Chapter Text
The warmth of the sun casts a dreamy light in the AP English classroom where Will Byers finds himself on weekdays as one of Hawkins High’s brightest seniors. Usually, he would feel that way about himself: capable, intelligent, maybe even involved in his education. Recently, though, something’s gotten into him, and maybe that’s what’s making the once monotonous mornings so meaningful these days.
To put it simply, it’s Lucas Sinclair.
A guy who’s no new addition to his life, but certainly a new addition to his daydreams. Sure, he’d known Lucas for years, talked to him more than a few times, and had seen him around almost daily, but ever since the oh-so-gracious seating chart had made them class partners, he realized how undeniably charming this guy was. Handsome, athletic, clever, undoubtedly nerdy (although he didn’t seem like the type initially), and funny? They’d worked together on assignments, throwing jokes at each other, enjoying their time spent over pages of printed black ink, yet somehow still working well enough to earn them multiple high grades. It was silly, but he was thoroughly admirable and seemed to really like talking to Will, hanging around more than he needed to, talking about his day, their interests, waving to him when they walked past each other, even going so far as to invite him to his basketball games, all out of his own free will.
Now, Will wasn’t the type to fall for any guy who was nice enough, but this felt different. It felt like he wasn’t crazy to hope that his crush thinks about him, that he cares. It was an overwhelmingly sweet dream, one that made him feel giddy with how within reach it might be.
This dream, though, is just that. And he realizes he tuned out of class yet again, in favor of circling around the same stupid thoughts that come with these feelings. Looking down at his extremely blank college-ruled notebook page, he curses himself for letting himself get lost in his thoughts so much. Looking back up, almost like a sign from the universe, the teacher is having someone roll the TV up to the front. So, in other words, there are a few minutes to catch up while he sets up whatever it is that he’s planning.
Turning to his left, he taps on Max’s desk. “Let me see your notes,” he says, hoping she woke up feeling generous today. Instead, she laughs at him. “No way. You are responsible for your own education.” The phrase sounds familiar, and he remembers he might have said something like that when she asked for his help on a math worksheet, which he hadn’t even started at the time, so it was completely justified. She smiles and turns away, happy to mock him yet again. Great. This leaves him with no choice but to bother poor Lucas. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he won’t sense the things in Will’s head just by looking at him.
Turning to his right, he whispers, “Hey, can I see your notes?” Lucas sits up, leaning over slightly to see his depressingly empty page and shaking his head in disappointment, but handing over his open notebook anyway. He quickly manages a “Thanks!” Lucas smiles at him, “Yeah, you really need it,” and turns to watch the television being messed with.
Will watches him briefly before realizing Lucas is the reason he’s behind anyway, and immediately starts to scribble down the lesson notes. Or, he would have, if he hadn’t stopped halfway through the title, his attention, once again, stolen. This time, though, it was by a small doodle in the left corner of Lucas’ notebook. A doodle that Will might see in any cutesy teen romance movie, and soon, it’d surely be starring in nightmares as well. In steady pencil lines, a nicely defined, extremely intentional, but simple, lovely heart. Inside this innocent heart, an equally unmistakable set of initials stood out: MW
It couldn’t be true. It didn’t make any sense. Not only was the world ending because those clearly were not Will’s initials, but because he wasn’t prepared to find out this way. Much less at this very moment. This was a tragically misread situation. He didn’t actually believe Lucas liked him back, but he was happy to live with the idea of it being a possibility alone, which was no longer the case.
Worst of all, the only person who came to mind with that set of initials was sitting right in front of him, a head of almost shoulder-length, wavy black hair: Michael Wheeler. He mentally cycled through the grade’s roster, wondering if perhaps there was a girl he’d forgotten about. But it was a small town, and there weren’t many options to replace the heartbreaking truth Will had discovered.
So, Lucas likes Mike.
This is it for him, it’s all over. He likes guys after all, but at what cost? His head falls to his hands in despair, causing his pencil to roll off the desk and clink as it lands on the ground, the first victim of his overdramatic suffering.
Unfortunately for Will, his traitor of a pencil knocks right by Mike’s chair. Frozen, he watches as the boy who stole his (possible) lover right out of his arms reaches for his pencil and sets it on his desk. He manages to mutter a quick “Thank you” and grabs his pencil back. To his horror, Mike doesn’t turn back around to mind his business, but he looks down at Will’s desk. His face tells Will he saw what he had also just seen for the first time in his life seconds ago.
“What… is that?” Mike asks, his mind clearly working overtime to comprehend the situation.
Will fumbles around to cover the incriminating notebook with his arms, and then his own notebook, quickly muttering out a “Nothing.” Will’s eyes flicker towards Lucas, who’s still patiently waiting for their teacher to get past the movie’s menu screen. Bless him, he has no idea of the situation they find themselves in. “I don’t know how that got there.”
Actually, maybe he’s alone on this one.
He’s been caught seemingly red-handed, and although he didn't draw any hearts, the only very reasonable explanation he could offer would mean telling Lucas’ secret and outing him in the process. Up until now, he hasn’t seen a gay member of the Hawkins Tigers, much less one who could tolerate the idea of one, so he can’t be the first to spread the devastating news.
He tells himself it can’t get any worse and sighs, “Whatever. Shut up.” Defensive and even more incriminating. Great. Mike blinks at him, raising his eyebrows, and finally turns around to face forward. At this point, he’d have to take rejection from the wrong guy and hope it’s all kindly solved and over. And after that, he’d have to work on getting over Lucas. Simple.
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For the rest of the class, which is a blur of writing, reading, and their passionate teacher’s blabbing, Mike spirals. Where does something like this even come from? Will Byers isn't a total stranger by any means, but does it make sense that he’s liked him this whole time?
Well, there was that time a few weeks ago, when the rain picked up quite suddenly. Mike was standing helplessly in front of the school when Will offered to walk him to the bus station under his umbrella. Normally, he would’ve biked home after getting over the idea of getting soaking wet on his way, but with Will’s determination to keep him dry, he figured the bus fare was worthwhile.
And then, last fall in art class, Mike left his eraser in the previous period’s classroom. Reluctantly, he asked Will, seated next to him, seeming like the most competent person in the room, if he had an extra. Will reached over into his pencil case and handed him a brand new eraser. A clean white rectangle with the label still on it. “Keep it.” Anyone else would’ve handed him their ugliest eraser in their disposal, one halfway used with pencil marks and holes in it, just to get it out of their sight, or to ensure it was borrowed and not stolen, or maybe because that was the kind of eraser that would suit Mike Wheeler. But there he was, with Will Byers’ perfectly new and cared-for eraser. All because he was stupid enough to forget his own.
A year ago, he remembered Will passing him in the hallway, stopping for a second once he noticed him. “It’s your birthday, isn't it?” Taken aback, Mike nodded in response. Will smiled his sweet smile, “Happy Birthday, Mike!” Saying it like it was nothing, like it wasn't so thoughtful of him to care about some random guy's birthday, and he walked off.
How could he be so blind? This whole time, someone had felt this way for him, without expecting anything in return, and he hadn't even bothered so much as to notice it?
(Of course, the truth is Will Byers is just kind to everybody.)
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Time seems to pass even more slowly than usual. This is something Will thought was impossible because of how often he was bored, but it could be that being tortured by the most ridiculous situation of his life has a more intense effect on the passage of time than boring lectures do. As soon as class ends, with a heavy feeling of defeat, he finds Mike outside the classroom, standing on his own, clearly zoned out.
“So…” The widening of Mike’s eyes tells him this is going to be as awkward as he expected. “How did you do on today’s quiz?” He asks, bracing himself to suffer through this conversation with a boy he never intended to make a fool of himself in front of.
“Not great.” That’s all Mike responds, fiddling in place. “There were some distractions.”
Okay, so now it’s his fault that he failed a simple and very easy reading quiz, fine. “Sorry, I guess. I mean, it wasn't that hard if you’d read Act II.” Mike finally meets his eyes. “I read Act II plenty,” He responds. “Right. Well, can we meet after school? By the gym?” He watches him struggle to stand up straight. After all, some guy he’s never properly met is trying to confess his undying love. The stupid things I do for you, Lucas.
Mike's eyes dart around, looking for any reason to avoid Will’s. Startled, he asks, “What for?” Assuming he wasn’t lying about reading the play, he was destined to fail that quiz with his stupidity. “I just wanna talk.” Will tries to form some sort of smile, if anything, to alleviate himself of the awkward feeling. He’s still being looked at like he’s asking for the impossible. “You know, alone?” That might only be making it worse.
As a response, Mike blurts out, “Yeah, sure. I’ve gotta go, bye,” and walks off quickly, almost like he's stumbling his way through the halls. That nervousness makes it clear. There's no turning back. Will is doomed, framed by a single notebook page on his desk.
He meets the unknowing mastermind behind it, Lucas, again at lunch. Well, Lucas finds him in the midst of the lunch line crowd. “Hey man!” He greets, as cheery and charming as always, fully unaware he had unintentionally broken his heart only a few hours ago. “Hey.” He smiled back. “English was long today, huh?” Lucas asks, chuckling as they make it out of the queue and head towards a table. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, it was just hard for me to concentrate today. Off day.” If only he knew the day he’s having. “Yeah, I get that.” He pauses, his brows slightly furrowed as he turns to face him. Lucas continues, hesitating to get the words out, “I’m assuming you saw that drawing… when I handed you my notebook?”
He’s obviously nervous, flustered even. And reasonably so, who would expect a high school basketball player to be confident about his sexuality? And in Hawkins? Although Will was probably not the person most people would be nervous in front of.
“Yeah, I might have seen a thing or two.” Maybe Will’s response is reassuring enough, because Lucas laughs. “Okay, well, I know it’s super cheesy and stupid, but don't tell anyone?” It’s endearing, this side of him, but Will should probably stop thinking that way. “Of course not.” Lucas smiles at that. “Aren’t you gonna go for it? There’s no way anyone would throw away an opportunity to be with a guy like you, so why not try?” Will asks. “It feels really childish to say, but I feel like I’m just too scared to even try. For now, I wanna keep it to myself, I think.” He’s calmer, now, except he still sounds embarrassed, “Especially since I’m doodling little love hearts in my notebook like a little girl. It’s tragic, but that's the most I can bring myself to do.” Lucas laughs again, putting his hands over his face for a moment. “Plus, there are plenty of other guys who are probably better than me. Cooler. They can get anybody's attention, and I can’t. I probably don’t even have a chance.”
Will is very familiar with that feeling, unfortunately, and as bad as it is, he giggles at Lucas’ dramatic shame. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. But, yeah, I know what you mean.” He responds, a little too honestly for his own liking. “Really? So, then you like someone too? Now you gotta tell me, man.” Will flinches a little at the very clear confirmation that Lucas, in fact, likes someone else. Seeing it in writing was one thing, but this makes it real. There go his dreams of hand-holding, study dates, and kisses after basketball practice. All definitively over as of today, as if they ever started.
“Yeah.”
“Someone in our English class, too?” Lucas’ brown eyes glimmer with excitement. “Unfortunately,” Will responds, now he’s the nervous one. “Okay, Byers,” Lucas chuckles, “How’s this? You help me with mine, and I’ll help you with yours.” He smiles brightly and offers his hand for Will to shake. “Yeah, alright. Deal.”
If only he knew.
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Will sees the taller boy in the near distance, standing alone again, outside of the gym like they agreed. The strap of his backpack is nearly slipping off his shoulder, if not for his hand keeping it in place there.
“Hey. Nice of you to show up.” Will jokes, approaching him. “Come on, I’m not that much of an asshole,” Mike replies, sounding annoyed, but it's not really convincing with the smirk he gives. His half-smile drops, and for a second, there’s enough silence between them to hear the breeze hit the trees and students talking as they leave the school grounds.
“Okay, well, listen.”
It’s time to get this over with. He just has to tell him that it’s not a big deal, he won't bother him about this supposed “crush” he has on him, and to please be quiet about the whole ordeal. News of Will’s sexuality wouldn’t exactly shock anyone, but he hopes to avoid any unnecessary humiliation, especially when he’s been doing his very best to stay under the radar. “Don't tell anyone about what you saw, please,” he starts.
Before he can finish that sentence, Mike blurts out, “I’m sorry, I don't like you like that.” Apparently, they both chose the same exact second to speak.
“Huh?” Will is stunned. Rejected before he could even finish his plea, perfect.
“What?” Mike stares, his eyebrows furrowed, “I wouldn’t tell anyone. Why would I go around with your secrets?” And now, Will is staring, having expected a harsher attitude. “I wouldn’t.” He repeats, words softer than before.
Will feels his heart drop a little. “Why are you so nice? You’re making this harder than it should be.” Mike scoffs in response, “I don’t have any reason to tell people,” his eyes focus on the ground, scuffing the heel of his boot against the concrete, “or whatever it is you’re thinking.”
“Okay.” Will scans Mike’s face for a sign of insincerity, but all he finds are soft hints of freckles on his cheeks. It's the afternoon sunlight. “So, you’re a caring guy. It makes sense why…” That’s why he likes you. But it’s too late. “That's why I like you.” Will doesn’t mean the words; they come out quiet and slow, dragged out by his hesitation. He didn’t even mean to say them, never to this guy, at least, but it still makes his face burn up. Mike’s face, on the other hand, might be paralyzed.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s fine, thank you for understanding, I guess. But these feelings, they’re not something I can’t get over. So, forget about it, I won’t bother you or anything. We can forget everything and put it behind us, alright? There was something there, but I’ll be fine. My heart will keep beating like it usually does. Brand new day.” Is he still trying to convince Mike? He smiles either way, hoping it’ll settle things.
“No, it’s- I didn’t notice that you felt that way, man. Sorry if I did or said something to make you think….” Mike says, completely unsure of where his words are taking him. He’s digging a deeper grave for both of them, Will thinks. He sighs, “No, you didn’t. It’s fine, forget about it. See you around.” He doesn’t get to take many steps away before Mike interrupts, “You’re really fine with it?”
How hard can it be to just let him leave? “Yes.” Will fights the eyeroll as he turns to face him again, hoping that the meeting of their eyes will somehow make his words true. Mike shuffles around and slides his hands into his black jeans’ pockets.
“I mean,” he starts, “you don’t have to pretend like nothing happened. We don’t have to forget.”
That day, a few months ago, when he and Lucas first paired up in class, he knew it would be hard to forget the way he felt. He’d turned his head, only to see Lucas looking his way. Startled, he avoided eye contact, looking for an excuse to have accidentally stared at the basketball player’s way. “Hey, um, it’s Will, right? We should work together.” Really, it was a normal thing to say, except it didn’t make any sense in Will’s mind. Still, he somehow broke out of his trance and accepted, and the two sheepishly started on their reading assignment.
“Dude, don’t cry, I get that it feels like I broke your heart, but-”
“I’m not crying!” Will’s had enough. “Especially not in front of you.” Where did this guy even come from? And he seems set on ridiculing him in the most roundabout way possible. Will sighs, raising his arm into a facepalm, “You’re so annoying.”
“And yet here you are confessing to me,” Mike smiles, taking a few steps closer — getting rid of the few feet of distance Will had managed to put between them —crossing his arms, and leaning against the gym wall.
“So much for nice and understanding. I take everything back, I should punch you, actually.”
Mike stands up straight again, “Woah, woah,” He extends his arms, as if to defend himself. His hands hovering only a couple of inches away from reaching Will’s chest. “Violence is never the answer, Byers.”
Will raises his hands to brush Mike’s away, but when he does, the contact is a bit more than he expected. His palms are soft, cold if anything, but he feels some harsh skin on his fingers. Their hands lingered for a second more than they needed to, causing both boys to pull their hands back.
It makes more sense now. Lucas didn’t suddenly want to get to befriend Will. He was looking towards Mike, who was sitting right in front of Will, before Will caught him. After writing their answers together, their conversation started flowing more naturally, enough for Lucas to feel comfortable saying, “I don’t know how these characters do it, you know? It’s easy to admire someone from a distance… but doing something about it, telling them how you feel right away? I’d be too scared to say anything at all. I guess that’s why they’re characters in a play, a funny one, at that, and I’m just some guy.” He breathed out a laugh, “Is that too pathetic of me?” Lucas tilted his head towards Will with a soft expression on his face, waiting for an answer. That’s when all of this started. “Not at all,” Will smiled. Lucas meant what he said; he was scared to speak to the person he wanted to talk to, but that person was Mike, not Will.
Mike is still standing there, in his usual awkward way, waiting for something. “I said it’s fine. I can’t expect you to know what it feels like anyway,” Will says. That is enough for him to finally walk away, leaving Mike Wheeler alone, kicking a rock on the ground as he watches him get further and further away.