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Mike hunched his shoulders almost up to his ears, stabbing at his bland meatloaf with more force than was necessary. The sounds of chewing and forks scraping on plates echoed through the room, and he willed somebody, anybody, to start talking.
“It’s clearly not natural,” his dad suddenly said, the words thick through a mouthful of food. Gross. Mike amended his mental statement—he wanted anybody other than his dad to start talking. Even Holly didn’t talk with her mouth full (though she was abnormally well behaved, definitely better than Mike or Nancy had been) so why was his dad?
“What’s not, dear?” His mother sounded irritated, but in a way that wouldn’t be noticeable to their guests, because God forbid she give off a bad impression. Mike busied himself fussing with his paper napkin, shredding it into thin strips and piling them in his lap.
God, he wished the Byers brothers weren’t here to see their painful family dinners. They were especially bad in contrast to dinners at the Byers house, where people were talking and laughing and enjoying themselves.
It had seemed great at first, and logical. The Byers didn’t currently have a house. The Wheelers had extra room. Plus, it meant he’d get to hang out with Will all the time! Like an extended sleepover. But just family dinners were making him wish he could stay in Hopper’s cabin with El and Joyce (though Hopper was there too, which… might be just as awkward as this).
“The ‘earthquakes,’ obviously,” he grumbled. Mike accidentally tore his strip of paper in half when he clenched his fists, crumpling up the napkin. He could feel the tensions in the room rising as the four ‘in-the-know’ teens glanced uncomfortably between themselves. His father, however, remained oblivious.
“It's a punishment.”
“A punishment?” Mike snorted scornfully, stabbing at his peas. “For what?” Nancy kicked him in the shin, a silent ‘shut up,’ but he continued. “And from who?”
“God,” Ted stated plainly, and Mike scoffed. He could feel stares burning into the side of his head—not Nancy’s or his mom’s, though, as both of them were far too used to his habit of getting into pointless arguments with anything his father said.
“Are you gonna make this like all your other rants?” He leaned forwards and narrowed his eyes, glaring hard. Both him and his dad knew exactly what he was referring to—the frequent arguments about AIDS, or politics, or anything that clashed with his dad’s stuck-in-the-past opinions. It was 1986, he should act like it. “Ooh, God hates queer people, God hates this fucking backwater town.”
“Michael! Language!” The protest was rehearsed, his mom’s heart clearly wasn’t in it. He wasn’t sure if she even would’ve bothered if it wasn’t for the fact that Will and Jonathan were there.
“Maybe it’s one and the same,” his dad said, and… yeah, that made no sense. Genuinely what the fuck did that mean? Mike rolled his eyes again.
“It’s literally an earthquake and a disease, those don't sound the same to me.” Beside him, he could see Will tensing up nervously, Nancy sighing and slumping back in her chair, Jonathan… being high.
“Hardly a disease,” Ted muttered.
Mike bristled, snapping his head back towards him. “What does that mean?”
“You know what it means, Michael.”
“Don't call me that.” He muttered weakly, trying to push past the wave of numb coldness that had settled over him at his father’s words. He didn’t know what he was talking about.
“You need to stop being so defensive about it, Michael . People might start to think things.” His dad’s words were slow and measured, clearly picked to dig at all the wrong spots.
Mike threw his fork down, letting it bounce off of his plate with a clatter. “Think what? You’re so fucking annoying!” At that, his mom shot him a glare, one that he was incredibly used to at this point.
“Mike,” Will whispered, and he glanced over. His friend—actually, both the Byers looked uncomfortable, defensive. Well. Given their track records with fathers, that made sense. Mike felt himself soften, and sent Will a small, slight smile. It's fine, he tried to say with his eyes, and Will huffed quietly. No it’s not.
Then his dad scoffed loudly, and Mike tore his gaze away from Will. His face felt red, heat rising to his ears and cheeks. When he looked up, Ted was staring at him in a familiar way. Disappointed, vaguely disgusted.
“What?” Mike said defensively, crossing his arms.
“You need to stop acting like a queer, Michael.”
Mike froze, the blood draining from his face. The sound of his mother’s ‘Ted!’ and Nancy’s angry voice melted into static in the background, eyes blurring as he stared at his plate.
Obviously he’d known what his dad had been getting at, what his dad had always tried to imply. How could he not? But still, hearing it stated so plainly… he swallowed hard, shoving away the sadness and instead replacing it with anger,
“Oh, do I now!” He hissed, eyes hardening and narrowing into slits. Underneath the table, Will’s knee knocked into his, and Mike pulled strength from the touch.
“Well, you don’t want people to think the wrong things.” His dad took another bite of meatloaf, a sense of smug satisfaction hovering around him. Everybody had gone quiet, just watching it happen. Like watching a car crash—you wanted to look away, but you looked anyway.
“Who says it’s wrong?” Mike blurted out. As soon as he registered what he’d said, his heart dropped. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He dug his nails into his palms, swallowing heavily. Why did he say that? If he could, he would somehow take the words back, make it so he’d never said anything.
“Michael,” his father said lowly, and the anger sparked up within him once more. He shoved his chair back, shooting to his feet. His hands pressed hard against the table, they were shaking slightly as he leaned forwards.
“What if—what if it’s not wrong?” Mike said, trying to force the shake out of his voice. As he continued, he got more and more worked up, until he was nearly shouting. “Yeah, what if—maybe it’s right! Maybe it’s true, huh?” He felt like he was watching himself from far away, trying desperately to stop talking, sit back down, shut up, but he was fully out of control. “What would you say then? What would people think?”
Will was staring at him, an expression on his face Mike couldn’t even begin to read. He glanced around at the rest of the table's expressions. Jonathan: uncomfortable. Mom: also uncomfortable. Nancy: she was trying to get him to sit down, he could tell. Holly: Well, she didn’t really count. She was, like, six.
Will was staring at him, Mike could feel it, and he didn’t dare to look at his best friend’s face. Instead, he let his gaze flit around the rest of the table. Mom looked shocked, jaw dropped into a perfect ‘o’. Jonathan was tense, sitting uncomfortably straight in his chair. Nancy stared him in the eye, trying to get him to sit down, stop talking. Yeah, if he could figure out how to do that, he definitely was. Holly was picking at her food, one ear pressed into her shoulder as she tried to cover her ears and eat at the same time.
And his dad? He looked livid. His face was starting to redden, and his mouth opened to say– something, and Mike knew it wouldn’t be positive. So instead Mike kept talking, rambling on and on when he really should’ve stopped long ago.
“What if I’m—what if I’m a queer? What are you going to do then?” His voice dropped off as he finished, tension flowing out of his body until he almost felt boneless. The adrenaline was gone, and what he’d said was catching up to him. Fuck, what had he said?
“Get out.”
“What?” Mike’s voice went quiet, shaky. He blinked a few times, hands dropping back down to his sides. No—no, this couldn’t be real.
“No!” Nancy shot out of her seat, knocking her glass of water over in the process. It spilled across the table, and Mike watched it soak into the tablecloth.. “No, you aren’t–you are not kicking my fucking brother out of the house because you’re a bigot!”
And then his mom pitched in, something so shocking that Mike almost didn’t believe it was real. Maybe he really was dreaming, if his mom was taking a side. “Ted, you’re being unreasonable.”
As his family started to argue, voices overlapping and growing louder, Mike took a single step away from the table. He didn’t look at Will. He was too afraid to.
He took another step, then another, faster and faster he stumbled backwards—once he was far enough out of sight, he turned and ran up the stairs into his bedroom. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, he collapsed to his knees hard. The impact stung, but he barely felt it.
God, he was such an idiot! Why didn’t he just stop talking? He’d known that there was no way that could end well, had felt the tension rising. He’d known the ramifications his words would have, known them in that blurry hypothetical way he knew the things he tried desperately hard not to think about. He’d known it wouldn’t end well. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself from saying.
His dad had told him to get out. His dad had kicked him out. If his mom and Nancy couldn’t convince him, Mike would have to leave his house. For some reason, the realisation struck a strange stillness into his core. The bubbling panic receded, replaced by numbness. His dad kicked him out. His dad hated him now, even more than he already had.
And–Will. Now Will knows.
Will, the person he least wanted to know.
Will, the person he had been hopelessly pining after since at least last October—Will, whose freaking sister he’d dated for years!
Will, who–
The door swung open.
Will, who was standing at the door with an unreasonable expression on his face. Will, who carefully shut the door behind him and knelt down beside Mike.
Will, who was–hugging him?
Mike melted into the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he brought his arms up to wrap around Will in response. He pressed his nose into Will’s shoulder, trying desperately not to cry as his hands fisted into his friends shirt. The sound of Nancy yelling something inaudible came through the door, and Will kicked it shut with one foot. Which… didn’t do anything.
His family were all very loud yellers (enough that Lucas could hear them from his own house half the time), so he could still clearly hear his dad calling him an ‘abomination’ from downstairs. Joy. Instead of focusing on what Nancy shouted back, he pressed farther into Will.
“I’m sorry,” he managed, words muffled by the fabric of Will’s flannel shirt.
“No,” Will said quickly, “No, you didn’t do anything!”
“I should’ve just shut up.”
Will didn’t reply, shrugging weakly, and for some reason that made Mike laugh wetly. He should’ve shut up, he’d known he should’ve shut up. That was his problem. When he started talking, he just got so caught up in it that he couldn’t stop. And then it led to shit like this—crying in his best friend/secret gay crush’s arms as his family screamed at each other downstairs.
“It’s not your fault.” Will shifted slightly, leaning back against the side of Mike’s bed and pulling Mike with him. He followed without even thinking, just letting himself be manoeuvred around as he gasped out quiet sobs.
“Whose is it then?” Mike managed, voice acidic. Both the boys knew all of the rudeness in his tone was strictly self-directed, but it didn’t stop the wave of guilt from crashing over him when he talked to Will like that.
“Your dad’s,” Will answered promptly. Yeah, Mike couldn’t argue with that.
Tension hung heavy in the room, both of them were trying to ignore it. What was being left unspoken—Mike wasn’t sure if he had the energy to say it again. But this was Will.
“I wasn’t lying,” he said. And—that didn’t even make sense. God, he couldn’t wait until his brian started working again. “I mean. About being… you know.”
“Gay?” Will’s voice was quiet and hushed when saying it, but at least he even said it. Mike hadn’t had the strength to push the word out of his mouth.
He nodded weakly. “”I didn’t—I wasn’t going to tell them.” Another quiet sob sputtered out of his throat. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d said it. And he couldn’t take it back now. Now they knew. “I didn’t want them to know.”
Will just tightened his grip, hugging Mike tighter against him when his voice dissolved into tearful breaths and muffled sobs. Why couldn’t he stop crying?
“I’m gay too.”
What?
Mike’s sobs abruptly stopped when he heard those words, sadness being replaced by shock. Because— what? Will was gay? Really?
“What?” He said, even though he’d heard the words clearly.
“I’m gay too,” Will repeated, pulling his hands away and starting to twist them together. Mike shifted until he was sitting cross legged facing Will. He was still too shocked to say anything else. Instead he just stared.
Their eyes met, gazes locking onto each other like they were the only two people in the world. The sounds of yelling faded away from downstairs. This felt—it felt too good to be true, somehow.
Maybe Mike was hallucinating. Immediately, he shoved that thought out of his mind, because why the fuck would he be hallucinating?
He leaned in slightly, still staring at Will’s eyes. He watched as the hazel eyes flickered down to his lips, and Mike let himself do the same. Wow, their faces were close together. His cheeks must be bright red, becuawse they defintiely felt like theyu were on fire. Really, he might spontanwously combust because oh my God their faces were so close together.
Mike moved forwards slightly more, until he could feel each of Will’s breaths ghost over his own lips. Then he leaned in further.
Holy shit.
He resisted the urge to kick his feet, trying not to grin against the other boy’s lips—his lips— because they were kissing! He was kissing Will Byers. Will Byers was kissing him.
After a second, he pulled away, opening his mouth to say something. The words caught in his throat when he saw Will’s face. He was flushed bright pink, breathing heavily, eyes wide.
A grin stretched across both of their faces in unison, and Mike giggled hysterically, just once. “Will, I—” He started, intertwining their fingers together.
And then the door swung open.
His head whipped over to where Jonathan—fucking Jonathan, why did he always do this?—stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised so high they were extremely close to just jumping off of his face.
“Uh,” he said, and then sent an unsubtle thumbs up to Will. “I was thinking we should stay at Hopper’s for a day or two. Just until they calm down?” The last sentence was directed to Mike, who nodded. Yeah, he didn’t currently have a problem with getting out of this house.
“So, pack a bag.” Jonathan turned to leave, pulling the door most of the way shut behind him, before he turned back one last time. “And congratulations.”
Will let out an embarrassed sound, throwing a pillow at the door. He missed, and Jonathan’s laughter echoed down the halls.
And Mike just grinned.