry. And I didn't know why. But your mom only saw the best. And I was scared to tell her about all the anger, because what if she decided she couldn't be with me anymore?

But I did one day. I just ripped off the bandaid and said, look. I love you, I want a life with you. I want the dances and the dates we never got to have as kids. I love your sons like my own, and Jane already sees you as her mom. But I'm so angry, and I'm scared that you won't want me in a few years. I'm afraid to let the anger swallow me. And you know what she said?"

Will shook his head, gazing at Hopper as he spoke with more emotion than Will had ever heard in his voice. 

"She said, 'We won't let it.' And I asked, how do you know? How can you be so sure that you can stop something like that? And she said, 'Because loving someone means being there for them in their ups and downs, their highs and lows, their anger and their happiness.'

When I found out Lonnie had been beating on her and you guys, I lost my mind. I would have gone down to his shitty little hellhole and ripped him limb to limb if it hadn't been for your mom, telling me not to, that you guys had recovered that you were okay. But every time I think about it, the more I feel like I should do something. But we can't fight everything unfair in the world, kiddo. We have to choose our battles, and some of them we just can't win."

He turned to look at Will. "Look, Will. I - I'm not pretending to understand what's going on in that head of yours. But you're an amazing boy with a big heart. And, whatever's going on with you and Wheeler, I know you'll make the right decision."

He gripped Will's shoulder. "It doesn't matter to me who you love, kid," he said. "All that matters to me is that whoever you end up with loves you for you. That they love you at every moment of your lives, good or bad, right or wrong."

Will blinked hard, fighting back tears. "Thanks, Hopper. I - That meant a lot to me." 

Hopper smiled at him. "'Course, kid. Now, go on, get outta here. Go figure some shit out, yeah?"

Will nodded. "Yeah."

He reached over and hugged Hopper. "Love you."

He could feel Hopper inhale sharply. Will didn't throw the "L"  word around, and he didn't use it lightly. 

Hopper hugged him back. "Love you too, kiddo. Now, go, before I get emotional."

Will chuckled and got out of the car, waving at Hopper as he drove off.

He knocked once, twice, three times on Lucas's door.

It opened almost immediately. "Will! Finally! You feeling okay? Come in, we can go up to my room."

"Yeah, I'm alright. It's been - these past few days have been, er..."

Lucas waved his half-hearted excuse away as he closed his bedroom door behind him. "It's fine. Really. I heard about Friday night. Mike's already been over here a few times." He said in response to Will raising his eyebrows at him. 

Will sighed and sat on the edge of Lucas's bed, looking around at the pictures of him with the Party on the walls, and the collage of pictures with just him and Max. Taped to the middle was a note Max had written him in freshman year, admitting how she felt since Lucas was "too chickenshit to do it himself," signed with, Love, Max.

Just another example of something Will could never have. 

"Look, man, I'm not trying to tell you how to handle the situation. But I feel like I should tell you some of what he told me."

Will set his sketchbook down. "Nothing could make me feel more confused than I already am, so go ahead."

Lucas sighed and sat down in his desk chair opposite Will. 

"Okay. So. Mike came over Saturday morning. I wasn't expecting to see him until late that afternoon, and the first thing he said to me was 'I fucked up.'"

So Mike had realized what he said was wrong, then. He regretted telling Will what he did, drunk and empty in his basement. 

Will wished it hurt less to be right. 

"The only thing, and I mean the only thing he's talked about since has been you."

Will blinked. "What?"

Lucas nodded. "He told me he said something that he shouldn't have because now he was sure you hated him. All he's wanted to do for four days is talk to you because he is terrified right now. He thinks you hate him. He thinks you're avoiding him. I'm pretty sure he went to your house a few times."

Will nodded. "Jane told me."

Now Will was really confused. If Mike regretted what he said, why was he worried Will would hate him? Unless...

Unless what he said was true, and he was worried Will didn't feel the same?

No. There's no way. 

"-And, I dunno, I'm just worried about him. I think you should talk to him, try to-"

Will cut Lucas off. "Sorry, Lucas, but did he say anything else? Like, about me?"

Lucas leaned forward. "Yeah, he did. But he asked me not to tell anyone. It was really personal."

"Please, Lucas?"

Lucas sighed. "I guess I can tell you some of the less personal stuff.

Well, he came by Saturday morning, like I said, banging on my door like a madman. As soon as I opened the door, he said, 'I fucked up, and now Will hates me.' I asked him why, and we came in and we talked. He sat exactly where you are now, actually."

Will shifted on Lucas's bed. "Yeah?"

Lucas nodded. "He told me what he said, and how he's afraid that you're avoiding him. He's scared you hate him."

There was a pause. Then, quieter, "Did he really say he loves you?"

Will groaned and pressed his palms into his eyes. "Yes, and I've never been so confused! First, he says that, and now you're here telling me that he regrets saying it but he's also scared that I hate him? That doesn't add up at all! If anything, he should hate me!"

"Why should he hate you? Mike could never hate you," Lucas said. 

Will sighed and moved his hands away from his eyes to see Lucas looking at him. 

"Because I didn't tell him to stop talking. I didn't tell him that what he was saying was wrong. I didn't stop him."

Lucas frowned. "Do you really believe that? That what he was thinking and saying was wrong?"

Will shook his head. "No, but it - I mean, he shouldn't have said it to me, is all."

"But why?"

"Because it's exactly what I wanted to hear, okay? But he was drunk and he's pissed off at everyone and everything, and it gave me hope. Okay? That's why. And he's probably panicking because he doesn't want me to think that he's- that he's like that, and that's why he's so desperate to talk to me."

"Like that?" 

"Like me, Lucas, alright? Like me."

He watched as realization dawned on Lucas's face. 

"Ohhh. Oh. Okay. Okay, I get it now."

Will groaned and fell back on Lucas's bed. "So, yeah," he muttered.

Lucas laughed. "Dude, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Will sat up. "What?"

Lucas grinned. "I'm serious! I could've helped you get a date to the Snowball if I had known!"

Will laughed as relief flooded through him. Lucas didn't care. He didn't see him as a disease or an embarrassment. He was still Will, and he was still Lucas, and they were still friends. "Thanks, but there's only one person I wanted to go with anyway."

"Mike?"

Will nodded sadly. "Mike."

Lucas exhaled and leaned back in his chair. "You need to talk to him, man. Like, today."

Will sighed. "I was going to. I even brought my sketchbook, but I dunno."

"Can I see?" Lucas asked. Will hesitated. He had shown Jane last night before she went to bed, and she had said it was one of the best things Will had ever drawn. But that was his sister, not...

screw it. "Yeah, sure. Here."

He handed Lucas his sketchbook. Lucas opened it up, and on the first page was the drawing Will had pulled an all-nighter to finish. He whistled. "Dude. This is amazing." 

"You really think so?" Will asked, staring at the two words scrawled at the bottom of the page. Lucas nodded. "I - it's incredible how lifelike this is, Will. He'll love this."

He handed Will his sketchbook. "Thanks, Lucas."

"I'm just telling the truth," he said. 

"Look, Will. You should go talk to him. Because I promise you, it's not going to go like you think."

Will frowned as he stood up. "I feel like you know something I don't."

Lucas grinned as he followed suit. "In this case, yes. Yes I do." 

And then Will was standing in front of the Wheeler's house, and his hand was shaking as he knocked. 

A moment later, Karen Wheeler opened the door. "Will! How are you? Come in, come in. I'm so sorry about the mess."

The house was, as usual, nearly spotless. "It's fine, Mrs. Wheeler, really. Um, I need to talk to Mike?"

Karen shut the door behind him. "Well, he's actually out with Holly and Nancy right now. They wanted to go for a walk, and I insisted that he go with them. He's been moping around for days, a little sunlight is good for him. Why don't you come sit with me in the kitchen? Are you hungry?"

"Oh, well, I could come back, if you want -"

Karen waved her hand. "No, it's alright. They should be back soon, anyway. Besides, I haven't seen you in a while."

Will set his sketchbook down at the kitchen table and sat down. "If you're sure."

Karen sat down across from him. "How have you been, Will?"

"I've been..." He trailed off. He was going to say fine, but now that he was in Mike's house, talking to Mike's mom, he couldn't bring himself to lie. 

"I've been better, honestly."

Karen frowned. "What's going on, honey?"

Will picked at his fingernails. "Me and Mike - I don't think we're on the best terms right now, and it's confusing because we're not fighting, exactly, but we haven't talked in days."

Karen nodded. "I wondered what's been going on with his lately. Ever since Saturday, he's been acting different. Now, he hasn't been exactly normal since, well, Ted, but, he's been very recluse these past few days. I think I've heard him say three words all week."

Will looked up. "Really?"

Karen sighed. "With the exception of last night, he's barely spoken."

"What happened last night?"

Mike's mom looked at the table, then at Will. "I'm telling you this because I think you're the only person that can get through to him."

Will nodded, and Karen sat back in her chair.

"Last night, he came to me. He didn't say anything at first, he just hugged me. And he cried. I don't think I've seen him cry since...Well, since you had that hospital scare when you were twelve. Anyway, after a few minutes, he asked me a question." 

Will felt a little lightheaded. "What did he ask?"

"He asked what it felt like to be in love. And my heart broke because I couldn't answer his question, and he was obviously hurting, and I couldn't do anything."

To Will's horror, she started to tear up. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Wheeler, I shouldn't have asked. I can leave-"

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. Honestly."

She took a deep breath, then laid her hand on Wills. "Honey, I can't tell you what the right thing to do is right now. But I do know that you and my son have something special. Something different than what you have with the rest of your group. He lights up when you're around. His whole attitude just...changes. It's incredible to see how one person can affect him so much. And I may not have been able to tell him what it feels like to fall in love, but I think that the way he looks at you may be it."

Will felt like he was going to throw up, pass out, and die. What did that mean?

"I think you're wrong, Mrs. Wheeler. I think he hates me now," Will whispered.

Karen laughed. "Hate you? My son, hate you?  That's impossible. He's been obsessed with you since you were kids. Will this, Will that, he wouldn't stop talking about you. Drove Ted crazy."

"I - Really?" 

Karen nodded. "Yes, really. He -" she sighed. "He's been having a hard time recently since Ted left. I think he blames himself. Every day, I tell him it was a long time coming, and every day, I just get a nod in return. I've been worried about him for a while now. That's why I'm glad he has you. You've always been his rock, Will."

Will was speechless. His rock? Glad he had Will? 

He opened his mouth. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, but he didn't have the chance to say anything anyway.

The Wheeler's front door opened. 

Will white-knuckled his sketchbook. 

It had been four days since he had last seen or spoken to Michael Wheeler, and now they were face-to-face in his kitchen. 

"Will!" Holly exclaimed, barreling into him for a hug. He chuckled and obliged, spinning her around. "Hey, Holls! How was the walk?"

She giggled as he placed her back on the ground. "Good. Nancy said she's gonna take me to the pool now!" 

"Well, I hope you have fun," Will smiled at Nancy. "Don't get lost!" 

Holly rolled her eyes. "You can't get lost in a pool! You're so silly, Will!"

She ran off to her room. Nancy glanced around, clearly reading the room in a way Holly wasn't able to. "I'll just...give you guys some space. Nice to see you, Will."

She followed Holly, and Will heard a door close. 

Mrs. Wheeler walked over to Mike and hugged him. She whispered something in his ear, then squeezed his shoulder, smiled at Will, then left the kitchen. 

Silence fell, and Will couldn't help but notice that Mike had been staring at him since he first walked in. 

Will cleared his throat. "So. Um, Lucas said I should, uh, talk to you. So here I am."

Mike nodded and blinked like he was coming out of a trance. "Right. Um, yeah. We can, uh, go to my room? Or the basement? Whatever you want. We could go for a walk if you-"

Will cut across Mike's rambling, something he did when he was nervous. "The basement is fine."

Mike nodded. "Okay. Good. Um."

The two boys walked down to the Wheeler's basement. Mike closed the door behind them as they sat on the couch. He opened his mouth to say something, but Will beat him to it. 

"Look, Mike, it's okay. You don't need to apologize. I don't hate you."

Mike sat up a little more, but he still looked upset. "Thank you, but-"

"And I don't want this to come in between our friendship. We're still best friends, right? Nothing needs to-"

"Will?"

Will stopped talking. He looked at Mike. "Yeah?"

Mike looked sick. His face was pale, his hands were trembling slightly, and he had a look on his face that screamed save me. But he had determination in his eyes, a look Will was familiar with. He got it during debates in History, and whenever he was focusing during D&D. "Can I... I need to tell you something. But it's really - it's weird, right? No, actually, wrong word. It's not weird, but you might think it is. It's important."

"You can tell me anything, Mike," Will whispered. He knew what was coming. Mike didn't want to be friends anymore, everything was too weird to move past, he didn't want anything to do with Will anymore. 

"That's why I'm glad he has you. You've always been his rock, Will."

Mike took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself. "Okay."

He turned his body so that he was facing Will, then took another deep breath.

"It's my fault my dad left."

Will shook his head. "No, Mike, your mom said-"

"I know what she said. She said it was gonna happen one way or another, but I'm the one that pushed. I'm the reason Holly's not gonna have a dad anymore."

"Mike-"

"I told him," he whispered. "I told him and it's my fault."

"Told him what?" Will asked gently. Mike looked up at him, eyes bloodshot from a clear lack of sleep. 

"I told him I fell in love."

Mike looked down at his shaky hands. "He didn't like that it was with a boy."

Oh.

"The only thing, and I mean the only thing he's talked about since has been you."

"Look, Will. You should go talk to him. Because I promise you, it's not going to go like you think."

"He lights up when you're around. His whole attitude just...changes. It's incredible to see how one person can affect him so much."

"That's why I'm glad he has you. You've always been his rock, Will."

"Because the thing I want most of all, the thing I hate myself for wanting, is sitting right next to me. And the universe is cruel enough to remind me every day how I can never have what I want."

Oh.

Will couldn't speak, but his mind was racing. 

Mike looked terrified. "When you started avoiding me, I panicked. I thought you would hate me forever for admitting how I felt. I thought you wouldn't want to be friends anymore. Lucas and Jane and Max, they all told me to talk to you. Even Nancy and Mom said I should. But every time I knocked on your door, I chickened out. I would just ask Jane or Jonathan or your Mom to make sure you felt okay, then I would bike back home like a coward. And you don't deserve that, Will. You... You're so amazing. You're perfect. And you deserve everything you want. I'm sorry that couldn't be me, but I will always do whatever it takes to make sure that you're happy. Because you're what means the most to me."

 Mike still wouldn't look at Will, like he was scared of what he would see. Will was busy replaying things in his mind. 

The way he would catch Mike looking at him during class. The way their legs would touch under the lunch table. The way their shoulders would "accidentally" brush all the time. It all took on a new meaning.

"You can't, Mike. You...you could be normal, you know that?" Will's mouth moved before he could fully understand what he was saying. "You could be normal. You wouldn't have to live with the disease, like me."

Will had ripped off the bandaid, and it hurt. Bad. 

But Mike wasn't letting him. He shook his head, still avoiding eye contact. "No, Will. There's nothing wrong with you. And I've said it before, but you're...you're genuinely perfect. To me, at least."

He groaned and put his head in his hands. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you. I wish I could...I dunno, go back and not be so much of a dumbass. And I know that you and the rest of the Party are tired of dealing with me, and I'm sorry. I just...  I've felt so lost and angry after Dad left. And maybe I've been lost for a while, and I'm only just now realizing it, but I felt angry too, y'know? And it's fucking scary because I don't want to lose you, or the Party. And after Friday, I thought I did lose you. These have been the worst four days of my life, Will."

"But I was just so angry. All the time. I would wake up and just be...angry. And I didn't know why. But your mom only saw the best. And I was scared to tell her about all the anger, because what if she decided she couldn't be with me anymore?

But I did one day. I just ripped off the bandaid and said, look. I love you, I want a life with you. I want the dances and the dates we never got to have as kids. I love your sons like my own, and Jane sees you as a mom. But I'm so angry, and I'm scared that you won't want me in a few years. I'm afraid to let the anger swallow me. And you know what she said?"

"She said, 'We won't let it.' And I asked, how do you know? How can you be so sure that you can stop something like that? And she said, 'Because loving someone means being there for them in their ups and downs, their highs and lows, their anger and their happiness.'"

And it hit Will, right there in Mike's basement, in the exact spot he had sat four days ago. 

He could love Mike. He could love Mike.

God, he loved Mike. He could have this. 

He could have this.

He can have this.

"You're perfect. And you deserve everything you want. I'm sorry that couldn't be me, but I will always do whatever it takes to make sure that you're happy. Because you're what means the most to me."

He wanted Mike. He...deserved Mike?

No. He deserved being happy with Mike. He could have a life with Mike. 

"Because you're what means the most to me."

"Mike!" he exclaimed.

Mike shook his head. "No, listen, if this is the last time you'll talk to me, I need to tell you some things. I -"

Will grabbed his sketchbook. "No, look, I - I made you something. I stayed up all night finishing it."

He handed Mike the sketchbook. "It's a little rushed since I only worked on it for a few days, but it's for you."

Mike opened the sketchbook and inhaled sharply. 

"Will, I... you...you drew this?"

Will nodded, suddenly nervous. "Do you like it?"

"I love it. This is incredible."

Will grinned as he surveyed his art. 

He had drawn Mike Wheeler, because of course he had. 

He had drawn Mike the moment he realized he was in love. 

Last summer, the party had gone to the pool the last day of summer vacation. It was mostly empty, everyone else at home, sleeping in, preparing for the school year of '87. But not the Party.

Max had just pushed Lucas in, and he declared war. The rest of them began pushing and pulling each other into the water. Will, who had his back turned to the pool, didn't hear Mike coming until it was too late. 

"Wha- Mike, no!"

But Mike had flashed Will a mischievous smile, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him into the water. 

He had emerged, spluttering and coughing, while Mike laughed so hard he got a cramp and had to get out for a minute. 

Will had drawn him exactly as he remembered. His nose was crinkled from laughing, his eyes squinty. His face and shoulders were a tad sunburnt, and his messy hair was wet and shining in the sun. But most importantly, he was holding Will's shoulders, laughing so much that even Will laughed at his own misfortune. 

Maybe Will had been in love before that, and he just didn't want to admit it. He had always felt different around Mike, but he assumed it was because they were best friends. But at that moment, he had finally been able to label those feelings. 

Jonathan had described it to him. His mom had explained it. Even Lucas had talked to Will and Dustin and Mike about it. 

Will Byers had fallen in love. 

William Byers was in love. 

William Byers was in love, had fallen in love, with Michael Wheeler. 

And now Mike was seeing that from Will's point of view, seeing what it looked like when you fell for your best friend, and now his eyes were trailing down to the bottom of the page where the words Love, Will were scrawled in messy, post-all-nighter handwriting, and now Mike's eyes finally rose to meet Will's, and Will felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest. 

"I just drew you the way I see you," he said quietly. 

Mike carefully set the sketchbook on the floor, never taking his eyes off Will. "That's really how you see me?" he asked, matching Will's tone.

"Yeah, it is." He smiled softly at Mike.

"Honey, I can't tell you what the right thing to do is right now. But I do know that you and my son have something special. Something different than what you have with the rest of your group. He lights up when you're around. His whole attitude just...changes. It's incredible to see how one person can affect him so much. And I may not have been able to tell him what it feels like to fall in love, but I think that the way he looks at you may be it."

"Listen, Mike. I...I've never felt normal. You know that. But over the past three days, I've sort of...discovered myself, if that makes sense. I've realized that I don't always need to be alone. I should be allowed to love who I want, how I want. I'm not a mistake, I'm not a sin, I'm just...me. And for the longest time, I've hated that. I've hated myself because of who I love. But loving you makes me feel like myself. It makes me feel the most normal I ever have, even if it's supposed to be wrong. But loving you is the most natural thing in the world, so how could it be wrong?" 

He paused and wiped tears he hadn't realized were falling away. Across from him, Mike was also crying, but he didn't bother wiping them away. 

"And you are not a mistake, Will. And everything about you is beautiful and perfect, just the way it is. You're not - you're not some sort of illness, Will, you're an amazing teenage boy who survived a shitty childhood and deserves all the happiness in the world, and then some."
 
"It doesn't matter to me who you love, kid. All that matters to me is that whoever you end up with loves you for you. That they love you at every moment of your lives, good or bad, right or wrong."

"I've been worried about him for a while now. That's why I'm glad he has you. You've always been his rock, Will."

Will took a deep breath. "And I never considered the impossible, which is why I freaked out so much on Friday."

"What's the impossible?" Mike whispered. 

"You love me the way I love you," Will whispered back. "That's the impossible."

"He could never hate you, Will. Never."   

"Why should he hate you? Mike could never hate you." 

"Hate you? My son, hate you? That's impossible."

Impossible.

And Mike was leaning forward, and he was close, so close, so close that when he spoke Will could feel his breath on his lips. 

"Can I prove to you that it's not impossible?"

His voice was so low that if someone was standing right behind the couch they wouldn't have been able to hear him. But Will did. And there was no one else there. It was just Will and Mike. 

Just Will and Mike. 

And Will wanted to say yes, to move forward, to close the impossibly small gap between them. 

But he forced himself away. 

"Is this a joke?" he whispered. He had to make sure. He had to know. Because if he got his hopes up like this, and fell flat on his face, Will would never be the same, never love again. He would become a shell, a zombie, no trace of his former self salvageable. And years later, he would be known as the boy who loved too hard; who loved so much yet lost it all. 

"It's not a joke," Mike replied, voice still so low it could be carried away by the smallest breeze. His dark eyes found Will's, searching, praying, hoping. "I love you through the impossible, Will Byers."

"All that matters to me is that whoever you end up with loves you for you. That they love you at every moment of your lives, good or bad, right or wrong."

Every moment.

Good or bad.

Right or wrong.

Through the impossible. 

He was William Byers, seventeen years old. His favorite color was green. He had a mom, a stepdad, an older brother, and a twin sister. He was in love with Mike Wheeler,

"You are William Byers. You are seventeen years old. Your favorite color is green, and you have a family that loves you more than life itself and will never leave you, never turn their backs on you."

and Mike Wheeler was in love with him. 

And Will realized. 

It wasn't impossible anymore. He can have this. He deserved this. He was allowed this happiness, this love, for the first time in his life. 

He closed the gap. 

Will had never kissed anyone before, and neither had Mike. 

So their first kiss may have been awful in comparison.

But for Will, it was happiness and love and giddiness and joy and all the things he had been deprived of and told he couldn't have his whole life, and Mike had one hand on his face and the other on his thigh and Will's hands were in Mike's hair and he thought he was going to implode.

He was Will Byers, seventeen years old. His favorite color was green. He had a mom, a stepdad, an older brother, and a twin sister. He was in love with Mike Wheeler, and Mike Wheeler was in love with him, and he was kissing Mike Wheeler on the couch in his basement, and he was happy.

 "Holy shit, Will, I love you," Mike whispered as they broke apart. 

"But I’m just…I’m so in love with you, you know that? I'm surprised people don’t, honestly, because it’s so fucking obvious.”

Will giggled, giddy and high on the rush of kissing Michael Wheeler. He moved his hands to Mike's face, staring into his eyes. "I love you, too," he said. And he could say that because he meant it. Because loving Mike was normal, second nature to him. And anyone who thought that this was anything but natural was wrong. Will could see that now.

"And when we kissed for the first time, I knew I was a goner."

He grabbed the front of Mike's shirt and pulled him back down, and their lips met again.

"I think I've been a goner for a long time."