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Mike’s sitting at his desk, staring at the rolled up painting in his hands. He and El had broken up a few months ago and now he’s thinking over what Will had said when he gave it to him in the van. He unrolls the painting and stares at it for probably the millionth time since getting it. Something about it just doesn’t really sit right with Mike. Will had said that El had commissioned the painting from him. When Will gave Mike the painting, he explained all of what El had been thinking. “She’s been so lost without you.” Will had said. “When you’re different, sometimes, you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she's not a mistake at all. Like she's better for being different.”
But he also starts thinking about the letters El had written him. She had said that Will wouldn’t show her any of his art. She even thought maybe he had been making something for a girl. Suddenly something clicks in Mike’s head. Oh. Oh. Eleven didn’t commission it. That means that what Will said in the van, it wasn’t about Eleven. It was from him.
Mike walks out of his room, rolling up the painting as he makes his way downstairs and knocks on the basement door. He hears Will’s voice come through from the other side, “Come in.” Mike opens the door and walks downstairs, shutting the basement door behind him, somewhat holding the painting behind his back. Will looks up from a comic book he was reading on the couch, “Hey, Mike.”
“Uhm, hey, Will. Can we talk?” Mike’s voice is kind of shaky, like he hadn’t been anticipating having to have this conversation today, which, in hindsight, he hadn’t. Will sets his comic down, suddenly looking somewhat…scared?
“Oh! Uhm, yeah sure,” Will’s voice is uneven, like he’s expecting the worst. Mike pulls the painting out from behind his back and unrolls it. Will’s breath hitches, “Oh, that’s-that’s the painting I gave you, t-the one El-”
“Cut the bullshit, Will,” Mike cuts him off, “I know El didn’t commission it. She told me in a letter you wouldn’t show her any of your art. Why’d you lie to me?” Will’s face falls and he looks like he may cry.
“Mike, please just forget about it, okay? It-it doesn’t mean anything,” Will lies, and Mike scoffs, walking over to sit next to Will on the couch.
“Bullshit, you don’t make a painting for someone, tell them they’re the heart of the party, that they make you not feel like a mistake, and not mean it,” Mike turns his knees towards Will, voice coming out softer–his “Will” voice–next time he speaks. “I’m not mad that you lied, okay? I just wanna know why you lied.”
Will freezes at the sudden proximity, breathing shakily, “Mike I can’t. You’ll hate me. I’m sorry, please just forget it,” Will stands up, making like he’s about to head for the door. Mike’s hand shoots out, grabbing Will’s before he can leave.
“Will,” Mike’s voice is soft and silky, making the other boy freeze, “Please, just talk to me. You know I could never hate you. Hell, Will, you were possessed by the goddamn Mind Flayer and I still stayed by your side, the whole time. Please, Will, just talk to me,” Will turns back around and Mike’s looking up from him on the couch, still holding his hand, giving him the whole “sad puppy dog” look he’s never been able to say no to. “Please, just be honest with me. Everything you said in the van, all the feelings you said came from El, that-that’s what you felt, right?” Mike almost whispers, trying to pull Will back to sit with him.
Will’s voice comes out barely audible, “Yes.” He sits back down next to Mike, who’s still holding his hand.
Mike grabs his other hand as well, “You’re not a mistake Will. And you’re not gonna lose me. Nothing you could say could ever make me walk away from you,” He looks at Will–really looks at him–searching for something to show what he’s thinking.
Will is frozen, the proximity, the softness in his voice, the way Mike’s still holding his hands. He struggles to find the words as he responds, “Not-not this Mike. You’ll never forgive me for it. You’ll-you’re gonna think it’s disgusting, you’re never gonna wanna see me agai-”
“Will,” Mike cuts him off, gripping his hands slightly tighter, “Please, just tell me what you’re thinking.”
Will’s eyes start glistening with uncried tears, “Every-everything I said in the van, I meant it. I really, really meant it. You’re the only one that makes me feel like being different is okay, like I’m not disgusting. I was so lost without you in Lenora, Mike.”
“Being different is okay, and you’re not disgusting, Will, God, don’t ever say that,” Mike’s face had fallen slightly when Will had spoken, hearing what he had been thinking of himself. “And-and I need you too, Will. I always have. Please tell me what else you’re thinking. Why did you lie about the painting?”
Will pulls his hands away from Mike’s, scooting away slightly, almost preparing to be rejected. “I like you, Mike. I have for a really long time. The painting was kind of my way to get the feelings out. I just, I’ve kept them hidden for so long, been told that queers are disgusting, faggots go to Hell, so I kept pushing it down, hoping it goes away, trying to distance myself from the feelings. I let go of the idea of you liking me back a long time ago.” He freezes, realizing he had finally confessed to Mike.
Mike’s staring at Will, looking utterly flabbergasted, “You-you like me? Like, like like me?”
A tear slips down Will’s cheek, “Shit, shit, Mike, I’m so sorry, you’re probably disgusted, God, you probably hate me. I’ll keep ignoring it, please, just ignore what I said, it doesn’t mean anything, I’m sorry-” He stands up and starts trying to walk away again. Mike gets to his feet, pulling Will into a tight, crushing hug.
“I don’t hate you, Will, God, I could never hate you. I’m just…confused, okay? You like me?” He pulls back slightly, moving his hands from around Will to rest on his biceps.
Will’s still frozen from the hug, starting to regain brain function, wipes a tear away and realizes he was asked a question, “Uhm, yeah, I’ve kinda liked you since I knew what a crush was. I’ve been trying to push it down since you and El started dating, but y’all broke up and I started getting my hopes up again, which is a really, really, really, shitty thing to say, ‘cause she’s my sister, but I love you, and I’m done hiding it, and I can’t imagine my life without you, Mike, God, I really can’t,” Will takes a deep breath, having said all of that in one breath, freezing again when he realizes he had said love. Shit.
“I love you too, Will.” Mike breathes out. But Will wasn’t really listening, running over how to take the rejection in his head. He freezes. He plays back what Mike had just said in his mind.
“What.”
“I love you too, Will. What I said in the pizza parlor a few months ago, I didn’t mean it. My life didn’t start when I found Eleven. It started the day I asked you to be my friend on the swings in kindergarten.” He reaches up and brushes a tear from Will’s face, leaving his hand to rest on his cheek. “I’m sorry I’ve been a shitty friend the past few years. Especially last summer. I completely ditched you for El, and I’m not trying to make excuses, but I think that’s when I started to realize my feelings, and I tried to distance myself from you, because I’ve always been taught that being gay is bad, but I don’t think I’m gay, because I really did love El, but I’ve always loved you, Will. And I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide it from me for so long.” A stray tear escapes Mike’s eye.
More tears start to fall down Will’s face and Mike pulls him back for another hug, “I can’t believe you love me back.”
Mike presses a kiss to the top of Will’s head, “I can’t believe you ever thought I wouldn’t.” He pulls out of the hug and his hand goes back to Will’s cheek, tilting his head up slightly. He starts to lean in slightly when there’s a loud knock on the basement door. Mrs. Wheeler’s voice cuts through the air.
“Mike! Are you down there? You and Will need to come eat dinner!” The boys freeze, separating.
Mike runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry laugh, “Figures. Come on, let’s go eat. And by the way, you’re sleeping in my room tonight.”
They go upstairs, and dinner passes slowly, Mike and Will both anticipating getting to be alone again. After dinner, they go into Mike’s room.
The second the door shuts behind them, Mike turns around to Will, hand flying to his cheek as he presses his lips to Will’s. Will freezes before melting into the kiss, hands going to Mike’s curls, sinking into them like he’s been wishing to do for what seems like a thousand years.
The kiss deepens, Mike’s tongue running against the seam of Will’s lips. Will parts his lips, allowing Mike to sweep his tongue into his mouth. They make out against the door for a little before pulling apart to breathe, foreheads resting against each other. “God, I love you so much,” Mike’s voice is quiet, breathless, almost gasp in the small space between their lips.
“I love you too,” Will presses another soft kiss to Mike’s lip before hugging him.
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That night, Mike Wheeler and Will Byers fall asleep in the same bed, arms around each other, legs tangled, with soft brushes of their lips in the quiet darkness of Mike Wheeler’s bedroom.
For the first time in a very long time, everything seems peaceful. Just two boys who had been suppressing their feelings for so long, freed from the weight of hiding their love.