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“I don’t like girls.”
Mike’s smile dropped from his face and he sat up straighter, swallowing past the lump in his throat. His palms were clammy and there was a bead of sweat tracing its way down his neck, but he was still cold somehow. It was getting harder to breathe now. Why was it getting harder to breathe?
Will was talking, Mike thought. His lips were moving, and his watery eyes were darting around the room, looking anywhere but Mike’s. Anywhere but Mike.
Mike picked at the threadbare couch, pulling the strings loose and wrapping them around his pointer finger. He unwrapped his finger. Rewrapped it. His eyes were growing dry from his lack of blinking, so he forced his eyelids to close and open. Was the human body always this manual?
Mike scratched at the top his hand, which was dry and a bit red from all of his itching. He should probably stop scratching. Mike didn’t stop. His leg bounced now, bobbing up and down to an invisible beat–no, wait–that was his heartbeat. Why was it so fast? Should it be that fast?
Everyone was getting up now, they were all hugging Will. WIll–who looked scared and relieved and sad and happy and..brave. So, so brave. Was everyone that brave? Was it only Mike that wasn’t that brave? Was everyone else born with a courage that had simply skipped Mike?
He should get up now. Will is looking at him. He looks disappointed. Did he expect this? Did he know that Mike wouldn’t get up? Mike wants to get up–he really does, but it’s like some invisible super glue is holding him in this spot. This position that he just can’t seem to move from. Why can’t he move? Everyone else did, why can’t he?
Why can’t he just be like everyone else?
Someone is saying his name, at least a distant echo of it–like a fading memory, whose details blur together into a sloppy mess of taunting whispers.
Someone is tapping him on the shoulder, but Mike doesn’t register it. He doesn’t register anything except the deafening beat of his heart, and the line of moisture gathering at his hairline, and the tap, tap, tap, of his foot on the ground, and the wetness of the salty tears spilling from his eyes. Wait–tears? When did he start crying?
Mike only manages to choke out, “I-I need to go,” before he finally pushes himself up from his spot on the couch, practically catapulting away from the group, and sprints past confused and pitying looks. Why are they all looking at him?
Before Mike knows it, he’s in the bathroom of the Squawk, huddled on the dirty tile floor bawling into his jean-covered knees and leaving big fat splotches of his tears on the scratchy material.
His breaths are coming out in gaspy heaves, and now he really can’t breathe. He feels as if a giant, crushing weight is sitting on top of him, pressing and pressing, squishing him beneath it.
Is he having a panic attack? Mike thinks he’s having a panic attack, but he wouldn’t know because he’s never actually had a panic attack.
Mike digs his dull nails into the bottom of his pant leg, desperate for something to hold onto–a lifeline as he hiccups between sobs.
Suddenly, Mike hears his name.
“Mike, honey, are you okay?” Joyce asks worriedly through the closed door, and Mike can practically envision her face–a mix of concern and distress. It’s one Mike used to see often when he was a child, when he and Will would return from playing in the woods for hours, before they’d even met the other party members. Before Will was taken. Joyce would scold them half-heartedly, tsking lightly for making her worry. Mike remembers it so clearly, and he desperately wishes that he could teleport back in time, to when everything was so easy. When his biggest concern was whether or not there would be any peanut butter Boppers left in the cafeteria at lunch.
“I-” Mike starts, hoping to get out a measly I’m fine, before he’s stopped by another intense sob. Then, Mike hears a new voice, it’s Will. Will, who’s still trying to comfort Mike after everything.
“Mike?” Will questions nervously, then stops, waiting for a reply–one that Mike can’t give. “Uh–okay, I’m going to come in, alright?” Will mutters, and before Mike has time to fight it, Will steps into the small, cramped room and shuts the door softly.
What a sight it must be. Here is Will–stupid, fearless Will, who just faced one of the hardest situations of his life, and instead of congratulating and assuring him like a normal friend, Mike had to make this all about himself and his idiotic breakdown, crying next to a toilet on a grimy bathroom floor.
Are they even still friends? It doesn’t feel like that much anymore. They used to be best friends, but now Mike can barely even look at Will without feeling like his heart is being ripped out of his chest. Everything used to be perfect.
Mike is supposed to be the heart of the group, the leader. So why is he so damn afraid? How can anyone rely on him when he can’t even handle himself?
“Hey, Mike.” Will offers tentatively, as if Mike is something delicate and breakable.
Mike cries harder.
“Woah, I didn’t mean–I’m sorry.” Will stutters, slowly kneeling beside Mike and rubbing a comforting hand up and down Mike’s back.
“I–I’m sorry.” Mike manages, and an indecipherable look crosses Will’s face, before he tuts softly, as if dismissing Mike’s apology.
“Mike, do you want a hug?” Will asks, his sympathetic gaze making Mike want to shrivel up into a ball and die–though he isn’t stupid enough to refuse. “Oh, and this isn’t like me trying to come up with an excuse to hug you because of..y’know.” Will clarifies, but falters when Mike practically hurls himself at Will, wrapping his arms tightly around Will’s shoulders.
Will is slightly surprised by Mike’s avidity at first, considering he was literally crying because Will came out, at least Will thinks that’s the reason, but he hugs Mike back nonetheless. Will can feel his neck and the collar of his shirt growing wet from Mike’s tears, but he can’t find it in himself to care, murmuring what he hopes are soothing reassurances as sobs wrack Mike’s limp body.
After about ten minutes, Mike sniffles and pulls back, no longer crying as intensely, but there are still a few silent tears leaking from his waterline. The area surrounding his eyes are puffy, and his face is blotchy and red. His bottom lip is swollen from where he’s been gnawing on it, and his eyelashes are damp.
Will thinks he looks beautiful.
So, so beautiful. So beautiful that it makes his heart ache, because he’ll never have him–not in the way he wants at least.
Will had tried to convince himself that Mike was just his Tammy, and that’s he’ll get over him, and eventually he will, but Will is always going to remember Mike in a different way then Mike will remember him. All of their memories will be tainted–polluted and infected–becasue of Will. Because of his sinful desires. Mike won’t say anything, he would never, but they’ll both know. When they reminisce about the past, Mike will always wonder what Will was thinking about him. He’ll probably be disgusted and just pretend not to be, he’s good like that. Mike is so good.
Will swallows back his own tears and faces Mike, who’s staring intently at him.
“Mike?” Will says softly, “Do you feel better now?” Mike clears his throat and looks away, almost shyly, before hastily rushing out, “Yeah–yeah I do, thanks Will.” And he’s so sincere that it makes Will want to cry again.
Mike brings the back of his hand to his face and wipes away the extra tears at his eyes. “Sorry about..” Mike makes a motion with his hands, gesturing towards the room that they’d come from after Will came out, and then towards himself. Will snorts wetly, chuckling at the fact that even though Mike was basically in shambles, he was still Mike.
“Uhm, and I’m sorry too.” Will starts, trailing off when Mike gives him a confused look as if to say, “For what?” “Well I just thought that you were crying because I made you uncomfortable..by..” Will trails off again, his confidence wavering at the disbelieving expression that Mike is making. “Mike, I'm trying to apologize here, stop looking at me like that!” Will exclaims exasperatedly, tossing his hands up into the air as if to prove his point.
“Will–why the hell would you be sorry??” Mike throws back, his brows furrowing in a way that Will finds adorable. Adorable in a way that you shouldn’t see your best friend. “Well, because I thought you were crying because I made you uncomfortable when I came out!” Will cries, stuttering slightly when Mike shakes his head slowly, looking slightly condescending.
“Will, you coming out had nothing to do with this, okay? Well, maybe a little bit but it’s not your fault at all.” Mike states firmly, but Will mostly focuses on the part about him having a little bit to do with Mike’s mental breakdown.
“I knew it! You are uncomfortable with me being–me not liking girls!” Will says with maybe too much enthusiasm at proving Mike wrong. “Will, I’m not! I would never feel weird around you just because of what, like, gender you’re into or whatever!” They’re practically shouting now, and Will is extremely confused on why Mike was having a panic attack in the first place with the way things are heading.
“Will.” Mike finally says, more calmly now after moments of the pair just staring at eachother. “I swear that you liking boys is not what I was crying about, okay? I was crying about something completely differently and most likely irrelevant anyway.”
Mike is avoiding Will’s eyes, and is he..blushing? “Mike.” Will starts, ready to pull the secrets out of the other.
“Will, please. I don’t wanna talk about it.” Mike looks truly defeated, and Will stops, sensing that this isn’t something that he can argue. “Alright, sorry.” Will mumbles, and he can’t even count the amount of times that he’s said sorry over the past twenty minutes, both to his friends and family.
Mike and Will are both silent now, and Mike is picking at his shoelaces, as if they have the answers to all of his problems hidden beneath the tangles of string. Will soon grows tired of the quiet and Mike’s nervous habits, because frankly they’re making Will nervous too. Will sighs frustratedly, placing his hand on top of Mike’s to stop his fidgeting.
Mike’s head shoots up immediately, his laces laying in a knotted heap in his palms, and his gaze meets Will’s. “Mike, seriously.” Will says earnestly. “If you want to talk about it, we can, and if you don’t want to, that’s fine as well; but for the love of god can you please leave your shoelaces alone, you’re making me anxious.” Mike swallows thickly, but he drops his laces to the tile floor and lets out a self-conscious laugh under his breath as Will moves his hand away.
It’s another few minutes before either of them speak again, and this time it’s Mike who initiates the conversation. He starts off slowly, as if his thoughts haven’t fully sorted themselves out in his head before they come out of his mouth.
“D’ya ever, like..” Mike huffs and scratches his hand absentmindedly. Will remains silent, giving Mike time to think. “Do you ever feel–different?” Will opens his mouth to say that, yes, he’s felt different every single day of his life, but Mike continues before Will can speak. “Like, there’s this mold, this outline, of what people want you to be–expect you to be–but you just, don’t fit that mold?” Will breathes in deeply and straightens, because Mike looks very scared, and he’s describing the exact way that Will has felt since he was conscious enough to understand what was considered normal, and what was not. Since Lonnie had started throwing backhanded remarks at Will when he did something that seemed ‘too feminine’, in his eyes at least. Even though Lonnie hadn’t been in Will’s life for a long time, the memory of him remained, and the whispers of what he had said about Will, both to his face and behind his back.
Will snaps out of his trance when Mike continues speaking, too engrossed in his own mind to notice Will’s momentary mental absence. “And I just, I want to fit in that mold, y’know? But I don’t. I mean, that’s what it felt like with El.” Mike’s speech dwindles, leaving an empty space for Will to chip in and reassure Mike that it’s okay to be different, the same speech that Johnathan had given him, but Will’s mouth won’t move and he feels frozen inside of this moment.
“Because with El, I think Lucas was right.” Mike states after Will doesn’t supply any words of wisdom. “He said that the only reason I liked El was because she was the first girl that wasn’t disgusted by me, back when you went missing, when we first met her.” Back when ‘your life started’? Will’s brain supplies helpfully, but still, he says nothing.
“And I didn’t realize until way later, so I guess I felt trapped. Not that El would ever keep” Mike makes quotation marks with his fingers on the word ‘keep’. “me in a relationship that I didn’t want to be in, but I just felt like I had to be with her. It was what everyone expected of me.” He finishes. Will’s thoughts are swirling around in his head elusively, just out of his grasp of understanding. It seems like Will doesn’t understand a lot recently. Especially not this conversation with Mike. Will is trying to decipher what this means for Mike when something strikes him.
“Wait, Mike, you’re talking about being with El like you’re not with her anymore. Did you guys–” Mike nods, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, about a month after everything with Max and Hawkins splitting in four. It was mutual, we both felt like we’d sorta outgrown our relationship, if that makes sense?” Will ponders this, it’s understandable considering Mike and El had basically been together since before El could form full sentences, or even comprehend what dating someone meant, for that matter. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.” Will confirms, and a look of relief passes over Mike.
Mike is telling Will so much after being so reluctant before, and Will is worried that he’s forcing this information out of Mike and taking advantage of the situation. “Mike, you don’t have to tell me all of this, I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because I’m right here, okay?” Mike finally moves his gaze from the floor and looks at Will–really looks at him, and the effect is immediate. Will can feel his face flushing and the tips of his ears growing warm, but Mike is smiling at him now and it’s probably the best feeling in the world.
“Will, you’re too nice for this world, you know that right?” Mike murmurs, almost to himself, but Will’s ears are attuned to Mike, and he hears it too. “I also feel like you have a right to know this.” Mike adds, and Will is confused. Why would he of all people have a right to hear about Mike’s and El’s failed relationship?
It’s as though Mike can read his mind, and he stops Will before anything comes out of his mouth. “That’s what I’m doing right now–explaining, so just listen. You’ll see.” Will is skeptical, but there’s so much trust in Mike’s eyes right now, so he takes a deep breath and makes a sealing motion over his mouth with his hand. Mike smiles warmly and Will may be imagining it–which it wouldn’t be the first time he has–but he swears that Mike’s eyes drop down to his lips for a split-second before he snaps them back up and clears his throat. Will tries to ignore the hope blooming in his gut and presses it down, because every single time he’s sworn that there was a sign from Mike and convinced himself that it really was that, his expectations were crushed.
“In California, I was a real asshole to you, Will. And I don’t really have a good excuse for how I acted. I guess I was scared–of my feelings or whatever Nancy says, so I pushed you away.” Why would he be scared of his feelings? Will wonders, and why would he be talking about this with Nancy? But he can’t read too far into it because Mike is still talking again and Will is committed to picking up every single word that comes out of his mouth.
“I thought that if I became closer with El, I would stop feeling bad about how I treated you, and–” Mike stutters. “And how much I missed you. Because Will, I missed you so goddamn much.” There are tears gathering in Mike’s eyes again, but he doesn’t even seem to notice, too focused on–whatever this is. “Remember that fight we had, at Rink-o-mania?” Will nods, unable to voice any words. “I yelled at you for not calling or sending any letters, but the truth is, I don’t think I would’ve answered the phone if you did call, or opened any envelopes if you did send letters.” Will is getting whiplash from how his heart is moving right now. One second it’s soaring, and the next it’s plummeting, and Mike is being so mysterious and unclear about the whole thing that Will is practically vibrating with anticipation for the next sentence.
“And I didn’t really know why then, but I think I do now. Why I was so scared to see you but also excited, more than I was to see my literal girlfriend. Then, when I got there, I couldn’t even hug you properly, and I treated you like shit and I regret it so much.” Mike chokes on a sob, and there are tears making their way down Will’s face too now, though when he started crying, he doesn’t know. Still, Mike continues.
“And the truth is, I did write you letters, and I couldn’t even bring myself to send a single one. They’re still laying in my desk drawer, maybe you can read them someday.” Mike adds, an afterthought, but somehow more. A promise. A promise that they’re going to make it out of everything, and someday, Will is going to read those letters.
“ Sometimes I would even sit by the phone for hours, debating if I should call or not, and every time I actually worked up the courage, the line was either busy or El answered, and I pretended she was who I was actually calling because I felt so embarrassed about the disappointment that came when El answered. I love El, just not like that, and I really wanted to talk to my friend. My best friend.” Will is so confused and emotional and he doesn’t know what this all means. Really, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but a tiny seed of excitement is sprouting inside of his stomach and Mike’s confessions are only fueling it.
“But, but El had so many letters from you, Mike. They were practically a book’s worth of notes.” Will muttered, picking at a handnail on his thumb as tears drip from his eyes and splatter in a small puddle on the floor.
“Yeah, I know. But none of them were signed with Love, Mike. El and I even had a fight about that, because I was too scared to tell my girlfriend that I loved her, how stupid is that?” Mike asks, but it feels like a rhetorical question, so Will allows him to keep talking, giving him time to wipe his nose on his sleeve. “Yet the worst part of it all was that every single one of my letters to you was signed with, Love, Mike.
Will can’t breath, he physically could not get air into his lungs if he wanted to, but honestly, he doesn’t want to–because it seems like if he breathes, the moment will shatter. Mike will look away, realize that he’s blabbering a bunch of nonsense and leave. He’ll leave and they’ll grow apart like they did in California. There will be tension and awkwardness, and Will will welcome it. Because distance is better than being so close to what he wants, but just out of reach from it. And in a few months from now, Mike will have moved on and probably be dating some girl from school, long forgotten about Will. Then, in ten years, Mike will be married to that girl. They’ll have kids, and Mike will be a perfect husband and father. And Will? Will will simply be an afterthought. Every once in a while someone will bring him up, and Mike will think about him. The kid he used to be friends with that turned out to be a freak. A weird, gay, freak, who was hopelessly in love with his best friend, doomed to be alone.
Except none of those things happen. Mike doesn’t leave, he doesn’t allow Will’s spiraling thoughts to become a reality.
He stays.
“Mike.” Will rushes out, unable to remain silent any longer. “I have to tell you something.” Will’s heart is beating unbearably fast, and he can hear blood rushing in his ears, but the guilt is overpowering his fear, and he feels like if he doesn't get the admission off of his chest soon it’s going to suffocate him.
Mike waits patiently, the same way Will had for him, his body positioned towards Will attentively. Will works up the courage as the words form in his throat, bubbling up one after another and desperately trying to push ahead of each other.
“The painting, the one I showed you in the van with Johnathan and Argyle, El didn’t commission it. I made it because I wanted to–for you.” There. He said it.
“Will.” Mike whispers softly, “I know.” Will’s head whips towards him, his neck screaming at how fast he moves, but he can’t find it in himself to care because Mike just said that he knew the painting wasn’t commissioned by El this entire time and he didn’t even say anything.
“What..? And you never said anything about it?” Will asks, looking betrayed and slightly perturbed. “Yeah, I, I just didn’t want to make things more awkward I guess?” Mike reasons, but it sounds more like a question. “Our relationship was still rocky from California, and with everything that happened, I didn’t want to pile more on your plate.
Will tries to ignore the way his heart flutters when Mike says ‘relationship’, because Mike doesn’t mean it like that. He means their relationship as friends, and Will can’t ignore his hopeful inner-voice in the silence, so he asks, “How long?” Watching Mike’s face twist in concentration as he attempts to recall.
“A little under two years.” He answers, and Will’s mouth drops open, his fingers twitching as he refrains himself from strangling Mike. “El, she told me.”
Mike remembers that day very clearly. It was about a week before he and El broke up. They’d been sitting on Mike’s bed, not really saying anything in silence–the suffocating kind. The kind that makes you feel tense and antsy.
Mike had hung the painting proudly above his desk. He would never admit it, but sometimes he would stare at it as he fell asleep, and a tiny, miniscule part of him would wish that the painting was from Will and Will only.
El had fiddled with the hem of her shirt–it was a floral print that would make anybody else other than El wearing it look like a grandma. Mike had chewed his lip, pretending to be deep in thought when in reality he had been counting down the seconds until this deeply uncomfortable interaction was over and they could return to the party–to Will.
Suddenly, El had spoken, her face lighting up in that way it did when she was excited. “Wow Mike, I really like that painting, who made it?” She’d asked, referring to the one hanging above his desk. The one that she had literally asked to be made for him.
Mike had looked at her, confused. “What do you mean El? That’s the painting you asked Will to make for me.” It was El’s turn to look confused. “I did not ask Will to make you a painting. Is that the one that he would not show me when we were in California?”
The gears in Mike’s mind had started turning, and then it clicked. The speech. The way that it had seemed far too personal for Will to be speaking from simply an outside viewer’s perspective. And the fact that it hadn’t even occurred to Mike that El had never even played D&D, much less known what to ask Will to make.
“Mike?” El asked worriedly, putting her hand on top of Mike’s in a way that should’ve been comforting but just made Mike’s skin crawl. He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Sorry, I just forgot about the details. Will gave it to me when we were in the van coming to save you, so the–uh–specifics are a bit jumbled.” Mike tried to laugh to clear the air, but it came out strained and forced.
El had squeezed Mike’s hand once–in a way that felt oddly final–and then released it, giving him this sad but understanding look, one that Mike hadn’t truly deciphered until now. It seemed like El had known about the part of Mike that he so desperately tried to keep hidden before even he had fully realized what it meant.
“And what I said..in the van.” Will tries cautiously, pulling Mike out of his spiral. “Will, seriously, it’s okay. I’ve known for a while and I didn’t see you any differently after I realized.” Will looks like he doesn’t believe Mike, and honestly, Mike doesn’t really believe himself either, but he pushes on anyway. A captain goes down with his ship, as they say. (At least Mike thinks they say that)
“I mean, I didn’t think less of you, or anything.” Mike tries to explain, but he just ends up sounding like some character from a low-budget movie reciting a badly written speech.
Both Will and Mike are holding each other's gazes now, and there’s this intense kind of tension that’s keeping their eyes still. It’s charged, electric. Mike needs to say something, anything–so he says everything.
“After I found out the painting wasn’t commissioned by El, we broke up like a week later. I feel bad, but not because we broke up. I feel bad because after we did, all I felt was relief. I was so convinced that I needed to date El to be the version of myself that everyone wanted to see, but in reality, I think we were just bringing each other down. El wanted to be independent and I just wanted her to need me. I was scared that if she didn’t need me she would leave me, so I overexerted myself, trying to be there for her at all times, even when she didn’t want me there. Not in a bad way, but in the sense that I was like a helicopter boyfriend–so kind of in a bad way–but it’s for the better that we’re just friends now, is what I’m trying to get at. I like loving her platonically. It feels..freeing.”
Mike is rambling and he knows that, but once he opened the floodgates, his word-vomit just spewed out. Will looks stunned, or just overwhelmed, but Mike can tell that Will gets what he’s trying to say.
Mike knows that this is when he needs to confess the final secret, but his words, which were literally just flying from his head and into the world a moment ago are now stuck, trapped behind his teeth and just sitting on his tongue, which feels about a thousand pounds heavier than it does normally.
…
“I’ve had a crush on you since we were in middle school.”
The sentence hangs in the air, except it wasn’t Mike who said it, but Will, who’s skin is now tinted slightly green, his lips pursed in a way that kind of makes him look like a constipated duck.
“And I’ve only told one other person about it–and I didn’t even really tell her–she figured it out on her own, so this is sorta really scary and damn it Mike can you please say something.” Will practically begs, his knuckles turning white as he digs his fingers into his clothed knees.
“You..liked me..since middle school!?” Mike blinks a couple times, trying to wrap his head around the concept of Will liking him, of all people, and the fact that he’d told someone about it. “Yes, Micheal!” Will groans impatiently, not wanting to dwell on the topic of his failed love life any longer. (Can it be considered a failure if nothing even succeeded?) “I have, and if you think that I’m disgusting or, or repulsive and you don’t wanna hang out anymore–I understand.” Will manages, tears making salty tracks down his cheeks.
“Huh!?” Mike says, very intelligently. “Woah, woah, woah. Where’d you get the idea that I would find you repulsive Will?” Will eyes Mike skeptically, searching for the moment where Mike is going to say, gotcha! You really thought! Anyway, stay away from me weirdo. But Mike seems dead serious, awaiting Will’s response.
“I dunno, it’s just that me..” Mike nods, “Liking..you.” Mike nods again, making a ‘continue’ motion with his hand. “No. That’s all.” Will clarifies–what more would Mike want him to say?
“Phew.” Mike exhales dramatically, his shoulders sagging as he relaxes into the wall behind him. “What the fuck?” Will shouts, and Mike’s bubble of relief is broken to reveal Will looking outraged and fiery and overall very intense. It’s also a disconcerting day when Will curses. When they were younger, Mike used to tease him that he had a ‘holy mouth’. He doesn’t anymore because as they grew older, both boys realized that saying someone has a ‘holy mouth’ is simply offputting, but the sentiment remains.
“What. Do. You. Mean. PHEW?” Will roars, and Mike inches back a bit, his arm hitting the toilet. “I was just super vulnerable with you, and I told you that I’m in love with you, and all you have to say is ‘phew’!?”
“Wait–” Mike stops Will mid-rant. “You said you had a crush on me, not that you’re in love with me.” Will pauses and realizes his mistake, immediately backpeddling.
“No I didn’t. I said I liked you. Both times.” Will says, suspiciously avoiding eye contact with Mike, who knew that Will was lying. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Will.” Mike settles on, watching outrage flow back into Will’s features, but Mike continues, very possibly digging his own grave, but, oh well.
“Remember that time when we were younger, and you tried to convince your mom that we hadn’t taken one of the cookies she baked for her coworkers?” Will, unable to help himself, replies. “Yes, I do but what does this have to do with–” Mike talks over him, smiling as he reminisces. “And she knew because you had chocolate on your mouth, and because your ears also turn red when you lie, but it was mostly the chocolate.”
Will scowles, but his hands still fly up to the tips of his ears, covering them as if that would make him less conspicuous. Spoiler–it doesn’t. All of the anger has left Will’s face, replaced by this skeptical vulnerability.
“Mike, what are you trying to say?” Will asks, gazing into Mike’s eyes and searching his face for answers. “What I’m trying to say, Will, is that I understand your feelings, but–” Mike says, but his confidence falls flat when Will’s face crumples and he starts to cry again. “Oh shit–wait, that sounded like I was rejecting you–which I’m not.” Mike quickly adds, hoping to save the situation.
“Mike!” Will screams, grabbing Mike’s shoulders and shaking him back and forth violently. “Just tell me what you mean! Stop being so mysterious!” And Mike gets that maybe, he’s making this situation more complicated than it needs to be, but he didn’t think he was confessing his feelings that badly.
Mike breathes in deeply. Breathes out deeply. Clears his throat. “Will Byers. I, Mike Wheeler, li–” He stops nervously, but at the sight of Will’s expectant expression, tries again. “I like you.” Mike finishes, his heart rate going about a thousand miles per hour.
“What..? Since when?” Will asks, bewildered. “Uhh…” Mike scratches his head. “Probably since like, middle school.” Will’s eyes bug out of his head, and Mike realizes that he needs to do better on providing clarifying information. “I probably didn’t actually realize it until last year, but I always liked you in a different way than say Lucas and Dustin. I thought we were just really close, but then I started thinking about you like..that, and everything spiraled from there.”
“Sorry that I didn’t, well, tell you sooner.” Mike says, but Will grabs his arm tightly. “Listen to me, Mike. I’ve had years to come to terms with my feelings, and you’ve had what, a few months? So please don’t feel pressured or anything. The fact that you can say that you like me,” Will pauses, a giddy laugh slipping out from just being able to say that Mike likes him making him feel like he’s riding an insane high. “The fact that you can say that you like me is so, so brave, and I’m so proud of you.”
Mike feels like crying and he feels like laughing and he feels like throwing up so he does what he thinks feels right. He kisses Will.
Will isn’t expecting it, but Mike surges forward, and Will doesn’t move, his entire body locking up at the feeling of Mike’s lips against his. It’s electrifying and terrifying and it’s so much better than anything he’d ever imagined.
Will takes it back. The best feeling in the world is kissing Mike Wheeler.
The kiss is awkward, and neither boy knows what they’re doing, so they just sort of sit against each other with their mouths pressed together.
After a few moments, Mike pulls back slightly, his gaze dropping to Will’s lips before sliding back up to his eyes. They’re hazel, with specs of green that Mike was never allowed close enough to appreciate.
“I think we’re supposed to, like, move.” Mike murmurs quietly, entranced with Will, who promptly shrugs. “I’ve never even kissed anyone before. You’re supposed to be the expert.” Will points out.
“Yeah, but El and I never really did anything when we kissed. We kinda just slobbered into each other's mouths–now that I think about it.” Mike replies, chuckling when Will’s face twists in disgust, and he shifts back a few inches.
“Wait no, I’m sorry.” Mike says, and he doesn’t even care that he sounds like a whiny child because Will likes him back and he kissed Will, which means that everything is going to be okay. Mike reaches out towards Will and pulls him back in, their noses bumping together as they both giggle.
“So, you wanna try again or..?” Will suggests, smirking slightly and Mike melts. How the hell did he keep his hands off of Will for so long? Instead of giving a verbal answer, Mike smiles and cups Will’s jaw with his hand lightly, pulling him impossibly closer.
They’re practically sharing air now, their eyes alternating between being fixed on the other’s mouth and eyes. Will makes the first move this time, slotting his lips onto Mike’s, who groans lightly, eyes falling shut.
Will takes the opening, wedging his bottom lip into Mike’s mouth. It’s clumsy and awkward and Mike is loving every second of it.
Experimentally, Mike sucks Will’s lip further into his mouth, running his tongue along the plush skin. Will groans quietly, his hands coming to rest on Mike’s shoulders, grounding him.
Mike’s other hand, which was resting between the two slips down, falling onto Will’s hip, where it fits so perfectly it was like Mike’s hand was fitted for it.
Mike nibbles lightly on Will’s lip, testing out the waters. Will, in turn gasps, his hands tightening on Mike’s jacket. Mike pulls back again, his eye lids feel heavy and he’s panting. “Was that okay?” He asks, gauging Will’s comfort level. “Oh god, that was better than anything I've ever imagined.” Will says shakily, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“I haven’t even started moving yet.” Mike points out, and Will tuts, dismissing his point. “Then maybe you should get on with it. We don’t have all day.” Mike swats Will’s forehead jokingly, but he continues with newfound enthusiasm.
With El, kissing had felt like a chore. Something that he had to do every time he saw her. (It was also fun to make Hopper mad) With Will, Mike understands the movies, and the way the main characters are always kissing each other like they need it, like it’s the most amazing thing in the world–and Mike really gets that now.
The pair assume the same position they were in before, but this time, Will just kisses Mike with his mouth closed, pressing firmly against Mike. It feels different now that they have a semblance of an idea of what they’re doing, and Mike applies pressure to Will’s lips as well, so they meet in the middle.
Will opens his mouth again, and Mike immediately takes a hold of his bottom lip, teething on it gently before taking it into his mouth. Will moves his lips too, closing in on Mike’s top lip sucking on it gently.
Then, Mike tilts his head to the side so his and Will’s mouths are slotted together, and wow, that feels amazing. Will seems to agree, because he moans softly. That’s when Mike thinks he’s pulling back but he’s actually moving forward, and into–into Mike’s fucking lap.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodwillissittinginmylapohmygodohmygodohmygod
Mike’s brain short circuits.
Their mouths disconnect, and Will is suddenly looking down on Mike, the height difference making the angle awkward, but that’s okay because Mike is a man of innovation and not one to give up so easily.
Mike slides his hand resting on Will’s jaw down to his hip, so he has a tighter grasp on him, confirming that he isn’t going to topple over in the heat of the moment. After Mike is done ensuring Will is secure, he glances up at Will, who meets his gaze, his eyes dark and lips glossy with spit.
Mike teeters closer to Will, his hands gripping his waist bruisingly tight. Closing the remaining distance between them, Mike connects his lips to Will’s neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses underneath his jaw and at the tiny space below Will’s earlobe–making Will keen, his body arching in Mike’s arms, but that doesn’t deter Mike in the slightest, in fact, it motivates him further.
Will gasps and covers his mouth, eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure. “Mike, be careful you’re going to leave marks.” Will warns, and Mike nods, not letting anything break his spirit. Besides, it’s understandable and Mike may think that it’s a good idea right now, but if anyone were to point out a hickey on Will’s neck, he would probably die of mortification just trying to explain himself.
Mike starts sucking enthusiastically, fueled by pure adrenaline and Will’s small whimpers. Soon, teeth are introduced and Will is putty, his hands on the back of Mike’s head, gripping his hair and pulling him closer while simultaneously pushing him back. It’s just so intense and it leaves both boys breathless and still wanting more, though Mike makes sure not to stay on the same spot for more than a few seconds.
Mike slows down after a few minutes, lazily dragging his mouth over Will’s soft skin. Will slides down from his perch atop Mike’s lap, and they share another kiss, this one not filled with the same intense passion, but a calmer, more personal feeling. One that they know is entirely theirs.
Mike sighs contentedly and slumps backwards, expecting a wall but is unfortunately met with the toilet, which he’d forgotten was there after everything that happened. Mike yelps in surprise, flailing his arms in the air wildly as Will tries to stand and grab ahold of Mike’s many limbs to stop him from falling into the toilet.
Will manages to yank one of Mike’s arms towards his body, but that sends them flying backwards, and they land in a heap on the floor, Mike on top of Will
Mike looks stunned and then Will lets out a small laugh under his breath and it’s like a dam breaks–both boys are laying in a bathroom on top of each other cackling hysterically, and both wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else in the world.
“Fuck, Will.” Mike says, his face full of adoration and love, Will’s reflecting the same. Mike smiles softly, and then leans down, capturing Will’s awaiting lips in a gentle kiss that feels safe and comforting.
Will swallows thickly, his eyes misty with emotion. “Mike–I, I love you. I love you so much.” Will sees the look of surprise on Mike’s face and he hastily adds, “You don’t have to say it back, obviously, I just wanted to tell you.”
But Mike isn’t afraid anymore. He’s finally the brave Mike that Will had talked about so many months ago in that humid van, and he knows, in his heart, that he loves Will. He loves him so much it hurts but in the best way. So that’s what he says.
“I love you too, Will.” Mike chokes out, and even if the world is ending, even if everything else is going to shit, he has this. He has Will. His WIll.