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Mike Wheeler forgot Will Byers’ birthday.
And Will is pissed.
“You didn't say it!” Will shouted. “What was I supposed to think? I waited for you to acknowledge it, to give me anything that said you didn't forget, and you left me empty-handed.” His voice had died out by the end; he just couldn't yell anymore.
Mike seemed exhausted, on the verge of tears, and so, so lost. “You really think that after eleven years I would just up and forget?”
Will flopped backwards onto Mike's bed. He threw his arms up, staring at the ceiling. “It certainly seemed that way.”
Mike chuckled humorlessly. Will waited for his rebuttal, but it never came. After one too many beats of silence, Will peeled his eyes away from the peel-and-stick glow stars that they put up together when they were five years old. Mike was in his closet, rummaging through a battered suitcase. Finally, he yanked out a spiral bound black notebook. It seemed like it could burst at any second. There were papers stuffed between the lined pages of the book, and notes sticking out of the sides. Mike’s name was printed clearly across the front cover in white ink. Will wasn’t sure how to hide his surprise-or his confusion.
Before Will was able to ask what it was, Mike chucked it across the room at the bed. It landed with a thump next to Will’s leg.
Then Mike disappeared. His door slammed shut behind him, leaving Will alone with his thoughts and something that felt ridiculously important. For a moment, he only stared at the notebook, until his curiosity got the better of him and he slowly opened it.
He had only flipped through a few pages when his breath stopped dead in his lungs.
Sure, the first pages were school notes and snippets of campaigns, but the rest…
It seemed that every other page was one of his drawings. Will’s. It was like a timeline of his art. Starting with the doodles filled with wild crayon strokes from when he was six to the maze of tunnels he dreamt about a year ago. And then he found it.
It slipped from the pages, fluttering down onto his lap. It was the drawing Will had made for Mike last month. Small, basic sketches of the Party. Dustin rolling a die, Lucas on the edge of his seat and Mike watching from behind his DM screen. Will had spent a ridiculously long time on Mike’s smile in this particular drawing. He had tried to capture the unbridled happiness on Mike’s face, and had only partially succeeded.
Will gently traced over each pencil stroke, remembering how he had done this so many times in the days leading up to him presenting it to Mike. His face as Will handed him the drawing flashed through Will’s mind. He had gazed at it, mouth agape, before telling Will that he loved it. Will had felt unbelievably happy at that moment.
He wondered where things had gone so wrong.
Will flipped through a few more pages, finding scratched out words and the messy handwriting Will liked so much. He was about to close it when he found a page filled with words. Top to bottom. None erased, none scribbled over.
It felt slightly wrong to be seeing this, but Mike shouldn’t have chucked it so damn hard if he didn’t want anyone looking at it.
The very first words were hard enough to get through with Will’s eyes filling with tears.
Happy birthday, Will.
Mike, the idiot, had remembered after all. Why hadn’t he just said that?
As his eyes scanned the rest of the page, he began to understand why. The words were a confession. For what, Will couldn’t quite tell. Sure, he used words like love and want, but then he used words like weird and can’t tell what this means.
His gaze hit the bottom of the page and he froze. He almost threw the whole notebook across the room. He flipped frantically through the other pages, trying to see through the thick lines covering letters and phrases. Trying to find a sign, any sign at all, that what he had just read was true.
Will’s heart skipped a beat when he finally found it.
There was a polaroid picture taped to one of the pages. It was the two of them, no older than ten, sitting on the swings at school. The caption on the photo read, Mike and Will’s first day - 1980.
Mike had been laughing at something, his hand reaching out to cover Will’s. Current Mike, it seemed, had taken a red pen to the photo, drawing a shaky heart around their interlaced fingers.
And underneath, Mike had written his own caption. I think I’m in love with you.
***
Mike couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t get the image of Will screaming at him out of his head. The sound bounced through his head like a mallet, whacking his skull over and over until he felt like he might explode. Will had looked so hurt. Like he really believed Mike had forgotten his birthday.
Technically, it was a slightly fair assumption. Mike hadn’t really mentioned it, or gotten him anything, or shown any signs of remembering at all…
Yeah. It did seem like he had forgotten.
But he hadn’t! No, Mike just hadn’t yet built up the courage to tell Will that he was falling in love with him. He had planned to, but the words just kept coming out wrong. He had practiced in his mirror until Nancy had yelled at him to shut up. Then he tried writing it out, only to find it wasn’t much easier on paper.
One day, he looked up and it was suddenly March 29th. Seven days after his best friend’s birthday. And Mike had felt terrible. Which actually turned out well for him since it gave him the motivation to actually complete what he was trying to say to Will.
He had planned to show Will today. Had invited him over to apologize, to tell him that he hadn’t forgotten. That he never could.
He had gotten so close, but Will beat him to it.
Why am I here, Mike?
What do you mean? I wanted to see you.
Oh, is that all?
Mike could still feel the sting of Will’s words as they dripped with scorn. Mike couldn’t blame him.
God, he was such an idiot. He should have just said happy birthday when he answered the door. Apologized then. But he didn’t, and instead he had just smiled. Like a doofus.
And now Will was pissed. More than pissed, he was hurt. And Mike didn’t know how he could fix this mess. How had things gone so wrong so fast?
He just threw his confession in Will’s face and left. Run to the basement. Coward. Why the hell had he done that? What good had that done him?
Will probably hated him now. He had thought he was reading the situation right, but maybe not? What if he had just made a fool of himself in front of his best friend? Or worse, what if he lost his best friend and the love of his life in one fell swoop because of his stupid idiocy?
Love of his life? When the hell had that happened?
He was such a dumb sap.
Mike stuffed his hands in his pockets, wincing as something in them stabbed him. He pulled out his hand to find a bead of blood there. Then he remembered. He yanked the little figurine out, wiping the red off the staff. It was Will, with his purple “Will the Wise” cloak resting on his shoulders. It was supposed to be his present. He had made it months ago. He had actually gotten pretty good with a carving knife. He just hadn’t sanded it well enough apparently. And Will had always been better with the painting. Mike had tried to do eyes and failed, opting for simple dots that were too small to look creepy. It looked halfway decent, and Mike was proud. Or he had been.
Mike wasn’t sure if he should go back upstairs yet. He wasn’t sure how he would face Will. He wasn’t even sure if Will had seen his confession. For all he knew, Will had completely ignored the notebook and jumped ship.
He lasted two more minutes ticking by on the clock before he got jittery. Screw it.
Mike raced up two flights of stairs like he was being chased. He made it up to his bedroom door and slowly pushed it open.
He didn’t see Will on the bed, and his heart sank.
But then he saw the open notebook.
Will was standing at his window, back to the door. Mike swallowed. “Will?”
Will spun around so fast he almost fell over. “Mike!” He had been crying. His eyes were puffy and red.
“Did you-” Mike began, only to be abruptly cut off.
Will crossed the room in three strides. He stood so close to Mike it became hard to breathe. “I saw.” Will whispered. No disdain, no more scorn. “I saw.” He repeated quietly.
Mike wanted to cry. “All of it?”
Will wrapped his arms around Mike’s shoulders, pressing his face into Mike’s shoulder. “Yeah, all of it.”
“I didn’t mean to forget.” Mike felt tears begin to fall. Well, not exactly-more like he felt tears begin to pour.
Will lifted his head from Mike’s shoulder, gently cupping Mike’s face with his hand. “You didn’t, not really.” He pulled Mike slightly closer. “Hey, it’s okay.”
It was at that moment that Mike Wheeler decided to take a massive risk. He kissed Will Byers. It was quick, a simple press of the lips, but he did it. Will’s eyes widened, and Mike could see relief in them. And joy. And excitement as Will pulled him in again. This kiss was much longer, and only slightly more uncoordinated.
Then Will did something that flipped Mike’s world around.
He giggled. Honestly giggled. And it was so damn cute that Mike almost fell down. Mike’s hand came up to cover Will’s where it still rested on his face. “I love you so much.”
The words were barely more than a breath. They didn’t need to be. Will smiled like all his prayers had been answered. “Michael Wheeler, I love you too.”