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There’s a sigh to the left of him, a light noise, airy with the exhale and Mike finds himself giving a small smile to where Will is slumped, happily falling asleep as a storm quietly continues on just outside.
The basement is almost silent as the evening stretches out, bar the soft drone of the dvd player that had shut off less than an hour ago, and Mike basks in it. He basks in the soft glow of the warm lamp beside him, in the way that the light so gently brushes the edges of Will’s resting face, creating the most peaceful of halos.
Mike smiles to himself, in fact the smile never truly vanished, because he has Will Byers back.
Because after El had inevitably destroyed every possibility of the Upside Down making any kind of mark on Hawkins and the rest of the world, after the Byers’ had to return to the state of California to give up the lease to the house Mike had only visited one eventful time - after everything that has ensued for the past half a decade, he has Will Byers back. And even though this is only the fourth day of the Byers’ Big Return, everything sort of feels strangely perfect.
The rain carries on pouring, hitting the windows of the basement with sharp insistent tapping that doesn’t seem to be fading anytime soon. It doesn’t matter though, not really, because the water is no longer acrid and fused with a kind of poison synonymous with the Upside Down. It doesn’t matter anymore because it’s over, and Mike knows that if he were to step out in it, there would be no detrimental consequences, apart from soaking right through his clothes, where before the sound of rain was enough for a full on lockdown of the town.
And now the rain doesn’t matter because he’s here, in the warmth of the basement with his best friend’s breaths growing slower, and his own limbs feeling lighter than they have done in weeks.
Mike’s fingers find a thread to pull at on the sleeve of one of his old jumpers, he ravels it around his finger mindlessly, releasing every so often and then repeating the motion, all while watching Will.
Watching the faint flush of pink high on his cheek bones at the mercy of the two blankets he’s currently swaddled in, under Mike’s own insistence. Mike traces his angular nose, fondly remembering how when they were little he’d always ask to swap with Will - but now he thinks he prefers it this way, getting to look at it everyday - sometimes just quick hopefully-unnoticed glances, and then in moments like these when he can’t feel so caught out. Mike’s eyes move to linger over Will’s lips, a little bitten but soft, and just above them where his mole sits - how something so small can be so endearing Mike can’t quite work it out.
What he can work out is the flutter of something deep in his stomach. Something that has become a permanent resident in the four days Will has been home, probably longer. Something that has spread now that there’s nothing else distracting him from it.
Because during the four days of Will and El and their family being back in Hawkins, Mike hasn’t really left Will’s side. They’ve spent each and every day together, only really separated at night because Joyce, despite it all being over, still worries about her three children. Mike thinks he understands.
And now that the days are filled with Will, Will’s smile, Will’s soft crinkled eyes whenever he laughs, the way Will seems to be growing into himself now that he is no longer tethered to another dimension. Now Mike can’t help but feel a little helpless about it all. He can’t help but want his days to be filled with Will forever, he can’t help but want to do something right now. He can’t help but want to shake Will awake and ask him if he feels this insatiable tension too.
Mike keeps his hands to himself though, because apart from his own selfish desires, Will looks far too peaceful to be disturbed in this very moment, now that he is properly asleep. And Mike doesn’t mind, not really, he likes being able to observe Will like this without feeling far too transparent and a little guilty about it all.
They stay like that for a while, the two of them - Mike trying to memorise the soothing sight into his long term memory whilst Will lies motionless and free. And maybe it’s far too sappy to wish that they didn’t have to move for the rest of eternity. But eventually his daydreaming is broken when Mike glances up towards the clock on the farthest wall, reading that the time has ticked over into nine pm. Half an hour before Will’s usually flexible curfew - but Mike definitely doesn’t want to be put back into Hopper’s bad books and he doesn’t want Joyce to grow concerned either. And so he peels himself into a stand, trying to make as little noise as possible.
Mike ascends the stairs of the basement, avoiding the creaky step and only looking over his shoulder once, checking to see if he had failed his mission to let Will rest. Luckily he hasn’t, and so he reluctantly trails into the kitchen, almost jumping out of his skin when he sees Nancy sitting atop the counter, concentrating on something that Mike can’t really see.
Her eyes quickly avert once she’s aware of her brother’s presence, her lips softening into small smile. “You guys all okay?” Nancy asks before taking a sip of her water.
“Yeah we’re good. Will’s asleep and I’ve gotta like wake him.” Mike says, probably elaborating a bit more than necessary. Nancy continues smiling up at him, her eyes tracking his movements through the kitchen.
“You’ve been seeing him a lot.” She carries on.
“He’s my best friend, that’s allowed.” Mike is quick to reply, and why he feels suddenly a little defensive is lost even on himself. Nancy holds up her hands, eyebrows quirked with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.
“Woah, I’m just saying.” She quips, still smiling as if she knows something that Mike isn’t privy to.
Mike pours two hot chocolates neatly into some old mugs before setting them down and climbing to sit up beside Nancy. “Yeah well,” is all finds himself saying.
“How is he anyway?” Nancy had been there when Will had been lured in by Vecna. Mike hadn’t. It still aggravates him to this day. Maybe if Mike had been there he could’ve been saved quicker, Will wouldn’t have snapped one of his arms.
But it’s been months, and there’s nothing that Mike could’ve done about it, there’s nothing that he can do about it now.
“Better, a lot better.” Mike pauses, looking up at where his sister is watching him. “He finally seems, you know, peaceful.”
Nancy hums in agreement next to him. She hesitates for a second and Mike isn’t sure whether the conversation is over or not. “I think a lot of that is down to you Mike.” Nancy eventually adds. The words are surprisingly warm, soft even, coming from Nancy at least. So warm that Mike can feel where his heart flutters at the implication that he is some sort of comfort to Will.
Mike smiles back at her, “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Nancy confirms. “Jonathan has said it too. You’re good for each other.”
And Mike knows this, he’s known it for more than a decade. But he’ll admit that to hear it be acknowledged is nothing short of alleviating. “Um, thank you Nance.” Mike says, genuinely meaning it and trying to not flush with her words.
She rests her hand gently on his shoulder, rubbing a small circle there before continuing on.
“Maybe you should talk to him about it too. I think that could be good for the both of you.”And Mike’s not exactly sure what that means and what that conversation with Will would exactly entail, but he nods nonetheless, secretly grateful that his sister sometimes, occasionally has momentary good insight. “Anyway you better not let that get cold. And make sure he’s ready for when Jonathan comes. You knowhow they are about curfew.”
Mike nods again, giving her a small smile on his way out - Sometimes he’s sure that Nancy can see straight through him, can see the way he looks at Will, can see the way he cares for his best friend in a way that could easily be misconstrued as something more than friendship. Because she’s right, they’ve been seeing each other a lot and that yes, they are good for each other. And if she’s right about that then, well Mike can only assume that she is probably right about maybe he and Will should finally talk about whatever is going on - and maybe that would make things even better between the two of them.
Mike exhales slowly as he ambles back down into the basement, internally rolling his eyes at himself when his stomach swoops as his eyes reach Will’s own. They’re open, just about - laced with sleep. But even from across the room, as Mike lands onto even floor, he can see the hazel of Will’s eyes, the small freckle that sits in his iris.
He watches as Will reveals his arms from over the blanket, reaching out and taking one of the drinks from Mike’s hand, the tips of his fingers gently, too briefly, brushing ever so slightly against the inside of Mike’s wrist.
Mike watches as a smile floods Will’s face, gradual and well, pretty. “Thanks Mike.”
“No worries.” Mike flops back onto the couch, ignoring how he is closer than before, and watching Will as they both take a sip from their mugs.
Will stifles a yawn and Mike subsequently stifles a laugh. “How long was I asleep?” Will asks with a tired, lopsided grin that Mike tries hard to not look at.
“Not too long. Half an hour?”
“Sorry.” Will pauses for a second before adding, “I’m probably not the best company.”
“You are to me.” It’s meant to come out as swift reassurance, something Will told him a few weeks ago over the phone, that he quietly needs at the moment, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, Mike realises just how he sounds. He says them with unfamiliar shyness, with something that Will must immediately sense because he stops drinking mid-sip, instead crowding the mug into his chest, almost curling into its warmth.
“Yeah?” Will asks quietly.
“Yeah.” Mike confirms, again sounding so so wreckable. But the look Will gives him is totally worth the sudden sense of vulnerability Mike feel’s he has succumbed to, Will’s lips wide, his eyes glassy and staring at Mike without any kind of defence.
“Good.” Will breathes eventually, “Because you’re my favourite.”
And although this is nowhere near any kind of revelation to Mike, even though he has always been vaguely aware that having a best friend sort of entails that you are a person’s preferred person, hearing it feels so much more different than merely making assumptions. Hearing it makes his insides float with something close to pride, close to exhilaration.
And it’s 10:20 pm and Mike’s trying not to tell Will’s he’s in love with him.
It’s 10:20 pm and Mike’s resolve is increasingly quickly beginning to fall apart with the silence that rests between them, with the way Will’s eyes have yet to avert from Mike’s own, even in the dimly lit basement.
But as the clock on the wall ticks over to 10:23 there is a hushed knock on the basement door and both of their heads snap up to look at where the sound had come from, and a minute later where Jonathan’s head appears, craning round the door. “You ready?” He calls down, and Will calls back a yes.
And then all too soon Will’s clambering off the couch, fumbling with his jumper with a new found pinkness crowding his cheeks that Mike is quite sure he shares. All whilst Jonathan watches from the top of the stairs, as if he knows the same thing Nancy does.
Everyone watches as Will ties his laces into neat bows, careful to tighten at them both, glancing up every couple of seconds as the three others look down at him. Will laughs quickly before telling Jonathan with a sly smile, “I’m pretty sure I’m capable of walking down a path, you don’t need to come in.”
“Mhm.” Jonathan just says before glancing at Nancy. “I know that.” He adds with something that Mike is not mistaking for bashfulness. For his sister. And as he looks around at the three of them, Mike notices that suddenly all of them are blushing, for separate yet similar reasons and he almost wants to let out the slightly giddy laugh that is tantalisingly bubbling inside of his chest and up his throat.
Mike homes his gaze in on Will, only to grow warmer when he realises that Will is already looking straight back at him.
There is a fondness in the exchange that they share that is tacitly undeniable. And maybe there’s a slight justification for the way Mike’s whole body feels on fire, because the Byers have only really just come home and he can use the guise that he’s not quite used to the overwhelming sense of normalcy that as returned- and he can pretend that it’s not just because he’s a boy in love.
And simultaneously Mike also believes he can understand Jonathan’s insistence in coming in every time he picks Will up.
The slightly amusing, slightly knowing atmosphere that has fallen upon the hallway is topped off when Mike and Will, watch on too close for Mike’s liking, as Nancy steps forward towards Jonathan, giving him a tender kiss in the hallway of the Wheeler home. “Ill see you tomorrow.” He murmurs quietly as Nancy nods, reuniting their lips again briefly, all while Mike tries not to squirm. All while Mike stands too close to Jonathan’s brother. Trying to not do the same thing to Will.
But instead Mike attempts to quiet his mind and he turns to Will, eyes snagging, before all at once, crowding Will into a hug, his arms folding neatly around Will’s torso, and Mike wishes that both of their siblings weren’t standing watching them. Where they embrace, Will is warm - that kind of warmth only elicited by his sleepiness. And although over the year that Will was miles away in California he had grown in a way that Mike was sure to ignore, Mike still has some inches over him and a part of him is silently glad for it. Because as Will somehow pulls Mike into him further, Mike can just about rest his head gently over Will’s ruffled hair. And its nice, really nice. To be able able to hold Will in a way that he was so scared of at the arrivals gate for California and even for the first couple of months into the apocalypse.
He has Will back.
Despite the growing want swelling within him, despite the urge to beg for Will to stay round, Jonathan’s interference doesn’t come as a surprise to Mike. “Best get back before Mom starts to worry.”
With that Will’s arms are slow to let go of Mike, lingering delicately at his back, fingertips lightly brushing the cotton of his jumper, tickling his spine. But then he’s gone, beaming up at Mike with tired eyes and soft lips. “I’ll see you soon Mike. Thanks for having me.” Mike watches on as the brothers clamber into the car, eyes not leaving the road as the two of them continue up the drive, Nancy by his side.
Then the house is quiet again, a kind of stillness the envelopes the Wheeler siblings and promptly pushes Mike to close the door on the bad weather outside. For a second both he and Nancy stand in the hallway, lingering, and probably thinking about the brothers that have only just left.
There’s a small weight on his shoulder and Mike pieces together that it’s Nancy again, her hand solid yet soft. “I’ll be in my room.” She says lightly, waiting half a second before quietly walking through the kitchen and padding back up the stairs, leaving Mike, his head swirling with thoughts.
All the thoughts lead back to the same thing though, that thing being his best friend, being his Will. And today, and the days that he has been back.
And how Mike is pretty certain that he is becoming far more readable now that there is nothing distracting anyone and himself from the new found problem at hand. The problem that his fondness, his love is growing far too big and wide to be containable. The sweetest problem to have, but in the end Mike knows that all problems, no matter how lovely, should have a solution. He’s a scientist at the end of the day.
And so Mike, as he squirts washing up liquid into two mugs, comes to a solution. He figures out that telling somebody about this overbearingly sweet problem that has taken up all of his waking moments could make it all a little less daunting.
At this moment in time, as it becomes closer to eleven, Mike realises that the person to tell is Nancy - not only because she’s and Mike and the only ones in tonight, but also because well, she’s Nancy.
So after Mike sets the mugs back into the cupboard, with a deep breath he ascends the stairs slowly.
Mike stands for a few seconds longer than necessary, the door of his sister’s room suddenly looking a lot bigger than usual - the wood looming over him - and an unmistakable feeling of impending doom crowds over Mike as he lifts his hand up, quickly knocking after taking a sharp inhale.
A second and a half later Mike hears a quiet permission for him to go inside. And so with sweaty hands he turns the door handle, a little sheepish when Nancy looks up at him, a slight hint of understanding taking shape in the brief smile she gives him.
She taps her bed and Mike strides through the room, clicking the door shut quietly behind him because if he’s truly going to do this, if he’s truly going to be honest, Mike’s not sure he needs the whole of the hallway and downstairs to be in on his secret to, just Nancy’s room will do.
The bed is comfy when Mike sinks down onto it, onto the old blanket Karen had brought when Nancy had first wanted to decorate her room years and years ago.
Neither say anything for a few minutes but Mike can tell Nancy is itching to say something, maybe to ask. But she lets him stay quiet, just sitting and trying to find any words that could make this all a little easier. She’s sat in her pyjamas, fiddling with the cuff of her trouser, cross legged and evidently ready to fall asleep soon. Mike’s not too sure how long this will all take. But what he does know, what he’s known for a while now, is that he needs to get this pent up, locked away secret, not so locked up and secret.
And he knows that when he does tell her she will be okay about it, that she wont run to tell their parents, that she wont call him anything too ugly for the pink of her wallpapers. Mike knows this but still the words remain stuck at the back of his throat, sharp and unforgiving.
But all at once, Nancy reaches forward, fingers just about reaching out to Mike, finding where his hand lies, trembling slightly on her bed. “Do you remember when we promised there would be no more secrets when all of this first happened?” Nancy eventually says, softly breaking the silence.
Mike lets out a small laugh, “We never really stuck to that did we?”
She smiles at him, catching his eye, “We definitely didn’t.” They sit for a moment longer before it becomes clear that Mike is not going to be the one to continue, and so Nancy clears her throat.
“Has something been playing on your mind this week? I don’t know, you seem like to be thinking a lot. It’s scary.”
Mike blinks at her, because in all honesty he had thought he was doing a pretty good job at maintaining normal Mike behaviour. “Shut up.” Mike quips, his mouth twitching at the corners.The look that adorns her face is one that Mike hasn’t truly seen since she had broken the news of Will’s incident in the final fight - it’s hesitant, concerned and borderline alarmed. But there’s something so incredibly open about it, not just on her face but the way she’s sitting, the way her palm is soft over Mike’s skin. “I’m sorry I just don’t know what to say. Well I do I just-“ He shrugs, his free hand gesturing at nothing in particular and feeling suddenly very helpless.
“I’m not going anywhere Mike. Not ever.” Nancy replies, determined with the words.
“Thanks.” The rain outside fills the room with a rhythmic hum and Mike lets it wash over him. “I have been thinking, a lot.”
Nancy nods, eyes wide as if she is just as surprised as Mike is about actually opening up.
“And it’s definitely been for a lot longer than a week.” Mike quips, definitely not trying to avoid the subject at hand. But Nancy says nothing and so he continues, “ I’ve been thinking about me. About who I am, who I want to be and what I want.”
“Those are good things to be thinking about.”
“But, say, what if those things aren’t what everyone thought they were?” Nancy stares at him for a second, her hand still clasping over Mike’s own. And she’s silent, and Mike’s staring up at her, watching as she looks as if she’s contemplating her next words with care.
Nancy shuffles forward slightly, closer to Mike, closer to the truth. “You’re the only one who gets to decide that.”
“I know but what if they don’t like the truth?” Mike asks, his voice just above a whisper. “What if it’s not what they want to hear.”
“The people who really matter? Those people should love you and they-we want you to have exactly what you want.” Nancy declares, voice unwavering, and Mike spies the way her eyes glass over. Something close to his heart squeezes taught, because he hasn’t said it, he hasn’t said anything really but somehow, somehow his sister knows. It’s enough for a tear to slip from his own eye.
“Yeah?” Mike replies, cursing how his voice sounds.
Nancy nods, assertive. “What is it Mike, what do you want?”
“You know what I want.” Mike says almost silently, mumbling and focussing on where their hands meet, trying not to wish it was someone else’s. “Are you going to make me say it.?”
“Not if you don’t want to.” She answers, and then bends her head downwards, trying to catch Mike’s eye. When she’s successful, Nancy squeezes Mike’s hand again. “But I think you should. I think you want to.”
“I want to be in love.” He lets out an inevitable half splutter, half sob - surprised that it’s his voice talking. “I want to tell everyone how much. I want it to be, I want it to be Will.”
When the words slip out of his tear stained mouth, for once Mike doesn’t feel unbearably heavy with a weight that he refused to unburden himself of for so long. For once he doesn’t feel so inexplicably guilty for something that is the exact opposite, for something, for someone, that has brought him so much happiness for such a large section of his life. He loves Will Byers the way he has never loved anything before. And he’s just said it out loud, in his home, in his sister’s pink room, to Nancy.
Mike stays focussed on the bed he’s sitting on for at least ten more seconds, letting himself have just a moment before having to avert his eyes and assess the blow of the impact his words have finally made. Mike waits, takes a deep inhale then exhale before finally looking up. But when he does, when his eyes find his sister, Nancy has the widest grin on her face.
And all of a sudden he is being pulled by small arms, he is being pulled closer and closer until he all but falls on top of Nancy into the warmest of hugs. Despite being taller than Nancy for a good few years now, Mike curls in on her, resting his head in her lap and not doing a very good job at keeping his smile, or tears at bay. He’s just glad they’re happy ones.
Neither of them have really been one for physical touch, especially within their family, but now this just feels right.
“Oh Mike.” Nancy says after a while, her hands comforting at they card through Mike’s curls. “I love you. And I’m so happy you told me.”
Mike hums, looking up at her. “Are you okay about it though?”
“Of course I am.” Nancy grins at him again. “So Will then?” She goes on to ask, her eyebrow risen.
Mike rolls his eyes without any malice. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” Nancy smirks, feigning casualness, “I just want to know why my baby brother wants what he wants.”
Mike pretends to gag at this, because ten minutes ago when he was nervously assessing whether or not to open up to Nancy he couldn’t have imagined her face right now, asking about his feelings for Will. “I mean he’s Will.” Mike murmurs in lieu of an answer.
“Wow so descriptive. I thought you wanted to do English.” He sits up then, twisting back round to face her.
“I don’t know!” Mike shrugs. “It’s Will. I think maybe it’s always been him.”
“Always?”
“I don’t know, I think so. Like after everything he’s the one that I need, he’s the one that I want.” Mike elaborates, not realising the smile on his face is growing more with every word he says.
Nancy eyes him, considering her next question. “And are you going to tell him that?
Mike blinks at her once and then again after that. “I don’t know. I don’t know how he would take it.”
Nancy laughs then. A brief laugh but a laugh nonetheless. “Mike. I know you’re stupid but c’mon. It’s Will.”
“What do you mean?” A clap of thunder sounds outside, but it sounds far away now.
Nancy sighs before carrying on. “I mean it’s Will. The same Will who looks at you as if you discovered gravity or something. Will who hasn’t really left our basement since he got back from California.”
“You think so?” Mike asks, voice soft.
“If he doesn’t, then I, and I think Jonathan, would be extremely surprised Mike.”
Mike lets himself sit with her words for a minute, and he is met with an overarching thought that he would never admit to her out loud, that for the most part Nancy is usually, never wrong. And although that silent admittance is a slight bruise to thirteen year old selfs ego, to preset day Mike it feels like honey - smooth and sweet and happy with the knowledge that Nancy believes Will could share the same feelings that Mike has been anchored to for a long time now.
“So you think I should tell him?” Mike eventually asks.
Nancy is still smiling at him. “Yes. I think you should go now.”
“Now?” He glances to where the rain splatters onto the windows.
“Well, do you think you’ll be able to sleep right now?” “True.” Mike grins back at her, ear to ear. “Thanks Nancy, for everything.” He adds, with an earnest tone he could never have imagined could be reserved for Nancy.
“Mike I love you so much. And so does he.” Nancy watches as Mike clambers off of her bed, watches as he turns back to face her.
“I love you too. I promise I’m going to say it more.”
And although outside Mike knows that the storm is not shying away anytime soon, the thunder claps every couple of seconds now and it’s usually accompanied by sharp stripes of lightning, he runs down the stairs anyway, rustling through the coat rack and grabbing one of his dads thickest waterproof coats.
Maybe it’s a stupid idea, making a journey to the Byers’ at this time of night and in these conditions, but Mike can’t find it within himself to care, he’s done it before. It doesn’t matter because Nancy’s words follow him into the garage, they follow him when he straddles his bike and even when he feels the first few droplets splatter against his cold cheeks.
As his legs begin the journey, the rain soaking through his jeans, Mike thinks of Will. Inevitably so.
And even though he’s trying, Mike can’t quite rehearse the words that he wants to say to him, Mike’s not entirely sure that he could put it all into words anyway. But Will, oh god Will, Mike couldn’t have known that in just four days his feelings that were already so far established could somehow become even more concrete, even more unmovable. Because now that he has Will back, Mike’s sure that he can never let him go again.
The open path ahead quickly becomes ridden with trees and Mike knows that he’s over halfway to Will’s house. And although the rain hammers down all around him, all over Hawkins for the briefest of seconds, when a momentary strike of lightning fills the dull sky, Mike looks up into the leaves and he can see the way they are glistening ever so slightly with thick droplets.
And he smiles.
When he finally pulls into the Byers’ driveway, Mike is sure that the rain has penetrated his actual skin and not just all his layers of clothes. But as he sets his bike down carefully at the edge of the brick wall, Mike can see a warm glow from inside the house, making everything soft at the edges and he knows that the wet journey here was well worth it.
He walks towards the door, attempting to avoid the worst of the puddles, miserably failing several times, and then he pauses for a second before ringing the sharp trill of the door bell. And then he’s left waiting, staring awkwardly ahead with his heart beating louder and louder in his chest and Mike can almost detect the blood pumping through his ears. He’s not sure he’s been this nervous since the days of the apocalypse.
But then Joyce opens the door with a wide smile when she clocks that it’s Mike, a look that quickly twists into familiar anxiety when she realises just how damp he truly is. “Mike, are you okay? Has something happened?” She asks quickly, voice laced with worry as she jostles him into the living room, where a mildly concerned Hopper looks up from the tv, that’s now been paused.
“I’m fine, really Mrs Byers. It’s just Will left something at mine.” Mike replies, his voice surprisingly out of breath. She takes his coat, looking at him up and down, still just as worried.
“And it couldn’t have waited?” Hopper quips from the couch, eyebrows raised at Mike.
Mike shrugs at this, trying to feign nonchalance that he’s pretty sure both of Will’s parents immediately clock onto. “I just needed to give it to him tonight.”
“Well you know where his room his.” Joyce smiles, warm where the worry begins to smooth out.
“Three inches.” Hopper mumbles just as he unpauses the television, and Mike watches for a second as Joyce nestles in next to him. His stomach twists with the two worded instruction, as if Hopper, like everyone else apparently, can see through him.
Mike ignores the feeling though, instead turning down the hallway, floating by the door of Will’s room.
“Is someone out there?” Mike hears a muffled voice from the other side of the wall. Will’s always been in tune to everything that’s happening around him, a side effect of having another voice inside of his head for just less than half a decade. It shouldn’t surprise Mike, but it does so anyway.
Mike gulps before pushing the door open and stepping into Will’s bedroom.
“Mike?” Will’s face crumples with a mixture of confusion and surprise at his sudden late night appearance. He’s underneath the duvet, just like he had been at Mike’s not that long ago. But this time he’s sketching something Mike can’t see, pushed up against the headboard in one of his favourite jumpers. “What are you doing here?” He drops the sketchbook onto the bed, the pages face down and a pencil rolls somewhere that Mike can’t see.
“Oh. I just need to talk to you.” Mike says, still lingering in the middle of the room, watching Will shuffle about under the covers.
“Sit down.” Will instructs and Mike obliges, perching onto the end of Will’s bed. “No wait, you’re soaked. Let me get you some clothes.” And then Will is up, suddenly above him with the smallest of grins resting on his mouth. Mike stares at him as he rustles through his drawers for something that Mike can wear. The jumper that Mike loves is revealed to be joined by a pair of old shorts, navy and riding up Will’s thigh a little, revealing the pale skin there and Mike’s throat abruptly goes dry.
And then Will is chucking him some soft clothes, the smile growing bigger and Mike gives him a thanks, sliding his top off and ignoring the way, with a glance, he can see Will blush. Mike quickly pulls on his own pair of shorts and another of Will’s baggy jumpers. The sensation is something heady because it’s all so warm after the harsh, stabbing rain, that and the fact that it all smells exactly like Will.
“Are you okay Mike?” Will enquires with the exact same expression that his mom had just minutes before.
“What’re you drawing?” Mike asks instead, because even though he had cycled all the way here, and gone over so many different ways of saying it all, now that he is sat here, in front of Will’s worried eyes, everything in his head rapidly topples back out of it. He motions at the discarded sketchbook.
Will holds his gaze for one second and then another. “Oh nothing. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Can I see?” Mike says, again doing what he does best, avoiding.
“Seriously it was nothing. It’s really not that good Mike.” Will answers, a soft frown beginning to take shape on his forehead.
Mike looks at him again. “Everything you do is good.” It comes out so quietly that Mike can barely hear it himself, so soft, so gentle in the way he apparently just saves just for Will. “Please show me?”
He watches as Will hesitates for another few moments, eyes flicking between Mike and then the sketchbook. “Yeah. Yeah okay.” He pauses for a second, still just looking at Mike, and Mike tries hard not to fidget under the scrutiny. “Please don’t judge me for it though.” Will adds quietly. “I won’t need to.” Mike says as if it’s simple.
And then Will is passing over the sketchbook and that’s when Mike simultaneously feels and hears his breath hitch.
Because it’s him.
It’s Mike, only just an hour ago. Sitting on the basement’s couch with a mug of hot chocolate just about brought up to his lips, his eyes crinkled at the corner, looking at Will. It’s unmistakably him and it takes everything within Mike to not trace the pencil marks with his fingers, because the last thing he wants to do is smudge the work that Will must’ve been crowding over since he had gotten home and into bed. The drawing is beautiful, in the same kind of way all of Will’s works are. In the last couple of years Mike thinks Will’s art style has matured, if that’s the right way to put it - he’s not so sure. And this sketch, of him, feels the exact same. It feels thoughtful and precise and Mike can see the absolute adoration that he imagines must constantly take home in his eyes whenever he is facing Will. It’s kind of surreal that Will can so easily capture it all.
And then it quickly dawns on him just how obvious everything he is is, because the look he has on his sketched out face is unmistakably love.
Will had drawn him. Mike’s not sure if it says more about himself or Will. Probably the both of them.
“It’s me.” Is all Mike manages to say with a quiet whisper.
Will closes the sketchbook, setting it down on his bedside table. “Well yeah.”
“It’s incredible Will.” Mike breathes, finding Will’s eyes again “You’re incredible.”
“Thanks Mike.”
“You know when you’re like a rich and famous artist, you have to remember me.” Mike says quietly, watching how Will’s neck grows ever so slightly pink at the compliment, Mike’s insides feel like jelly, still incredibly nervous at being here, in Will’s room, on Will’s bed.
“What did you want to talk to me about Mike.” Will repeats, looking at Mike with some unreadable expression that Mike would like to lock away forever. And he knows that there is no better time than right now.
“Us.” Mike says before his brain can catch up with his mouth.
Will stares at him. “Us?”
“Yeah.” He decides, because maybe it’s now or never. He starts of with something a little easier though. “I’m so glad that you’re back.”
“Me too.” Will says back, almost instantly, almost reactionary.
Mike smiles, something so clearly tangible between the two of them. He swiftly places both his hands on the bed, attempting to ground himself before continuing on. “When you were away and even when you were back, when everything was happening, I just missed you so much. And I know I was a piece of shit back then.” The words come out in a steady steam, and Mike isn’t sure that once starts, he will be able to stop.
Will laughs, a short but sweet sound before he nods at Mike to carry on talking.
“And I’m not going to apologise again because you threatened to slap me if I did.” Mike recalls, smile turning into a grin as he thinks back to a time by the quarry. It had been sunset, and Mike had attempted to explain just why he had behaved the way he had, for years maybe. And Will had listened, had even asked a few questions, and after hours of talking they had made up, properly, with Will refusing to ever hear an apology on the matter again. Mike has been trying hard to stick to his instructions.
“I remember that.” Will grins back.
Mike nods. “Mhm.”
It’s Will turn to talk, lips still quirking upwards in the corner. “So you missed me. Is that what you came over for?” He asks, nudging Mike a little, the two of them swaying into each other.
“Shut up.” Mike laughs.
Will continues, “Because although I love your company, don’t get me wrong, you could’ve told me that tomorrow.”
Something within Mike stirs at this. “Exactly what Hopper said.” He says, beginning to attempt to diverge away from the conversation that he knows he has to start with Will, a conversation that is likely to change the trajectory of his best friendship. But the thought of not telling Will tonight is somehow worse than another smaller possibility.
“So is that what you came over for?” Will repeats, murmuring in the space between them. Mike looks at him, properly this time, taking his time to absorb the way Will is watching him right now, through his eyelashes, his face completely open, the tell tale smile just about toying with his lips. He looks so peaceful right now, in a way Mike couldn’t have imagined months ago. All of this spurs him on to tell Will, voice surprisingly firm, determined, “You know it’s not.”
“Hmm” Will hums, “Are you going to elaborate?”
“Do you want me to?” Mike asks. Just in case. Will smiles at him again, gentle when he says,“Mike.” And he pauses, just for a second, and as he does his knee brushes against Mike’s own.
Neither move away from the contact.“Of course I want you to.”
“Okay Will. I’ll elaborate.” Mike says, contemplating his next words carefully, they come out quickly. “Every time I see you, which thankfully is a lot now by the way. Every time I feel like I’m going to explode.”
“Should I be concerned?” Will says, only half seriously.
“Will.” Mike says with a gentle smile.
“Sorry.” Will says, sheepish.
Mike eventually pieces together another sentence, hopefully in the right direction. “I just, it’s hard to put into words.” Mike isn’t sure there are any words to explain whatever Will does to him. He feels crazy half the time.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Will replies, an echo of Nancy’s words earlier.
It’s enough for Mike to start to explain it all to Will. “You make me feel so much, all the time.” Mike catches the way Will tenses ever so slightly in front of him. “And Will I’m going to explode because if I don’t tell you soon, everything is just going to spill over.” Mike’s not sure the mess it would make. “Tell me what?” Will invites, forever asking all the right questions. Forever open, willing. Mike loves Will Byers so so fucking much.
And then Mike somehow acquires an ounce more bravery, and although the words sound shaky out of his mouth, they cannot be mistaken. “Can I just- can I just fucking kiss you Will.”
Will is beaming at him, so close on the bed. “Hmm.” He pauses, pushing himself right up into Mike faces, his mouth pulled into an easy, languid smirk.“Yeah, go on then.” Grabbing at the collar of the jumper Mike is wearing.
But despite the swiftness of Will latching onto the jumper, when Will’s head tilts so close to Mike’s own, Mike meets him halfway and slowly, hearing the way that both of their lips part in the quiet of Will’s glowing room. From the beginning it’s different from all the other kisses he has had in the past, the way they crowd each other, with long arms pulling each other closer, it’s slow and deliberate and it’s everything.
Will’s lips are sweet, but not in the way that Mike had imagined though -somehow they are firmer when they meet Mike’s, pushing so far that Mike can’t help but drown in the kiss, drown in the taste that he has worked out is strawberry. “Are you wearing lip balm?” Mike breaks the kiss to ask, still wrapped up in Will, their torsos pressed together.
“Oh my god Mike.” Will laughs. And then with a smile, he comes closer again, reuniting their lips in sweet surrender. Will slips his tongue past Mike’s lips this time and Mike can taste his minty, ready for bed, breath. It’s all so gentle that he almost wants to cry with it and he pushes back, trying to tell Will everything without letting any words pass his mouth.
Will goes slack against Mike, where his hands trace the length of Will’s shoulders, wide and strong and then up past his neck, tangling where Will’s hair falls just below his ears. “Mhm, pretty.” Mike mumbles into Will’s mouth, feeling the vibration echo between them. “You’re so pretty Will.” He breathes again, and Will catches it, kissing Mike back, tactile with the way his hands creep up Mike’s jumper ever so slightly.
“Mike.” He just groans, lips still nudging at Mike’s, insistent when his teeth catch Mike’s bottom lips, eliciting butterflies that swarm his entire body.
“Will.” Mike whispers right back, this time properly allowing their lips to part, but staying just an inch from one another - if Mike were to move ever so slightly to the left their noses would knock together.
After a second Mike witnesses the way Will’s mouth, after minutes of slow kisses, grows into a smile that Mike wants to fall into, all while his fingertips stay tracing the skin of Mike’s bare stomach under his jumper. And Mike’s grinning straight back, breathless and feeling a bubble of laughter start to rise up his throat.
“You’re kind of good at that.” Will announces, and their noses do actually knock for a split second.
“Don’t make me blush.” Mike replies, hands still fiddling with Will’s hair.
Will laughs, “I think it might be too late.” And then Will kisses him again, steady and leisurely in the soft exchange, wiping the smile off of Mike’s face in the best way possible. Mike pulls him carefully onto his lap, Will’s legs landing either side of Mike’s thighs.
And this angle is all different. This time Will is above and clearly taking lead, deepening the kiss with his lips and tongue and the weight of his body resting on Mike’s lap feels so good, so right. And although Mike’s eyes sunk closed as soon as their lips had met, it’s like he can finally see colour, it’s like tonight Mike has unlocked something he’s always been able to see but not touch, but not have.
“God I love you Will.” Mike eventually says, letting the words spill, staring as Will chews at his lower lip, absorbing them so clearly.
The soft glow of the lamp traces the edge of Will’s features, unlocking beautiful angles of gold and soft yellow. “I love you too.” Will breathes, face so so sincere. “So much.” He adds, pulling Mike closer, into a gentle hug, his stomach flips with the proximity, with the smell of Will, with the knowledge that Nancy was right.