Chapter Text
So, Will has powers now.
Will has powers and Mike doesn't know what to do with himself. I mean, it was already hard enough to ignore the little voice in his head telling him that he was not exactly acting normal ever since the Byers- ever since Will- kind of moved in with them for a period of 18 months and 3 days as of now.
Not that he was counting or anything.
To be honest, that little voice had been growing especially louder ever since him and Will were left alone (alone meaning without El, in this case) in California, and then it practically started screaming when he found out the truth about the painting.
Oh yeah, he knew about the painting. For a long time now, actually.
And yes, he was sharing a house with Will for 18 months and 3 days and this whole time he's known that painting wasn't El’s idea. It came from Will. And the things said to him in the van? After the truth was laid out it was now so obvious whose feelings Will was actually talking about, who it was that needed him, who it was that he made feel like they weren't a mistake. He was in denial for a bit after that, but Mike wasn't dumb, just scared.
Scared of the implications, the impossible possibilities, scared of his own feelings spilling out uncontrollably once he’d finally admit the truth about himself that he spent so long pushing down, burying somewhere deep inside his mind and accepted it.
But after that, after sleepless nights, after weeks feigning obliviousness, after Will’s presence lingering everywhere he went even when he did his absolute best to avoid him, it finally came, and it was like the dam he put so much effort on building all those years broke with just a puff and all the water came down on him, violently, drowning any uncertainty he had left.
A few days after the revelation Mike could finally see the truth about himself, and about how he felt, when he realized- when he accepted- that his feelings about the painting hadn't changed a bit, even when he knew it came from Will, and then he understood yet another thing about himself: he felt the same as Will.
He liked Will.
He loved Will.
And then, with no time to process or plan how to proceed with these newfound feelings of his, Will was back in his life just like back then, when they were kids and all they knew were each other, and Mike couldn't get enough of him and it was pathetic but it also just felt right. Him and Will, attached by the hip all over again, eating together, biking to school together, just talking for hours and hours like how they used to, and as nice as it felt, Mike still felt conflicted, because despite them falling back to their rhythm so damn naturally, he still had doubts.
So he pushed a bit, one longing look after another, a brush of a hand, their knees touching when they sat side by side- and Mike always made sure they did- offering to share his room and even his bed with him when Will couldn't sleep because of nightmares, small but also bold signs that he hoped but also dreaded Will would notice, because he wanted to know; he had to know, if what Will said to him were his own feelings or something he just came up with in the spur of the moment to make him feel better- though, Mike doubted Will had it in him to do something like that. His words were true, he felt it.
He just wasn't sure they carried the meaning that he assumed- that he hoped- they did.
He could always tell whenever Will’s words wavered, and that didn't seem to be the case, but still.
Will could never lie to Mike, that much he knew.
He was sure of it, because no one knew Will like he did.
And that gave him the most disgusting sense of superiority anything could ever give him.
And the worst part was that he felt no guilt about it, because it meant he was special to Will in a way that no one else was, and he liked it. He liked being special to Will, because that proved they were each other’s: to Will, Mike would always come first, and the same was true for him, and he hated himself for trying to let go of that nasty feeling he so relished in on that summer, where he told all those awful things to him and then pushed him away on the year that followed because he understood that what he felt wasn’t… normal.
The way he felt about Will wasn't something a normal friend would feel about his best friend, so he backtracked. Hard. Denial crept up on his very being, crawling on his skin and settling inside like a parasite, because it not, that would mean Mike wasn’t normal, and god forbid he had yet another weird thing going on with him; being a nerd and hanging out with “freaks” already got him bullied enough.
But now, having spent a whole year without Will, and then a whole year with him and the notion that he probably had the same feelings for him as he did for Will, how could he possibly deny who he truly was: a fool, completely, hopelessly in love with his best friend.
And how the hell could he act normally when Will was passed out on his lap after awakening his powers to- he assumed- save him? And right after they joked Will was a like a sorcerer, no less.
Looking at him, he felt his chest get filled with pride; Mike was right and, more importantly, Mike was right about Will.
And a curious thing about sorcerers is that they often needed a paladin by their side, so if Will was indeed a sorcerer, wouldn't he need mike, a paladin, by his side, even if only on theory?
That notion only made his heart beat faster. God he was such a loser. And an oblivious one at that.
Not only because the just the idea of Will needing him made him giddy all over, but also because it took him so damn long to realize that every time he felt that way in the past, it had always been because of Will: something Will said, something Will did, something Will shared, and he swore to himself that that was nothing, like the idiot he was.
Look, he had issues, okay?
Mike’s internal struggle was interrupted by a groan coming from Will from underneath him as he made sense of his surroundings, making Mike quickly look down to check on him and ask if anything hurt- big mistake. Staring directly at him were Will’s hazel eyes, a bit cloudy, his hair spread perfectly on Mike’s lap, and he felt his heart start beating so fast he was afraid he would go into cardiac arrest right there and then.
Dear god, Will was beautiful.
So, so beautiful.
Mike wished he could just lean down, grab him by his cheeks and kiss him until their hearts were beating in the same rhythm; then, he would make a trail of kisses all over his face, marking every other feature on his gorgeous face: his eyes, his smile, his nose- everything.
All Mike wanted to do was to mark Will as his, and yet-
When he made sense of where he was, his eyes widened slightly and Will tried to quickly get up, being immediately stopped by Mike, who did not feel like letting him move away from his lap in any way.
Yes, he was selfish, he knew that.
“Woah, I wouldn't do that if I were you.” He said, gently placing a hand on his chest to make him halt his movement “Your nose just stopped bleeding, so you should stay down, you know just- just in case.”
That was a lie. It had been long since his nose stopped bleeding, he was fine- Mike just felt like being greedy, and the joy he felt when Will obliged and lied back down was too embarrassing to describe.
He looked up for a moment, cringing when his eyes met Joyce’s through the rearview mirror, knowing he was caught on his lie, so he quickly cleared his throat, hurrying to make conversation before Will’s mom decided to call him out from the driver's seat. “Hum, are- are you okay? I mean, what you did back there was…”
“Insane?” He asked with a playful smile, his brow quirked in amusement. Then, after a brief pause “...Scary?” The question came tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper, and Mike’s heart stung with the implications the question carried.
“What? No! No, no, not at all! What you did back there, it was- it was amazing, Will. For a moment there you were truly a sorcerer, taking down that demogorgon like it was nothing! It was brave, and definitely not scary, at all.”
Will shot him a bashful smile, and Mike could swear he saw him bat his eyelashes for a moment, before asking shyly: “Yeah?”
Mike smiled back, just as bashfully as Will “Yeah.” His voice so sweet he could almost taste the honey filling his mouth and spilling all over Will. “Oh, but, you're probably super beat, right? I mean, you were in pain before, and right after you were doing something you've never done before, so it was probably like- like, draining, right?” He continued after the silence stretched for a bit too long, remembering how El got when she overused her powers; if she was exhausted by only using them, how did Will feel after not only awakening his, but also feeling every ounce of pain every demogorgon felt at the base, at the same time?
He ignored the pain in his own heart when Will laughed, a faint, strained noise below him, and Mike could tell he was, indeed, not okay.
“Uhm, yeah, I’m a bit, uh, drained I guess, but it's cool. If I’m being honest I’m more worried about Robin, Lucas, and the kids. Do you think they’re alright?” He asked, ever so caring, ever so selfless, always putting other people’s well being above his own.
He wondered how could someone be so endearing without even trying?
“Robin and Lucas, they're… fine, as far as I’ve heard. Just a few scratches here and there because of all the running and crashing” Mike sighed, mindlessly reaching for Will’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly, before breaking the other part of the news “But the kids were taken. All of them were. I’m- I’m sorry, Will.”
A moment of silence, Mike’s hand on Will’s shoulder, who didn't make any effort to run from the touch, and then a shaky breath escaped his lips, like he was going to say something before looking up at Mike again, noticing his damage.
“Your head… You're hurt.” He reached up, tentatively touching Mike’s forehead, where the cut from earlier still bled down his face, albeit not as much as before, and it was just a ghost of a touch but Mike had to almost physically restrain himself from leaning into it. To just feel the warmth radiating from his hand was enough to make Mike starve for it.
God, he needed help.
“What, this? This is nothing- I mean, compared to what you and the kids went through- I think I was let off easily.” He said, sitting as still as he could, trying so hard to keep his voice normal and not waver when Will slid his hand down to Mike’s jaw, tracing the almost dry line of blood coming from the cut so softly he would’ve missed it if he wasn't so focused on Wills every move.
“You’ll need stitches” He said after a moment, letting his hand fall by his side while Mike’s hand was still on his shoulder and just didn't seem to notice at all. Will frowned, his gaze on him once again. “It looks pretty deep.”
“We can worry about that later. What about you? Did you get hurt anywhere I can’t see?”
“If you count just about everything that happened with the demogorgons, totally, but if not, then I’m fine.” He laughed again, humourless, trying his best to make light of the situation, but Mike couldn't bring himself to laugh with him; this time he was the one frowning, and, noticing his silence, Will looked up at him again, asking: "What's wrong?
So much, it’s what he wanted to say. Will, having to go through the same pain those monsters went through. Will, who was now probably on the same watchlist El was because of his newfound powers. Will, at twelve years old, lost and cold and scared for a week in the upside down. Will at then thirteen getting possessed and being used as a spy and a vessel for the mindflayer, once again cold and scared and in pain. Will, who ever since had to live with Vecna’s presence creeping up on him at all times. Will who, after everything, was more worried about his friends, and the kids and a cut on Mike’s forehead than his own cuts and bruises. Will, who saved him.
Will, who he almost lost.
Will. Will. Will.
Everything surrounding Will, everything related to Will, everything within Will.
His feelings for Will.
Feelings he just recently realized and came to terms with and that he almost took to the grave with him. The end of the world and the possibility that he could lose Will to it- that he almost did lose Will to it. More than once, too.
It’s aggravating, the myriad of things he wants to say to him and he just can’t. Not without being sure, at least; Mike was a coward, so until he could know that whatever feelings he had caged inside mirrored Will’s own, he would try his best to keep quiet about it all.
So, swallowing every little, big or medium affectionate word reaching the tip of his tongue, every confession he wanted to spit out from the bottom of his heart onto Will, Mike just shrugged, a bit defeated, and said: “Nothing, just lost in thought, sorry.”
And he looked down at Will again, helplessly drinking in the sight of him lying on his lap and the heat of his body on his own. But of course, as every good thing must eventually end, Joyce cleared her throat from the driver’s seat, making Will scramble to get off his lap, and this time Mike let him, immediately mourning the loss of his warmth against him.
“Are you alright, honey? We’re close to the radio station, you’ll be able to rest properly soon.” She said, trying to hold back the excessive worry in her voice, and Will smiled at her, trying to silently reassure his mother everything was fine.
“I’m okay, mom, just a bit drained.” He answered, playfully nudging Mike’s shoulder, in the same endearing way he pushed him a few hours earlier and his chest once again overflowed with every feeling of affection, of infatuation, all at once, and he imagined, once again, leaning over and kissing Will’s teasing smile right then and there, saying how much he loved when he teased him or made fun of some dumb thing he said.
God, was it really possible to love someone that much and just not realize it for years?
Holding himself back once again- he was doing that a whole lot, lately- he just smiled back and looked away shyly, letting Joyce and Will start a conversation he was too lovestruck to be a part of.
Not only that, but he found himself planning, very carefully, how to proceed from then on- for real, this time. Since Will was acting pretty much the same after 18 months and 3 days of Mike’s hints and signals, maybe something else, something bolder, would put him under Will’s radar; it was risky, but after tonight, he wasnt sure he could just sit and wait for something, anything, to happen.
And also, since when did Mike shied away from risky? If anything, he usually jumped straight to the risky part, no thoughts, no planning, just action.
Whatever it was, whatever happened, and whatever would happen, he had to act. Quickly.
He had to go back to being the old Mike Wheeler, the one who didn’t hesitate to act on his feelings as soon as he caught a hold of them, Mike Wheeler, the impulsive little prick. Mike Wheeler, the leader. Mike Wheeler, the heart.
Mike Wheeler, Will Byers’ heart, if he would take him.
And he could only hope he would.