Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“No Will, tell me why you lied about the painting!” Mike isn’t sure when he started yelling, and even though he hates that he is, he can't bring himself to stop now. He has to find out the truth. Will doesn’t say anything, his eyes just widen and his jaw tenses. Mike thinks he should drop it. If he were still twelve, he probably would, but he’s not. He’s fourteen, and he’s sick of being lied to.

“It doesn’t matter,” Will mumbles. Mike almost doesn’t hear it, but he does, and now he’s well and truly pissed off. How could Will think this didn’t matter? Mike thought they were best friends, but friends don’t lie. Will doesn’t lie. Not to Mike. More than he’s angry, Mike is sad. His heart breaks a little when he thinks about just how much has changed between them. Mike and Will used to be best friends, they used to be MikeandWill, one word, one unit. They used to tell each other things. They never kept secrets or lied or yelled. What happened to them?

“How the hell could it not matter, Will? Everything you do matters,” Mike’s voice comes out surprisingly soft for how upset he feels. Will’s always had that sort of effect on him, calming him down by literally just being there. Mike knows better than to yell at Will. He knows that it reminds him of his dad. He saw the way Will shrank back into a scared little kid just a minute ago. God, Mike knows better. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Why would it, Mike?” Will breathes, “You don’t care about anything I do until it affects you. You never consider what I want, you just assume that I’ll always be there for you because I always am, but when was the last time you were there for me? Was it when you yelled at me in your garage for wanting to hang out last summer? Was it when I got to California and you wouldn’t respond to my letters? I was so lonely and miserable, Mike, was it then? Was it when you forced me to third wheel all day on my birthday and then yelled at me for ‘moping’? Is it right now, you’re yelling at me for lying, but why would I not lie when you haven’t shown that you care about me in a year?” 

Will is yelling at this point, too, which Mike knows means he’s taken this argument too far. He doesn’t know what to say. Mike has been a terrible friend to Will. He never meant to, it’s just- Wait, shit, did Will just say Mike forgot his birthday? No- it can’t- he was in California March 21st to- oh shit. Fuck. Mike is the worst person ever. Will is turning to leave, still fuming, but Mike can’t let him. He can’t. He reaches for Will’s shoulder, which makes him turn around and the look on his face is one Mike never wishes to see again. It’s bitter and sad and angry and wet with tears. He can’t believe he’s made Will cry again. It seems like it’s all he knows how to do lately. They lock eyes and suddenly, it’s summer again, and Mike is back in his garage, yelling at Will.

***

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” Mike’s angry, but even in his anger, he can realize that was a shitty thing to say. He immediately tries to backtrack as something like terror and despair flash across Will’s face. Mike wishes so badly he could just unsay the words. Unfortunately, he can’t, so he does the next best thing and tries to smooth it over. He takes a deep breath, lowering the tone of his voice. 

“I’m not trying to be a jerk, okay? But we’re not kids anymore, I mean, what did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement and play games for the rest of our lives?” Mike is digging himself an unescapable hole now, he can feel it. Every word out of his mouth is more dirt under his fingernails that he’ll have to clean out later, probably alone, because Will looks like he wants nothing to do with Mike right now. 

“Yeah, I guess I did. I really did,” Mike has never heard Will’s voice sound this indignant. Something in his gut twists a little. This tone is being directed at him for something he said. He’s a horrible friend. Why did he say that? Will is turning to leave, and even though it’s pouring rain, Mike knows there’s nothing he can say to make Will stay. 

He watches him leave. As Will’s bike fades into the rainy landscape, Mike breaks down. He paces angrily around the garage, kicking anything in his way. God, why is he so stupid? On his third lap around the garage, pacing with his head in his hands, Mike’s foot collides harshly with a toolbox his dad left lying in the middle of the floor. Fuck, that hurt. The toolbox was the final straw. Mike limps his way over to the nearest wall and slumps down against it. He’s sobbing now. Heavy, hiccuping sobs he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Mike isn’t sure how long he sits there, crying into his hands. He doesn’t know when Lucas comes in, or when he sits down next to him. 

“Hey man, are you okay?” Lucas puts a hand on Mike’s shoulder, and for the first time in what could’ve been days, Mike lifts his head from his hands. It’s still raining, he notes uselessly. 

“Not really,” Mike wipes his nose, and a long string of snot clings to his arm.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No. Yes? I don’t know- God, I need to- We need to go find Will,” Lucas can surely see that he’s spiraling, but he doesn’t say anything, just gives Mike’s shoulder a squeeze, then offers a hand to help him up. Mike is such an awful friend, and yet, his friends are so good to him. 

They leave the garage without another word about it. In fact, they bike halfway across Hawkins toward Will’s house without a single word at all. 

“I just feel like I’m fucking all my relationships up.” The air is tense. Lucas knows El dumped Mike’s ass, he’s probably figured that Mike and Will just fought, he knows these things. But Lucas also knows Mike, and he knows that he isn’t usually one to start conversations about his feelings. That fight must’ve been bad. “I don’t know why, I just keep- Lucas, am I a bad person? I mean- know I’m a bad friend, but-”

“What? No, you’re not a bad person at all. Or a bad friend. Why do you think that?” Lucas is genuinely confused. In his mind, Mike is one of the very best people he knows. But he’s not. He’s a good liar, and he’s lying to everyone about everything, including being a good person. 

“No, I’m not. I keep hurting people. People I love,” Mike might be crying again, but can’t be sure what on his face is tears and what is rain, he’s choosing to believe it’s all rain, “God, I just keep saying awful things and being an ass and I- I don’t know why.” 

“Mike, people say the wrong thing all the time. Me and Max fight all the time, but we always get through. You’re not a bad person for fucking up,” Lucas’s words do shockingly little to ease Mike’s mind. He wants to argue, to say that there’s no way Lucas could ever say the kinds of things Mike says to people. To his mom, to Will, to Eleven, to himself. 

He wants to argue, but he knows he’ll do the same thing to Lucas that he did to Will earlier. He’ll get angry, he’ll blow up, he’ll say something he regrets, and he’ll have even more proof to add to his bad friend portfolio. Maybe at least then Lucas would believe him. But Mike doesn’t want to fight anymore today. He just needs to apologize to Will.

***

“Will- I- shit, I forgot your birthday?” It’s soft, a question and a confession all in one. Mike takes a step toward Will, his heart tightens when Will flinches, stepping away. It’s a fair enough response, but Mike feels bile rise in his throat. When did he become such an awful friend?

Garage. Rain. “It’s not my fault you-” 

Will’s posture straightens as he goes to speak, Mike braces for another bout of being yelled at, but Will’s voice is quiet now. It’s soft and gravelly and full of just as much emotion as when he was shouting. This is somehow so much worse. 

“Yeah, you did,” Will lets out a long, shaky breath, “you did, and you yelled at me like it was my fault you were avoiding me.”

It’s not my fault-

Mike didn’t even realize he was avoiding Will, but now that Will’s put it out there, that’s absolutely what he was doing. What the fuck, Mike, he thinks.

***

The plane just landed, and Mike is twitching with nerves and excitement in his seat. He pulls at the threads of his stupid orange shirt. Or is it yellow? It doesn’t matter, it’s ugly as fuck, and now Mike is feeling very self-conscious. Why did he feel like he had to change himself for California? It’s just Will and El. Right, just Will and El, who he hasn’t seen in eight months. He thinks it’s fine to be nervous. No, he's excited. The knot in his stomach is excitement. Whatever it is, it’s getting more intense the longer he’s on this plane, and even more so as he’s getting off.

Mike isn’t cut out for solo travel. Usually on trips, he just follows his mom to wherever they’re meant to be, but now he’s alone and responsible for making sure he doesn’t get lost in the labyrinth that is this fucking airport. He’s starting to lose hope when he hears a familiar voice shout his name.

“Mike!” It's El. God, he’s never been so relieved to see her. Or anyone he knows, for that matter. Mike’s been wandering around this airport so long, if Jonathan had been the one to call him over, he might’ve kissed him on the lips the way he’s pulling El in right now. 

“Careful, careful, careful, you're smushing your present,” El pulls away, leaving Mike exposed in his stupid ass outfit. He’s self-conscious all over again. He tries to hide it, stumbling out some explanation as to what the gift is. Something about the mix of colors being wrong. He’s not sure because Will’s approaching. Mike was going to be normal about seeing Will. He’d planned what he was going to say on the plane, he’s not going to fuck this up. But then Will’s going in for a hug with a rolled-up painting in his hand, and everything Mike rehearsed is gone from his mind. He’s stiff and awkward, his voice sounds foreign to him as it leaves his mouth at least three octaves higher than he would’ve liked, “Hey, how y’doin’?” 

How ya doin’? That’s all he could come up with? Mike has missed Will for every second of eight months, and all he can offer his best friend is a stupid How ya doin’? and an awkward side hug that’ll haunt Mike until he dies. He tries to move past it, saying hi to Jonathan and his friend, presumably Argyle, who he’s heard about through El’s letters. Letters. He’s convinced he can feel the one in his backpack trying to burn its way out. It’ll probably never make it to its intended recipient, given the interaction they just had, but Mike couldn’t risk leaving it unattended in his bedroom. What if his mom decided to clean while he was gone, or Holly decided to snoop? Unattended is never safe. So in his backpack it stays, weighing him down like it’s a lead weight, not a piece of paper. 

His attention is brought back to Will, who is still holding that painting. 

“What’s that?” Mike knows what it is, he’s more curious about the why. Why did Will bring it to the airport? Was it for Mike? He hopes it is. He really hopes-

“Oh, nothing, it’s just a painting I’ve been working on.” That is bullshit. It may have been eight months since they last saw each other, but Mike has always known when Will is lying. And right now, he’s lying. Plus, who brings a random painting they’ve been working on to pick up their best friend from the airport? Yeah, definitely bullshit. Mike will have to ask about it later. Right now, though, he is a bit busy taking in his surroundings. His surroundings being Will, who is a solid six inches taller than the last time Mike saw him, and whose voice is shockingly deep and whose jawline is shockingly sharp, and whose pants are shockingly- Right. Will’s changed. And Mike is feeling very cool, calm, and collected about it. California is a lot hotter in the springtime than Mike imagined it would be, especially around his neck and ears. Weird.

The morning passes in a blur, and then they’re at the skating rink. Mike doesn’t really know how they ended up at the skating rink, but that’s decidedly where they are, and apparently, he needs socks? Damn his stupid ass outfit, he never wears flip-flops. Mike makes his way to the counter to ask for socks. The lady working pulls out the most hideous green socks Mike has ever seen. He has half the mind to refuse them, but beggars can’t be choosers, and Mike is begging for a good day with Will and El. He has to fix whatever awkward ass shit happened at the airport. He has to prove to Will that he did miss him. He has to earn that painting back. He has a plan.

“Ok, so, I asked for vomit green and I got vomit green, isn’t that awesome?” The joke doesn’t land. He isn’t sure why because, personally, Mike thought it was hilarious. The air is tense on either side of him, like his presence alone put Will and El on edge. El at least offered Mike a courtesy laugh, Will just stares. Mike’s not sure if it’s at him or El, but he’s afraid that if he checks to see, he’ll make things weird again. When did things become so weird between Mike and Will? 

It’s not m-

Mike keeps doing what he knows best. Making shitty jokes, that is. He is so desperate to fix whatever he broke with Will, to make him laugh. Hell, Mike would take just a smile at this point, but all day, Will’s been so down. He barely looks at Mike, and when he does, it’s more like he’s looking through him. He feels weirdly vulnerable around Will today. Maybe that’s why he sticks to the shitty jokes. 

***

“I didn’t mean to avoid you. It’s just so- God Will, I’m so confused,” Mike confesses, and his cheeks are burning hot. And wet, he notes. Tears come so easily to Mike these days. Usually, he hates it, but now, he doesn’t mind feeling it all. He wants to be as vulnerable with Will as Will is being with him. 

***

Well, this day has taken a turn for the worse. El’s been lying to Mike? He doesn’t understand why, and Mike is pissed off. He’s mad at everyone. Those stupid bullies, El, the government, for making the Byers move to stupid California. He needs to yell. He needs to be mad at someone. He knows it's bad, but that’s how Mike has always dealt with anger. Unfortunately, the bullies and El and the government aren’t here for Mike to yell at. Will’s here. Mike takes comfort in that for a second before remembering that Will lied to him, too. Twice today alone. When did he start lying? 

“You should’ve told me she was having trouble.” Mike doesn’t know why he’s blaming Will. It’s probably just because he’s the nearest involved party, but that doesn’t make it feel better. It doesn’t matter. Mike needs to blame someone because if he doesn’t, then he has to admit that he hadn’t been paying enough attention to his girlfriend to realize she was lying through her teeth about everything. 

“I didn’t know they were gonna be here, Mike.” It’s not my fault, Mike hears,

“Yeah, well, you knew she was having trouble for like a year, and you didn’t tell me.” that you don’t like her.

“I didn’t know she was lying to you.” 

 “Which is why you were acting like a douche to her all day?” The weird hug, the painting, the deadpan response to his jokes. Will was being a douche, just not to El. 

“I wasn’t being a douche,” Will sounds hurt and confused, but Mike is pissed. He stops walking. Mike’s been itching for a fight, their search for El can have a quick intermission. 

“You were! You were rolling your eyes, moping. You were barely talking. You basically sabotaged the whole day.” What Mike means is that he was looking forward to spending the day with Will and El, but Mike can’t enjoy anything Will doesn’t enjoy, so Mike’s day was ruined because Will was upset with El.

“She’s been lying to you, Mike. Straight to your face ever since you got here,” Will gives Mike’s shoulder a harsh shove to let Mike know he’s just as upset as he is, “and I’ve been a total third wheel all day. It’s been miserable. So sorry if I wasn’t… smiling. ” 

Mike can't take this anymore. He can’t take the lying and the yelling. But more than that, he can't take the accountability. He can’t be the one who ruined the day, he just can’t. He needs to get out of this goddamn skating rink before he really ruins things. They need to find El.

***

“Confused about what, Mike? Do you- do you  not want to be friends anymore?” Will is full-on sobbing now, and Mike still can’t give him a good answer. He's confused about what he’s confused about. All he knows is that being around Will is fucking confusing these days. 

***

“What about us?” Will’s voice echoes behind Mike and his blood runs cold. What about them? “You’re mad that I didn’t talk to you? It seems like you’ve made it super clear you’re not interested in anything I have to say.”

You don’t care about anything I do until it affects you. 

“That’s just not true,” it is. He knows it is. 

“You’ve called maybe a couple times. It’s been a year, Mike. Meanwhile, El has a book of letters from you,” this cuts Mike deep. How can Will compare their relationship to his relationship with El? It’s different. Except it’s not. He knows it’s not.

“That’s because she’s my girlfriend, Will.”

“And us?”

“We’re friends. We’re friends.” Mike’s stomach has been in knots for this whole conversation, but this. This pulls both ends as hard as possible until the knot can’t possibly be any tighter in his gut. 

“Well, we used to be best friends.”

Oh.

“Well then, maybe you should’ve reached out more, I don’t know. But why is this on me?” It’s not my fault. “Why am I the bad guy?” He knows he’s in the wrong, that he’s been a shitty friend, but knowing something and accepting it are two totally different things. 

It’s not my fault you don’t like girls. 

***

Oh. Oh shit.

***

“Shit, Will, I- it’s not like that. I swear. I just-” He’s grasping at straws. He can’t lose Will, but he’s not doing a great job at not losing him either. He must grab on to one of the straws, because as Will starts to turn to leave again, an idea pops into Mike’s head. It’s a terrible idea. It could make everything so much worse, but he has to try. 

“Will wait here, please. I know I’m asking you to be here for me again when I’ve done anything but the same for you, it’s just- I have to show you something. Please.” He doesn’t even hide the desperation in his voice. It’s no use, he and Will are already in their rawest states right now, what’s a bit of begging going to hurt?

“Fine,” Will agrees, moving out of the way as Mike rushes past him out the door. He’s gone for a few seconds before returning with his backpack. He digs through the bag, pulling out a concerning number of crumpled-up math worksheets until he gets to what he is looking for. It’s in worse condition than he’d like, wrinkled and slightly torn at the edges, but he thinks maybe that’s fitting. That’s kind of how he feels right now. Before he can convince himself otherwise, Mike shoves the envelope into Will’s hand. Their hands brush in the process, and it sends a shiver up Mike’s spine.

Will just eyes the letter, looking back and forth between it and Mike, and Mike thinks he’s going to die. Or at least throw up. Will starts to tear the sealed envelope open, and no, Mike is definitely going to die. This was a terrible idea. He paces back and forth, glancing between Will, who is now very intently reading the letter, and his own hands that are at risk of ripping themselves apart. 

“You wrote me?” Will’s voice is so soft and so full of emotion that Mike can’t meet his eyes. He thinks he might do something incredibly stupid if he did. So he keeps staring at his hands.

“Uh, yeah, er- I tried. A lot actually, it’s just- I couldn’t-” Now it’s Mike’s turn to be sobbing. His words devolve into hiccups, and Will, who Mike thought was going to storm out of his house forever and never speak to him again just ten minutes ago, is wrapping him in the tightest, most comforting hug he’s ever felt. It’s so unlike the one they shared at the airport. It says everything they’ve been trying and failing to say for the last half hour. It clears up every last bit of confusion Mike’s been feeling since El dumped his ass last summer. 

It’s not my fault I don’t like girls.

I don’t like girls. I like Will. Mike has known this for much longer than he’d like to admit, but knowing something and accepting it are two totally different things. But he’s done just knowing. He’s accepting now. 

“I’m sorry, Will. I’m so fucking sorry. You never deserved any of the bullshit I’ve put you through. It's just- it’s scary,” Mike admits both to himself and Will, “I’ve been pushing you away and- avoiding you, I guess, because I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified, Will,” He thinks Will knows what he’s hinting at because he's once again invading Mike's space, though this time, they don't close the gap with a hug. They're just standing there, in Mike's bedroom, almost chest to chest now, and Mike has forgotten how to breathe.

“I’m scared too, if that helps. That’s why I lied. About the painting,” Mike almost laughs, he’d totally forgotten about the painting that started all of this, “I told you it was from El because- because everything I said was true, but it- it wasn’t from El. Everything I said, about feeling like a mistake and needing you- it’s true, Mike, I need you.”

Mike is absolutely at a loss for words. His brain is working so hard to keep up, and yet he feels like he hasn’t processed a single word. Except that he most definitely has. The painting was from Will. The confession was from Will. Holy shit. Mike is barely thinking when his hand finds Will’s.

“Can I kiss you?” The question is just as shocking to Mike as it is to Will, he didn’t really mean to ask, but Will is nodding ever so slightly, and Mike can’t find it in himself to regret it. He leans in, closing the tiny gap between them until they actually are chest to chest. The hand that’s not holding Will’s reaches up to cradle his jaw. Mike briefly realizes how much he wanted to do this in the airport, mesmerized as he was by Will’s new manly look. He tries not to think about that day, though, as he presses their lips together. 

Woah.

Their lips slot together like they were made for each other. Mike thinks they probably were, as his part briefly. That is the last thing he thinks, his thoughts fading into something sort of like sparks in the back of his brain as he tastes the tears that rolled down Will’s face to his mouth. It’s salty, but there’s a hint of something else, something Mike has never tasted before, something he somehow knows is entirely, uniquely Will. They pull away, and Mike is a little breathless as he brings his other hand to the other side of Will’s face, wiping the rest of the tears away with his thumbs. 

“Mike,” Will breathes, his voice still sounding a little wet and gravely from their fight.

“Will,” Mike’s voice doesn’t sound any better, hoarse and a little choked. He can’t believe this just happened. He, Michael Wheeler, just kissed Will. And Will kissed him back. And the painting was from Will. And Will loves Mike. And Mike loves Will. And- holy shit. Mike loves Will. Turns out the L word actually comes incredibly easy when it’s for the right person. Mike loves Will. This is a fact he has always known but just accepted. Mike doesn’t want to keep any more secrets. So he doesn’t, “I love you,” he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world, like he’s said it a million times before.

“I love you too, I kind of always have, and I kind of can’t believe this is real, this is real, right?” Will has never really been the rambling type, but Mike always has brought out a different side of him than most. Mike finds this unbelievably endearing and kisses him again as if to answer Will’s question. When they pull away again, Will chases Mike’s lips, reluctant to let the kiss end. Mike could get used to this. 

“Happy late birthday, Will. I'm so sorry, I can't believe I forgot! I hope this makes up for it for now, but I’ll plan a real date to really make it up to you.” Mike's tone is light but genuine, he means for this to land as a half-joking apology, but Will doesn’t respond, his face weirdly serious.

“A date?” Will questions as if it is absolutely absurd that Mike, who just kissed him twice and confessed to being in love with him, would want to take him on a date.

“Yeah? Unless you don’t want to, then- I dunno, we could just keep doing this? But I want to do something special because forgetting your birthday? That was such an asshole m-” This time it’s Will cutting Mike off with a kiss. Will’s soft lips and slightly muscular build press into Mike, and he could definitely get used to this. 

Chapter Text

It’s been two weeks since the Byers moved in with the Wheelers. It was a pretty good arrangement they had going on, given the circumstances. Will missed Mike when he’d been in California, so he is definitely not mad to be sharing a room with him.

Well, he usually wasn’t.

Except for today. Today, Mike came home from a walk with El in a bad mood. That’s how a lot of Mike and El’s interactions ended lately, but Will tried not to think too much about it. Usually, when Mike and El fought, Mike would come plop down on the other end of his bed where Will would usually be drawing, and complain. Today was different, though. 

It’s been nearly an hour since Mike got home, and he hasn’t come into his room once, instead, he has opted to pace angrily around the house. That can’t be good. Maybe they broke up, Will’s brain offers, terribly unhelpfully. It would make sense. Their stilted conversations over meals, the fights Mike keeps complaining to him about, the fact that El is almost always at Hopper’s cabin instead of here with them, and now, Mike’s infectious annoyance that has seeped its way from where he’s pacing in the living room to every corner of the house. It has to be that. Will pushes down the hope that he feels blooming in his chest, his best friend and his sister may have just broken up, and all Will can think about is what if. 

What if? It’s a dangerous question to ask, one which Will has only let himself indulge in asking a few times. What if Mike would have him? Will knows he never would, Mike isn’t like that, like him.

It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.

Will isn’t feeling particularly brave (or stupid) today, so he forces the thought out of his mind. Not that he has to try particularly hard because he can hear Mike’s angry footsteps climbing the stairs. With a deep breath, Will prepares for another afternoon spent listening to Mike’s relationship problems. As soon as he reaches the door, Will can tell something is weird. Mike doesn’t join him at the edge of the bed or even look at him for that matter. This can’t be good.

“Are you okay?” Will’s voice is a little uncertain as Mike looks up at him. The look in Mike’s eye is entirely unreadable to Will, but if he had to guess, he’d place it somewhere between absolutely crazed and heartbroken. Mike takes a deep breath, clearly trying to tamp down some of the anger that is written all over his face. Will is getting nervous, he hates it when Mike starts conversations angry. It usually ends with him getting yelled at for nothing. Since their fight at the skating rink back in California, Mike has clearly been trying not to pick fights with Will. 

“Why did you lie to me?” Mike’s voice is surprisingly level and calm. That was not what Will was expecting to hear. Not today, not ever. He feels his stomach drop to his feet. Will never expected Mike to ever bring this up, even if he found out the truth, he thought it’d just be another one of those things that chips away at their friendship, but that they never talk about. Like the fight they had last summer or the way Mike never wrote Will. 

“I- what?” Maybe if he denies it well enough, this conversation will die before it starts.

“Will- I was just out with El, we were fighting again, and I asked her about the painting,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, “she doesn’t know what a commission is.”

Well shit. Will thought he could outrun the truth forever, but obviously, it was going to catch up to him eventually. Mike isn’t stupid, obviously, he’d figure it out. Will is kicking himself. He should’ve just left that stupid painting rolled up in his bedroom in California. He opens his mouth to say something, argue maybe? But no words come out. 

“I don’t- I can’t,” Will feels dangerously close to crying, “Not right now, Mike. Please.”

Will tries, he really does, but when Mike is angry, he can’t leave anything unsaid.

It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.

“No, Will, tell me why you lied about the painting!” Mike is yelling now, and Will feels himself flinch away like he’s seven years old, being yelled at by his dad. He feels so stupid. Obviously, Mike isn’t going to hit him the way his dad would, but Will’s never handled being yelled at well. He feels his eyes burning like he’s about to cry, and he knows if he were to speak right now, he would. So instead, he clenches his jaw and just stares at Mike. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Will mumbles. This is the closest thing to the truth Will can come up with right now. He can’t very well tell Mike that the reason he lied about the painting is that he’s madly, deeply in love with him. Not when he may have just broken up with his sister, not when they’re sharing a room, not when the world is ending, not ever. 

“How the hell could it not matter, Will? Everything you do matters,” Mike’s voice comes out surprisingly soft in comparison to the yelling he’d just been doing. 

“Why would it, Mike?” Will breathes, “You don’t care about anything I do until it affects you.” Will wasn’t planning on revealing this sentiment today, but he wasn’t planning on talking about his stupid painting today either, so fuck it, he decides, no more lying. He continues, letting the truth about the way he’s felt for the past year tumble gracelessly out of his mouth. 

“You never consider what I want, you just assume that I’ll always be there for you because I always am, but when was the last time you were there for me? Was it when you yelled at me in your garage for wanting to hang out last summer? Was it when I got to California and you wouldn’t respond to my letters? I was so lonely and miserable, Mike, was it then? Was it when you forced me to third wheel all day on my birthday and then yelled at me for ‘moping’? Is it right now, you’re yelling at me for lying, but why would I not lie when you haven’t shown that you care about me in a year?” 

Will hates yelling, but right now, he can’t stop himself. He’s feeling everything he’s spent every second of the last year pushing down, and now that it’s erupting out, he can’t even bring himself to care that his eyes are wet or that he’s yelling at Mike. Will deserves this, he deserves to be the one to escalate the situation for once. So he lets himself have this, if only for a minute. Will stands to leave, pushing his way past Mike toward the door. He wants to yell and argue, but he also wants to preserve a little bit of their friendship. Unfortunately for Will’s friendship-saving plan, Mike just can’t let this go, let Will go. A hand grabs his shoulder, and he spins around, ready to keep fighting. He tries not to feel self-conscious about the way tears and snot wet his face. 

“Will- I- shit, I forgot your birthday?” Mike’s voice is soft, much softer than before. It’s apologetic and disbelieving all at once. He takes a step toward Will, but Will is still teetering dangerously on the edge of really fucking shit up with Mike, so he takes a matching step back, widening the gap between him and Mike.

“Yeah, you did,” Will lets out a long, shaky breath. He considers not even saying the next part at all, but right, no more lying, “you did, and you yelled at me like it was my fault you were avoiding me.”

If he were less upset right now, Will would’ve felt the weight lift off his shoulders. He’s been trying to act like this didn’t bother him for weeks, but now that it’s in the air, he realizes just how much it hurt. His best friend forgot his birthday. 

“I didn’t mean to avoid you. It’s just so-” tears are running down his face now in a way that matches Will’s. It’s almost comforting, seeing Mike in the same state as him right now, “God Will, I’m so confused.”

Confused? 

Will thought he had a pretty good handle on things before. This was a pretty standard fight for them: One of them does something, the other brings it up, Mike yells, Will yells back, they make up later. But Mike is confused? About… Will? That makes no sense. Now they’re both confused, and that is a recipe for a potentially friendship-ending disaster.

“Confused about what, Mike? Do you- do you  not want to be friends anymore?” Will feels his voice crack more than he hears it. He is full-on hiccup sobbing now. Is that what Mike really wants? Mike doesn’t say anything, instead, he stares at his hands as though he’s deep in thought.

“Shit, Will, I- it’s not like that. I swear. I just-”

Mike is growing frantic, like he’s willing to throw anything at the wall to see what would keep Will from leaving his bedroom before they sort this out. Will has never wanted anything more than to leave this room right now. The silence between them is tense and unending. That’s it, Will turns to leave again, right as Mike finally speaks.

“Will wait here, please. I know I’m asking you to be here for me again when I’ve done anything but the same for you, it’s just- I have to show you something. Please.” His voice is desperate in a way Will’s not sure he’s ever heard before. It’s compelling.

“Fine.”

Will hasn’t even had time to move out of the way before Mike is pushing past him into the hallway. It would be so easy to leave right now and not finish this conversation. Tempting. But then Mike’s on his way back carrying his backpack. He flings it onto his bed, rifling through so many math worksheets Will isn’t sure how he could possibly be passing. Mike takes a shaky breath, pulling out a torn-up envelope and shoving it into Will’s hands. 

Will just stares at Mike’s messy handwriting on the front.

Will Byers

1107 Alpine St

Lenora Hills, CA

93297

It’s a letter, addressed to him. No, it can’t be, Mike never wrote him any letters. Will glances back and forth between Mike and the envelope in his hand before finally tearing it open. 

Dear Will,

How is California? El says it’s great, but I guess I just want to hear from you. Have you made any new friends (please don’t replace me) . How’s school? This is so stupid.

School’s starting and it’s so weird without you there. Lucas and Dustin are fine, but they’re not you but they’re kind of annoying lately. Lucas is playing basketball now, but he’s probably told you that. Him and Dustin keep giving me shit for not writing to you, but I don’t know it’s just hard. When you’re here, I don’t have to think about what I’m saying, I just say it. But when I’m writing, I’m thinking so much about what I’m saying, and you know how it is when I think too much. (Bad). I’m not used to it being hard to talk to you. I just wish you were here . I hate this. 

I try to call all the time, but the phone’s always busy. El said your mom works from home and that’s why, but I think that’s bullshit. I want to hear your voice call you. I miss you.

This is stupid, you’ll probably never see this letter, just like every other letter I’ve written you. I wish I could send it. I don’t know why I can’t. I'm sorry, Will. I want to talk to you, I really, really do.

Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

Hope you’re doing alright.

<3

Mike

Will is stunned. Absolutely shocked to his core. 

“You wrote me?” his voice comes out much softer and emotional than he intends. He looks up at Mike, who is too preoccupied trying to pull the fingers off his hands to look at Will.

“Uh, yeah, er- I tried. A lot actually, it’s just- I couldn’t-” and now Mike is sobbing. Will is so overcome with so many emotions, there’s nothing he could say to convey that. So he says nothing, instead, stepping toward Mike, wrapping him in a tight hug. Mike is so warm as he melts into the hug. Will can smell his shampoo and the faint smell of faded cologne. 

They pull away, and neither of them says anything for a long moment.

“I’m sorry, Will. I’m so fucking sorry. You never deserved any of the bullshit I’ve put you through. It's just- it’s scary.” If Will didn’t know any better, he might take this as a confession. “I’ve been pushing you away and- avoiding you, I guess, because I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified, Will.”

And Will understands that. It’s scary being in love with your best friend- wait. There’s a mix of confusion and hope stirring under his skin. Will knows that he’s been scared of saying the wrong things to Mike because he’s in love with Mike and because he is gay. But Mike-

(please don’t replace me) ...Lucas and Dustin are fine,  but they’re not you … I just wish you were here … I miss you...

Huh.

“I didn’t mean to avoid you. It’s just so- God, Will, I’m so confused.”

Oh. Maybe Mike is like Will. It makes sense, right? The letter he never sent, the arguments that convinced Will that Mike knew about him and hated him for it, the confusion, the movie nights where they sat too close, the holding each other after a nightmare.

“If we’re both going crazy, we’ll go crazy together.”

“It’s Hawkins, it’s not the same without you.”

Maybe Will is feeling braver (and stupider) than he thought. He takes a risk.

“I’m scared too, if that helps. That’s why I lied. About the painting,” his head is down, but he can see the way Mike perks up at the mention of the painting. Right. The whole reason we’re doing any of this, Will thinks. He takes a deep breath before continuing. Mike was right, this is terrifying, but this fight has already changed things between them. It doesn’t matter if Will tells the truth or not right now, he’s already read Mike’s letter. Everything else is already out in the open. “I told you it was from El because- because everything I said was true, but it- it wasn’t from El. Everything I said, about feeling like a mistake and needing you- it’s true, Mike, I need you.”

Mike looks like he’s just seen a ghost. Shit, maybe Will really misread this situation. Maybe this was the worst mistake he’s ever made. Maybe he needs to run past Mike, out of the house, and let the Upside Down take him back forever. That would surely be a kinder fate. But then Mike is grabbing his hand and opening his mouth to say something, maybe a formal rejection.

“Can I kiss you?” Now it’s Will’s turn to look like he’s just seen a ghost. Mike’s voice sounds as though his words are just as surprising to him as they are to Will. What if Will says yes? Because he’s feeling particularly stupid today, he nods. Mike leans in, and the entire length of their bodies is pressed together as their lips meet. 

The kiss is quick and over before Will really has the time to fully appreciate the softness of Mike’s lips or the firm grasp he has on Will’s jaw, or the way they’re breathing the same air. When they pull away, Mike’s other hand makes its way to the other side of Will’s jaw. Mike wipes the last of his tears away, and Will thinks he might just die then and there. 

“Mike,” Will breathes, barely above a whisper. He can’t believe this is happening. He can’t believe he just kissed his childhood crush/best friend. What sort of TV show bullshit was that? Guys like him, like them, don’t get that. Except maybe sometimes they do.

“Will,” Mike’s voice is just as breathless as Will’s. Neither of them says anything else for a minute as they take each other in. Will thinks he’s never seen anything as beautiful as Mike. This isn’t a new thought, of course, but it is especially relevant right now as he’s eye-level (or close to it, it’s not Will’s fault Mike is freakishly tall) with Mike’s flushed cheeks and messy hair. Mike is staring right back, as though the same words are playing in his mind about Will.

“I love you.”

Mike has never sounded so sure about anything in his life. Will is a little bit shocked. He knows, both from El and from Mike, that he never really said that to her. Will almost feels bad, but he can’t bring himself to care that much because Mike, his best friend, Michael Wheeler, loves him. He’s flustered. 

“I love you too, I kind of always have, and I kind of can’t believe this is real,” as Will is rambling, a terrible thought creeps its way into his mind. Will’s had dreams like this since he was twelve. Vecna is still out there. This time it feels different, but- “this is real, right?” Mike lets out a small laugh before pulling Will back in for another kiss. Definitely real.

This kiss isn’t much longer than the last, but Will is expecting it, and this time, he savors every little detail. Mike’s scent, the taste of his chapstick, the way his lips part ever so slightly, the way he’s pulling away again because Will just can’t have anything, can he? He follows Mike’s lips as far back as possible just for the extra few seconds of contact. 

“Happy late birthday, Will, I hope this makes up for it for now, but I’ll plan a real date to really make up for it.” A real date. Will’s never even considered the idea of going on a real date. Much less with Mike. It’s a little overwhelming. Kissing someone is one thing, offering to take them on a date is another. 

“A date?” Will sounds utterly incredulous, like it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. 

“Yeah? Unless you don’t want to, then- I dunno, we could just keep doing this? But I want to do something special because forgetting your birthday? That was such an asshole m-” Will’s heard enough. This time, he’s the one to pull Mike in, pressing their lips together. Mike lets out a surprised gasp, and Will thinks he could stay here forever. Tempting.