Work Text:
There was only one person who could manipulate Mike’s emotions like it was some kind of magic.
All of his friends knew how Mike worked—not surprising after so many years of friendship. Lucas and Dustin had learned to recognize his moods and navigate them with silly banter, or by backing off and letting him be in charge. Max could make him feel annoyed easily (also competitive—someone who would always challenge him when others just rolled their eyes, and God, he missed Max). And just looking at Eleven made him grateful for everything she had done for them.
But it was only Will who could make Mike switch his entire mood just by existing. Except for the time the Byers lived in California—when he spent every day feeling like a part of him had been ripped out and buried under the house they left behind.
They had always been like this—since kindergarten, when Mike’s days didn’t really begin with his mom waking him up, but with Will’s quiet “hi.”
So yeah. There was only one person who could make Mike feel everything at once.
And that person was kneeling in the middle of MAC-Z, trying to catch his breath after killing a Demogorgon—the same Demogorgon that had tried to kill Mike. Now it was nothing but a pile of flesh, its limbs bent at unnatural angles—just like Vecna’s victims. Now it wasn’t Vecna. It was just Will, arms outstretched, eyes rolled back into his head.
Something inside Mike shifted. Like he was seeing his best friend in a new light — and it made him dizzy, even if it didn’t make sense.
“Will! Are you okay?”
Joyce bolted across the battlefield toward her son. The moment Will’s gaze shifted from Mike to her, it was as if time itself snapped back into place.
Will swayed. Mike moved before his brain could catch up. His legs flew over the tangled remains of the Demogorgon, because nothing—nothing—could stand between him and Will, who looked like he might collapse at any second.
There was no time to feel like a jerk as he snatched his exhausted best friend from Mrs. Byers’ arms before she could protest—not when Will buried his face into the crook of Mike’s neck, clutching his jacket as desperately as Mike needed to hold him.
“Holy shit, that was insane.”
Adrenaline made Mike’s voice louder than he expected. He felt Will flinch against him and cringed at himself. Shit. Will’s brain was probably too wired for this. Joyce noticed it and sent Mike the dirtiest side-eye.
In a pathetic attempt to make up for it, Mike slid one hand up, resting it at the nape of Will’s neck.
It was a bad idea, apparently, judging by the way Will’s entire body tensed under his touch. Goddamn it. One more mistake and Mrs. Byers was definitely going to finish what the Demogorgon didn’t.
Then, a second later, Will melted against him, like someone had flipped a switch.
A strange heat wave rushed through Mike’s body as he tightened his hold without thinking. He could think about it later. Nothing was as important as the boy shaking in his arms right now.
“Will,” Mike said softly, painfully aware of his volume now.
Will made a small, muffled noise against Mike’s neck in response.
It worked.
“How do you feel?”
“…Weird. My head hurts a little,” Will whispered back.
“It’s okay! You can rest when we get back,” Joyce cut in. “We just need to check on the others.”
“Already did.”
The voice cut in from behind, forcing Mike and Joyce to turn their heads. Erica was walking slowly, clearly trying to steady her breathing. Her gaze scanned the Demogorgon’s body and the burning remains of MAC-Z before settling on the figure in Mike’s arms.
The thing about Erica Sinclair was that you could always tell what she was thinking—it was all written on her face (not like Mike was one to talk). It was obvious she’d seen Will’s powers through her binoculars and was trying very hard not to look impressed. Or interested.
He should probably feel guilty for thinking only about Will.
“Robin and Murray are okay, but the truck is kinda torn. Lucas is still in the tunnels, moving here. We should leave through them so we won’t be seen after that little party.”
“That’s a good idea.” Joyce said, already shifting back into leader mode. “Did you see other soldiers on the streets?”
“Nah. Everyone ran off here. Didn’t even lock the gates, so I got in easily. Pretty damn stupid, if you ask me.”
“Any kids saved?”
Will raised his voice for the first time, and it snapped everyone’s attention back to him. His voice sounded hopeful but muffled, since he barely lifted his head enough to speak. The words brushed against Mike’s skin that wasn’t covered by the sweater.
Not that Mike was complaining.
The question was followed by a heavy silence. Erica bit her lip, looking almost regretful—a weird emotion for her, but the loss of a bunch of elementary school kids affected everyone.
Silence.
Yeah, Will saved Mike. But it was too late to save the kids. Their plan—one that had been working perfectly—failed.
Joyce gently placed her hand against Will’s back, a few inches from Mike’s. She looked like she didn’t know how to comfort him, and it pushed Mike to say something.
“Will? Are you tired? Think you can walk back to the tunnels? I’m pretty sure your mom can hijack some cool Humvee.”
“I absolutely can,” Joyce said, smiling. Hopper was definitely paranoid enough to lecture her on how to operate military tech if needed.
“No, it’s okay. I can walk. Let’s get the others.”
Will straightened, pulling free from Mike, and Mike couldn’t help but miss the warmth of him.
Up close, Will looked like a ghost—paler than usual, with dried blood beneath his nose and burst vessels along his neck. Clearly his body was not used to power outbursts. His hair was still damp from earlier, and his face flushed where his skin had pressed against Mike.
He looked beautiful.
“Are you sure, honey?”
“Yes, mom, I’m sure! Let’s go.”
His legs trembled as he turned away, and it was obvious he didn’t want to continue this conversation—or ask Mike for help again. Erica moved with him, not a fan of being behind.
Joyce and Mike looked at each other. It was familiar—having small, silent conversations not just with Will, but about him too.
Mike nodded.
I will talk to him.
They jogged after Will and Erica.
The barracks with the other Hawkins Elementary students was untouched—no Demogorgons paid attention to kids unmarked by Vecna. Had the military told Miss Harris what happened? The last thing she’d seen was two of her former students—and the mother of one of them—being taken away from a place no stranger could reach, along with eight other children.
She was a really sweet person. Mike knew she was never mad when Mrs. Byers was late to pick up her sons. Would she think Joyce was somehow involved in the earthquake that hit right after they disappeared? Her reputation as an eccentric woman had softened once Will turned out to be alive—just as she’d always believed—but the timing still looked suspicious.
“How do we get inside? Not through the door, obviously.”
Erica looked at them, waiting. She was the only one who hadn’t been inside the barracks.
“There was a window in the toilet,” Mike recalled, and they circled the building. Yeah—the only window in the whole place, positioned almost too conveniently. At least something.
They should probably grab a brick from the Demogorgon’s rampage, but that would mean going back, and they didn’t have time. Not seeing a better option, Mike took off his jacket, wrapped it around his hand, and smashed the window. The glass shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, and he tried to clear as much space as possible for them to climb through. The shards stuck to the fabric, but none punched through. He’d have to leave the jacket, though.
They climbed through without a scratch. The leaking had stopped, but the hole in the floor was still there. One by one, they headed down the ladder. The military probably left it to study the tunnels later. Mike went last, not about to leave anyone without watching them.
“Took you guys long enough. And I’m the one who had to deal with the tunnel maze.”
Lucas was already waiting for them, looking relatively unharmed. There was a bloodstain on the front of his sweater, but the spot wasn’t spreading, so the wound was likely no longer bleeding. They had first aid back at the Squawk, and if he could walk and talk normally, that meant he didn’t need to go to the hospital. Nothing a band-aid couldn’t fix.
But the weight of the day showed on his face—in lowered eyes and a dull tone.
“Damn,” Erica said, clearly not impressed with her brother. “You get a part-time job as a chew toy?”
“Very funny, Erica.” Lucas rolled his eyes at the jab. “Demogorgon tried, but it was like something lifted it up and twisted all its limbs. Is Vecna playing with us now?”
Mike didn’t get a chance earlier — between comforting Will and walking to the tunnels—but now he couldn’t stop himself.
“It was Will! He, like, stretched out his hand and stopped the Demogorgon midair! Just snapped its body!” Mike said, gesturing wildly, his long arms taking up too much space in the narrow tunnel.
Lucas blinked, eyes going comically wide, and a smile—infected with Mike’s enthusiasm—slowly spread across his face as he looked at Will.
“Seriously? You’ve been a secret hero this whole time?”
“And he’s strong enough to defeat two Demogorgons on the first try!”
“Three,” Will’s voice was quiet from where he stood near the tunnel wall.
Everyone turned to him, stunned by what he’d just said. Killing two Demogorgons is hella impressive, but three? That means Will is even more powerful than they thought.
“What?”
“There were three Demogorgons,” Will clarified as if they hadn’t understood him the first time. “Another one was trying to kill Robin. I saw through their eyes again.”
“Well,” Lucas said, moving closer so he could squeeze Will’s shoulder gently, “aren’t you Will the Wise.”
“Actually,” Mike intervened, with the excitement of someone who could finally talk about his favourite thing, “Will the Wise is a cleric. Our Will is clearly a sorcerer. Different magic.”
Lucas rolled his eyes, but the small smile didn’t leave his lips.
“Whatever, man. Let’s get to the Squawk. You can nerd out about Will’s powers when you don’t smell like shit.”
“I don’t smell like shit!”
Lucas ignored Mike, busy with his backpack. He pulled out a spare flashlight and tossed it to Mike. “Front’s mine. You’re back, Paladin.”
Erica muttered something that sounded like who made you the leader? but moved alongside Lucas at the front of the column.
Mrs. Byers gave Mike another look before turning and moving ahead with the Sinclairs. So that was a talk-to-him hint. Convenient, then, that Will was moving at a slow pace, lost in his thoughts again. Mike gave it a solid minute before falling in beside Will.
“So,” he started. “I was right. About you being a sorcerer.”
Will smiled hesitantly, still looking down at his feet.
“I guess so.”
“It’s really cool, by the way—how you saved me. And the others.”
Will laughed softly at Mike’s excitement. “Yeah. I’m just sad that it was too late to save the kids. But I’m happy that I saved you. And the others.”
“Hey, don’t do that.” Mike bumped him gently with an elbow. “You got us a chance to save them. You don’t have to do everything at once. We can fight back. You can fight back. Small victories.”
They were walking so close their arms kept brushing. Somewhere ahead, Erica claimed she had an “inner compass” and tried to guide them, even though she had never been in the tunnels before.
“I hope so,” Will said quietly, like he wasn’t allowing himself to talk about it out loud. “I just hate that they’re going through what I did.”
They fell silent again, not sure how to talk about it. Will had always been closeted about what actually happened in the Upside Down when he stayed there—even after all those years it still made him uncomfortable. Mike could feel a lump forming in his throat instead of any comforting words. How do you comfort someone when you don’t even know what happened to them?
Erica claimed they were walking in circles, and Joyce radioed Murray with instructions to heat up some soup—did she not trust Robin with their own work kitchen?
He had to switch the subject, or the talk wasn’t going anywhere.
“So how was it?” Mike blurted, returning to the topic of Will’s powers. He couldn’t help it—he felt like he might explode if he didn’t know every detail.
Will didn’t mind, shrugging in response. “Weird. Like it was always there. I just didn’t know I could use it.”
“Have you thought about me?”
Will stumbled, squeaking and losing his balance for a brief moment. Mike grabbed his elbow instantly, steadying him and not letting his best friend fall on his face.
In the yellow light of the flashlight, Will looked almost red. Huh. Did Mike tease him too hard?
“Careful,” Mike said, hand lingering a second too long before letting go. “I mean—about what I said at the hill? That you can pull the strings too.”
“Oh. Yeah. Something like that.” Will laughed nervously. “It’s like I realized I was in control too. I’m not his puppet.”
Mike’s chest tightened. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”
Will snickered, nudging him playfully. “You’re just saying that because you were right.”
“Nah. I always think you’re amazing. Even when you’re oversleeping and falling into your cereal.”
“Mike!”
“No, it’s cute. I’m definitely going to miss it. Especially now that my house is… fucked.”
He stopped as soon as he realized what he’d said.
Because until this moment, he hadn’t even thought of his family. It had been nothing but Will Will Will—with his arm outstretched, the blood under his nose, and the way their eyes had locked the second after he saved Mike’s life.
But nothing about his mom, who was still lying in a hospital bed, worrying about Holly.
Is Holly okay? Is she with the other kids now? What will he do to them now? He’s likely already moving on to the next phase of whatever sick plan he has.
Worrying about Nance was kind of pointless—Vecna got back into the Upside Down, which meant he was in the same world as a pissed-off Nancy Wheeler, who had a gun. She was the Wheeler who could survive a zombie apocalypse, so there was no need to worry about her too much.
His dad… well. It’s not like they talked much. Usually his dad was talking and Mike wasn’t listening. It was always get good grades, Michael and you should cut your hair, Michael and look at your sister, she’ll be successful, why can’t you be like her—as if Nancy was similar to any of them. But without him, they wouldn’t live this comfortably, and Mike didn’t want to change anything, even if it meant his dad spitting his usual bullshit.
“Hey.”
A hand settled on his shoulder. Warm. Solid. It pulled Mike out of the spiraling chaos in his mind—away from every terrifying possibility he could imagine. Will’s eyes were soft, and the understanding in them made Mike exhale a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding.
“You’re right. We can’t get everything on the first try.” Sad smile on Will’s face said that he wished they could. “We’ll get Holly back. Doctors are with your parents. And honestly? I’m glad Nancy’s with Jonathan. At least one of them can shoot.”
Mike let out a short, shaky laugh.
“So yeah. Small victories. Everything will be all right,” Will added, squeezing his shoulder.
His hand was warm through Mike’s sweater.
“Yeah,” Mike said, feeling the tension in his chest slowly resolve. “Because now we’ve got you.”
“You always got me,” Will said quietly and quickened his steps. They didn’t notice how they reached the exit, and the others were already climbing out.
Mike turned off the flashlight and looked at Will’s retreating back. The darkness wasn’t haunting anymore—it felt safe.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” Mike whispered into the darkness before climbing out to the others.
The night outside felt almost peaceful. The sky didn’t fall on their heads—so clear away from the city. The Earth didn’t stop spinning after their failure, even if it still felt wrong. But the road up the hill was harder than before, and not just because they were exhausted.
Maybe their friends in the Upside Down had already come up with a plan. Nearly half of them were trapped there now, and it was hard to believe they hadn’t crossed paths yet. No matter what dimension Vecna was in, some of them were always close.
But the loss still lingered in the air—no one said anything after they got outside. Last time they stood on this hill, they’d had real chances. The kids were supposed to be in the secret part of Murray’s truck, moving somewhere safe, where Vecna’s claws couldn’t reach them.
Somehow, the thing that hurt most right now was that Mike’s jacket was full of glass back at MAC-Z, and he couldn’t give it to Will, who was shivering beside him in the November wind.
Inside WSQK nothing was surprising. Murray was chugging something from a questionable looking can—something he kept smuggling “just in case.” Robin was pacing anxiously. Erica didn’t tell anyone about Will’s powers, and since Will saved her, Robin clearly had no idea how to explain what happened. Murray was not the guy you wanted to unpack that with.
They both looked at them when the group came in.
Mrs. Byers spoke first, serious and calm, already moving toward the first-aid kit.
“Debrief later. First, we patch everyone up,” she said, eyes flicking to wincing Lucas. “Then we eat something so nobody crashes. Murray, did you heat the soup like I asked?”
“Yup, my captain. Enough Campbell’s that poor buddy Warhol is probably spinning in his grave,” Murray replied, grinning, like this day wasn’t even in his top five worst moments of life.
Mike turned toward Will—because Will absolutely needed to eat—but Will was already jogging over to Robin, smiling wider than Mike had seen all night. Even wider than when they’d talked earlier. It was apparently contagious, because Robin smiled just as widely back, glancing at Mike once before the two of them disappeared deeper into the building.
When did that even happen?
Everything Mike knew about Robin, he knew from Nancy. It was cool she had friends outside her boyfriend and her ex, but nothing about Robin screamed teen babysitter. Dustin barely even hung out with Steve anymore—and Steve was basically Robin’s conjoined twin—so where did this sudden bond come from?
Was it the music thing? The codes? Or was Mike just missing something again?
Mike thinks about this as he accepts one of the bowls and lifts a spoonful of soup to his lips, not even looking at it. It is nothing special—just another can the Red Cross gave away after the gates opened. He has eaten so many of them through all the power outages that he barely notices the taste anymore.
He isn’t interested in watching Mrs. Byers bandage Lucas’s wound. His ears barely register Erica theorizing about her brother getting sepsis and whether there is an Upside Down sickness they should worry about.
He only stops spacing out when Will and Robin come back.
They both look… happy. Not overexcited—but like something has lifted from their shoulders. Did Will tell her something he didn’t tell Mike? That thought makes Mike’s stomach drop. Why would he? Robin isn’t his best friend! She wasn’t even really his friend until a couple of days ago. Yeah, all of them are talking to each other—they’re saving the world together—but that doesn’t make them buddies.
Suddenly, the last sip of cold soup burns all the way down Mike’s throat.
The only thing that dulls the jealousy burning in his chest is that Mrs. Byers doesn’t look thrilled either. Her eyes flick back and forth between the two of them, brows drawn tight, lips pressed into a thin line.
“What did I say? Medical help and food before chit-chatting,” she mutters, already reaching for Will’s soup like she’s prepared to pour it straight down his throat if she has to.
Lucas looks relieved to finally not be the victim of Joyce hovering.
“Well, Robin didn’t have a concussion,” Will says, dropping into the chair across from Mike. Mike sends him a smile without thinking.
Will is finally looking better. His hair is dried and combed, and his face isn’t white as paper.
He forgets Robin is also back until she opens her mouth.
“Nah, just a regular brain scramble. The crash wasn’t big enough.” They all ignore Murray’s offended excuse me. “Didn’t even get one after the whole Russian interrogation thing.”
“Didn’t you get drugged?” Mike mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Also, it was Steve playing their piñata, not you,” Erica adds, which makes everyone laugh.
After everyone finishes their soup, the conversation naturally turns to what actually happened at MAC-Z. With Robin and Murray as a new audience, Mike can’t help himself—he launches into explanations about Will’s powers, combining everything he saw and everything Will told him. Erica jumps in occasionally, offering her perspective on everything she saw from the tower.
Robin doesn’t look nearly shocked enough for this to be the first time she’s hearing it. Which means Will told her while they were gone. Mike tries not to feel left out over something so small.
Mrs. Byers starts throwing out ideas on how to use Will’s powers. They’re reckless—borderline careless—but time isn’t on their side. With no way to communicate with the teams in the Upside Down, they have no idea what the others are planning. All Mike knows is that everyone is running out of time. Now that Vecna has the kids, the next phase of whatever he’s planning has probably already started.
The only thing that slows Joyce down—pausing the idea of Will basically invading their enemy’s mind—is Mike quietly pointing out that they still don’t know how his powers work. Or whether there’s a cooldown.
He actively ignores Erica’s pointed look—because that’s not how innate power works. But she doesn’t argue. And if the others realize it too, they don’t say anything either.
When they finally agree on a couple of hours of sleep—even though the idea makes all of them feel guilty—Mike ends up sprawled across one of the couches at WSQK.
After a day like this lying still feels wrong. Like he should be doing something useful instead of staring at the ceiling. But the ache in his muscles reminds him that his body has limits. The others probably feel it too, torn between exhaustion and the fact that their friends are likely risking their lives right now.
Mike thinks about Nancy. Is she okay? She’s level-headed, but she does reckless shit when she runs out of options. Jonathan balances her out—gives her a different perspective. The two of them talk a lot when Jonathan sneaks into Nance’s room late at night. They want a future and stability and other shit Hawkins can’t offer them. Every morning at breakfast Mike pretends that he didn't hear any of their plans
He closes his eyes.
And Will is already there.
Will is the reason Mike’s insomnia started back in November ’83. It gets better sometimes—when their only problem is whether they’ll make it in time to catch another movie at Starcourt. But then shit happened again, the Byers moved away, and everything slowly lost its meaning.
So yeah, it’s not shocking that he’s forgotten how to fall asleep. Usually, he just lies in bed until his brain passes out for a couple of hours, then wakes up when mom or Holly starts their day.
Sometimes it’s a good thing. It gives Mike free time to think. Being a leader means being prepared for everything, right? Too much happens when they aren’t prepared. Everything can change in one moment.
Like your best friend not coming back after a D&D session.
Or your best friend getting possessed by some shadow monster.
Or your best friend moving away after being with you for half your life.
Or your best friend lying to your face about something small. Something that shouldn’t matter as much as it does. Like a painting.
And fuck—it’s all about Will again. It’s always about Will. Like Will has carved out space inside Mike’s head—and heart—and refuses to leave. One of the constants in Mike’s life.
Mike feels his chest tighten. Because it’s always been the two of them—even in a room full of other people. Other friends. And if Robin Buckley thinks she can steal him, then she clearly doesn’t know Will well enough.
Mike exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening. Fuck, he’s ridiculous. Robin’s cool. Like, actually cool. She’s not hovering the way Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve always do. She has great taste in music, and sometimes Mike catches himself smiling during The Morning Squawk. It makes total sense that Will would want to be friends with her.
It’s not like their friendship is perfect. It hasn’t been for a while. Too much stuff has gotten between them over the last couple of years—other people, distance, Mike’s own stupidity.
All of it is Mike’s fault—especially the time before the gates opened. He can admit that. He’s not that clueless.
It’s just… people say out of sight, out of mind.
But even with Will out of sight, he was always on Mike’s mind.
Acting like there was no Will meant there was no emptiness in his chest while Will was away. He learned to ignore the way his heart skipped every time a letter arrived from Lenora, hoping it would be from Will.
The couch creaks when Mike shifts onto his side. It’s so stupid, remembering all of this now. Will isn’t gone—he’s sleeping in another room, probably exhausted after saving them. Mike isn’t going to lose him just because Will made another friend.
But some part of him still wants Will all to himself. All the little details he selfishly wants to withhold from everyone else. Like the way their knees brush under the table at lunch. Or how they bump elbows when one of them wants attention.
Their shared looks.
Mike squeezes his eyes shut. It’s ridiculous how your entire world can spin around one person. This isn’t how best friends are supposed to feel about each other. He’s had best friends his whole life. Existing without Lucas or Dustin or Max or Eleven would be hard.
But if something happened to Will—
Mike forgets how to breathe for a second.
He wouldn’t know how to keep going. Not again. Not like before, when the only logical explanation anyone would give him was that Will was gone forever.
And it’s like that realization pushes Mike off a cliff.
Because oh.
Oh.
Fuck.
He’s in love with Will.
Mike lets out a shaky breath that sounds too loud in the silence of the room.
The thought settles into him slowly, and Mike expects to be shocked—but he isn’t. It just explains too much. It’s so obvious it almost feels like a shock on its own. The words echo through his brain.
He loves Will Byers.
Mike shifts back and stares at the ceiling again, like it might give him all the answers if he looks long enough. It doesn’t.
People fall in love with their best friends all the time. It’s not the end of the world.
Well. Technically, it is. But that’s because of a psychic psychopath who wants to destroy humanity—not because of Mike.
Still, his brain refuses to shut up. He feels claustrophobic, like the walls are closing in.
This is too much.
Mike pushes himself upright, letting the blanket fall to the floor. The cold air hit him, bringing a strange clarity to his mind, though not enough to stop him from what he was about to do. No one stirs at the sound of the couch creaking or his quick footsteps. Everyone’s scattered across the station, asleep wherever they could find space.
The radio station feels like a maze in the dark. Mike slows as he gets closer to Will’s room. He’s not going to wake him. Not even to say something stupid like I just realized my life revolves around you because I love you. Will has bigger problems than Mike Wheeler’s feelings.
He just needs to be closer.
So he opens the door and stops in the doorway.
Will is asleep on the biggest couch—a reward for saving their lives, even though he’d tried to refuse shyly, insisting someone else should take it. Despite the size of the couch, Will is curled up like he hates the idea of taking up too much space. He’s always been like that. Careful. Afraid of intruding, worried about crossing a non-existent boundary. Because Will Byers is good. So good. And it makes something ache in Mike’s chest, the way the world keeps hurting someone this nice.
His throat tightens, and he swallows hard.
For a moment, the world stops ending.
Does Will even feel anything toward him?
He has to, right?
He has to feel something, putting up with all of Mike’s bullshit all those years. Even Mike doesn’t like himself sometimes. But their conversation in the van, back across the country, made Mike hope for something more. And the painting—
Mike crosses the room quietly, careful not to wake Will, until he stops at the edge of the couch. Will’s face is hidden beneath the blanket, and Mike suddenly feels like a creep, standing there and watching his best friend sleep.
He lowers himself into the free space not taken up by Will’s legs. The old material barely dips under his weight, but he freezes anyway, afraid it might be enough to wake him. When nothing happens, he finally relaxes. Everything’s okay. He’ll just sit here, calm his racing heart with Will’s presence, and then go back to his own couch.
The situation makes him drop his head into his open palms, fingers tugging at his curls like that might help his brain slow down.
It’s humiliating. Does realizing your feelings always make you this stupid? Is this why books and songs can’t shut up about love? Mike always thought it was just an eternal theme—something authors would exaggerate. Not something that made your body shake like you’re on a roller coaster.
The room is quiet—except for the low hum of old electronics still running somewhere in the station. Mike’s breathing, too loud in his own ears, barely disturbs the silence of the room.
“Mike?”
The soft voice comes from beneath the blanket.
Mike freezes before slowly pulling his hands away from his face so he can look at his friend. And fuck—he’s beautiful, even with barely any light. There are dark circles under Will’s eyes—consequences of a stressful couple of days—but he doesn’t look upset with Mike for waking him. Just curious.
“Yeah. Shit,” Mike mutters under his breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Will says quietly. “Just thought it was mom checking on me.”
Mike chuckles. Yeah. That sounds exactly like Mrs. Byers.
They fall into silence again, but it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels… safe. Like they have all the time in the world, even if they really don’t. Will shifts, and his leg innocently bumps into Mike’s. Neither of them pulls away.
“You okay?” Will asks when it becomes obvious Mike isn’t going to start the conversation.
The question makes Mike hesitate before answering.
“Yeah. I was just thinking.” He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal—which is the opposite of the truth. “Needed a change of scene, you know? I can leave if you want.”
He stares at the floor so it won’t hurt as much if Will doesn’t want him here.
“No, it’s okay. I get it.”
There’s another pause before Will sits up, close enough to make Mike’s head buzz. It reminds him of their first sleepovers, when Mike would get too excited and refuse to let Will fall asleep until he finished telling all his fantasy stories. They would sit on Mike’s bed, ignoring Will’s sleeping bag on the floor. The memories make Mike smile, even if there’s no home anymore—barely anything left of his room.
They sit in comforting silence—shoulders not touching, but close enough for Mike to feel the warmth of Will’s body.
“I wasn’t afraid, you know,” Will says suddenly.
Mike’s head snaps toward him so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. “What?”
“Before—when I was seeing through the Demo’s eyes—I was afraid. Afraid I couldn’t do anything except watch,” Will says, returning to their conversation on the hill. “But when I killed them, I wasn’t scared.”
“Because you’re amazing,” Mike says immediately, without thinking.
Will rolls his eyes, but his smile grows wider. “You already said that. A lot of times, actually.”
“Well, too bad. I’m going to keep saying it.” And it’s true—and if Will blushes every time, that’s a nice bonus. “Not because you’re a sorcerer. Because you’re Will Byers.”
Will groans, not caring about how loud he’s being, and grabs his pillow to smack a grinning Mike, who doesn’t even bother trying to defend himself.
“Oh my God, what is wrong with you today? Are you sick? Did you hit your head and we didn’t notice?”
“I’m good, thank you,” Mike says, happy at the way Will’s smiling now.
“No, you’re being weird,” Will says, studying Mike’s face like he’s trying to find the joke. “What’s going on?”
Mike’s smile weakens. Should he tell him? Would it ruin the moment—ruin their friendship, maybe?
“It’s not a big deal,” he promises weakly.
“Well, it is to me now.”
The way Will looks at him—ready for whatever answer Mike will give—makes Mike’s heart speed up. Fuck. The world could end at any minute. What if he doesn’t get another chance?
Mike takes a deep breath. It will probably change everything, but he doesn’t want to regret not doing it—whatever might happen to them.
“Do you remember what I told you back in Lenora? That our friends are great, but they’re not you.” He waits until Will nods, confusion written all over his face. “I realized that you have your own category. And I guess it’s always been like that. It’s just been confusing, and you know I hate being confused. So I ignored those thoughts completely—even when it meant hurting you.”
Will tilts his head, still not sure what Mike is trying to say. But Mike can’t stop now.
“I guess I just couldn’t run from it anymore. Once I had a free moment, it finally hit me.”
Will looks even more confused now. “What?”
Mike closes his eyes for a second before opening them again, forcing himself to look at Will.
“I love you,” Mike says, and for the first time it feels easy to say it out loud. “Not in a friend way. I’m in love with you. And the whole time, I was just too blind to see that it’s always been you.”
Will goes very still. His eyes look like a deer in headlights. The room suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked out—or maybe it’s just Mike’s lungs that aren’t working.
“I’m not asking you for anything,” Mike says quickly, holding his hands up in defense. “And you don’t need to spare my feelings. I just… I needed to tell you. Because if something happens and I never said it, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
Will still doesn’t say anything, and it makes Mike’s stomach drop. He told Will he didn’t need to spare his feelings, but that doesn’t help the panic crawling up his spine. What if he doesn’t want to be friends anymore? Should Mike have stayed silent forever? Because he’s not sure he could live in a world where Will isn’t his best friend.
“Holy shit,” Will whispers, then lets out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“Yeah. Something like that.” Mike presses his lips together. That’s fair. “Please don’t hate me for being so stupid. Well—not stupid, because I’m in love with you. That’s probably the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But for taking so long to realize it. And for accidentally being mean to you because of it.”
“I would wait,” Will says, barely audible.
“Yeah?” Mike can’t help but feel a little hopeful.
“Yeah.” Will smiles—and that smile is not big, but small and careful. “Because I love you too, Mike.”
Mike’s turn to stare now, his brain going blank, too overwhelmed to think about anything. Will takes it as a hint to continue.
“Pretty sure I’ve loved you for half my life, actually. Well—definitely since ’83.”
“You’re serious?” The words barely make it past Mike’s dry throat.
Will nods confidently—maybe too confidently, like he’s been thinking about it for a long time. “Yeah. I am.”
Fuck. Vecna could attack right now and Mike wouldn’t care. None of this matters now—because Will Byers loves him. And he waited all that time for Mike to finally realize his own feelings.
And Mike was never known for his ability to control his impulses. So he doesn’t try to stop himself when his body moves forward—when his hands find Will’s waist, fingers curling into fabric to pull him closer. He kisses him before his brain can catch up, too fast, his nose knocking clumsily against Will’s cheek.
Will makes a soft, surprised sound—but doesn’t pull away.
Instead, he follows Mike’s lead, carefully copying the movement of Mike’s mouth like he’s afraid of doing it wrong. There’s something so sweet about Will’s inexperience that Mike’s hands tighten at his waist, needing him closer.
Mike’s momentum carries them down onto the couch, Will falling back beneath him with a quiet gasp. The sight of him like this—wide-eyed, flushed, hair messed up against the pillow—steals the breath straight from Mike’s lungs. He kisses him again, slower now. Gentler. Because Will deserves better than frantic desperation.
Will mimics what Mike does, learning when to press, when to move his lips. It’s perfect—until Will slows, hesitant.
Mike pulls back instantly, panic slamming into him so hard it makes him dizzy.
“Do you—” Mike’s voice comes out rough. He searches Will’s eyes desperately for an answer. “Do you not want this? I’m sorry.”
He exhales shakily, chest tight, fingers still curled in the fabric of Will’s shirt.
“I felt like I was going to die if I didn’t kiss you. Is this too soon?”
Will just looks at him, expression unreadable, and that somehow makes it worse. Since when can Mike Wheeler not read Will Byers like an open book?
“What about…” Will starts, then stops himself mid-sentence.
“About what?” Mike asks quickly. Did he miss something? Did Will pull back for a reason Mike should’ve known? Shit.
The question must be the right thing to say, because Will’s smile breaks wide and bright—bigger than Mike’s ever seen it (suck it, Robin Buckley).
“Nothing.” Will reaches up, threading his fingers into Mike’s curls with sudden confidence. “Just kiss me again.”
Mike blinks.
Then he does—because there is nothing in the world he wants more than exactly what Will Byers wants.