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Will was shaking bad. Really, really bad.
Like a—like a panic attack, almost? But not quite. Mike hasn’t seen him this bad since… well, ever. For once, this was uncharted territory, even for him—and that says a lot.
(The closest Mike could guess was when Will’s shit excuse of a father was still around, but even then it simply paled in comparison. This was… different.)
He did initially swing by to let Will and his mom know that they were leaving in a bit, but Mike realized a tad too late that he may have just shattered a special moment between the two. Still, when Will beckoned him over—a tear-stricken, woeful Will, with his beautiful eyes and pure, pure soul, inviting him over to hear what he had to say—the least Mike could do was sit down and listen.
Will’s hands were restless as he spoke.
“I… I haven’t told any of you this, because…”
Unflinchingly, Mike kept his eyes fixated on Will the entire time. And it was almost like Will was forcing every word out of his chest—almost like they were trying to claw their way out of his heart—because he was taking deep breaths every second, like he’d break if he stopped a moment too long. And the sight alone was almost enough to send Mike’s heart into splinters. Still, he knew better than to break what Will had going on.
“Because… I-I don’t—I don’t, want you to s-see me, differently,” Will heaved, with tears brimming his eyes, “But the, but the t-truth is.”
He looked to Mike. And then to Joyce. And then back to the floor.
“The truth is, I am,” he sniffled. “I am different. I just… I just pretended that I wasn’t, because I—because I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be like everyone else.”
Then, for the first time in a long while, just as the sun hit his face—Will smiled. Mike gulped as he watched on, mesmerized by the boy in front of him. Will pressed on.
“I wanted to be like my friends, and—and I am like you. I’m like you in almost every way.” Will looked to his friends—the Party—and it was like a dam broke.
He went on and on, the smile on his face growing wider as he trailed off all the dumb shit they all had in common—from arguing at Family Video just to rent Holy Grail for the millionth time, to trading comics and bike races, to accustoming themselves to the old man smell in Mike’s stupid, musty basement and eventually liking it, to getting lost in the woods and all that nonsense—and Mike couldn’t help but crack a smile of his own.
This, this is the Will Byers they all grew to love and adore. The Will Byers Mike grew to love and adore.
And yet, the tears in Will’s eyes continued welling up all the same.
“Literally all the same things! I just—I, I just…”
Water continued welling up in his eyes as he tried to stutter it out, and eventually he let out a strangled sigh and as a single tear escaped his eye—
“I… I don’t like girls.”
Mike blinked. He—
..huh. He sat up a bit straighter, careful to let the words sink in. Strangely enough, a part of him felt—lighter. Relieved, somehow.
Distantly, he could feel Lucas and Dustin shifting on the sofa next to him, and it was so quiet you could almost hear a pin drop. He shifted, and he saw Joyce do the same in his periphery. Will looked around, panicked almost.
But in all honesty, all Mike could register was… was…
“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”
And he—Mike just fucking said that in the heat of the moment, in that stupid rain fight after Mike insulted Will's campaign, because… because…
Why?
Will doesn’t like girls.
Will Byers. Will Byers.
Doesn’t like girls.
The painting. El couldn’t have known about it.
The painting was for a girl?
Someone he likes?
That means it couldn’t—it couldn’t have been a girl.
The painting was of their D&D Party. Did the boys in Lenora even play D&D?
Back in the van, Will himself had pointed out Mike leading the party.
With a heart coat of arms.
“But that’s what holds this whole party together. Heart.”
…wait.
“I mean. I mean I do. Just—just not like you guys do,” his voice cracked, and Mike’s heart shattered. Will was trying. He was trying so, so hard— “And I, uh, I had this—this crush, on—on someone.”
Mike gulped. He didn’t know he was holding his breath. And..
Was it just him or was Will… looking at him?
…no way.
Will’s voice broke even more, “Even though I know… I know they’re not like me.” He let out a wet sound, somewhere between a sob and a chuckle, and Mike didn’t know—he just didn’t know anymore. What to do, what to say… just… anything. All he could do was listen. Will sniffled and let out a broken laugh, “But—but then I realized, he’s just—he’s just my Tammy.”
Mike’s thoughts hit a screeching halt. T—
Tammy?
Who—who the fuck is Tammy? And why was Will laughing?
“And—and by Tammy, I mean it was never about him. It was—it was about me.” He let out a shuddering breath, and the tears just wouldn’t fucking stop— “And I thought I was finally okay with myself, but then today… today, Vecna showed me what would happen if—if I did this. If I told you guys… the truth.”
At the mention of Vecna, Mike felt his blood run cold.
Because even in a situation all about Will—that should be all about Will—that slimy, noseless, rotting bastard still manages to find a way to make it all about him. Even the realization alone was enough to set Mike off—to piss him off even more, because how dare he take something so precious, from Will and ruin it for him? Did the asshole not have anything better to do in his spare time other than demonize the outcasts, torture the weak, and end the fucking world?
“He showed me a future, and, and in this future, some of you are just—are just worried for me. Worried that things will be harder for me, and it just makes me feel like something’s wrong with me,” Will sobbed, his hands scrambling restlessly all over himself in a vain effort to ground himself. “So I—so I push you away.”
“If she was mean to you, or it seemed like she was pushing you away, it’s because she’s scared of losing you, just like you’re scared of losing her.”
Mike’s eyes stung.
Is this Will... ripping off the band-aid?
“And for the rest of us, we just drift apart more and more and more and more and more until—until I’m alone. And I know none of that has happened, and Vecna can’t see into the future. But he can see into our minds, and—and he knows things. And it just felt so real.” Will hiccupped, unable to contain his cries anymore. His hands came up to clutch at his sides and he cried out, “It—it felt so real.”
“Will,” Joyce started, her voice resolute. Unwavering. She bent down, trying to catch her son’s eyes, “You gotta listen to me. That will never, ever happen. You’ll never lose me.” Will looked up, tears streaming down his face and the two lock eyes—
Joyce smiled.
“Ever.”
“Okay,” Will heaved, shoulders shaking with the effort of containing it all in. “Okay.”
“And you’ll never lose me,” Jonathan said, not wasting a second as he stood and walked up to Will, holding him in a tight embrace. The boy immediately broke down in his brother’s arms, and his hands came up to clutch on the fabric of his sweater.
Lucas stood up, quick to follow Jonathan’s lead. “Or me.”
Dustin followed right after, and Mike found himself scrambling to his feet with an ‘or me’ of his own, El coming right after him. Mike barely registered it as he lifted up his arms to wrap them around the bundle of people surrounding Will, who was still sobbing—but Robin sounded emotional too, letting out an ‘or me’ of her own. Jonathan pressed a kiss on Will’s cheek as they parted to give him some air, and Mike’s heart stuttered in his throat as Will gave him a heart-wrenching, broken chuckle in return.
He could just be reading into this way too much… but did Jonathan already know?
“Guess you didn’t need the truth serum, huh?” Robin joked wetly, still sorting through her own emotions herself. Will shook his head with a choked laugh, and, wait—did Robin know, too?
Max smiled through her tears, “Sorry, this sucks, but you’re gonna have to hug me.” Mike, despite himself, cracked a smile at that, and the others did too. Good grief.
“Oh, Max,” Will sighed, running up to her and capturing her frail figure in a hug. Maybe she whispered something in his ear—Mike didn’t really know—but whatever it was made Will laugh, and that was all he needed, really. After a few more moments, Will stood up with a loud sigh, as though he was mentally preparing himself for something, and he turned to face El.
“El, I know you’re strong enough to defeat Vecna.” Mike frowned; Will sounded like he was resigning himself. But resigning to what? “But he can retreat into the physical world, and we need to be ready to fight him there too. We have bullets and fire, but none of that helped those soldiers.”
No, Mike thought helplessly. Please don’t be what I think this is. Will, I almost lost you—
Will shook his head. “I need to be there.”
Oh no, no, no.
El looked torn. She knew the risks were great, but unfortunately, so were the upsides; she needed all the help she could get, and with both Kali and Will by her side—they’d practically be invincible. Next to him, Mike could see Dustin nodding his agreement—and Mike almost wished he could do the same, so say that he was onboard with Will potentially walking into death for what could possibly be the hundredth time, to be a sorcerer, goddammit, but he’d almost lost Will. Again.
He couldn’t even handle him going missing all those years ago—what more now that he knows it’s entirely possible that Will can’t walk out of this alive?
“And I’m ready.”
(And maybe Mike was hallucinating, but Will looked at him.)
“I’m ready to show him that I’m not afraid anymore.”
And well, fuck. If Will’s confident that he’s got what it takes, then who’s Mike to stop him?
With lips drawn into a thin line, Mike Wheeler finds himself nodding, nodding along with a tear-stricken Will Byers as they work to embark on one last crawl. One last shot at rescuing Holly and the kids. One last shot at defeating Vecna. One last shot at saving the world, once and for all.
Mike Wheeler is a lot of things, and recently, he’s discovered that being in love with Will Byers was one of those things.
Honestly, he isn’t as repulsed as he should be. At least, as he was told and raised to be. But ever since ending things with El, ever since finding out about the painting lie, ever since… well, everything that’s occurred in these last 18 months and the years before that—Mike doesn’t find himself as upset with it as he should be.
If anything, it’s like a weight’s been lifted off his back. Like he’s found the missing puzzle piece to his life, and it was right in front of him, all along. He always knew what he and Will had was different, but in a small, conservative town like Hawkins, Indiana—who was he to know that that thing was love?
Right now, they’re quite literally en route to the Upside Down, and everyone’s jampacked in the back of Murray’s shoddy truck like a pack of sardines in a can—but Mike’s a weak, weak boy, and if he isn’t going to have an existential crisis over potentially walking into a trap and taking part in the world ending, then he might as well start thinking about the elephant in the room.
That, of course, being the fact that Will Byers likes boys.
And if Mike’s theory is correct—which they usually are—then that means Will likes him.
Will likes him.
Will has a crush on him.
Will Byers likes Mike Wheeler.
(Repeating it like a mantra in his head isn’t really helping his case or anything—but he still can’t believe it. If he’s right about all… this, that is.)
The existence of the painting alone is enough to prove that, because no way would El have been able to say even half of the things Will said back there. She doesn’t even know what a commission is.
And, again, if Mike’s theory is correct, then that also means Mike has been an absolute dickhead to him for the longest fucking time and Will just… let him.
Mike was a jerk, and he still is—but especially in the summer of ‘85. Who the hell abandons their friends in favor of spending time and making out with a girl you didn’t even like that way? Now that Mike has the luxury to look back at things, he can say with 100% certainty that he was only ever with El because of peer pressure and society. Just because you’re a boy, who’s friends with a girl, doesn’t mean you need to date her immediately… much less if she doesn’t even know the meaning of the word friend.
Ugh. 13 year old Mike was a disaster. He’s so glad those times are behind him now, but he also just kind of hates that it took the literal end of the world for him to come to the realization that he’s—well—into boys, too.
…okay, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. Maybe not boys plural… because Mike’s only ever liked Will that way, so…
Anyways.
Point is, Mike’s running out of time. And he really doesn’t wanna bombard Will with more information than he needs because, like Will said earlier, Vecna sees everything. And Mike’s not stupid; Vecna can very well make use of Mike’s feelings for Will and weaponize it against them. Their mind powers are activated through emotions, and if Will finds out like that—he’s going to break. And they lose.
Okay, game plan: right before they launch Steve’s beanstalk plan into action, Mike’s going to try and get Will alone. He doesn’t know how the hell he’s gonna pull that off with so many eyes on them, but by God’s grace is he going to try. Even just for ten minutes—hell, even seven could be enough. He just needs to find the right timing.
He just has to tell Will.
Mike Wheeler is a lot of things, and one of those things is that he’s fucking terrible at timing. But in hindsight, since he’d interrupted Joyce and Will earlier, he really should’ve known better.
But anyway, case and point: it’s an absolute frenzy right now.
One moment Nancy’s shooting at the soldiers from above the truck in a makeshift sniper’s area. Okay, awesome, according to plan. The next moment, they’re swerving into the Upside-Down and everyone almost falls over because of the centrifugal force; honestly, Mike’s starting to think Murray’s just a shitty driver, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides that, everyone’s pouring out of the truck, and Robin, of all people, pulls Will aside to hype him up, probably—and even Lucas and Dustin get their say in, and Mike’s stomping down on that selfish, selfish telltale feeling of seeing others get what you want—
And then the older guys set off to map out their gameplan one last time before splitting in several directions, Dustin trailing close behind. Lucas is double-checking his ammo packs, and suddenly Will’s nowhere in sight. Naturally, Mike panics, and then just as El and Kali are right about to start going into sensory deprivation mode—poof, Will is right there, and—and God, Mike was desperate, okay?
Mike’s tugging on Will’s sleeve with more aggression than he intends to in his haste to pull him aside by an abandoned nearby building and he ends up hurting himself, his hand coming up to massage his shoulder with a soft hiss. Right. He forgot he was injured not less than 24 hours ago.
“Sh—shit, Mike, are you alright?” Will asks, his eyes peering up at him with concern—and it was like the breath got knocked out of Mike’s lungs.
Christ. Has Will always looked so pretty? The fact he’s still so pretty in this hellscape is unfair enough, and even though Mike’s been nothing but a jerk to him for so long—Will never once stopped caring.
The least Mike could do is return the favor.
“…yeah,” Mike croaks intelligibly, his hand dropping from his shoulder to rest on Will’s arm. He doesn’t miss the way Will’s eyes widened at the contact. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Um. Actually, I pulled you aside because of—because of what you said. Earlier, at the Squawk.”
He bends down a little so Will doesn’t have to keep craning up his neck to look at him. Stupidly long legs. Will visibly gulps, and it looks like he’s about to withdraw but Mike tightens his hold.
No, you can’t run away from me—not right now, not like this. Please.
“Mike…”
“I-I’m just curious, actually. A-And I meant what I said earlier, about you never losing us. Losing me.” Mike rests his hands on Will’s shoulders, holding the boy in place. He holds his gaze. “I meant that, okay? You’re still Will. So please, don’t turn on me when I ask you this.”
Will shakes his head, and Mike’s heart sinks. His hands move faster than his brain—and he’s wiping Will’s tears away with delicate, soothing strokes. Will’s tears were warm against his cold, partially gloved fingers—but his face felt much, much warmer.
“No no no, Will. Will, don’t cry,” Mike assuages, his fingers moving on Will’s cheeks in slow, rhythmic motions. “Will? Will, could you please look at me? Please?”
After a few hesitant breaths and a couple more tears, Will looks at Mike—and he is such a beautiful boy. Mike let out a small shuddering sigh. Focus, Mike.
“This.. this crush, you mentioned. What did you mean, with the—the whole… Tammy thing? Am I missing something?” Mike stammers, eyes darting nervously between Will and his hands on Will’s face and then back to Will because fuck, if he’s wrong about this, then he just looks like a self-righteous, pretentious, narcissistic prick. “Could you, um, explain it to me?”
Will shifts on his feet. Mike’s hands are still on his face.
“It’s nothing, Mike. Really, it—it doesn’t matter. We have bigger problems at hand and,” Will takes a deep breath, and slowly raises his hands to pry Mike’s hands off his face. No, no— “I’m already trying to move on, so please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be—”
And of course, because the universe hates him, Mike’s mouth moves faster than his brain:
“It’s me, isn’t it?”
…
Will looks up at him, mortified.
Mike realizes in belated mortification that this—this is exactly how Will looked when he’d yelled at him all those years ago. With a heartbroken gaze like that, how could Mike ever forget?
He drops Mike’s hands, and Mike’s brain immediately backtracks. Shit, shit, shit. This was not how it was supposed to go.
“Mike, please, I’m trying to get over you, so please—”
Mike curls his hands into fists by his sides and mentally berates himself. “Wait, wait—shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. I—Will, could you wait? Please?” Will’s walking away, fast, and Mike’s hot on his trail. “H-Hold on, Will, please—nonono, don’t go, please.”
Mike gets a grip Will’s wrist and swivels him back so he’s facing Mike again. With one hand on his wrist and the other positioned by his lower back, Mike has effectively trapped Will in an incriminating position—and Will doesn’t look too happy about that.
“Mike, stop this,” Will grits out, sorrow and woe now replaced with anger and fury. He tries to yank his hand back from Mike’s grasp, but Mike tightens his hold.
“Will, I’m so sorry—”
“Mike, I’m really, really vulnerable right now, and the last thing I need is any more of your bullshit. So please—let me go.”
Despite the harshness in his words, Will has never looked more desperate. And because Mike has known Will all his life—he knows it’s bullshit. He knows Will is lying to ease the fall.
But that’s the thing, that’s what Will doesn’t understand: there was never a “fall” to begin with.
“Will, do... do you remember when we met in kindergarten, on the swing set? Back when we were recounting memories while you were possessed I—I wasn’t lying. None of it was,” Mike takes a deep breath, and he shifts on his feet, “What I told El, in the pizza dough freezer that—that was a lie. Everything was. Except maybe the Benny’s Burger t-shirt thing, that was—yeah, that was legit. It was so stupidly big on her, it looked like a dress.”
Will lets out a choked laugh and Mike instantly feels a little bit lighter. He keeps going.
“A-And, actually, for that little speech of mine, that little monologue, y'know? I… I said all those stuff in response to what you’d told me that day, in the van. When you showed me the painting.” Mike raises his gaze to meet Will’s, and God—he looks so scared, and maybe a little hopeful. Mike hopes it is. “And I didn’t realize until a couple months back, but there was no way El could feel that way about me. And I meant the response, the message of my speech. My life didn’t start when I found El in the woods, no—it started when I met you on the swings.”
Will gasps softly, and Mike caresses his wrist in his grip. “I.. I don’t know how to live without you, Will. When you went missing, i-it was like I was going crazy. Nobody believed me when I said you were still alive. Nobody but me and your mom. And then when you got possessed a year later, it was like everything was coming back, but like, tenfold? And then the whole thing with the Mind Flayer, and—and Vecna, and just—God, just everything, you know?”
At that, Will nods—just barely, a ghost of a smile gracing his features. Mike gives a smile of his own, and he hopes, pleads, prays Will will believe him when he says—
“And I love you, Will Byers.”
It slips out naturally, like those were the words that Mike should’ve been saying this entire time. It actually shocks him, a little—but it feels so right, it's almost scary. Why didn’t he realize this sooner? Will’s eyes—brimming with unshed tears—are wide, his mouth partly open in shock, and his cheeks a pretty shade of pink, even under all this doom and gloom lighting.
“It was always you. It’s always been you, Will.” He lifts his hand to caress Will’s cheek—the side that, unbeknownst to him, had always been stained by Vecna’s touch all those years ago—and he lets out a shaky exhale. “And I’m so, so sorry it took me this long to realize.”
Will closes his eyes, and just as a tear escapes—Mike dives in and kisses it away. And he immediately regrets it because he forgot to ask if it was okay to do so. Dammit. Will’s eyes are wide open again, and he’s somehow managed to flush an even darker shade of pink.
Mike stammers, ears a bright red, “I-I’m sorry, is that okay—?”
After a beat, Will shakes his head with a heart-wrenchingly fond, fond smile, and nods. Mike gives him a puzzling look—because what—and Will rolls his eyes with a small chuckle.
“Mike, I’ve dealt with your antics enough to last me a lifetime. I think I can handle an accidental kiss or two.”
“‘Or two’?” Mike echoes with a raise of his eyebrow, a light teasing tilt edging his tone. “You’re already asking for another one, Byers?”
Will lets out another breathy laugh. “Okay, no, I didn’t say that.”
“But you technically were! And hey, for the record,” Mike leans in, their foreheads touching. He doesn’t dare break eye contact for a second. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”
“Mhm? Where’s all this confidence coming from, Michael?” Will teases, poking a finger to Mike’s chest. “What if my crush wasn’t you all along? You’re awfully confident for someone who didn’t get a response to his confession.”
And that stops Mike’s train of thought. He swears he feels his heart drop to his ass. Because… wait.
What???
“W-What? Then who is it? But you said ‘moving on from you’ so I-I’d just assumed—”
Will shuts him up with a quick, chaste kiss. Just a split second, the blink-and-you’ll-miss type.
“Okay, chill out, Mike. It is you,” he giggles softly, his hands smoothing over Mike’s sweater under his vest. “No need to get all worked up about it.”
Mike blinks stupidly—oh, okay, good. That means his theory was indeed correct and he was not, in fact, misreading the lines. Cool, cool. But also—
“I could’ve really used a warning, Will. I wasn’t ready.” Mike pouts, his hands coming up to cup Will’s face like he’d done earlier, only bolder. “I’d like to be aware when I’m being kissed by the love of my life so I have the chance to reciprocate.”
Will shakes his head again, a fond sigh escaping his lips.
“Alright.” Will tilts his head slightly, tapping Mike’s chest in one, two, three—
Wait.
Morse code?
-.-
..
...
...
--
.
Mike lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. Of course.
“Your wish is my command, my dear,” Mike mumbles before leaning forward and capturing Will’s lips in a slow, languid kiss—one brimming with countless I'm sorry's and innumerable I love you's. And as soon as Mike made contact with him, Will all but melted into the kiss—and knowing he had this much power over Will was more than enough to send his head spinning.
For some reason, it doesn’t feel anything like the countless make out sessions he and El used to have when they were younger. Perhaps Mike’s finally going crazy, but this feels way, way more electrifying than that. Like a thousand of those kisses couldn’t even compare to this. Where El was excited and eager to move, Will is careful and tentative, and where El was smooth and pliant, Will is almost rough and practically dizzying. Mike’s hands move to caress Will’s face, to wipe away his tears, to brush through Will’s hair and—oh my God, it’s so soft, he could cry.
Mike himself doesn’t even realize how long they’ve been kissing for until he feels a few taps on his chest, and so reluctantly, he parts from Will and he realizes he hasn’t breathed in like, God knows how long. He takes a few shuddering breaths, Will doing the same, and for that fleeting moment, the two share the same air. And then—
“You—how do you know how to kiss?” Mike asks, bewildered and also irrevocably aroused. Will gives him nothing but a shrug, and Mike lets out a groan, leaning his head on Will’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
But Will is quick to bounce back. “Hm, is that so? I’ll leave some flowers on your grave, then.”
Mike whips his head back up and throws his hands in the air, “Okay, wow, geez! Sorry for—for being me??” And at that, Will laughs, and okay, maybe it’s worth getting insulted every once in a while if he gets to see Will laugh like that.
“And for the record,” Will whispers, “I love you too, Mike Wheeler.”
The speed at which the smile that breaks out on Mike’s face at that should be impossible, and screw Mike for being happy and cheesy—but he didn’t know hearing an I love you back from the person he loved was going to hit that hard! It’s almost like a drug, and that’s illegal.
Mike nods lamely, because literally all he can think of to say in response is: “Cool.”
“Cool,” Will repeats with a fond roll of his eyes. “Okay, now let’s get back to work. In case you forgot, we still got a wrinkly, slimy bastard to kill.”
And the moment shatters, much to Mike's chagrin—right, right. They’re in the Upside Down with everybody else, and they’re here to take down Vecna.
Right. They can work on all the quirks and everything else between them later, when all of this is over.
He releases Will from his embrace—but the moment they detach from each other, Mike reaches for Will’s hand, and gives it a comforting squeeze.
“Well then, c’mon, sorcerer. One last time, ey?” Mike says, walking him back to where El and Kali have been.
Will hums, scratching his neck. “Not a sorcer—”
“Nah, you are a sorcerer,” Mike declares loudly, his grip on Will’s hand tight and unwavering. “Do not fight me on this.”
“I—” Will sighs, a fond smile growing on his face. “Alright, fine.”
And Mike smiles, proud. “That’s more like it.”
Hand in hand—the paladin and the cleric, the brave and the wise, the heart and the sorcerer—embarking on their journey one last time.
Together.