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“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Will’s face was flushed a bright pink even in the dark of the Upside Down. His chest heaved as he leaned against a vine-free tree, trying to catch his breath.
“Oh my god is right,” Mike groaned, his own breath leaving his lips in short bursts. “Jesus fuck, Will, that was close.” They’d just narrowly avoided a Demogorgon, and Mike felt like he’d run a marathon. And Mike Wheeler did not run marathons.
“Jesus may actually be right too,” Will said with a snort. “Our escape may have been all thanks to Him, actually.” He nodded across the vine covered street to a white church that stood mostly intact, almost angelic.
“Maybe it’s God, maybe it’s just luck,” Mike didn’t believe in God. At least not any sort of God people came up with. How could such a God exist and still let them go through the horrific shit they had? How was that fair?
“Shit Mike,” Will started suddenly, looking concerned. “Your face.”
Mike reached a hand up to the right side of his cheek, where a particularly cruel tree branch had caught him while they were making a run for it. It hadn’t hurt in the moment, but now it was beginning to sting badly, and his hand came away red with blood. “I’m fine,” Mike waved it off. “Just a scratch.”
“Oh shut up,” Will furrowed his eyebrows. “It’ll suck if that gets infected.”
“I guess. A break would be nice.” Mike sighed.
“Exactly. We have time. We’ll get that cut cleaned up and rest a little.” Will pressed a hand through his hair, which he’d gotten cut a month before. Told Joyce absolutely no bowl cuts, and she’d sent him to her friend who’d fixed it up perfectly.
When Mike first saw him with the new haircut, he hadn’t been able to form a complete thought for a damn few seconds.
“I know we want to spend as little time here as possible, but we’re better off feeling rested.” Will said quietly. “I don’t want to risk anything.”
Mike nodded in agreement. “So. The church?” He asked.
“The church.” Will said firmly.
They made their way towards the building. It radiated with a sort of holy innocence, looking incredibly out of place in the Upside Down. Will jiggled the front door handle and groaned. “Locked.” He thought for a moment. “Stand back, Mike.”
Mike did, watching Will back up a few feet. “What are you-”
Will began in a running start before throwing the weight of his body against the door with a bang. The door swung open but Will kept his balance, wincing. “That was loud. And kind of stupid.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mike stared at him in a sort of awe. “I’ve only ever seen people do that in movies. Holy shit. That was epic.”
“Oh shut up.” Will blushed. “It was nothing.” As they made their way into the church, Will took off his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and stretching out his arm. Mike watched the muscles in his back strain against his t-shirt, his biceps and lats bulge from the simple stretch. Mike swallowed, hard.
“Hey, it’s not too bad in here,” Mike changed the subject, looking around the dark church. If he ignored the occasional vine, he could almost pretend like this place was just abandoned, deserted, not a part of the upside down. It was a small building with pews down the right side and confessionals down the left. In the center of the room there were rows of benches leading up to the front. A painting of Mary and a baby Jesus in the hay lay front and center, surrounded by candlesticks, most of which had long since toppled over or who’s wax had spilled to the floor. This created a sort of eerie spiderweb-y effect against the hardwood floor. A crucifix stared down from the highest wall, eyes blank, face solemn and twisted. Watching.
This was definitely not the place to be thinking about or looking at his best friend’s body. Mike bit his lip as a familiar shame began to creep up his spine. He pushed it away as Will sat down on the nearest bench and unzipped his backpack.
“C’mere.” Will patted the bench beside him, and Mike couldn’t help melting slightly at the familiar openness of Will’s face, the way his eyes sparkled with positivity
(hope)
despite their situation.
Mike did as he was told and sat down as Will rummaged through his bag, pulling out a small first aid kit, a bottle of water, and an extra t-shirt. He dampened the shirt with the water then faced Mike.
“Hold still,” Will said, voice soft with fondness, and reached for Mike’s face. His fingers brushed Mike’s unruly hair from his face, just barely whispering over his nose and forehead, and Mike shivered. He gripped Mike’s jaw gently, and began to dab at the cut with the damp t-shirt. Mike winced slightly at the pressure and Will immediately froze. “You okay?” He asked, concerned. Will was always so worried about everyone. He was the most considerate person Mike knew, even though he in no right had any obligation to be.
“Yeah,” Mike breathed. He wanted to tell Will to never stop touching him like this. He wanted to tell Will he liked feeling fragile and helpless if it was Will’s hands on his face. He wanted to tell Will that he was beautiful. Instead he just whispered “you can keep going.”
Will did, finishing up and moving off Mike to fiddle with a bottle of antiseptic. “This might actually sting this time,” he chucked, soaking a separate corner of the t-shirt in the solution and easing it to Mike’s cheek. Mike hissed and shut his eyes tight, trying to move away, but Will’s hand on his jaw kept him steady. “Alright,” Will muttered, when he was done, already applying Neosporin to a wide bandage. “You’re almost done, just…” he trailed off and smoothed the bandage against Mike’s skin. “That okay?”
Mike nodded, catching his breath then realizing that Will’s hand was still on his cheek, thumb moving back and forth in a soothing gesture. Mike felt something in his chest go terribly, terribly warm. And then Will was looking at him in some sort of way, and Mike knew his own expression was the exact damn same. The air between them was charged, on edge. Will was so damn close Mike couldn’t breathe.
And then he ruined it.
“El didn’t commission the painting.” Mike blurted in an act of stupidity, and Will’s hand dropped from his face. They didn’t talk about it, not really. They didn’t talk about the van or the painting. Or Will crying and Mike sitting there like an idiot as he did.
“No.” Will’s voice had become guarded. “She did not.”
“She told me. When I broke it off with her.” Mike continued. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it sooner.”
“It’s fine.” Will had turned away from Mike, shoving things back into the bag. “I’m sorry for lying. It was just what you… what I thought you needed to hear.” His voice sounded disconnected, and Mike’s stomach dropped.
What he needed to hear. Mike wanted to ask if Will had made it up on the spot, wanted to ask if any of it meant anything.
Because some part of him had hoped.
Stupid of him to hope in a church.
“Yeah.” Mike attempted to keep his voice steady.
“I’m tired.” Will said stiffly. “I think I’m gonna take a nap if that’s okay.”
“I’ll keep watch,” Mike said softly.
“Thanks.” Will said, situating himself on the bench, using his jacket as a pillow. He faced away from Mike. “I’m sorry.” He said.
Mike didn’t know exactly what it was he was apologizing for. “Don’t be.”
The silence that came then was deafening. There was a sort of ringing in Mike’s ears that he hadn’t noticed before, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, blocking out his surroundings. His head hurt, once again thinking of Will’s hands on his face. Had Will’s words in the van really meant nothing? Had he been wrong to think maybe…?
Mike opened his eyes again to find the crucifix glaring at him, and swallowed. Shit.
Suddenly he didn’t feel as safe here as he had before. The air was stale and cold, and Mike felt like every painting in this room was staring at him, staring into him. They could see right through him, see exactly what he’d tried to deny for ages. God knew his every thought.
And Mike was damned. He knew this. His father knew this and let Mike know with every biting, bitter comment he made. Mike had clearly never told Ted Wheeler that he liked boys, but Mike thought that some sort of part of his father had always known, and always hated him for it.
Hot guilt stirred in Mike’s stomach and he blinked back tears. If he was wrong, if God was real… he was going to hell. There was no denying that.
“Fuck,” he muttered, a stray tear slipping down his cheek. He buried his face in his hands.
“Mike?” Will sat up from the bench abruptly and Mike almost yelped in surprise. “What’s going on?
“Nothing,” Mike said, trying to steady his voice. “Just, um, tired.”
Will’s expression dripped with concern. It was almost startling- his face pale, eyebrows drawn, pupils dilated. His lips were just slightly parted. “Sleep then. I can keep watch.”
“No, no.” Mike said firmly. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “Are you mad at me?” Mike hated how his voice shook. “Or something?”
“Mike, I’m not mad at you,” Will moved towards him on the bench. “I could never be mad at you.”
“Yeah?” Mike felt hope stir in his chest again.
“Yeah.” Will said, laying a hand on his thigh.
Mike swallowed down whatever little noise threatened to slip from his lips. “Okay. Um. What are you then? If you’re not mad?”
Will smiled as his hand slid farther up Mike’s thigh, thumb tracing circles into his skin. He brought his mouth near Mike’s ear and whispered, breath hot, “I’m yours.”
Mike felt a full body shiver go through him, his face on fire. “Uh,” was just about all he was able to manage before Will began to laugh.
Laugh?
“God you’re so gullible.” Will snorted, and Mike felt his stomach drop. “I bet you really do want it. I bet you want me.” His face was twisted in a cruel smile. “I bet you want me to fuck you, right here in this church. Don’t you know how fucking disgusting that is, Mike?”
What? Mike stared at him, stunned, hurt, scared. This wasn’t- Will wouldn’t-
“Don’t you know how filthy that is?” Will’s voice had grown low and dirty. His eyes glinted red and he reached a hand to Mike’s face, dragging his fingers down his cheek. They were almost lifelessly cold. They felt… wrong, so different from earlier. But Mike found with a stab of fear that he couldn’t pull away. He was frozen where he sat. “How could you even imagine I could ever want you like that?”
In that moment Will’s voice wasn’t his own anymore. It was horrifyingly deep and
that isn’t Will.
Vecna stood before Mike, one vulgarly long finger pressed against his cheek.
Mike thought he might throw up.
“Micheal, Micheal, Micheal.” Vecna grinned. “I finally have the pleasure to meet you. The one and only Micheal Wheeler.”
“Fuck you,” Mike got out between his clenched teeth.
“In a church too. A holy place. Some of those thoughts you’ve been having… sinful. Immoral, Micheal.” Vecna shook his head tauntingly. “You know what Will would think? He’d think you’re revolting. He probably already does. You know you're obvious enough.”
“No. He doesn’t think that.” Mike tried to hold onto the fleeting relief that Will hadn’t really said those things. “He doesn’t.”
“But you really don’t know that, do you? What would your father think? Your mother?”
Suddenly Mike was in a memory of a park, watching a seven year old version of himself learn to swing a baseball bat. All his father had wanted was for him to join Little League. Mike watched as he missed the ball again and again and again, until finally his father grabbed the bat from his hands and stormed into the parking lot, muttering about how he couldn’t believe his son was such a fag. Mike watched as his younger self’s face crumpled.
A second memory appeared now, this time of Mike’s mother talking on the phone a few months ago. “Yes, I’ve seen the news. It’s horrible… Do I think they deserve it? Well, I don’t know, Marie. I think it’s wrong, I mean, of course I do, but… no, you’re right. They’re sick.” Mike remembered the way his stomach had sunk. He’d known exactly what she’d been talking about. He remembered the awful, nauseous guilt that had curled in his gut every time he saw his mother grimace at the news, clicking off the television as it blared on about the rising death toll.
With a jolt Mike was back in the church. This time his surroundings were tinged in red light and thick vines were beginning to wrap themselves around his wrists and ankles. He struggled against them but it was no use. He felt sick. But I’m not , he told himself. He wasn’t sick just for liking boys, he wasn’t wrong, or disgusting, or…
‘A mistake’ Will’s words echoed in his mind.
“Yes Mike,” Vecna growled. “Very good. That’s exactly what they’d think of you. A mistake.” He laughed, and shit, that laugh was terrible. “ You can try to convince yourself otherwise, but you can’t change that. You’re sick. And poor little Holly. Looking up to you for so long, just to learn you’re exactly like those boys her friends laugh at in school. She wouldn’t be able to look at you.”
“Don’t talk about my sister.” Mike said through gritted teeth. “That’s not fair.” He felt a rebel tear slip down his cheek as he struggled against the vines holding him in place. They were slimy with teasingly sharp leaves and shit.
“Not much in life is, Micheal. You should know that better than anyone.” Vecna laughed, a disturbing sound that made Mike cringe.
Mike swallowed, hard, anxiety and fear curling in his chest. What if they do find out? He thought. What if Mom really thinks I’m disgusting and sick? What if Dad- if Holly- if Nancy-
Think about something else, Mike told himself. Anything else. He knew this was exactly what Venca wanted. To get in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and breathed. In, out. In, out. He thought about Holly, about the pencil drawing she’d done of him last week while he was busy writing. Holly had been getting genuinely good at art, inspired by Will, who was constantly bent over a sketch. She’d held up her drawing of Mike with a toothy, proud smile, and Mike had almost felt like crying, impressed and honored.
“Micheal…” Vecna’s voice droned but Mike thought about Nancy, the afternoon they’d spent together cleaning and patching up Hopper’s old rifles.
They hadn’t fought once, laughing and recalling old stories. These past few months Nancy had been in a shitty place, mostly keeping to herself. Mike thought it had been really nice to spend time with his sister again. He, of course, hadn’t said that out loud, but he hoped she could tell.
“You can’t escape me,” Vecna was getting irritated. The vines tightened around Mike’s ankles and wrists. He gasped raggedly as he felt one curl around his throat, rough and revolting.
Fuck.
He thought of Dustin, and how, despite Eddie’s death, he still brought good humor to the group, and always, no matter what, made time to listen to Mike’s new campaign ideas enthusiastically.
He thought about El, and how, when they’d broken up, she’d shook her head at his apology. She smiled a stupidly bright smile, wiped her tears, and pulled him into a tight hug. For once Mike wasn’t obligated to do anything but hug back and god, he loved her. He loved her the same way he loved Dustin and Lucas, and that suddenly was the most comfortable thing in the world. He was able to breathe a sigh of relief and the two of them had been ever tighter since.
He felt the vines give way just a bit and his heart soared. He clenched his teeth, throwing his weight into the vines at his wrists and thought of Will.
Gorgeous, smart, perfect Will. He thought of that stupidly sweet look of concern Will had given Mike when he’d first seen the cut on his face, what a selfless person he was despite all the shit that’s happened to him. He could’ve chosen to be cruel and bitter, take his terrible past out on those around him, but instead he was the best person Mike knew.
Mike thought of the first day they’d met, of the boy on the swings who’d face lit up when he’d whispered those words, hi, I’m Mike, do you want to be my friend? And Will smiled a shy smile and said yes. He’d said yes, and it was still the best thing Will had ever done. He thought of all that stupid time they’d spent together, killing hours in Mike’s basement, talking about nothing and watching movies and leaving with smiles plastered on their faces. He thought about how, when Will was emotional, his voice dropped off a bit at the end of his sentences. He recalled the way Will bit his lip as he painted, each stroke meaningful, purposeful.
Mike focused, thinking about the way Will said his name; Mike usually, Micheal when he was trying to be funny, Mikey sometimes when they were kids.
“‘Mike,” he could almost hear Will say his name. Or was it really-
The vines around his waist and neck broke away and Mike took a big gaping breath.
He thought about Will’s smile, his laugh, the stupidly good feeling of laughing with him . He remembered last month when they’d had the chance to drive to a neighboring town with Jonathon to pick up supplies. Will had been rocking out to a Bowie song next to Mike in the back seat, not aware that Mike was paying attention.
“You called yourself a trick down on Sunset and Vine,” Will had sung along with the song, tapping his foot to the beat, bobbing his head. “You sold me illusions for a sack full of checks,” he furrowed his brows, eyes glittering as his voice got louder. “ You made a bad connection ‘cause I just want your sex!” He grinned, obviously in the moment. “Crack, baby, crack, show me you’re real- smack, baby-”
He made eye contact with Mike and paused mid-lyric, eyes wild, blushing hard, as Bowie unabashedly finished, singing ‘suck, baby, suck, give me your head.” Will looked fucking hot.
Mike hadn’t heard Will talk about (or sing for that matter) anything remotely sexual. He wasn’t exactly rampant in the Party’s discussions on girls or sex. Hearing Will sing along to that stupid song made Mike felt faintly dizzy and very warm.
“Uh.” Will laughed a little. “Um. Kind of did not realize I was actually like. Singing that.” He said sheepishly, pushing his hair out of his face.
Mike grinned. “No, it was great. Good song.”
From the front seat Jonathon sent them a “hell yes it is.”
“God, why’s that so embarrassing?” Will whined, and Mike snorted.
“Almost as embarrassing as that time you held the mayo bottle upside down and got it all in your hair.” Mike sent him a sly smile, and Will groaned, sinking deeper in his seats
“Could you maybe go to hell?” he’d said with a giggle, and Mike had just laughed, saying he’d try his very best. They continued joking around and singing along to the radio for the rest of the ride, and Mike could almost pretend that everything was alright, and that the two of them were normal teenage boys for a moment.
Suddenly Mike was back in the church, his restraints snapping completely, and he fell from the wall he hadn’t realized he was pinned to. His knees hit the ground jarringly, and he cried out. Looking back at the wall, he saw with a sort of sick disgust, that he’d been pinned to a cross. But then Vecna was leering towards him, a murderous look on his twisted face, and Mike was scrambling up and running.
Suddenly a familiar tune was pulsing, tinny, from what sounded like outside. Mike perked up at the upbeat noise.
‘I saw your eyes’
Mike focused on Will. Focused on his friends, on his favorite A Flock of Seagulls song.
“Mike!”
That was definitely Will. So definitely Will. And he needed- he had to-
‘And you made me smile,
for a little while’
Mike sprinted across the church towards the door Will had broke in earlier, but it kept slipping away, it wasn’t getting closer, like some Wonderland bullshit-
“Mike! Shit, please Mike, I don’t know what to do I don’t- I can’t- come back! Please!” The desperation in Will’s voice was awful, crippling, and Mike hated it. “I need you!”
(She needs you, Mike. And she always will.)
‘I was falling in love.’
Mike was struck with adrenaline. He had to get back to Will, Will needed him, and Mike loved Will. So he ran.
‘I saw your eyes
and you touched my mind’
Suddenly the door was getting closer, and Mike felt like he could maybe breathe again. Step by step, he was almost there, almost -
Something caught Mike’s shirt, and he cried out, a flame of fear shooting up his spine. No, no-
‘I was falling in love.’
He gritted his teeth and threw his entire body weight forward with a cry, his skin meeting wood, and he was crashing through the door, and-
Mike was falling to the floor of the church, fall broken only by Will, who- mostly- caught him, arms strong and secure. Mike was swept with an intense relief like he’d never felt before. Will was here. He was fine, they’d both be fine.
For a moment neither of them could say a thing, instead just holding each other, attempting to get their shared breath under control. Mike felt like he had run a marathon (something he’d never do). He half-noticed the Walkman and headphones that had also dropped to the floor during the fall, and the Flock of Seagulls cassette inside.
“Oh my god, oh my god, you’re okay,” Will broke the silence and held Mike at arms length as if to check he was actually there. Without the added support, Mike’s legs gave out and he sank slowly to the floor, still stunned. Will followed. “Holy, holy shit, Mike what the fuck.” He seemed unable to find his voice, instead throwing himself at Mike again, holding him tight. “Mike. I thought you were gonna fucking die.” His voice cracked miserably. “And I was just gonna stand there and do nothing.” He sounded so stupidly young and that was the last damn straw.
Mike felt a sob push at his throat and suddenly there were hot tears stinging his eyes and he buried his face in Will’s shirt and cried. “You did everything Will,” he said desperately into the fabric, voice wet. “Everything.”
Mike clutched Will like a fucking lifeline, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’s cried this damn hard. He felt like a kid. Will muttered soft things into his hair meant to comfort the both of them, holding Mike strong and fast in this church that fucking hated them, until Mike’s tears had run out and he was left a hiccuping mess.
“It was fucking… bad.” Mike finally found his words, voice cracking. “He pretended to- to be you. Y’know.” He couldn’t finish.
Will frowned. “Fuck, that’s- what’d he do?”
Made me think you might actually want me and then pulled my fucking heart from my chest and slammed it into a wall. Mike wanted to say. “Not great things,” is what he did. “Thought you hated me for a second.” He mumbled.
Will looked pissed. “He’s so damn horrible, Jesus. What could I ever hate you for?” His breath caught suddenly and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry Mike.”
“What?”
“For earlier, for getting all standoffish.” Will’s face fell. “This is all my fault, if I hadn’t-”
Mike shot a hand forward to cover his mouth. “Don’t, this is not your fault. And it’s over now. There’s no way you could’ve known.” He meant it.
Will nodded, still looking guilty. “Still I’m sorry. The painting thing just… struck a chord,” he said, voice soft.
“Yeah, I could kinda tell.” Mike bit at his lip. “But I don’t. Um. Can I ask why?” He had his assumptions (hopes), but he bit down that fluttery, promising feeling in his stomach. “Cause it’s a beautiful painting, and I guess I did need to hear all that.”
Will sighed, looking nervous. “You’re kinda oblivious, you know that?” He said with a small laugh.
Mike rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“I mean I obviously made the painting for you cause, I uh, missed you.” Will started quietly, and Mike swallowed. “And then you were acting all weird, and maybe I should’ve expected that, like we hadn’t seen each other in months I couldn’t expect us to be normal.” Mike opened his mouth to apologize, but Will shook his head. “It’s okay. Anyways. Everything I said, I meant. I guess I assumed El might mean it too, but I meant it, and I thought it was my only chance to tell you any of it.” He bit his lip. “I thought I might die if I never had the chance to tell you any of it.”
Will looked almost lost, as if he’d spilled his heart out for nothing. Scared too, and Mike wanted to kiss him. Right then and there.
He didn’t. Instead he reached for Will’s hand and squeezed it tight. Will looked up, confused. “That means more.” Mike whispered. “That means so much more.”
Will’s eyes were wide. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Will, what you said in the van, it…” He trailed off before taking a deep breath. “It means so much more coming from you than it would from El. She doesn’t need me, not like that, and that’s okay. I was right. But I was wrong thinking that I needed her like that. I was just insecure. I thought I needed her to prove myself as… as a guy who… well.” He felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest. “A guy who likes girls.” Mike finished softly, and Will’s eyes widened even more, his lips parting slightly. But he didn’t let go of Mike’s hand, so Mike kept going. “I thought my life would be over if I didn’t have definitive proof of that. Which was fucking immature, because really, I couldn’t care less about kissing girls.” He choked out a laugh. “I was fucking using her, and I didn’t even know it, I thought I needed her. And I do. But I need her as a friend.” He closed his eyes tight, focusing on the feeling of Will’s hand in his.
“Mike…” Will said softly, voice shaking.
“Will.” Mike opened his eyes again. “I need you. I need you like… like that. So yeah, it means so, so much more coming from you.” He finished, taking a trembling breath. Part of him wanted to cry. Part of him wanted to run away. Part of him had no idea what to do now that Will knew.
Will was staring at him, cheeks red, eyes shining, hair tousled. He looked beautiful. Mike couldn’t take it.
“Say something,” Mike whispered. “Anything.”
Will opened his mouth. “I…” He inched closer to Mike. “I want you like that.” He exhaled. “I need you like that. More than you think. I have for years.” His voice was breathy. “I need you, and if I just lost you, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Mike felt his stomach buzz with a thrilled sort of relief and oh my god, he needs me. “I’m here.” He said softly, interlacing their fingers from where his hand sat on Will’s. Electricity crackled between them.
Will smiled and shit, Mike loved that smile. “You’re here. And I’m real, I promise.”
Mike almost laughed. “Thank god, I like you when you’re real.” He said. There was a short, comfortable silence. “What do we do now then?” Mike asked with a burst of confidence, tone definitely, maybe borderline flirtatious.
Will cocked his head, lost in mock-thought. “I just don’t know, Mike. What could we do?” He grinned. He knew what he was doing. “What do people who need each other do?”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Will, just fucking kiss me.”
Suddenly, Will looked shy. He untangled their fingers and reached for Mike, placing one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his jaw. His thumb brushed against Mike’s lips once and Mike shivered, holding his breath as his stomach erupted in butterflies. They stared at each other for a moment, the air between them static. Then Will launched forward and their lips were meeting, they were kissing, and Mike thought he might just die. The kiss was gentle, innocent, and Will tasted fucking good.
Will’s hands drifted up, tangling in Mike’s hair, and Mike thought this is what kissing is supposed to feel like. You’re not supposed to want to stop. Mike found he would rather do anything but stop, and pulled Will closer.
They were quick to let the kiss deepen, mouths growing desperate and uncalculated with what must’ve been years of unresolved tension. Before Mike knew it, Will was pushing him down against the wood floor. Shit, he was strong. Mike thought he might like being manhandled. The new angle was incredible. Mike thought about just how they must look; two boys, best friends, making out in the upside-down, against the floorboards of a church.
If God condemned something as fucking gorgeous as this, why did it feel so damn good?
Mike couldn’t care less, gripping Will’s biceps as he kissed into his mouth. “You’re so fucking hot,” Mike mumbled against Will’s lips, squeezing his arms suggestively. “Why the fuck did you get this hot?” He wasn’t even ashamed at the way his voice whined.
Will giggled into his mouth. “I work out.” He responded casually, moving to kiss down Mike’s throat. Mike drew in a surprised breath and arched his neck back to give Will more room. The thought of Will in gym-shorts and a crop top was fucking unbearable.
Will began biting softly at his skin, and Mike couldn’t be helped if a few small sounds were drawn from his lips. Will was madly good at this. How could Mike have ever believed Will was innocent just because he didn’t participate in the Party’s stupid girl-talk? Will didn’t like girls. That was obvious enough. And Mike was delighted with that. Especially now that Will was busy kissing his neck.
Mike brought a hand up to run through Will’s soft hair as he stared at the ceiling, wondering how wrecked he looked right now, lips kissed red and cheeks flushed a stupid pink. Will licked along his Adam's apple and Mike groaned. “I thought it was so fucking attractive when you broke that door in.” He mumbled. “I wanted to say that.” He couldn’t stop talking for some reason. Per usual.
Will pulled away, panting, and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re so damn pretty, Mike.” Will whispered, tracing a finger down the bridge of Mike’s nose, under his eyes, over his cupid’s bow.
“Um. I- uh.” The complement made Mike stammer. He’d never been called pretty before. He decided he liked it. A lot. Maybe more than a lot, judging by the way something curled deep in the pit of his stomach. “Call me that again?” He asked weakly.
Will grinned and leaned closer, voice low. “You’re pretty, Mike. I’ve always thought that. Your eyes and your lips and how your hair curls. The way you talk.”
“Fuck.” Mike whispered.
“Yeah.” Will laughed, moving off him. “Now we should stop. I’m not having sex with you in a church.”
Mike felt himself go bright red as he sat up. “Who said anything about-”
Will giggled, swatting his arm. “Mike, I’m fucking around.”
“Oh my god, who taught you to curse?” Mike buried his burning face in his hands. “It’s so hot for no reason, it's not fair.” He was saying just about everything that came to mind. He was not used to Will like this, and as much as he loved it, he was overwhelmed.
“Hey,” Will’s voice grew low as he put a gentle hand on Mike’s back. Will had always been able to tell when Mike was upset. “C’mere.” Will pulled Mike into an embrace, and he collapsed into his arms pathetically. “Mike. You’re my best friend, and always will be, no matter what else we are too. God, Mike. Who would I even be if you hadn't been my friend?” Will asked, voice cracking. “So that comes first, okay?”
“I love you,” Mike said, and wasn’t the least bit surprised at how easy it came. He didn’t feel pressured or coerced, it just felt right. For once in Mike’s sixteen and a half years, something felt right. “No matter what we are, I love you. I hope that’s not too soon.” He added.
He heard Will’s breath catch. After a moment: “I love you too, Mike. Fuck you for being fucking oblivious, but I love you. Always have.” They held each other. “I just wanted- I mean, I just really want you to know that if this, whatever this is, is going too fast, you can tell me.” His face softened. “I can be whatever you need me to be.”
Shit, Will was still the most selfless person Mike knew. “Will. You- we are doing this, this thing, together, we’re a team, and I’m not going to use you like that. That’s stupid and selfish.” Mike reached forward to brush a hand through Will’s hair as Will gave him a small, hopeful smile. “I’m done being stupid and selfish. I left that part of me behind when I turned sixteen.”
“Well, maybe you left behind the selfish part.” Will teased. “You’re still a little dense sometimes, Mike, be honest.”
Mike groaned. Will was right. Like always.
“We’re all stupid.” Will continued. “And y’know what? We have a fucking right to be. We’re still dumb teenagers, we’re just… busy saving the world too.”
“So the world is relying on stupid kids,” Mike laughed. “That makes me feel better.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Yup.”
“And I’m totally okay,” Mike reassured. “Promise. I was just freaking out a little. In a good way. I just think you’re hot, and it’s kind of a lot. Can’t I think you’re hot?”
Will rolled his eyes and snickered at Mike’s stubborn ramble. “You flatter me.”
Mike giggled. “I repressed this for years, Byers, you think I’m gonna stop now?”
Mike had almost forgotten that they were here, in this leering church. Almost forgotten about what had just gone down. Almost forgotten that the world was ending. But, unfortunately, they needed to get back to saving it. So Mike leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Will’s lips before standing and offering his hand.
Will took it, interlocking their fingers and allowing himself to be pulled up. And so the end began.