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Mike paces in his room impatiently. Nancy had gotten in the shower 20 minutes ago because she has a date coming up with Jonathan. How they managed to fit a date into their already chaotic lives trying to survive the nearly destroyed Hawkins, Mike has no idea.
He'd have no problem with Nancy going on a date with Jonathan, except for the last 25 minutes, he’s had to pee. Why he didn’t go before she got in the shower is simple: he’d been too distracted playing his video game with his best friend in the basement.
Now, he has to wait for his sister to get out of the bathroom so he can use it already. Except Nancy’s been hogging it, and it’s not a surprise- she usually takes long showers. But this is just ridiculous.
Mike grumbles to himself as he continues pacing, unable to sit still. The longer he stays still, the more he thinks about his growing need to empty his bladder, and the more urgent his situation becomes.
He stops and glares into the hallway. If his sister doesn’t come out of that bathroom in 30 seconds, he’s going in there.
That said, 30 seconds goes by, and Mike’s not sure how long he can hold it together. The time of his need to go has progressed from 25 minutes to 30 minutes. He can’t take it anymore.
He storms out of his room and down the hallway, where he can still hear the shower running. Damn Nancy and her time management. It’s as if she’s trying to piss him off on purpose. And it’s working.
Mike tries the knob and, of course, it’s locked. He grumbles under his breath and just barely resists kicking the door and demanding his stupid sister to finish her stupid shower and leave the stupid bathroom.
He stands there for a moment longer, debating what to do, before deciding he’ll have to break in and enter. Maybe he should give her a warning, first.
Mike bangs his fist on the bathroom door, calling out (hopefully) over the running water.
“Nancy! Nancy, if you don’t get out of the shower right now, I’m gonna tell Jonathan that you still have one of Steve’s shirts!”
It’s not true… probably. But a lie might scare Nancy enough to feel threatened and leave the shower.
No response. The shower doesn’t turn off. She probably didn’t hear him.
Frustrated, Mike huffs and knocks again.
“Ok, that’s it. I’m gonna get this door open and use the bathroom. ‘Cause someone doesn’t know how to manage her time and other people’s time.”
Mike marches make to his room like a man on a mission. He searches his desk, mumbling under his breath.
“Come on, come on…”
Success. He pulls out a bobby pin and heads back into the hallway, approaching the bathroom door. He puts the pin in the doorknob and starts jimmying the lock.
After some seconds of jiggling the lock, Mike hears a click. He puts the bobby pin in his pocket and opens the door, stepping inside the bathroom.
The room is foggy with the running water. Mike quirks a brow. Nancy enjoys hot showers, sure, but this is quite a bit, even for her. He hears some humming the shower and shakes his head. Didn’t realize his sister was a shower singer.
“Hey, Nance,” he starts, earning a startled yelp behind the curtain. “I waited, I tried, ok, I really did. But you’re taking forever, and I need to pee, so I’m just gonna go quick. And then I’ll give you your space to finish up.”
Mike turns to head to the toilet, when a painfully familiar voice interrupts.
“Mike?!”
He slowly turns around, locking eyes with his shell-shocked best friend. Will.
Mike blinks slowly. Oh. He thought Nancy was in the shower. It was Will the whole time?
“Shit. Um, sorry, Will. I thought you were my sister.”
Will’s cheeks are burning, clutching the shower curtain tightly, using it to cover his lower half. Mike can’t help himself from looking at the water running down Will’s hair and dripping onto his chest. He blinks and looks away.
“I uh… I’m sorry. I just had to go.”
Will blinks in response. He’s all flushed and stunned, currently speechless. He looks cute. Mike shakes the thought away.
“You… you had to go?”
Mike nods hastily. “Yeah. I uh… I was just gonna use the toilet and then be out. I- I thought you were-”
“Nancy,” Will interrupts. “Yeah, I know.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence.
Mike feels his face burning hotter than Will’s shower, which is saying a lot. Seriously, how is that boy not burning in there?
Mike shifts nervously, glancing at the running water and then at the pile of bottles teetering on the edge of the tub.
“I just… I really need to-”
“Wait, careful!” Will yelps, jerking back as Mike steps in a puddle of water on the floor.
He gasps as he slips but catches himself on the edge of the sink. In the process, his other foot slides out in front of him and knocks over one of the bottles. It hits the ground with a dramatic thunk.
Mike stutters, feeling completely awkward and embarrassed. “S- sorry, sorry.”
Will shakes his head, about to tell him it’s alright. But when he reaches for the bottle Mike managed to pick up, he slips and, with a yelp, hits the shower floor with a thud.
Mike freezes in his spot. “Are you ok?”
Will groans from inside the tub. Mike, without thinking, rips the shower curtain to the side. There Will lies, fully exposed, vulnerable to Mike’s eyes.
They both freeze; time slowing down for a moment before it speeds up. Will yelps and scrambles to his feet, trying to cover himself in the process. He corners himself in the shower like a stray cat.
Mike stares, blinks, and shakes his head slightly.
“Right. Yeah. I uh… I’m gonna just… use the toilet now.”
He hears Will groan loudly- clearly embarrassed- and turns to the toilet, unzipping his pants and going about his business. Mike closes his eyes, trying to erase what he just saw. But the image refuses to leave his mind.
Mike finally finishes, zipping up and letting out a shaky breath. He tries to act normal, but normal feels impossible. Will, clutching the shower curtain around his waist, shuts the water off.
“Uh… Mike?” Will’s voice is hesitant, low. “Maybe… maybe you could… give me a second to dry off?”
Mike nods, stepping back, heart racing. He tries not to notice the way Will’s damp hair sticks to his forehead or how the towel struggles to cover him. Focus.
Will shifts, reaching for the towel, and Mike swallows hard, forcing his gaze elsewhere — but he can’t fully look away. “Uh… hot shower, huh?” he blurts, immediately hating how his voice sounds.
Will freezes, cheeks pink, and for a brief second, the way he’s standing makes him look impossibly vulnerable. “Yeah… very hot,” he murmurs.
A bottle wobbles on the tub’s edge. Both lunge to catch it, brushing hands accidentally. Mike feels an electric jolt —embarrassment, panic… and something else he doesn’t quite name.
Finally done, Mike leans back, exhaling. Will drapes the towel securely, but a stray lock of wet hair falls along his neck. Mike’s eyes flicker before he forces himself to look away.
For a long moment, they just stand there, awkward, aware of each other in a way that makes the air thick. Breaths, drips of water, the slight heat in the room — they can’t ignore it.
Mike mutters, almost under his breath, “Sorry about… everything.”
Will shrugs, but his eyes linger on Mike a heartbeat too long. “It’s… fine,” he says softly, almost a whisper.
Mike swallows, suddenly aware of the closeness, the faint smell of soap and damp hair. “Next time… I’ll knock.”
Will smirks faintly, towel tightening slightly around his shoulders, a glint in his eye. “Might be a good idea.”
They share a short, nervous laugh — charged, intimate, awkward. Mike steps toward the door, glancing back once, catching Will drying his hair, the water still beading on his skin. His pulse jumps. Why does this feel like… too much?
“See you downstairs,” Mike mutters, voice a little hoarse.
Will meets his gaze for a moment longer than necessary, lips twitching in a small, almost shy smile. “Yeah. See you,” he says, his voice low, warm.
Mike slips out, heart pounding, door clicking behind him. Somehow, everything feels… more complicated now. More electric.
Will closes the shower curtain again, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. He leans against the wall, exhaling, heart still racing. His chest tingles—not from the water, but from the memory of Mike stepping in, brushing his hand against his own.
He bends to grab the stray shampoo bottle, straightens, and catches his reflection in the fogged mirror. Wet hair plastered, chest glistening, towel barely holding—he groans quietly. Great. Totally composed, yeah.
Will sits briefly on the closed toilet lid, towel around his waist, replaying the moment in his mind: Mike’s wide eyes, the accidental touch, the closeness in that small space. A small, guilty smile creeps across his face. Why does this feel… electric?
Finally, he stands, secures the towel, and grabs his clothes. One last glance in the mirror.
“Focus. Calm down. Totally fine,” he mutters. Then he steps out, leaving the bathroom silent except for the slow drip of water, his pulse still lingering faster than it should.
Will looks down at himself, realizing that he’s literally still undressed. He groans quietly and steps back in the bathroom, not before Mike catches a glimpse of him across the hall. Will freezes, towel slipping, hitting the ground before he can catch it.
Mike’s eyes widen comically, and Will would give anything for the world to swallow him whole right now.
“Uh, sorry!” He says, voice coming out as an embarrassed squeak. “Totally… didn’t mean…”
Mike waves frantically, trying not to look. “It’s ok! I uh… I mean, I didn’t... see anything.”
Will smirks faintly, shaking his head slightly, unable to help himself. “I think you already saw enough.”
Mike nearly chokes, averting his gaze. “No, I- I didn’t mean-”
Will raises a brow, letting the comment hang, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Relax… or don’t. Your choice.”
Mike takes a careful step back toward his room, muttering. “Yeah, totally… fine.”
Will wraps the towel tighter, leaning casually against the counter, but his eyes keep flicking toward Mike. “Try not to imagine it too much,” he says softly, with just enough teasing that Mike feels the weight of it.
Mike stumbles back to his room, the hallway suddenly too narrow, too warm, too full of memory. He shuts the door, leans against it, and exhales shakily. He’s going to ruin me.
Will steps inside the bathroom, closing the door. He gets dressed, but the warmth in his chest lingers. He leans against the counter, letting out a quiet sigh. I like him. And now… it’s impossible not to think about him. Not like this. Not ever.
The bathroom is quiet except for the slow drip of water, but in the silence, Will’s mind is anything but. The memory of Mike, the closeness, the awkward touch — they replay over and over, making him flush, making him wish the moment hadn’t ended so quickly.
Will finally straightens, heart still racing, and steps out of the bathroom, fully dressed but still flustered, leaving behind the faint echo of dripping water and the lingering warmth of thoughts he can’t stop thinking.
Mike swallows hard, cheeks burning, and glances at Will, who smirks faintly, fully clothed and hair still damp. Neither says a word, but the silence hums with something unspoken, something electric. For a moment, just standing there feels like enough.