Archive of Our Own

By the time the first snow falls in Hawkins, El has been gone for nearly two months. 

Mike watches it from his window, has been watching the first flakes settle on the sidewalk deep into the night, and watches it now that the sun has already been up for hours, light and grey and soft behind the clouds. 

It’s exactly the kind of light that makes him feel as numb as he is. Stone-grey and petrified, whole body dried out into limestone. Every move of his limbs heavy, every heave of his chest making something crumble and flake off of him. 

Some far away part of him wonders where she’s gone too. If she’s safe, if she’s out in the cold like she was after she disappeared the first time. 

Thud. 

Mike’s heart lurches back to life in his chest and he scrambles to get off the bed and to his window, where the remnants of a snowball still stick to the glass. His train of thoughts takes him to El, standing down there and throwing snow at his window with her powers. He pulls the window open and a gust of icy wind blows right through the cotton shirt he’s been wearing to bed. 

“Mike!” 

Will raises his hand in shy greeting, apologetic smile peeking out from between his scarf and hat. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold and he quickly shoves his hands back into the pockets of his coat, and Mike can’t find it in himself to be disappointed. That, in turn, makes the guilt spread in his chest like black vines. 

“Hey,” he says. And then, “Did you just throw a snowball at my window?” 

Because that is very much unlike polite and proper Will Byers, but the sheer absurdity of it knocks something loose in Mike’s chest. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess?” Will laughs, sounding a little bit astounded himself. 

“I just... I would have called, but you haven’t really been...” 

There’s a hundred words that Will could say, that go through Mike’s head as he pauses. 

A good friend. Present. There for us. Paying attention to anything but your own pain. 

“Available,” Will settles on after a second, and it’s much nicer than anything Mike would have said, but then again, Will has always been nicer than him anyway. 

And it’s true as well. His friends have been trying to call him for weeks, but everytime his Mom came upstairs to knock at his door and say “Mike, honey, Lucas is on the phone asking for you” or something along those lines, he always called out a half-hearted “tell him I’m busy”. 

He’d have felt bad about it if his body hadn’t been so numb. 

He should have known they’d come to drag him out of his room at some point. Maybe, secretly, he’s been hoping for it. 

“Yeah,” Mike says, belatedly. “Sorry.” 

Will shakes his head. 

“Don’t be. We’re all grieving. Everyone in their own way. And, and I’ll leave, if you want me to, but Mike, it’s been weeks since we’ve seen your face, and I... we miss you.” 

Maybe, before all of this, Mike could have pretended to overhear the very clearly unspoken ‘I miss you’ in there, but as it stands, Will is in love with him, or has been, and Mike knows that now, and he can’t not hear it. 

He doesn’t really know how he feels about it, and maybe, if El were still here and he weren’t grieving her, he’d know how he’d feel about this, about Will, and deep, deep down, Mike is angry at El for that. But El is not here and Mike has to decide himself what to do about it. 

“No, no, you don’t have to leave,” he says. “I’ll go get dressed, I’ll be out in five minutes.” 

Mike isn’t really sure if Will intended for Mike to come along, or if he was hoping to be invited inside, but Mike’s room has become a haven of self-isolation, and he can’t have Will be tainted by that. He can’t have anyone in there, not right now. 

Luckily, Will’s face brightens and he nods eagerly. 

“Yeah! Yeah, cool, I’ll... I’ll be out here!” 

“Okay, yeah, cool,” Mike echoes and hesitates for a moment too long before closing his window again. 

His mother looks at him as if he’d grown a second head when Mike comes running down the stairs, dressed in something that isn’t his pyjamas for the first time in weeks. 

“Mike?” she calls out for him, voice still croaky from where her larynx is freshly healed, and Mike takes the moment to slow down and stop by the living room, where she’s sitting on the couch. 

“Are you going somewhere, sweetheart?” she asks. 

“Will’s outside,” Mike says, and he’s glad that it’s only his mother in the living room at the moment, because in front of his father, that would have sounded a lot more like something else that Mike doesn’t want to think about. 

His mother smiles. 

“Okay,” she says, sounding relieved. “Okay, good. You two have fun, yeah? Tell him to say hi to Joyce for me.” 

Mike nods. 

No matter how cold it is, the clear, fresh air is a nice change from his stuffy bedroom. He closes the front door behind himself and quickly stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

Will is where he said he would be, snow crystals settling on his knitted head, and he beams at Mike, and it’s almost just like when they were nine years old and Jonathan and Nancy would take the two of them sledding. It’s a memory so sudden and so dear to Mike that he thinks he’s going to cry. 

‘Why can’t things be like they were before?’ he wants to ask Will. Wants to take him by the shoulders and shake him and yell, ‘why can’t we be kids anymore, when everything was so much easier and everything didn’t hurt so much?’ 

But that’s just it: they aren’t kids anymore, and so Mike blinks back the tears and blames it on the sudden cold when he sniffles. 

“Hey,” he says and steps up to Will, reaching out for a hug. Will goes easily, arms locking around Mike’s waist and clutching at the back of his coat for just long enough that Mike can breathe a little easier again. 

“Hi,” Will says when they let go, and he’s still smiling like he’s genuinely happy to see him. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Mike asks. 

Will shrugs and starts walking down the street, and Mike falls in step with him. 

“No plan, really,” he says. “We just saw that it snowed overnight, and we wanted to be outside.” 

Maybe, Mike would have cracked a joke now about Will talking about himself in plural, and asking about who he means by ‘we’, but he’s been running on an empty tank for weeks, and there’s just no energy left for that. 

So, he just hums. Will throws him a glance out of his periphery. 

“We... uh. We had a sleepover at Lucas’ yesterday,” Will says carefully, like he’s admitting to a horrible crime. 

“He tried calling you to ask if you wanted to come, but he said your mom said you were busy.” 

It does sting, knowing all of his friends are hanging out without him and finding comfort in each other’s company while Mike locks himself away, but it is his own fault. So he just nods. 

“Cool,” he mutters. “You guys have fun?” 

Will frowns. 

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “Would have been more fun if you were there, too.” 

And Mike really wants to smile at Will for that, knock their shoulders together and say something nice back. 

“Yeah. I’m not really in the mood for fun right now,” he says instead. 

“No, I know,” Will says softly, like he didn’t expect anything else from Mike. 

They walk in silence for a while, the fresh snow crunching underneath their boots, and Mike desperately wishes Will would keep talking. 

“You know,” Will says eventually, voice quiet. “When we moved to Lenora, none of us really... wanted to do anything fun at first. We thought Hopper was dead, and Jonathan was away from Nancy, and I was away from you guys, and it all just felt so heavy.” 

Mike’s eyes are on Will, and Will looks back at him, just for a second. 

“I was moping in my room for weeks, and I missed you all so bad, and I felt so... so lonely. But then, one day, Jonathan just barged into my room and said to get dressed because he was taking me somewhere fun. I told him I wasn’t in the mood, and he said, ‘well, too bad, because we’re going anyway’.” 

Will smiles, tilts his head up to watch the snow falling. Mike watches the small stretch of his neck appearing from under his scarf. 

“That was before his car broke down, and he piled me and... and El into his car, and put on The Cure, and he drove us to this open field where families were taking their kids to go kiteflying. And he pulled our old kites out of the trunk, you know the rainbow one and the bird one, and I didn’t even know he still had them, and he showed El how to fly a kite, and the wind was really strong, and El, she couldn’t get hers to fly at all at first, but then she got the hang of it, and she...” 

Will takes a shaky breath and blinks quickly. He glances back at Mike and smiles. 

“She had so much fun. We both did. Afterwards, Jonathan took us to this comic book store and we each got to pick one, and then we all got milkshakes for the drive home. And, I was still sad, and I still missed you guys, but I felt better afterwards.” 

Mike’s throat feels strangely tight, but he nods. 

“Are you saying you’re taking me kiteflying?” he asks weakly, his voice a little scratchy. 

Will laughs. 

“No,” he admits. “No, but I’m saying that sometimes, when you’re sad, you need someone to drag you out of your sadness kicking and screaming, because you can’t do it yourself. I know it feels like betrayal, but I promise you, Mike, it’s not. El... she wouldn’t want you to isolate yourselves from your friends. And she wouldn’t be mad at you for having fun. You can have fun and also still miss her and grieve her.” 

Mike wants to be the self-pitying, pessimistic asshole that he’s apparently become and say that that’s not how it works, that he can’t do that. But Will smiles at him like he truly believes that things can be better than this. 

“Okay,” Mike agrees hesitantly and Will beams. “Okay. So, if we’re not going kiteflying, what are we doing?” 

Will grins now, something mischievous glinting in his eyes. 

“Something equally fun, but more weather appropriate,” he says ominously. 

Mike squints. They turn onto Lucas’ street. 

There’s a loud yell coming from the Sinclair’s frontyard, and Mike can see something small and white flying over the hedges. 

“What-” he starts, but then Will is already grabbing his arm and pulling him along as he breaks out into a light run. 

“Come on!” he calls. “They’ve already started!” 

Mike picks up his speed to not get dragged over the snowy sidewalk by Will, and the sight that appears before him is one to behold. 

The snow has been piled into two makeshift walls on the opposite sides of the yard, one meticulous and sturdy, the other decidedly more of a makeshift pile. Mike can see Lucas and Max cowering behind the latter, apparently under heavy fire, while Dustin and Erica are behind the first one, taking turns with forming new snowballs and pelting them at the other team with fierce battle cries. 

Lucas spots the two newcomers first, and relief floods his face. His arms fly up and his hands form a ‘T’. 

“Timeout!” he yells. “Timeout!” 

Dustin and Erica mercifully let up, and Lucas gets up, jogging towards Mike and Will. 

“Hey, you got him!” Lucas calls out excitedly, directed towards Will, but it’s Mike who he pulls into a strong hug. Max isn’t far behind, looking every bit as annoyed as ever. 

“About time,” she complains, but Mike can spot the well-masked relief in her face as well. 

“Dustin and Erica are absolutely demolishing us.” 

Dustin shoves Lucas aside to take his turn hugging Mike. 

“Eh, they won’t help you much,” he states as he pulls away, though he keeps a steady hand on Mike’s arm. 

“Erica and I are calling dibs on Mike, by the way.” 

Mike blinks, a little overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of people after his self-inflicted isolation. 

“Dibs on- hey, what- Dustin, wait, I-” 

But Dustin is already pulling him along to his and Erica’s barricade. Mike throws a pleading look back over his shoulder at Will, who only grins happily and shrugs. 

Their opponants put up a good fight, with Lucas’ remarkable aim, Max’s natural ferocity and Will’s surprisingly impressive throwing arm, but in the end, they are just no match for the absolute force of nature that are Erica Sinclair and Dustin Henderson, and Mike... 

Mike has fun. He takes Erica’s sharp orders and takes turns with Dustin to slowly but surely bring down the other team’s barricade with their throws, and it’s so much fun. He knocks Will’s hat off with one of his throws and thinks that Will looks really nice with snowflakes in his tousled hair and doesn’t feel bad about it. 

After that well-deserved victory, when all six of them are out of breath and their fingers are numb from the cold, they leave their shoes and jackets by the door and pile into Lucas’ living room. 

It’s a new development. Usually, it’s Mike’s house that everyone hangs out at, and Mike has been very proud and protective of his status as homebase, but this... this is nice. 

Mrs Sinclair brings them extra blankets and hot cocoa, and Mr Sinclair takes a genuine interest in the outcome of their snowball fight. He smiles and ruffles Will’s hair and calls Mike ‘son’ in a way that Mike finds he doesn’t mind, in a way that sounds warm and friendly, not reprimanding and authoritative like when Mike’s dad says it. 

And then Erica retreats, claiming she needs a hot bath after all that, and Mr and Mrs Sinclair retreat to somewhere else in the house, leaving the living room to the five teenagers, and it’s really nice. 

Lucas and Max are cuddled up together in the armchair, with Max in Lucas’ lap, and Dustin, Will and Mike are sharing the couch. Will’s knee bumps against Mike’s under the blanket they share and Mike lets himself enjoy it. 

“So, play cards or watch a movie?” Lucas asks. 

“Movie,” comes the answer in unison from the rest of the party. 

“Okay, I’m once again proposing-” Dustin starts, and is promptly cut off by groans from Will, Max and Lucas. 

“No, we’re not watching your weird Mad Max 2 knock-off, Dustin,” Max says decidedly. 

“Okay, first of all, it’s not a knock-off, Dead End Drive-In is its own exciting new thing-” Dustin says defensively, but is yet again cut off by groans. 

“How about Poltergeist 2?” Will chimes in. 

That earns him a round of contemplative but positive sounding murmur, and Mike turns to look at him. 

“The sequel?” he asks. “Why aren’t we starting with the original one?” 

Awkward silence falls over the living room and Dustin, Max and Lucas all glance at each other. 

“Oh,” Will says softly. “We... we watched the original one already. Last night, during our-” 

“During your sleepover, yeah, right,” Mike finishes the sentence for him, feeling very stupid and out of place suddenly. 

Another silence, even more awkward than the first, follows. 

“I mean, we can also watch the first movie again,” Will eventually offers, voice gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.” 

Assorted mutters of hurried agreement come from the other three, but it only aids in making Mike feel even more like he’s not really part of the group anymore. It’s his own fault, he thinks again, presses the words in his own mind like a thorny branch into his skin until it hurts, until it leaves an imprint. It’s his own fault that he’s avoiding his friends, and it’s his own fault that he doesn’t know what movies they’ve watched without him or that he can’t join in the debate over Dustin’s newest questionable movie choice. 

“No,” he says, and his own voice sounds strange to him. High and hollow. 

“No, totally. We can watch the sequel.” 

Will throws him a worried look, and the others are staring at him, too, and Mike wants to be anywhere else but here, wants to jump out of his skin, wants the darkness to swallow him whole. 

Lucas nudges Max off his lap and gets over to the TV, pulling out the VHS of the first Poltergeist movie and putting it in the player. 

“I think I fell asleep halfway through it last night, anyway,” he says. 

It’s obviously a lie, but Mike can’t bring himself to be mad about it. His face burns and his throat is tight and he hates that he feels so out of place among his favourite people in the world and he wishes he could tell Lucas ‘thank you’, but he just claws his hands into his jeans and swallows down the the bitter taste in his mouth. 

The film starts, and Will gently bumps his shoulder against Mike’s. When Mike turns to look at him, Will is looking at the TV, but his shoulder stays where it is, pressed gently against Mike’s in silent comfort. Mike breathes out and lets himself relax against it and pretends he doesn’t secretly want to be even closer to Will. 

They watch both Poltergeist movies and Mrs Sinclair makes them all lunch and afterwards they go to Lucas’ room and play Monopoly until the sky starts getting dark and Mike feels a little more like he can breathe easier. Like he’s gently reclaiming the empty seat that’s been left for him. 

Will takes a look at the clock on Lucas’ nightstand and gets up, stretching his arms above his head. His sweater rides up a little and Mike watches, wondering if he’s allowed to feel something about this. 

“I should head out,” Will announces. “Jonathan’s gonna be here soon.” 

And yeah, Mike has had fun today, if he doesn’t think about the things he’s missed out on already, and he loves Lucas and Dustin and Max, but suddenly, the thought of being around them without Will makes him feel exhausted. He gets up as well. 

“Yeah, I should probably get going, too,” he says. 

At that, the other three look up. 

“Okay,” Lucas says, and gets up from his bed. He walks over to Mike and pulls him into a hug. 

“I’m glad you showed up today,” he says when he lets go. “We really missed you, man.” 

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees and stands to hug Mike as well. “Don’t be a stranger, Wheeler.” 

Even Max gets up to hug him now, and that really makes his throat go tight. 

Everyone then goes to hug Will goodbye as well, and Mike is thankful for the brief readjustment period it grants him. 

The two of them go downstairs and say goodbye to Mr and Mrs Sinclair on the way out, and put on their shoes and jackets in companionable silence. 

When they step outside, it’s almost completely dark already. The air is even colder than it was this morning, and the silence is louder between them while they stand on the sidewalk together. 

“Jonathan’s picking me up,” Will says eventually, even though he’s already said so. Mike nods. He kind of wishes that weren’t the case so Will could walk him home again. 

“I’ll wait with you,” he says. 

Will smiles sweetly and Mike, for the hundreth time, wonders if Will is still in love with him. And then he wonders, again for the hundreth time, why that question matters to him so much. 

“Did you have fun today?” Will asks quietly. He looks at Mike when he asks, eyes wide and brows furrowed, like he doesn’t want to miss Mike’s answer for anything. Like it matters to him that Mike had a good time. 

“Yeah,” Mike says, and he’s a little surprised that he means it. “Yeah, I did.” 

He smiles back at Will. 

“Thanks,” he adds, because it’s easier to say out here, in the dark, with no one else but him and Will. 

“I think I needed this. To be... dragged out of my room kicking and screaming.” 

Will grins. 

“You weren’t really doing a lot of kicking and screaming,” he notes. 

“Yeah, well, dragged out of my room moping and sulking, then,” Mike supplies. 

The grin on Will’s face melts into something softer, like the snowflakes on his coat. 

“I know how hard this is for you,” he says softly. “But I’m glad you decided to come along today. It’s not the same when you’re not there.” 

Mike swallows heavily. Will’s eyes are dark and earnest and Mike doesn’t know how to look away. 

“Yeah, watching movies without me must suck if you guys can’t even make it through them before falling asleep,” he says, because his brain is too stupid to say something genuine. 

Will laughs and his eyes sparkle when he looks at Mike. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, like he means it. “Yeah, watching movies without you does suck. Who else is gonna startle at the jumpscares so hard that they knock my drink over and stain my jeans with Dr Pepper?” 

Mike groans. 

“That was one time! And it was really scary! It’s not my fault you’re so cool and brave that you never get scared at horror movies!” 

Will laughs again, and Mike feels something light swell in his chest at the sound. 

“Well,” Will says. “You’ll just have to be there for the next sleepover. We can watch something less scary, then.” 

“Okay,” Mike agrees quietly. “But you might have to drag me again.” 

He wonders, briefly, if that is too much. If he’s asking too much of Will, if he’s being unreasonable and difficult. 

“I just...” Mike continues, looking down at the snowy sidewalk. “I did have fun today, Will. And it sucked, feeling like I was missing out on everything with you guys, but it’s... it’s difficult. And I want to be included, but I can’t just... I can’t do it by myself just yet. 

“And I know it’s unfair to... to ask that of you, but, Will, please don’t stop asking me to hang out. Even if I’m being an asshole, even if I say no, even if I lock myself in my room. Please don’t stop dragging me out of there.” 

When he looks up, there are tears in Will’s eyes. 

“Okay,” Will croaks. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.” 

And for a split second, Mike thinks Will is going to hug him, but then they are both drenched in the bright light of Jonathan’s headlights, and Will flinches and turns towards the car. 

Jonathan’s car rolls to a stop next to them, and Will’s brother waves at the two of them through the windshield. Will and Mike wave back. 

Will turns to face Mike one more time. 

“I’m glad you had a good time today,” he says. “I missed you.” 

Mike nods. 

“Yeah,” he says. ”Yeah, me too.” 

Will smiles and hesitates for a second before he pulls Mike into a brief hug. He’s cold and firm against Mike and he smells like snow and Will. 

“Get home safe,” Will says after he lets go. 

“You too,” Mike echoes, feeling colder than before. 

He watches as Will gets into his brother’s car, watches their mouths move as Jonathan undoubtedly asks Will how he is, and if he’s had fun, and if they waited outside long. 

He watches as both Byers brothers give him another wave and he watches as they drive off into the night. Then, Mike turns around and walks off into the opposite direction, towards his own house. 

It’s a peaceful walk. The evening is cold and dark and Mike doesn’t mind that his face starts feeling numb. 

He thinks while he walks, the snow crunching under his boots and the occasional car passing by him the only sound. 

He thinks about the past few years and what they’ve all been through. He thinks about El and the things she’s been through and about the choice she’s made and if she is somewhere warmer than Hawkins. He thinks about missing her, grieving her. He tries to think about loving her. About how everything would have been different if he had been in love with her properly. If they had both realised sooner that they loved each other, just not in the way that worked for a relationship. 

Mike thinks about that he loves her, but in a complicated way. Not in the way that he loves his family, and not in the way that a boyfriend should love his girlfriend. He loves her in a way that he wants to talk to her about. He needs to talk to her and he needs her to help him make sense of the jumbled mess in his heart. Needs her to take his hand and tell him it’s okay. 

That it’s okay that he doesn’t love her the way he is supposed to. 

And he thinks about that he’s angry at her, underneath all that grief. Angry that she left before he could figure it out, that she just left him to deal with the remnants of them by himself. 

He thinks about how hard it is to come to terms with the fact that he loves her less than he thought he did, that he loves her differently, when she’s not here and he’s preoccupied with missing and grieving her. 

He thinks about what could have been if she’d stayed. Imagines that they would have sat down somewhere and talked. Imagines how he tells her that he loves her, but that he’s not in love with her, and that he’s not sure if he ever has been. He imagines how El would take his hand and nod, in that serious way of hers, and how she’d tell him that she knows. 

He imagines asking her if she’s mad, and he, rather self-indulgingly, imagines her saying no. Imagines her saying she’s not mad, and that she wants him to be happy. 

And then Imagination-El goes off script and tilts her head. 

‘What do you need to be happy, Mike?’ she asks. 

‘What do you want?’ 

And Mike, real Mike, not Imagination-Mike, stumbles over his own feet in the snow. He looks up and, embarrassingly, realises that he’s long passed his street and has just been walking. He turns around to walk back, and wonders what Imagination-Mike would have answered. 

He doesn’t know. 

‘I don’t want to miss you anymore,’ he thinks. ‘I don’t want to be sad anymore.’ 

Imagination-El doesn’t have an answer to that. 

The next day, Mike is still thinking. He’s flat on his back and staring at the ceiling and the numb feeling is back, a black hole that lives inside his ribcage. 

Distantly, he can hear the phone ringing. 

His hand twitches, and he almost wants to get up and answer it. He doesn’t, and stares at the ceiling some more instead. 

“MIKE!” 

Mike doesn’t move. He listens to Nancy’s footsteps hurrying up the stairs and coming closer, and then there’s a knock at his door. 

He doesn’t say anything, but his sister opens the door anyway. She peers into his room and frowns when she finds him motionlessly laying on his bed. 

“Will’s on the phone,” she says. 

“I promise,” Will had said. Mike shouldn’t be so surprised that he meant it. 

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is a little rough from not speaking yet today. 

Nancy’s frown deepens. 

“Okay?” she asks. “Okay what? Are you coming to talk to him?” 

Mike doesn’t want to talk to anyone, he finds. But it’s Will. And he always wants to talk to Will. But he can’t get up. 

“Can you...” he tries, clears his throat. “Can you ask him to come over?” 

Now, Nancy looks worried. To her credit, however, she only presses her lips together and nods, closing the door on her way out. 

And perhaps Mike should get up, put on some clothes, maybe air out the room, clean up. 

He can’t really move though. So he just lays there and counts his breaths until the doorbell rings. His heart lurches in his chest at the sound, and a little bit of excitement and nervosity goes through him like a tiny little electric shock. It’s the first thing he’s really felt today, which is concerning, probably. 

There’s footsteps on the stairs, soft and quiet, from someone who is perpetually afraid of being too loud, of being unwelcome. There’s a careful knock, and then the door opens to reveal the most welcome face Mike has ever seen. 

Will’s eyes are wide with concern as he closes the door behind him and hovers awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

“Hey,” he greets carefully. “I... Nancy said you wanted to see me?” 

And that’s not what Mike said, not really, but it might as well have been. He pats the bed next to him, his arm heavy. 

Will still looks incredibly worried, but he goes where Mike needs him to, and sits down on the edge of Mike’s bed. His jeans look worn and a little threadbare, and they might be Jonathan’s actually, and his hoodie is dark blue and looks very soft. 

“Are you okay?” Will asks. 

Mike shrugs. 

“Do you... want to talk about it?” Will asks. 

Mike shrugs again. 

Will frowns softly and Mike gets the sudden urge to apologise. 

But then, Will turns away from him and picks something up off the floor. He holds it up to show it to Mike. It’s one of his comics. 

“Want to read a comic together?” Will asks. 

And that... yeah, Mike thinks, that might be nice. He won’t have to talk if they just silently read together. 

He nods, and Will smiles like he’s just won a prize. 

“Okay,” Will says, and nods towards the bed. “Can I sit on the bed with you?” 

Mike quietly scoots to one side of the bed, making room for Will, who promptly pulls his socked feet up onto the mattress and scoots closer until his arm is pressing just slightly against Mike’s. He holds the comic up between them and opens it on the first page. 

They read it together in silence, and Mike reads faster than Will does, and so he turns just slightly to look at Will once he’s finished the page, waiting while Will reads. 

He notices many important things in those short breaks between reading. 

Will’s hair looks very soft today, probably freshly washed. It’s getting a bit longer, almost falling into his eyes now. 

His eyes are more green, in the dim grey light of Mike’s bedroom. They get even greener when Will turns on Mike’s bedside table lamp to read better. 

His hoodie really is soft. The longer they read, the heavier Mike’s head gets, and he carefully lowers it until his cheek is resting on Will’s shoulder. Will doesn’t comment on this. Mike somehow wishes he would. 

They read another comic like that, and then another afterwards. Mike’s mom brings them glasses of juice and apple slices with peanut butter and smiles at the two boys and asks Will how his mom is doing and if he’s staying over for lunch. 

“Your mom is doing better,” Will comments quietly after she leaves the room again. 

Mike nods. He watches Will eat an apple slice and lick a bit of peanut butter off his thumb. Mike’s own stomach growls, making Will chuckle and push the plate closer to Mike. The smile on Will’s face vanishes when Mike doesn’t move to take an apple slice. 

“You haven’t been eating much,” Will says softly. It’s not a question. Mike shrugs. 

“Not hungry,” he says. It’s the first thing he’s said to Will today. 

Will looks supremely unimpressed by that statement. He picks up one of the glasses of juice, and holds it out to Mike. 

“Drink,” he says firmly. 

Mike wants to refuse out of principle, but it’s Will, and he reaches out to take the glass and sips once. Unfortunately, the juice tastes really good, and Mike takes another sip despite himself. It’s then that he notices just how thirsty he is, and empties the whole glass in one draught. 

Will smiles. Then he picks up one of the apple slices and before Mike can blink, Will has smeared peanut butter on Mike’s lips. It’s so sudden and unexpected that it breaks Mike out of his fog. 

Quickly, he sits up and instinctively licks his lips. 

“What the hell, Will?” he asks, more confused than actually upset. 

Will looks incredibly pleased with himself. 

“Taste good?” he asks. 

And yeah, with the taste of peanut butter now on his tongue, Mike’s stomach growls even louder than before. He rolls his eyes, feeling his face heat up. 

“Just hand it over,” he mutters, holding his hand out, and Will happily places the apple slice in his open palm. 

They share the apple slices between them, even though Will eats deliberately slower to leave most of them to Mike. 

Mike hates admitting it, but he does feel better, afterwards. 

“You want to talk about it now?” Will asks gently after he moves the plate off the bed. 

To his own surprise, Mike finds that he does. Something about Will is just really good at breaking through his self-imposed wall of numbness and making him feel better. Like the ray of sunlight breaking through the fog so he can see clearer. 

“I-” he starts and immediately doesn’t know how to keep going. 

Will waits patiently for him to find the words. Mike starts with what he does know. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. And you’re all saying that it’s okay, that I’m grieving, but that doesn’t make any sense, because you guys are grieving too, and you can still go have sleepovers, and be normal, and I don’t get why I can’t.” 

Will bites down on his lip, but he doesn’t interrupt. 

“And yesterday was fun, and it was exactly what I needed, but today sucks, and I can’t move or eat or, or... do anything by myself, and I don’t understand! 

“And there’s so many things happening in my head, but I can’t really say any of them because the words just kind of crumple to dust when I try, and I don’t want to be like this, but I can’t make myself feel better and I don’t know what makes me happy, and I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what to do!” 

Mike feels breathless once he’s finished, and he inhales deeply. Will blinks. 

He doesn’t say anything for a while. 

Then he says, quietly, “I think you do know what to do, Mike. You knew to ask for help yesterday. I mean, that’s why I’m here, right? I promised I would be. And I’m not leaving, Mike. We’ll figure this out.” 

He smiles, then, like he remembers something nice. 

“Crazy together, right?” he asks. 

It takes Mike a second to place the memory. 

But then it hits him like an avalanche and suddenly he is the one who feels stuck between two slides, one the present and the other that Halloween in his basement. But this time it’s Mike who is scared, who doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, who feels he’s going crazy. And this time it’s Will who is there, who offers comfort. 

Mike wonders what happened to those two kids. 

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Yeah, crazy together.” 

The next couple of weeks, Will doesn’t leave his side. There’s barely a day where they don’t see each other, and with anyone else, that would have been exhausting, but it’s Will. 

Some days are easier than others, but Will sticks with him even on the hard days, and the easier days are becoming more and more with time. 

On the easy days, Will and Mike talk all day like they haven’t in years. They hang out with the rest of the party, or just the two of them. They go to the movies and smuggle their own snacks in. They take Holly and her friends sledding. They play D&D for a weekend straight, and even get Max to play, who begrudgingly admits she had a good time and asks when they can play again. Will takes over DMing those games, because as much as Mike enjoys himself, he doesn’t yet have the brainpower to prep an entire campaign. 

On the hard days, Mike barely gets a word out. They read comics in bed all day. They take long, quiet walks around town. 

It’s not easy on Will, either. They’ve all lost a friend, but Will also lost a sister. Unlike Mike, though, Will can talk about it easily. He talks to Mike about their time in Lenora, what he and El liked to do after school, what movies El liked and what music she sang along to loudest. Some of those things ring a bell, things that El wrote to Mike about in her letters. It’s nice to hear it through Will’s words, though. He talks about her like he paints, warm and soft and lovingly. 

It’s halfway through a story about how El and Joyce nearly set their new kitchen on fire trying out a new recipe, that Mike realises he doesn’t have half as many nice stories about El as Will does. That thought should make him feel angry, sad, guilty. He feels grateful instead, that he gets to hear them now, from someone who loved El in a way that was good for her, like a brother. 

Mike doesn’t talk about El at all. He wants to, but he’s not sure he’s ready. He wants to tell Will that he was never in love with El, that she was special to him and always will be, but that he’s gotten it all wrong his entire life. That he was scared of so many things, and that El was the safest way out. That, now that she’s not around anymore, there are so many things left unsaid. That she left him with only half the answers. That he’s made so many mistakes and he’s not sure how to fix them without her telling him he can. 

But if he tells Will that, he’ll also have to tell him where the rest of the answers lie. Where this whole twisted road leads, and Mike can’t bring himself to admit that yet. He knows what he’ll find there, if he looks hard enough, but as it turns out, Mike Wheeler is and always has been a coward. 

“Get your toothbrush,” Will says when Mike opens the door. 

“Uh,” Mike says. “Hello to you, too? I’m fine, thanks for asking.” 

Will rolls his eyes and Mike feels a flutter in his stomach that he is growing more and more accustomed to every passing day. 

“Why am I getting my toothbrush?” Mike asks and steps aside to let Will in, but his best friend doesn’t move. 

“We’re having a sleepover,” Will explains. 

Mike frowns, confused. They’ve been having a lot of sleepovers. All of them together in his basement, or at Lucas’ house. But also just him and Will, in Mike’s room. Something warm blooms under Mike’s skin when he thinks about it. 

“Okay,” he says. “Why do I need to get my toothbrush for that? Did you not bring yours?” 

Will looks at him very fondly. 

“We’re having a sleepover,” he repeats, “at my place.” 

Mike stares. 

“I,” he says, wisely. “I... what? Why?” 

Will shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Why not?” he asks. “The cabin is getting really cozy, with all of Mom’s knick-knacks everywhere. Also, she misses you. She’s been asking about you for ages, and if I don’t bring you back soon, I can’t guarantee that she won’t show up in the middle of the night and kidnap you. You know she’d go through with it.” 

Despite himself, Mike smiles. It comes out a little wobbly though. He hasn’t been back to the cabin since El... disappeared. He’s been avoiding that place very much on purpose. He’s also been avoiding Hopper very much on purpose. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “Can’t we just stay here? My mom’s making that chicken casserole that you like so much.” 

Will raises an eyebrow. 

“And my mom is not cooking today because she expects you coming over, and we’re ordering pizza.” 

Mike groans, and Will chuckles. 

“Will...” Mike pleads one last time. 

“Come on, Mike, it’ll be good for you, I promise. Hop won’t bite your head off.” 

As so often, Will knows exactly what Mike is worried about without Mike having to tell him, and Mike wonders if that’s just because Will knows him so well, or because he’s that easy to read. 

“Okay,” he agrees hesitantly. “But if...” 

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. Luckily, Will seems to know. 

“If he makes you feel bad, we leave,” Will says, as if it’s that easy. As if it’s a given that he’d come with if Mike were to leave. 

Mike sighs. 

“I’ll go get my toothbrush.” 

“Hi, honey! Oh, I haven’t seen you in ages, come here!” 

Joyce Byers has always been a 5’3” whirlwind of chaos and affection, and despite the fact that Mike now has nearly ten inches on her, she pulls him down into a fierce hug. 

“Hi, Joyce,” he manages to get out with the bit of air she hasn’t squeezed out of him. 

Will still calls Mike’s mom ‘Mrs Wheeler’, but Mike has been through too many traumatic nightmare scenarios with Will’s mom to still call her ‘Mrs Byers’. Besides, she insists on ‘Joyce’. 

When she lets him go, and Mike can stand upright again, his eyes meet Hopper’s from the other side of the room. Instantly, Mike wishes Joyce had hugged him tight enough to make him pass out. 

“Hey, kid,” Hopper says. He doesn’t sound like he blames Mike for the death of his daughter, which is good. He also doesn’t sound thrilled to see him. 

“Hi,” Mike says. 

“We’re going to my room,” Will announces, and tugs Mike along by his arm. 

“Have fun!” Joyce chirps happily. 

“Keep the door open three inches!” Hopper grumbles after them. 

Mike’s face burns and he nearly runs into a wall. 

Despite Hopper’s command, Will resolutely closes the door. The door to the room that used to be El’s. Mike barely recognises it now. 

The bed is different, and on the opposite wall. There’s a soft green rug on the floor, and band posters all over the walls, interspersed with paintings and photographs. 

The fact that it doesn’t look like El’s room at all makes Mike simultaneously sad and relieved. 

Will has sat down on his bed and is looking at Mike. Not expecting, just looking. Like Mike is worth looking at just for the sake of it. And maybe he is, to Will. 

Mike swallows down the question that burns under his tongue every day a little more. 

Are you still in love with me? 

“Nice room,” he says instead. 

“Thank you,” Will smiles. “You can sit, you know. If you want.” 

He sounds amused, and it’s only then that Mike realises he’s still standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. His face turns a probably unflattering shade of red, and he nods quickly, and sits on the bed next to Will. 

“So,” Mike says. 

“So,” Will echoes, smiling. 

“You guys are getting along?” Mike asks, gesturing vaguely at the door behind him. “Hopper is, you know, cool with you...” 

He hates that he still isn’t able to say it, but Will, as so often, saves him. 

“Liking boys?” Will asks, raising an eyebrow like he’s entertained by Mike’s general idiocy. 

“Yeah. He’s cool with it.” 

“Cool,” Mike says, wanting to immediately slap himself in the face. “I mean, good. That’s good. I'm. Yeah.” 

Will chuckles. 

“You really don’t have to be so nervous, you know?” he says gently. “No one in this house blames you for anything. Hop knows you would have done anything to save her, if you could have. She made her own choice, and he knows that.” 

Mike swallows. 

“I know that, I think,” he says quietly. “But it’s still... weird, being here without her.” 

Will’s face falls like that was a factor he failed to consider. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Yeah, I mean, I get it. When we moved here after everything, there were only so many rooms available. It was fine when Jonathan and I were sharing, but then he said I should decorate it how I wanted to, because he’s leaving for College this year anyway, and then it would be my room for good. And I felt so... guilty. Like I was somehow erasing her by putting my own things up.” 

Mike shakes his head vehemently. 

“You’re not erasing her,” he says decidedly. “You keep her alive with your memories and your stories about her. With your heart.” 

Will smiles like he knows something that Mike hasn’t figured out yet. 

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “But also, I have this.” 

He gets up and pulls a picture off the wall. 

“Jonathan took that,” he says, passing it to Mike. 

It’s a photograph of Will and El, from their time in Lenora. El’s hair is a bit longer than when they moved there, but not quite as long as it was when Mike came to visit. They are both smiling into the camera happily, arms around each other, radiating joy and love. 

Mike smiles looking at it. He knows that happiness. Will just has a way of bringing it out in people. 

“This, too,” Will says, passing Mike another photo. This one is from further away, with Joyce and Jonathan in the picture as well. It must have been on Christmas, all four of them in front of a messily decorated tree, in silly matching jumpers. All four of them are smiling into the camera, and if Mike didn’t know better, he’d have thought that El was a biological Byers. She fits right in. 

“Wow,” Mike says quietly, looking up at Will who smiles down at the pictures. 

“You guys looked so happy.” 

Will looks at him. 

“We were, sometimes,” he says. “We were still grieving, but there were happy times, too. There always are, if you allow yourself to open your heart to them.” 

Mike looks back at Will’s face, his hazel eyes and the birthmark over his lip, and his pink mouth and the curve of his nose. 

I know, he thinks. I’m trying to. 

Dinner is a nice and only slightly awkward affair. True to Will’s word, Joyce orders pizza, and she and Jonathan mostly carry the conversation. Will chimes in every now and then, Hopper throws in a comment a couple of times, and Mike mostly just speaks when he’s asked a question. 

It’s not horrible. Mike survives. By the time they’ve finished eating, Mike’s let his guard down enough to offer to help with the washing up, of which there is not much, but Joyce happily takes him up on it. 

Which is how Mike finds himself in the Hopper-Byers kitchen, rinsing off plates, while Will is held up arguing with Jonathan about whose turn it is to take the trash out. 

“Hey, uh, Mike.” 

Mike is so startled by Hopper’s sudden voice, as much as by the man calling him by his name, instead of just calling him ‘kid’, that he nearly drops a plate. He whirls around. Hopper is leaning against the fridge, looking serious but also at least half as uncomfortable as Mike feels. 

“Yeah?” Mike manages. 

Hopper wrings his hands like he’s trying to break off his own fingers. 

“I just...” the man starts. “I wanted to say...” 

He sighs, takes a deep breath, shakes his head. 

“You’re always welcome here, you know that, right?” he asks, looking back at Mike, and for some reason, he sounds genuine. Before Mike can say anything, Hopper continues. 

“I know you and I haven’t always gotten along,” he says. “But I want you to know that I don’t blame you for anything that happened. Okay? None of it was your fault. None of it, you hear me?” 

Mike can only mutely nod. 

“And Will... he’s a good kid. And I know you two... care about each other. Hell, I remember what the two of you were like when you were twelve, and Will was possessed by that Mind Flayer thing, and you wouldn’t let him leave your sight no matter what.” 

Hopper chuckles, and Mike suddenly feels warm all over. 

“Or even before that, when he first went missing. I wouldn’t have been able to stop you looking for him if I’d tied a K9 to your ankle. And you know what? I’m damn glad for that, because otherwise, you’d have never found El.” 

Hopper takes a shaky breath. 

“I don’t know what happened. Between you and El, I mean, towards the end. She wouldn’t tell me. But... she would have wanted you to be happy, you and Will both. And God knows I’m getting soft in my old age, or maybe Joyce and her boys just bring that out in you, but the thing is... Will’s a good kid,” he repeats that last part. 

“I couldn’t be more proud of that boy if he was my own son. And I want what’s best for him, I want him to be happy. And as much as I’ve had my fill of you under my roof, Will won’t shut up about you, so, not that you need it, but I want you to know that you have my permission to be here as often as you want.” 

Mike swallows, his throat dry as sandpaper. 

“I’m sorry,” he says without thinking. “I’m sorry about El.” 

He’s not sure what exactly he means by that. 

I’m sorry she died. I’m sorry she disappeared. I’m sorry I can’t tell you she’s still alive. I’m sorry I was a terrible boyfriend to her. I’m sorry I didn’t love her. 

Hopper only shakes his head, but Mike swears he sees his eyes glinting wetly. 

“Me, too, kid,” Hopper says. 

“And thank you,” Mike adds quietly. “About Will.” 

Hopper laughs. 

“No need to thank me. I think if I tried keeping you two apart, I’d have the whole Byers family at my throat. I’d say it’s ridiculous how protective Joyce and Jonathan are of Will, but, well.” 

He shrugs. 

“Turns out I’m not too far behind. So, door open three inches, Wheeler.” 

Mike wonders if he should maybe clarify that he and Will aren’t... but whatever it is they aren’t, Mike isn’t even brave enough to think it, so he only nods. 

There’s no TV in Will’s room like there is in Mike’s basement, but the two of them find plenty of other things to spend their time with until they are too tired to talk. 

They read comics together and brainstorm about new ideas for their next campaign that Will has talked Mike into co-DMing with him and talk about movies and debate what kind of dips go best with what kind of chips. 

It’s almost just like their sleepovers when they were kids. Mike mourns, not for the first time, how carefree he used to be when he was younger. He used to take Will’s hand just because he wanted to, sit close to him and put his head on his shoulder and hug him just because. They’d sleep in the same bed and share a blanket and always fall asleep nose to nose and wake up tangled together. 

He can’t do all of those things now, no matter how much he might want to. Because they are both turning 17 soon, and that, if you were to believe Ted Wheeler, is far too old for two boys to sleep in the same bed. And also he doesn’t know if Will would want that, if Will is still in love with him, and also he doesn’t know why he, Mike, would want that if he's not- 

“Have you ever been in love?” Mike asks. 

It’s nearly midnight, and they are both at that sweet spot of too tired to do anything, but not tired enough to go to sleep. Only Will’s bedside table lamp is lit, bathing the whole room in a warm yellow. They are both laying on Will’s bed, Will with his head on his pillow and Mike with his head by the foot of the bed. 

“What?” Will asks softly. 

Mike swallows. He thinks about saying ‘nothing. Forget it. Want to play Go, Fish again?’ 

“Have you ever been in love?” Mike repeats and stares at Will’s ceiling. 

Will is quiet for a little bit. Mike wonders if Will is looking at him, but he’s not brave enough to look up. 

“You know that already,” Will says eventually, so quietly that Mike would have missed it if he weren’t so attuned to the sound of Will’s voice. Mike thinks he’d recognise that voice among a million. He read a book recently, where a girl had to save the boy she loves from a horrible fate by having to pick him out among twelve other boys who have all been turned into ravens by magic. He’s not sure why that story comes to mind now. 

“Yeah,” Mike says, just as quietly, wondering if Will could pick out Mike’s voice as easily. 

“But... I mean... what- what does it... feel like?” 

Will sits up, Mike can feel the movement of the mattress, hears the bed creaking. He is still staring at the ceiling. 

“Are you serious?” Will asks, sounding incredulous more than upset. 

Mike swallows audibly in the following silence. 

“Yes?” he asks meekly. 

Will sighs, something defeated and long-suffering. 

“It’s something that didn’t make sense,” Will begins carefully and Mike holds his breath to hear him better over the thunderous beat of his own heart. 

“Everyone always said that love between two boys was wrong, but what I felt about... about you. That didn’t feel wrong. That was the most right feeling in the world. I was always happiest when I was with you. Just... being in your basement, playing boardgames and watching movies with you. You made me feel so...” 

Will breathes in shakily and Mike thinks he’s never needed to hear something as desperately as whatever it is Will says next. 

“...so precious. Like it really mattered to you what I thought and what I had to say and what I thought about the world. You held my hand just because you wanted to, you were my friend because you wanted to. I was always so scared of being seen for who I was because I thought there was nothing good, nothing worth looking at. But with you, I felt like I was exactly like I was supposed to be. Like I was good the way I was.” 

Mike can hear the blood rush in his ears like wind on the top of a mountain. 

“When you looked at me, I didn’t feel scared. I felt like I could do anything in the world if you just never stopped holding my hand.” 

Will pauses. 

“When you and El got together, I thought that would change. I thought it would stop feeling like so much. If anything, it only felt like more. Like too much. Like I was holding all of that love inside of my body and it was growing too big for me to hold it, but I knew I couldn’t give it to you, because you... you didn’t want it. But it was yours, so I couldn’t just give it to someone else, and I didn’t know where else to put it down. And so I just... held onto it.” 

Until now? Mike wants to ask. Are you still holding onto it? Are you still in love with me? 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers instead. 

“Don’t be,” Will says easily, like he means it. Quietly, he adds, 

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.” 

Mike thinks he can feel his own heart imploding in his chest. 

“Oh,” he says. 

Neither of them say anything for a while. The silence is heavy in a way that reminds Mike of the air outside just before a storm. 

Mike swallows, clears his throat. The first dark clouds rolling in. 

“Aren’t you... aren’t you going to ask me the question back?” 

“What?” Will sounds genuinely confused. 

“That’s how the game goes, right? 21 Questions?” 

The first few drops of rain. 

“Is that what we’re playing?” Will sounds amused now. “And also I don’t think that you have to ask the same question back.” 

“Still.” 

The wind starts picking up. 

Will is quiet for a second, like he can feel the storm coming too, and isn’t sure whether to run for cover. 

“Okay,” he says softly. “Have you ever been in love?” 

The first roar of thunder in the distance. 

Mike wants to say no, wants to confess to Will that he’s never been in love with El, that there is something wrong with him, with his heart. But he thinks of... of hazel eyes and of a voice he’d recognise in a million, and he thinks about what Hopper said to him in the kitchen earlier, how he wants Will to be happy. And how Will being happy has something to do with Mike being around him. He hears Imagination-El ask him what he needs to be happy. 

“I don’t know,” Mike whispers helplessly. 

There’s another creak and this time Mike isn’t strong enough to keep looking away. He looks at Will, who is sitting upright, staring at him wide-eyed. 

“You don’t know if you’ve ever been in love?" he asks so, so gently. 

Mike can only shrug. 

“What you said,” he says quietly. “About being in love. It never felt like that, with El.” 

With anyone, he wants to add. But he knows that, deep down, that isn’t true. 

A voice inside his head so quiet Mike can barely hear it whispers, 

With anyone except you. 

He imagines saying it. Can almost taste the words on his tongue. Can hear it echo in his too-fast heartbeats. Can hear the thunder rolling louder and louder. 

“Oh,” Will says. 

“Yeah,” Mike says, and he doesn’t say anything else. 

The storm passes them by. 

For all the trouble he went through for it, the realisation fits itself seamlessly into Mike’s life. 

He wakes up and is in love with Will. He argues with Nancy over breakfast and is in love with Will. He bikes to school with Lucas and Dustin and is in love with Will. They meet up with Will at the bikestands, and he watches Will’s face brighten as he spots them, and feels his own heart beat faster and is in love with Will. 

He goes to class and walks with Will to lunch in the cafeteria and sits closer to him than necessary and is in love with Will. He spends all his free time with Will and feels himself get better and better every day and is in love with Will. He still misses El and grieves her presence in his life and learns to live with it and he stops feeling so guilty about being in love with Will. 

And maybe, very possibly, Will was right when he said that being in love made him feel more right, more himself, than anything else, because now that Mike has let himself feel everything that he does for Will, freely and without as much guilt as before, it feels like this is what he was supposed to be doing from the very start. And if Mike is being honest with himself, and he’s trying to be just that lately, he’s probably been doing just that from the very start. 

There hasn’t been a second in which Will Byers was in his life that Mike has not loved him with all that he is. It only took him a meager twelve years to realise it. And that would all be fine and dandy and water under the bridge, if not for one crucial factor. 

Mike Wheeler has always, without exception, been late for every important thing in his life, ever. 

And that one, all-deciding, question still stands unanswered. 

Are you still in love with me? 

Mike thinks that question a thousand times a day. He writes it on every page of his diary, writes it in countless letters that he all throws away. 

He does everything with that question except ask Will. And then Spring break rolls around, and Will’s birthday is just around the corner, and Mike still doesn’t have an answer. 

“Okay, boys,” Dustin says and slaps his hands flat down on the table in Mike’s basement like an action movie hero preparing to explain the dangerous battle plan that will win them the fight. 

Max clears her throat. 

“And esteemed lady,” Dustin adds with gravitas, before continuing on. 

“What’s the big plan?” 

Mike exchanges confused looks with Lucas. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?” Lucas asks. 

Dustin gives him a look like Lucas is the one going insane. 

“Uh, hello? Henderson to Sinclair, anyone home? The big plan for the big one-seven? Will’s birthday? Next week? Anyone?” 

Lucas and Max immediately turn to Mike, who shrugs. 

“He doesn't really want to do anything special,” he says, and there’s a sense of pride, in being the one to know about what Will wants to do on his birthday. 

“He just wants the whole party to be together for it. I mean, Jonathan and his mom and Hopper will want to do something for him, but I already talked to Joyce and she said if she can have the morning, we can have Will from noon for the rest of the day.” 

The other three nod along. 

“So, I was thinking we pick him up at home,” Mike continues. “I know none of us really have a license yet, but Nancy has been teaching me some stuff, and she said I can have her car for the day, and Hopper promised to turn a blind eye or two if I drive carefully. We all get his presents in the car, and I thought about getting milkshakes first and then maybe going to the arcade? We haven’t been in a while, the five of us, and Will loves it there. 

“I was also considering a picnic, but it’s still too cold out for that, so I think we’ll just come back here after and see what he wants to do. Presents, of course, and cake. I’ve got a D&D adventure prepared if he’s in the mood, but to be safe, I also rented all of his favourite movies and some horror ones he hasn’t seen yet.” 

The other three blink before nodding again, enthusiastically. 

“Sounds awesome, man,” Lucas says. 

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees. “Why don’t you ever put that much effort into planning my birthday? I thought we were all your best friends?” 

Mike shrugs. 

“It’s Will,” he says, and Dustin sighs like he knew Mike would say that. Like it explains everything perfectly. And maybe it does. 

“What about me?” 

Will looks adorably confused as he comes back down the stairs, sporting the hoodie he went to grab from Mike’s room. He’d left it there on their last sleepover, and Mike pretended he hadn’t seen it for a week, keeping it next to his pillow while he slept and feeling horribly pathetic. 

“Nothing,” he says and smiles. Everything, he thinks. 

Will smiles back and sits back down next to Mike, close enough that their legs brush. 

It’s true that Mike has Will’s birthday planned out meticulously. But there is something else he has been planning for his birthday, something big, something important. Something he has been working on since that sleepover in Will’s room in Hopper’s cabin. 

It’s part of Will’s birthday present. It’s a story Mike has been writing for him. A short story, granted, but he’s had less than a month to put it all together, and under those circumstances, Mike likes to think he did alright. 

It helps that he’s been drawing inspiration from real life. Namely, his newly discovered not-so-new-after-all feelings. 

And he’s proud of it, in a way. He wouldn’t go around advertising it to people, because, well, he doesn’t want to inspire the next ‘Hunt the Freak’ hysteria, but it’s from the heart and it’s about Will, and he hopes to whatever benevolent being is out there that Will is going to like it. 

Right now, however, it is burning a hole in Mike’s jacket where he’s tucked the small notebook away. Figuratively speaking, of course. 

The party is on their way to Will’s house, and Mike is driving, and the nerves of that are a welcome counterweight to his nerves about Will’s birthday present. 

It is noon on the dot when he pulls up to the cabin, and they all scramble out of the car and knock on the door so hard it almost gives in. 

Will opens, looking absolutely perfect and lovely in his longsleeve and yellow sweater vest, and having the audacity to genuinely be surprised that his friends all showed up to celebrate his birthday with him. 

Mike bullies his way past Dustin and Max to pull Will into a hug first. 

He’s warm and steady in Mike’s arms and he smells like the Byers’ laundry detergent and vanilla and Will, and Mike never wants to let him go. 

“Happy birthday,” he mutters into Will’s neck and prays that he didn’t imagine the way Will shivers in response. 

What he definitely doesn’t imagine is the way Will holds him a little tighter and mutters a sweet little “thank you” into Mike’s shoulder. 

Then the others claim their turns and pull Will from hug to hug, all wishing him a happy birthday, and Will beams like he couldn’t be happier. 

Mike promises Joyce and Hopper to have a good time and drive carefully and take good care of Will, and then they’re off. 

Mike demotes Dustin from his previous shotgun status to make room for Will, which Dustin gracefully accepts in lieu of the circumstances. 

Will looks happier than Mike has seen him in a long time, talking loudly and excitedly with everyone, and Mike can almost see the joy radiating from every inch of Will’s body. It does something to his heart, something warm and beautiful, something he wants to keep forever. 

I’m in love with you, he thinks bravely. 

Will turns to look at him in that exact moment, and for a split second, Mike is terrifed that he accidentally said it out loud, but Will only smiles sweetly at him. 

Mike gets them all safely to the arcade, manages to park the car without any major incidents, and then the five of them load up on milkshakes and pile into the arcade. 

“What do you want to do first?” Mike asks, leaning in close to Will. Will leans back into him. 

“Oh, we’ve got to start with Dragon’s Lair,” he says, smiling. “I wanna see if Dustin can finally beat it.” 

“Your wish is my command, Sir Will the Wise,” Dustin immediately takes the bait and marches off to the machine, followed by the rest of the party. “Stand back and be amazed.” 

If anything, they are amazed by how spectacularly Dustin fails at the game. 

“I’m out of practice!” Dustin whines as they move on to play some other games. “Just let me try again, I’ll beat that dragon eventually, just you wait and see!” 

“Okay, buddy,” Lucas says in that placating tone he sometimes uses for Erica when he wants to piss her off, and claps Dustin’s shoulder. They lose Dustin to the Dragon’s Lair machine for the next hour, but the rest of them have fun getting absolutely destroyed in most games by Max. 

Mike doesn’t even mind too much when she breaks one of his high scores, because Will stands close enough for their arms to brush the entire time, and he doesn’t move away when Mike bumps into him on purpose. 

It’s when Dustin has rejoined them and is bickering with Lucas and Max about some other game, getting himself promptly challenged by both of them, that Will tugs on Mike’s sleeve. 

“Hey,” he says softly. 

Mike smiles at him and tries not to think too hard about how pretty Will looks in the arcade lighting. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

Will nods. 

“I am,” he says. “Are you?” 

Mike frowns. 

“What do you mean?” he asks. “Of course I’m okay, it's your birthday!” 

Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but Mike swears that Will’s cheeks grow darker. 

“Okay,” Will says. “I just asked because you haven’t played any game you wanted to. I know it’s my birthday, but you don’t have to hold back or anything. You can have fun, too.” 

“I’m not holding back anything!” Mike disagrees. “I’m having fun! I’m exactly where I want to be!” 

And now Will is definitely blushing. Mike feels like it’s his own birthday after all. 

“Oh my god, Mike,” Will says weakly, but he can’t quite hold back a bright smile. 

“Will you go play one game you enjoy if I come with you and watch?” 

“Sounds good to me,” he agrees and pulls Will off towards a machine he’s been eyeing for a bit, and if it is in a calmer, less crowded corner of the arcade, then well, maybe that’s just a coincidence. 

Mike plays two rounds of that game, and as promised, Will stands next to him, arms crossed in front of his chest, leaning against the machine and watching Mike the entire time with a soft smile on his face that is entirely to blame for how poorly Mike looses both rounds. 

“Wow,” Will says, offering a mock applause when Mike’s second score is even lower than the first one. 

“When did you get so abysmally bad at video games?" 

Mike laughs, affronted. 

“I’m not bad at video games!” he disagrees. “This one is just rigged, or something. Maybe you manipulated it when you were leaning against it!” 

“Oh, I’m sure I did,” Will rolls his eyes sarcastically, and Mike’s stomach does a flip. Maybe something short-circuits in his brain, but Mike says, 

“You look nice today, by the way.” 

Will looks up, surprised. Something vulnerable crosses his face. 

“Oh, I... thank you,” he says. He swallows, and Mike tracks the movement of his Adam’s apple with his eyes. 

“You look... really nice, too,” Will adds weakly, and Mike looks up just in time to catch Will looking him up and down with something like longing in his eyes. 

“Oh!” Mike says, smartly, and looks down at himself. 

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t spend way too long picking out what to wear today, but he’s almost forgotten about it, like he forgets most things around Will. 

In the end, he picked a pair of dark jeans and a sweater that is green and brown and reminded him of Will’s eyes, and his black leather jacket on top. He wonders if he looks like someone that could be Will’s type. If Will is still in love with him like this. 

“I... yeah. Thanks.” 

He clears his throat again, and forces himself to look away for a second. The notebook in his jacket feels heavier than before. 

“Are you... are you having a good time?” he asks, because he can’t think of anything else. 

Will is still looking at him and tilts his head to the side. 

“Yeah, Mike,” he says. “I’m having a very good time.” 

“Good!” Mike says. “That’s... good. I’m also having a good time, you know. Uh.” 

Will looks like he wants to say something, but he’s interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of Dustin’s voice. 

“Guys? Hey! There you are! Jesus, Mike, we all know Will’s your favourite and you can’t stand sharing his attention with us lowly commoners, but give it a rest on the boy’s birthday, yeah?” 

And Mike is too busy blushing from the tips of his hair all the way down to his chest to notice the way Will looks at him. 

“Well, that was fun,” Will says when they all pile back into Nancy’s car. He tried offering shotgun back to Dustin, which was immediately shut down by Mike. 

“It was,” Mike agrees. “But don’t think I’ll take you home right away already. We’ve still got some more things to do.“ 

Will frowns. 

“What? I thought we were just going to the arcade?” 

“I mean, yeah, that was definitely part of it,” Mike says. “But didn’t you notice you have yet to receive a single present from any of us?” 

Will shrugs helplessly. 

“I thought spending the day together at the arcade was the present,” he says. 

“Wow,” Dustin says loudly from the back. ”We have got to hang out more if you were going to be happy with just that as a present.” 

“Yeah, if Mike lets us,” Max mutters, earning her a prompt high-five from Dustin and a fist-bump from Lucas. 

Mike rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, well,” he says, turning back to Will. “There’s presents. And cake. And games and movies, whatever you wanna do.” 

“Oh,” Will breathes. “Oh, wow, you guys. That’s... thank you. I can’t believe you planned that whole day for me, that’s. Thanks, really, it’s amazing.” 

“Hold your horses, young man, you haven’t even opened your presents yet,” Dustin says. 

“And to be fair," Lucas chimes in, ”it was Mike who planned everything. We’re all just along for the ride, so, y’know, credit where credit is due.” 

Will turns to Mike and Mike doesn’t know which would be worse. Looking at Will now and subsequently crashing Nancy’s car into a tree, or not looking at Will and never knowing what kind of face he is making right now. He decides on the latter, and turns to glance at Will, who is staring at him with big eyes. 

He looks almost fragile, like he’s put something delicate on his face that could fall off at any moment and shatter into a million tiny pieces. 

“Woah, eyes on the road, dude, eyes on the road!” Dustin yells, and Mike looks back just in time to get the car back into the lane before it swerves. 

Karen Wheeler barely has time to get the words “Happy birthday!” out before Mike has already ushered Will and the rest of his friends through the Wheeler’s hallway and into the basement. Still, Will smiles at her sweetly over his shoulder and calls out a “Thank you!” 

“Okay, sit here,” Mike directs, taking Will by the shoulders and gently pushing him down to sit on the couch. Max procures a birthday hat from her bag and places it on Will’s head, who is a smiling, blushing ball of joy. 

The remaining four of them all bring in their presents and sit on the floor in a semi-circle in front of Will. 

“I’ll go first!” Max calls out, and Mike doesn’t even want to argue. He’s gunning for last up, recency bias and all that. 

She hands Will her gift, a small rectangular shape. Will accepts it with a big smile and carefully unwraps it, revealing a cassette tape with a bright red and yellow cover. 

“Oh!” he calls out, excitedly. “The Cure! Awesome, Max, thank you!” 

He gets up to hug her tight, and Max smiles back at him. 

“Yeah, Mike told me Jonathan finally got you your own walkman for your birthday, and I know you don’t have this album yet,” she says. 

Dustin is up next. He’s holding a wrapped up cylindrical shape in his hands that he gets up to pass to Will like a knight offering his sword to his king. He gets on one knee and all that, and Mike frowns. 

“Thank you, Dustin,” Will chuckles and makes to unwrap the present. He pulls a movie poster out of the tube and brightens when he sees it’s for a horror movie. 

“Oh, man, that’s amazing! Thanks, man!” 

Will hugs Dustin as well, and Mike takes that moment to critically inspect the poster. 

“Dude, this looks super scary,” he complains. “I don’t think I’ll be able to have sleepovers at your place anymore if you put that thing on the wall. I’ll never be able to sleep with that staring at me.” 

Will raises an eyebrow at him. 

“You’ll be fine,” is all he says. 

“Okay, me next!” Lucas says, and hands Will another rectangular gift, though this one is decidedly bigger than a cassette tape. Will thanks him and opens it, eyes going wide. 

“Is this the new Stephen King book?” Will asks excitedly, looking up at Lucas, who nods, visibly proud of himself. 

“Yup. Sounded really fucked up and scary, too, so I know you’ll enjoy it.” 

Will laughs and hugs Lucas. 

“Thank you, I’m sure I will.” 

“Onto the great finale,” Mike interrupts, holding up his present. It’s not the notebook, that is still tucked away safely in his jacket and meant for Will’s eyes only. Instead, he presents Will with two separately wrapped packages. 

“Hey!” Dustin says. “You got him two things? Show us all up, why don’t you.” 

Mike rolls his eyes. 

“They’re one present, just in two parts,” he says. 

Will is already blushing again, and Mike wonders if he imagines that Will takes extra care with unwrapping Mike’s gift. 

“Oh!” Will says softly, looking up from the new fancy brand sketchbook and the pack of ridiculously expensive oil pastels. There is something open in his eyes that makes Mike want to squirm and wish the other three weren’t here. 

“I know you said you wanted to try them out, and I made Nancy drive me all the way to that fancy art supply store, and I asked the lady working there what kind of paper works best for them, so, yeah,” Mike rambles, feeling his own face grow warm. 

Will puts the presents down gingerly and then gets up to pull Mike into a hug. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly into Mike’s shoulder. “I love it.” 

And maybe Mike is petty and jealous, but he knows for a fact that Will hasn’t said that about his other presents, and that makes something proud swell in his chest. 

The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur of joy and fun. 

They eat the birthday cake that Mike got, play the D&D birthday one-shot that Mike manages to keep to a measely four hours, and watch two of the new horror movies Mike rented out. It’s not the kind of birthday party that ‘normal’ teenagers would want, with lots of people and drinking and loud music, and it’s the most perfect birthday party Mike ever got to be part of. Mostly, he figures, because it’s Will’s birthday, and he looks so happy that he could burst with it. 

By the time Max is so tired she can’t keep her eyes open anymore, Will’s birthday is nearly over. Lucas, ever the gentleman, offers to take her home, and Dustin decides that it’s time for him to hit the road, as well. 

Mike is a little bit glad that none of them ask if they can sleep over. But when all three of them have said their goodbyes, and it’s just him and Will in Mike’s basement, collecting the wrapping paper and leftover snacks off the floor, Mike suddenly feels so nervous he thinks he might keel over and die. 

“So,” he starts. 

Will looks up from where he is stuffing wrapping paper into the bin. 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

Mike swallows. 

“You... you’re sleeping over, right?” 

His own voice sounds strangely wobbly to him, but Will doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I mean, yeah,” Will says. “That was the plan. Unless you want me to go?” 

Mike never wants him to go. 

“No, no! I don’t. I want you to sleep over.” 

Will smiles. 

“Okay,” he says happily. 

“Okay,” Mike repeats, like an idiot. “Okay, cool.” 

The nervosity doesn’t leave Mike while they finish cleaning up and head upstairs to his room. It doesn’t leave while they get ready for bed, and it only gets stronger, beating in his throat, when he and Will end up lounging on Mike’s bed together. 

Mike is leaning against his headboard and Will is sitting next to him, close enough for their hands to nearly touch on the bedsheets. 

He stares at his leather jacket, thrown over his desk chair, and thinks about being brave for once in his life and getting up to get the notebook. 

“I’ve missed this place,” Will says suddenly. Mike turns to look at him, but Will is looking around the room. 

“Yeah?” Mike asks softly. Will nods and turns his head to look at Mike now. 

“Yeah. I mean, after we got back from California, we were living with you guys for a year and a half. Kind of hard to get readjusted to something new after that.” 

And Mike is an absolute idiot, because he says, 

“You saying you miss having me around every day?” 

Will, blessedly, smiles, scrunches his face up in an absolutely lovely expression Mike wants to see every day until forever. 

“Maybe,” Will says. “I mean, I have you around every day now, anyway. But yeah. Living together was nice.” 

Mike’s heart attempts to break out of his chest. 

Living together. Living together. Living together. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, it was.” 

“But I did miss you,” Will continues carefully, still looking at Mike, like what he says next is going to be important. 

“And I know you needed time to yourself, at first, but I’m... I’m glad you’re doing better, now.” 

Mike swallows. 

He is doing better, he supposes. He still misses El, and he probably always will. But he’s not wasting away in his room anymore, he can get up and eat and brush his teeth and not feel like the weight of the entire world is coming down on his shoulders. He can hang out with his friends and feel like he belongs and have fun and be happy. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me, too.” 

Will nods, lets the quiet settle for a moment before he speaks again. 

“But, you know,” he says. “You can... talk about her. Because that’s the one thing you haven’t been doing, and I know you think about her. And maybe to just get it all out in the open would help you... I don’t know. Move on.” 

Get it all out in the open. 

Mike glances back at his leather jacket. 

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I never know what to say.” 

Will bumps their shoulders together, waits until Mike looks at him to give him a smile. 

“That’s news to me,” he says softly. 

“I don’t know,” Mike repeats. He shakes his head. 

“It’s your birthday, Will. It’s about you, not about me and my shit.” 

Will raises an unimpressed eyebrow and glances over Mike’s shoulder at his alarm clock. 

“My birthday has been over for nine minutes,” he declares. 

Mike rolls his eyes fondly. 

“What, and you think you just stop mattering to me when it’s not your birthday?” he says before he can think about it. 

Will’s eyes go wide and he blushes. 

“You’re changing the topic,” he mutters. 

“No, sir, you are changing the topic,” Mike grins, not finding it in himself to be embarrassed when Will looks like he didn’t know that Mike felt about him that way. 

“You only turn seventeen once, after all! And I need your feedback on my excellent party-planning skills! So,” Mike softens his voice. 

“Did you have a good birthday?” he asks genuinely. 

Will looks at him a little desperately, like there is something he really wants Mike to know but can’t say. Mike wants to know what it is more than anything in the world. 

“I think that was the best birthday I’ve had in maybe forever,” Will eventually says. 

He puts his hand on Mike’s arm. 

“Thank you, Mike.” 

Anything for you, forever, Mike thinks. I’m in love with you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, ‘course.” 

Will swallows and removes his hand from Mike’s arm. Mike misses it like a limb immediately. 

“I know we talked about this already, on the tower,” Will says and looks away. 

“But what you said, that we could still be friends, best friends... I wasn’t sure you meant it. And then you locked yourself away for weeks after El, and I get it, I mean, you loved her. But I was so scared I was losing you for good. And when you said, after that day at Lucas’, that you wanted me to keep asking you to hang out, that you didn’t want me to stop trying... that made me hopeful for the first time since she...” 

Will breaks off and takes a deep breath. 

“And I know it’s been really hard for you, but you’ve been doing so well, and I’m so proud of you, Mike. And I’m so, so glad to have my best friend back, finally.” 

And it’s a sweet thing to say. Mike wants to pull Will into a hug and never let him go. But there’s also the best friend bit echoing in his head. And yeah, Will is his best friend, no doubt about it. But, 

Is that all? he wants to ask. Am I your best friend and nothing else? Are you not in love with me anymore? 

The notebook in his leather jacket feels like it’s an ocean away. Mike pushes it away like a boat sailing off to sea. He shakes his head. 

“I did mean it,” he says, even though his voice sounds strange and his heart feels like it’s made out of broken glass. 

“On the tower. I meant it that I wanted to be best friends again. I’ve always wanted that, Will. You’ve... you’ve always been important to me. And I’m sorry I've been so shit at showing you that the past few years. And I’m sorry that you had to come and drag me out of my spiral. But I... I’m glad you did.” 

“Of course,” Will says softly. “Of course, Mike.” 

And Mike thinks that it also sounds like anything for you, forever, but he’s not sure if he’s only imagining it. 

‘What do you want?’ Imagination-El asks in his head, persistent and patient as ever. 

This, Mike thinks desperately. Will. Forever. 

But he’s been late to everything important all his life, and he’s starting to think he’s too late for Will, too. 

He takes a shaky breath and watches as the boat sails off beyond the horizon. 

If this is what Will has been through with Mike and El, if this is what he’s been talking about when he said that the love got too big for his body and he had nowhere to put it, then Mike owes Will the world’s biggest fruit basket as an apology. 

Because, this, Mike decides, this sucks. 

Because Will got an old car from Hopper for his birthday, and he’s driving now, and apparently that was all it took for half of Hawkins to realise that Will Byers is the most beautiful person in the world. 

And Mike and Dustin really just wanted to make a quick detour to the bookstore to check out some new Sci-Fi novel, and Will said to go ahead and that he’d finish his milkshake by the car and wait for them. 

And now, he is standing by his car, looking all beautiful in his jacket with his hair all wind-swept, and there is a girl standing next to him, giggling and twirling her hair, and Mike is fuming. 

“Dude,” Dustin says, ever oblivious. “Is that Nicole Carson?” 

Mike couldn’t give less of a shit about who that is with Will, all he cares about is that she leaves him the fuck alone. And maybe trips and falls or something. 

He marches over to them without sparing Dustin a second glance, who yelps and hurries after him. 

And yes, Mike knows that there’s no real chance of Will and Nicole going out, because he knows Will doesn’t like girls, but still. It’s about the principle. He’s not sure what principle exactly, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s looking at Will with big heart eyes, and Mike needs her to stop. 

“Will,” Mike says once he’s reached them, pretending not to take notice of Nicole. 

Will, to Mike’s immense satisfaction, looks at him immediately and brightens. 

“Oh, hey! There you are! How was the bookstore?” 

“Good,” Mike shrugs. “Better if you would have come with.” 

Will blinks, surprised, and blushes. 

Ha! Mike thinks. Suck it, Nicole. 

“Uh, hi?” Nicole takes that moment to speak up, sounding annoyed. 

“We were kind of in the middle of something here.” 

Mike turns and stares at her. There must be something in his eyes, because she flinches and takes half a step back instinctively. 

“Yeah, well,” Mike says. “He’s with me, and we’re leaving. Now.” 

Nicole blinks, and Mike takes Will by the arm gently to steer him towards the driver’s side, before climbing in on the passenger side. 

Dustin, who has been watching with wide eyes, pushes past Nicole with a muttered “excuse me” and gets into the back of the car. 

Will pulls out of the parking lot, and the car is strangely quiet. 

“Okay, holy shit,” Dustin breaks the silence once they turn onto the main road. 

“What the hell was that, Mike?” 

Mike frowns and crosses his arms in front of his chest. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“No?!” Dustin asks, incredulously. “Dude, you just went full attack-dog-mode on Nicole Carson!” 

“I did not!” Mike defends himself. 

“You did! You totally did! You stormed up to her and then glared actual fucking daggers at her!” 

“You were being kind of intimidating, Mike,” Will offers, gently. 

“I was not!” 

“You so were!” Dustin calls from the back. “And I know we’re all super protective of Will after everything that’s happened, but Jesus, Mike! She was just talking to him!” 

And yeah, Mike knows that. But he can’t really tell Dustin why it bothered him so much. Especially not with Will right there. So he doesn’t say anything and just sinks deeper into the passenger seat of Will’s car. 

Dustin sighs and then turns to talk to Will instead, until they pull up at the Henderson house, and Dustin waves them goodbye. 

Neither of them say anything when Will drives off again. 

Eventually, Will reaches out and nudges Mike’s leg. 

“You okay?” he asks softly. 

Mike’s face burns, but he nods. 

“Yeah,” he mutters. 

“Are we still good to hang out at mine, or am I taking you home?” Will asks. 

Mike hears ‘am I taking you home?’ and thinks it sounds so much like something a boyfriend would say, that he nearly forgets to reply. 

“No,” he says. “I mean, yeah. Yeah, we’re still good to hang out at yours.” 

Will smiles. 

“Okay,” he says. 

“I’m sorry about Nicole,” Mike says, attempting a peace offering. 

It is seemingly not needed when Will snorts, amused. 

“No, you’re not,” Will states, matter-of-factly. 

Mike can’t help but grin. 

“No, I’m not,” he admits. “Was I really that intimidating?” 

Will spares him a glance. 

“To me? No,” he decides. “But I know you, Mike. To her? You probably looked like some dark angel of revenge or something. With your... your leather jacket and your hair and your eyes.” 

Mike bites his lip. Will doesn’t exactly sound upset when he says that. He sounds strangely pleased. 

Quiet fills the car again, but this time it’s more comfortable. 

“Want me to put on some music?” Mike asks, already reaching for the gloves compartment. 

“Oh, yeah!” Will nods. “Please.” 

“Any preferences?” Mike asks, searching through the cassette tapes. 

“Um, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me?” 

Mike whips his head around to Will, eyes wide and face warm. 

“What?” he croaks. 

Will looks at him, confused, then he realises what he said, and blushes a deep pink. 

“Uh,” he says. “The... the album, I mean? The Cure? That’s... that’s what it’s called, I think. The one Max got me for my birthday?” 

“Oh,” Mike says faintly and wants to throw himself out of the moving car. 

“Yeah. Right. I... yeah.” 

This hopelessly in love thing fucking sucks, he decides. 

It has been barely two weeks since Will’s birthday, which means it’s Mike’s birthday in a few days, and Mike is already fed up with everything. 

Two weeks of suffering quietly and cradling his heart like a wounded animal and beating himself up over always being so goddamn slow. 

He is sitting in his room at his desk, the notebook with the story he wrote for Will in front of him, feeling horrible for himself, when a loud knock sounds at his door. 

“MIKE!” 

He doesn’t reply, and as expected, Nancy opens the door anyway, looking annoyed. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, exasperated. “Mom said she wanted to talk to you about your birthday. What cake you want this year and all that.” 

And Mike doesn’t even care about his birthday or the stupid cake, because all he can think about is Will Byers and how much he wants to kiss him on the mouth. 

“Hm,” Mike only says. 

Nancy frowns. She hesitates, then she steps into his room all the way and quietly closes the door behind her. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, taking a seat on Mike’s bed. “You’ve been weird.” 

Mike throws her an unimpressed glare. 

“Gee, thanks,” he says tonelessly. 

Nancy rolls her eyes and changes tactics, ever the genius investigative reporter. 

“What’s that?” she asks, pointing to the closed notebook in front of Mike. 

He curls his hand around it a bit tighter. 

“Nothing,” he says, but he says it too late, and Nancy raises an eyebrow. 

“Bullshit,” she says. 

And yeah, maybe he and Nancy aren’t the kind of caring, loving, symbiotic siblings that Will and Jonathan are, but Nancy is still his big sister, and she knows, better than anyone else in his family, what Mike has been through, and maybe he just wants to finally talk to someone about it. About all of it. 

He takes a deep, shaky breath. 

Nancy sits up a little straighter. 

‘It’s scary to open up like that,’ Mike hears Will say in his mind. 

‘What if they don’t like the truth?’ 

He tries imagining what Nancy is going to say. If she’s going to like the truth. 

The truth. He’s not sure he even knows what that is. He only knows that the truth has a lot to do with Will and with the fact that Mike thinks he’s pretty and that Mike wants to kiss him and hold his hand forever. 

“Nancy,” he says. “I need to tell you something.” 

He hears Nancy swallowing heavily. 

“Okay,” she whispers. 

Mike takes another breath. His heart is beating so fast in his chest that he thinks he can’t breathe. He balls his hands into fists on his desk. 

“I don’t...” he says. 

Nancy looks at him, eyes wide and serious and patient. 

Mike has to force himself to keep going. 

“I don’t think I was ever in love with El,” he says. 

The words sit between them like smoke. Nancy doesn’t say anything. Mike kind of wishes she would. 

“And I thought I was, for a long time,” he keeps going, even though he can’t breathe and his voice doesn’t sound like his voice. 

“And I do love her, Nance, I did love her. Just not... not like I was supposed to.” 

His eyes start burning, and Mike has to look down, stares at his hands. 

“I can never do anything right,” he confesses, upset at himself, and the first tear slips down his cheek. 

“I couldn’t do anything right with her. I was a terrible boyfriend to El, and I think I knew that, but it was... easier, somehow. And I hate that. I hate that it’s easier for me to lie to myself than just... think about what I want, for once.” 

He wipes at his face, angrily. 

“Because I think I did know, all along, and I just didn’t let myself see it because it was scary. Because I didn’t want to be... like that. 

“And I’m so... angry. I’m so angry at El, because she just left before I could figure out what I want, and I’ll never... I’ll never get to tell her. That I’m sorry. That I don’t love her like that. I just feel like I’m stuck, Nancy. Because I can’t... I can’t ever tell her. But I also can’t keep going without her knowing. 

“And I’m angry at myself, too, for always being so stupid and slow and for always being too late with everything. If I had just figured it out sooner, I could have told El when she was still here, and then I could have grieved her normally and I could have moved on sooner, and maybe I could have gotten what I actually want.” 

Mike is rambling now, and his words are interrupted by hiccups and he’s crying, and he doesn’t know when Nancy got off his bed, but suddenly she’s right there and she’s pulling him into the tightest hug she’s ever given him. 

And Mike, who is six feet tall and turns seventeen in a few days, who has seen horrors beyond comprehension, Mike clings to his big sister and sobs. 

“I’m so angry, Nance,” he hiccups into her cardigan. “I’m so angry she just left me to figure it out all on my own.” 

“Oh, Mike,” Nancy whispers, and she sounds like she’s crying too, and gently strokes his hair. 

“You’re not on your own, though,” she says, sniffling. “I’m here. I’m here, Mike, okay? No matter what. You’re my annoying little shit of a brother, and I love you so much, okay?” 

A pathetically loud sob escapes Mike’s chest and he holds on even tighter to Nancy, and Nancy holds him tighter in return. 

They stay like that for what feels like a small eternity, and when Mike eventually lets go of her and Nancy steps back, both of their eyes are red and their cheeks wet with tears. Mike can’t remember the last time he’s cried in front of Nancy. It feels... strange but good. Relieving. 

Nancy sits back down on Mike’s bed and wipes at her face. 

“So,” she says quietly. “That thing you wish you’d figured out sooner...” 

The truth, Mike thinks. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Nancy says. “But I’m here to listen. I’m here. For whatever it is you think you have to carry all on your own.” 

Mike thinks back to what Will said about not being able to put down all the love anywhere. He wonders if Jonathan knew before the rest of them. 

“I’m scared of saying it,” he whispers. “Because... because Dad always said that boys aren’t supposed to have long hair or hold hands with each other or sleep in the same bed during sleepovers.” 

Something in Nancy’s face goes incredibly soft. 

“I don’t want to get it wrong again,” Mike confesses. “But... I’m starting to feel like being wrong is the... the right way to be. For... for me.” 

Nancy exhales like she’s been holding her breath, and a fresh set of tears starts rolling down her face, and she gets up again, but this time she doesn’t hug him. She puts her hands on his shoulders and looks him straight in the eye. 

“Listen to me, Michael Wheeler,” she says seriously. 

“You are not wrong. No part of you is wrong. Screw what Dad thinks.” 

Mike is so surprised by her sudden outburst that he laughs wetly. 

“I know that,” he admits. “I know. I mean, I don’t think... I don’t think Will is... wrong. I think Will is... Will is so right, everything about him. I think he’s everything, Nance.” 

And it doesn’t feel so scary, admitting to the whole Will bit, because now Nancy knows anyway, so she might as well know how he feels about Will. 

Nancy smiles. 

“Is that what you want?” she asks softly. “Will?” 

It’s the same question Imagination-El keeps asking him. And, God, does it sound good to hear someone actually say it. To finally have an answer that is real and not just in Mike’s head. Mike nods, feeling like a weight is lifted off his chest so big, it could fit into the quarry. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Will.” 

Nancy pulls him into a hug again. 

“Okay,” she whispers. 

Mike feels himself tear up. 

“Okay?” he asks, his voice breaking. 

Nancy turns her head and presses a kiss to his temple. 

“Yes,” she mutters. “Okay.” 

It’s a relief of gigantic scale to have gotten it out into the open with someone. Unfortunately, Will was right, and the love is still there, still too big for Mike to carry around on his own, with nowhere to put it. The notebook still lies heavy in the bottom drawer of his desk. 

And it’s such a good thing that Nancy knows now, but it doesn’t change anything about the fact that Mike is sure he’s missed his window with Will. 

He tries not to think about it too hard and fails spectacularly. 

By some miracle, maybe as an apology to Mike from the universe, his birthday is the first nice day of Spring. 

He wakes up and goes downstairs and gets hugged by his entire family except for his dad, who shakes his hand instead, and eats birthday cake and opens presents. 

And then the doorbell rings and Mike is out of his chair and on the way to the door before the sound has rung out completely. 

“Have fun, sweetheart!” he hears his mom call after him, but Mike has already pulled the door open. 

“Happy birthday!!” 

The entire party is standing on his doorstep, holding ballons and smiling brightly. 

“Thanks, guys,” Mike says, and has barely time to put his shoes on, before Will pulls Mike into a hug. Mike lets himself enjoy it and holds onto Will a little longer than necessary. 

The others get their hugs in as well, and then they all pile into Will’s beat up old car, and Mike claims his usual spot in the passenger seat. 

Will puts on one of Mike’s favourite bands and drives off, out of Hawkins. 

Mike had told him he wanted to do one thing for his birthday; get out of the city for the day. It’s been almost half a year since the military left and the borders to the rest of the world had been opened, and still Mike hasn’t been out of town at all. 

And it’s a good thing that Will knows how to drive and has a car, because that makes this trip that much easier and more enjoyable. 

The sun is out and the first birds are chirping in the trees, and the snow has all melted, and the first flowers are fighting their way back through the soil. 

And Mike is happy. Really, truly happy. He’s seventeen and going on a trip with his best friends, and he’s in love with a boy, and maybe that means he’ll be alone for the rest of his life, but that possibility feels far away now, on this sunny April day. 

They drive for less than an hour, and Will eventually pulls into a parking lot in front of a mall that none of them have ever been to. 

“Okay, set, ready, go!” Dustin calls, and then they all storm into the mall like a group of kids set loose in a candy store. 

There are so many fun things to do. 

They get ice cream, and window-shop, and Mike gets to spend an entire hour in one of the bookstores without anyone complaining too much about it. They all disperse for a little bit, agreeing to meet back at the food court in an hour, and to Mike’s absolute elation, Will sticks with him. 

“Where to next?” Will asks, falling into step with Mike easily. 

Mike shrugs. 

“Don’t know. We can just walk around and see if anything catches our attention?” 

Will nods, like he’s happy to do whatever as long as Mike is there, too. Mike thinks back to what Hopper said about Will being happy, and wonders if this is really enough for Will. If being best friends makes him happy enough. 

Mike desperately wishes he could say the same. 

But as it stands, it’s perfect. Just getting to spend time with Will and talking to him and eventually sitting down on a bench in the court and people-watch together. The only thing that could make this day even better is if Mike could hold Will’s hand, but he couldn’t do that in public even if Will was still in love with him. 

So, Mike is happy with just this. 

“Oh!” Will calls suddenly, and directs Mike’s attention to a small photo booth off to the side. He nudges Mike’s shoulder with his hand. 

“We should go get some photos!” 

“Okay,” Mike says and moves to get up. Because, well, it’s warm enough that Will is only wearing a green-striped longsleeve that is sort of tight around his shoulders, and sue him, okay, but Mike wouldn’t mind having a picture of that to put up on his wall. 

The mall is loud and bright and full of people, but the second that Mike and Will step into the small photo booth and pull the curtain shut behind them, it feels like the rest of the world just falls away. 

It’s a tight fit, and it’s a little awkward, trying to arrange themselves in a way that fits them both in the frame. 

“Is that okay?” Will asks, carefully putting his arm around Mike and pulling him into his side a little. 

Mike wants to kiss him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s okay.” 

Will smiles and starts the timer. 

He gently rests his chin on Mike’s shoulder and Mike instinctively leans his head against Will’s. Both of them smile, and the first picture is taken. 

“Okay,” Will says. “Two more. You wanna do a silly one?” 

“Sure,” Mike agrees, even though he would not allow a ‘silly photo’ of him to exist under threat of death, if it were anyone but Will Byers asking for it. 

Will does pull a silly face. He scrunches up his face and still manages to smile so sweetly, and Mike can’t bring himself to look away, even as the bright light of the shutter tells him that the photo has already been taken. 

Will laughs and turns to Mike, apparently to see what silly face he made, only to find Mike already looking at him. 

“Wh- Mike! You didn’t do it?” he asks, faux-indignation in his voice, but his eyes are still sparkling with joy. 

Mike can’t look away from him. He is so beautiful, even in this horrible little photo booth, with his bright eyes and his warm smile and his pink lips. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, and he doesn’t mean it at all. 

Will’s smile melts into something softer and he’s just looking back at Mike like he can’t quite bring himself to look away either, like there’s something about Mike that is worth looking at. 

Mike wonders if Will would let Mike kiss him. His eyes fall down to Will’s lips, soft and pink and nice and- 

The shutter goes off one last time and both boys startle apart. 

They are both bright red in the face as they stumble out of the photo booth, and Will hurriedly collects the strips of photos, stuffing one into the pocket of his jeans and pushing the other into Mike’s hand. Mike tucks it safely away in the chest pocket of his jacket. 

Neither of them mentions it to the others when they meet in the food court not much later. 

They find a table to sit and everyone hands Mike their presents that they brought along. 

Mike gets a new notebook to write in from Max, the Sci-Fi book he was looking at the other week from Dustin, a few new D&D minis from Lucas, and two movie tickets to a movie Mike has been looking forward to from Will. 

“You can take someone else if you want,” Will tells him, still a little pink in the face. 

Mike shakes his head vehemently. 

“Are you kidding? You’re not getting out of this, Will, this is the first movie we’re seeing in theatres together that isn’t a horror movie in forever. I’m not letting you bail on this.” 

He smiles. 

“And besides, I need you to give me a ride to the theatre and back.” 

Will smiles back and Mike hopes that it will always be like this. 

The day is over far too quickly for Mike’s liking. But suddenly it’s getting dark out and Will reminds them all that they still have to drive back, and he’d rather be back in Hawkins before nightfall. 

The drive back is quiet and peaceful, not as loud and energetic as before, but not any less nice. Will puts on something more calming, a band that Mike has never heard of, but Max hums along to softly from the backseat. 

Mike leans back in his seat and stares out of the window and wonders if he’ll get to be this happy again in his life. If there is a future for him that takes him far away from Hawkins, a future that still has room for his friends, for the people he loves. 

They drop off Max and Lucas first at Max’s place, and then Will drives them to Dustin’s house. 

It’s almost like that day when Mike scared the shit out of Nicole Carson, because after Dustin has gotten out of the car, Will turns to Mike and asks, 

“Am I taking you home?” 

And Mike is not ready for this day to end, so he shakes his head. 

“No,” he says. 

“Okay,” Will says easily. “So, where do you want to go?” 

Anywhere, Mike thinks. If you’re coming with me. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Can you just drive?” 

Will smiles and nods and drives. 

They stop by the gas station to get sodas and then they get back in the car and keep driving. 

Mike isn’t sure where they’re going at first, until he sees the familiar red blinking light of the radio tower in the distance. Will doesn’t take them all the way to the Squawk, and instead pulls off the road somewhere among the small hills on the open field. 

He turns off the engine, and suddenly it’s too dark and too quiet. 

Will gets out of the car and Mike immediately follows. It’s already pitch black, but this far out, the sky is filled with stars, glittering above them. 

Will walks to the front and sits down on the hood of the car. He turns to Mike. 

“Are you going to sit?” he asks softly, and Mike does. He climbs up on the hood next to Will, sitting close enough that their legs are pressed together. 

“Did you have a good time today?” Will asks. 

Mike smiles at him. 

“I did,” he says. “I really did. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in a long time.” 

“I’m glad,” Will says sincerely and nudges their shoulders together. 

“Happy birthday.” 

Mike presses back against him. 

“Thanks, Will.” 

They sit there, on the hood of Will’s car, looking out at the stars in the nightsky, and Mike’s heart is heavy with so much love and so much melancholy. He wonders how things will be next year. They’ll be close to graduating, then. Nancy is leaving for Emerson soon, and all his friends might scatter across the four winds and go out of state for College, and Mike doesn’t know what the future holds, but he’s scared. 

He’s scared it will never be like this again. He’s scared of being lonely, of being left behind. 

“Hey,” Will nudges his leg. “What are you thinking about?” 

Mike is tempted to say ‘nothing’ and ask Will to take him home. But he’s trying to stop sabotaging himself so much lately. He’s tired of lying. 

“The future,” he says. 

“Hm,” Will hums. “That’s a big thing to think about. Anything specific?” 

Mike shrugs. 

“You, I guess,” he admits. “Everyone. Where life is going to take all of you, and if it’s going  to leave me behind.” 

He chances a look at Will and sees that his friend is frowning. 

“You’re not going to be left behind, Mike,” Will says it like it’s a fact, like he knows, like the universe has told him this personally. 

Mike looks away again. 

“How do you know that?” he asks quietly. 

“Because I’m not letting that happen,” Will says. 

Mike looks back at Will. Will looks convinced, determined. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are on Mike like they couldn’t possibly be anywhere else. Mike wants to believe him so bad. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life,” he confesses to Will and the stars. 

“Lucas and Max are going to move to California, they’ve been already looking at Colleges there. Dustin is going to have to fend off scholarship programs left and right, because all of the big, fancy Colleges are going to fall all over themselves trying to get him to enroll. And you-” 

He pauses, taking in Will’s features like he’ll see him today for the last time. 

“You will go to some cool art school and live out your life in a big city and become the most famous artist the world has ever known.” 

Will tilts his head to the side, smiling softly in the dark. 

“NYU,” he says. Mike frowns, and Will adds, 

“That’s where I want to go.” 

Mike feels his heart fall from his chest into a deep, dark pit. 

“And, yeah, the future is going to be scary,” Will continues. 

“But it doesn’t have to be. We don’t have to make it harder for ourselves just because we’re scared of asking for what we want. Do you remember what I said on my birthday? About how I... how I missed being at your place, about how living together had been nice?” 

Mike nods, numbly. 

“Well,” Will says. “NYU also has a writing program.” 

Time freezes. Mike blinks. Will looks at him, his expression open and expectant. Like there is something he knows that Mike has yet to figure out. 

“What?” Mike manages, so quiet that he’s not sure he’s actually said it out loud. 

Will smiles like he can’t help it. 

“It would be nice,” he says, like he’s just talking about the weather and not about the solution to all of Mike’s troubles. 

“We could get an apartment together. We’d both have to get part-time jobs to cover the rent, but I think we could do it. We could have breakfast together and walk each other to class and go somewhere for lunch and watch movies every night.” 

Mike opens his mouth but nothing at all comes out. 

It sounds fantastic. It sounds like a dream come true. It sounds like everything Mike has ever wanted. Like everything he never thought he would get to have. 

Mike smiles. It feels a little wobbly around the edges. 

“You think I could get into a writer’s program?” he asks. 

Will beams at him. 

“I think you could do anything,” he replies so completely honest. “I think you are a brilliant writer, and I know you’ve wanted to write books since we were kids. But is that what you want now?” 

And there it is again, that question. 

‘What do you need to be happy?’ Imagination-El asks. ‘What do you want?’ 

Mike looks at Will and he knows the answer. It’s not foggy and far away anymore, it’s right in front of him, clear as day. Mike figures it always has been. 

He wants a shared apartment with Will in New York City, and he wants to have terrible coffee with him and argue over whose turn it is to cook dinner, and he wants to complain to Will about the essays he has to write for class, and he wants to see Will’s smile every single day for the rest of his life. 

But there is one more thing, one more question that Mike needs to know the answer to. 

“I wrote something for you,” he says. 

Will blinks. Clearly, that’s not what he expected Mike to say, but Will Byers is a saint, so he only says, 

“Oh. What is it?” 

“I was going to give it to you on your birthday,” Mike says. “It’s... a story. About us, I suppose.” 

Will sits up a little straighter, his eyes fixed on Mike. 

“What happens in the story?” he asks, quietly. 

Mike swallows heavily but he doesn’t look away. 

“It’s... it’s about this Knight. And he’s been awarded the title ‘Knight of Hearts’ by this... this powerful Sorcerer, who has saved the world. And the Knight, he doesn’t think he deserves that title at all. Because he thinks there is something wrong with his own heart, so how could he ever be the heart of anyone else, let alone that kind, wonderful Sorcerer?” 

Will swallows and Mike tracks the movement with his eyes. 

“And there’s also this Mage in the story, and the Knight thinks that maybe he can be her heart, because that seems easier than what he actually wants. But then, the Mage disappears, and the Knight realises that he’s never wanted to be her heart all along, but he’s consumed by guilt because he will never be able to make things right with her. And by the time he comes to terms with what he really wants, he doesn’t know if he’s still the Sorcerer’s heart. Because it’s been a very long time, and the Knight is always late for everything. But he knows now that his own heart is not wrong at all. It’s just different. And it’s also belonged to the Sorcerer all this time. He’s just... he’s not sure if the Sorcerer still wants it.” 

Will is crying by the time Mike finishes, and Mike, he realises, is crying, too. 

There’s no way Will doesn’t realise what this means. He knows now, for better or for worse. 

“Is that how the story ends?” Will asks, voice hoarse. 

“Yes,” Mike whispers. 

“That’s a horrible cliffhanger to leave it on,” Will says, a small sob shaking his words. 

Mike smiles sadly. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I was hoping the Sorcerer could tell me himself how the story ends.” 

Will sniffles and wipes at his face. 

“No,” he says. “You’re the writer. You tell me how it ends. Really.” 

And Mike decides to be brave. He folds his hands in his lap. 

“I would like it if the Sorcerer and the Knight could go to some far away place together. Where it can be just the two of them. And the Sorcerer can learn the most beautiful new magic of colours and the Knight can become a storyteller. And they’ll... they’ll be happy together for the rest of their days.” 

Will exhales and it comes out shaky from another sob. 

“That sounds nice,” he says. “But Mike, I think the Knight needs to know that the Sorcerer is not the Mage. And he doesn’t want to be a replacement.” 

Mike does one of the bravest things he’s ever done and reaches out to take both of Will’s hands in his own. They are wet where Will has wiped away his tears, and a little cold from the night air. Mike squeezes them tight. 

“I know,” he says, making sure to look Will in the eye as he says it. 

“And, Will, the Knight knows that. He took too long to figure it out, but he knows that now. And he wants to be the Sorcerer’s heart, more than he’s ever wanted anything. If the Sorcerer still wants that, too.” 

He smiles at Will, hoping that he’s not reading this wrong. 

“But that’s something that you will have to tell me,” he adds softly. 

Will inhales shakily. 

“Will,” Mike says and he holds onto Will’s hands for dear life. 

“Are you still in love with me?” 

The tears flowing freely over Will’s precious face would be concerning if Will wasn’t also nodding so hard that Mike worries for a split second that he’ll give himself a concussion. 

“Yes,” Will manages between sobs. 

And that does it. Mike can feel himself tearing up. 

“Yes?” he asks, and his own voice breaks under the tears. 

Will lets go of his hands, but only to wrap his arms around Mike’s shoulders and pull him into a crushing hug. Mike doesn’t waste a second and pulls Will as close as he can, hands gripping onto Will’s longsleeve so tight he’d worry about ripping it, if it weren’t for the fact that Will is still in love with him. 

“I didn’t think you actually-” Will hiccups. “I didn’t think you’d ever-” 

“I’m sorry,” Mike whispers into Will’s neck. “I’m sorry for being so goddamn slow.” 

Will laughs into Mike’s shoulder, something desperate and wet and freeing. 

“That’s okay,” he says and leans back, beaming at Mike like there’s nothing in the world that could make Will happier. 

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” 

Mike stares at him. At this beautiful, brave boy, with his big eyes and his even bigger heart that he has somehow, through some miracle, has deemed Mike worthy of. 

“I’m in love with you,” he says. 

Will’s face softens. 

“Yeah?” he asks like he can’t believe it himself. 

And Mike loves him so much that he’s dizzy with it. 

“Yeah,” he says. “So much.” 

Will smiles, all blushing and pretty and tear-stained. 

“I’m so much in love with you, too,” he says softly. 

And because Mike is an idiot, he says, 

“That’s good.” 

But luckily, Will loves him, and so he only laughs. 

“It is,” Will agrees, eyes crinkling with joy. “It is very good.” 

Mike smiles back at him. Far back in his mind, he knows that his life has just shifted in a very big way, but Will is still here, and that’s all that matters to Mike. 

All that matters is that Mike is seventeen and in love with a boy who loves him back, and that means that the future might be harder for them, but it’s also going to be better because of it. 

But Mike doesn’t think about the future right now. He thinks about the fact that it must be close to midnight soon, and that he’s starting to get really cold, and that he wants Will to take him home and then sleep in Mike’s bed with him. 

But there’s one more thing he needs to do before that. 

“Will?” 

Will tilts his head, smiling. 

“Yeah?” 

Mike leans in until their noses knock together softly. Will doesn’t move away. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

It’s just a whisper, but Will smiles, and Mike can feel it on his lips when Will says, 

“Yes.” 

Spring comes and goes, and between school and D&D sessions on the weekends and the new thrill of having a boyfriend, time flies, and suddenly Mike wakes up and it’s Summer break. 

He doesn’t know what wakes him up at first, but then he hears the footsteps and chatter and general clattering noises he’s come to associate with the Hopper-Byers household. Someone shouts something, probably Joyce, and then there’s a hurried but soft knock at the door. 

“Will?” Joyce asks from the hallway. “Mike? Are you guys up yet?” 

Mike sighs and turns around in bed. Will is laying next to him, hair sleep-tousled, eyes closed and face relaxed. His arm is comfortably slung over Mike’s waist. Mike gently takes him by the shoulder and shakes Will awake. 

“Hnghh,” Will mumbles and turns his face further into the pillow. 

“Your mom’s outside,” Mike tells him but Will only hums, not making the impression of someone who is willing to be awake yet. Mike rolls his eyes fondly and leans down to kiss Will on the top of his head. 

Then he turns and slides himself out from underneath Will’s arm and out of bed. He opens the door to Will’s room just when Joyce starts another series of knocks. 

“Oh!” she says. “Good morning, sweetheart.” 

“Morning,” Mike says. “What’s up?” 

Joyce grimaces like she’s embarrassed about what she’s about to say. 

“I really need to get going, but I can’t find my car keys. I think Will had them last, is he awake?” 

Mike throws another glance over his shoulder, then looks back at Joyce. 

“Uh, no, but I can go look for your keys?” he offers. 

Joyce nods, relieved. 

“That would be great, Mike, thank you!” 

Mike nods and waits for Joyce to hurry off in the direction of the kitchen until he closes the door again. 

He takes a good look around Will’s room. This isn’t how he was planning to spend his morning, but he supposes he can spare a few minutes to look for Joyce’s keys. He starts with the bedside table drawers and then Will’s backpack, his own backpack, both of their jeans’ pockets, but ultimately turns up empty. 

The bed creaks behind him. 

“What are you doing?” 

Will sounds adorably confused, and his voice is still deep and raspy from sleep. 

“Looking for your mom’s car keys,” Mike says, turning around to walk back to the bed, and leans down to kiss Will. 

“Good morning.” 

Will smiles at him sweetly. 

“Good morning. Why are you looking for my mom’s car keys?” 

“Oh, you know,” Mike shrugs nonchalantly. “I thought to myself, ‘hey, what could be better than sleeping in late and cuddling my boyfriend in bed? Oh, looking for his mom’s car keys! That sounds like fun.’” 

Will rolls his eyes. 

“Did she lose them again?” 

“I guess? She said you had them last, so technically you lost them.” 

Will stretches his arms above his head and yawns. 

“Have you checked my jeans?” 

“Yeah, and your backpack.” 

“Hm,” Will says. 

“Yeah, that’s kind of where I’m at, too,” Mike grins. 

“Oh!” Will snaps his fingers. “Didn’t you drive me back from Lucas’ the other night? That was Mom’s car, right?” 

Mike furrows his brows, trying to recall said night. 

“I guess so? But I don’t remember what I-” 

“Jacket,” Will says and blushes immediately. 

Mike grins at him and has half a mind to tease Will about the fact that he likes Mike in his leather jacket enough to remember when he last wore it. 

“Good thing you noticed,” he says. 

“I always do,” Will mumbles, but his smile is pleased, even though his cheeks are still a little pink. 

Mike smiles back and then turns to rummage through the pockets of his jacket. There’s nothing in the two side pockets, and he doesn’t really think he’d have put the keys in his chest pocket, but he checks anyway. 

There aren’t any keys, but there is something inside that feels like a smooth piece of paper. 

“What-” Mike mutters and pulls it out of the pocket. 

“Did you find them?” Will asks. 

Mike is too awestruck to reply. 

There is a triumphant shout from somewhere else in the house, followed by a loud groan. Footsteps come closer, and then Jonathan calls out through the door, 

“We found them! They were in the bowl with the other keys after all!” 

Will chuckles softly, clearly amused by his mother’s chaotic nature. 

“Typical,” he says. 

Mike doesn’t reply, too enamored with the slip of paper in his hand. 

“Mike?” Will asks. “You okay?” 

Mike turns around slowly and holds up the piece of paper. 

“Look what I just found,” he says softly and climbs back into bed with Will, who immediately scoots closer to look at what Mike is holding. 

“Oh,” he says softly when he recognises it. 

It’s a long, rectangular piece of paper with three photographs on it. 

The first one shows two boys, one with dark hair and dark eyes and one with soft brown hair and hazel eyes. They are standing close together, the shorter one with an arm around the taller one, his chin resting on the dark-haired boy’s shoulder. They are both smiling into the camera happily. 

The second one shows the same two boys. The one with the hazel eyes is pulling a sweetly silly face, scrunched up and smiling. The one with the dark eyes is looking only at the other boy, face open and soft and love-struck. 

The third one shows the two boys looking only at each other. The one with the dark hair is looking down at the brown-haired boy’s lips, eyes full of longing, which is why he can’t see that the brown-haired boy is looking at him much the same, entirely and completely smitten, eyes overflowing with love and lips curved in the softest smile. 

“I was wondering where that disappeared to,” Mike says quietly. 

He knows these pictures. He’s looked at Will’s copy many times, where Will has proudly put it on his wall, among all the other pictures of the people he loves. 

Mike had forgotten where he’d put his own, and Will hadn’t been upset, he had just smiled and kissed Mike’s cheek and said, ‘I guess you just have to come over whenever you want to see it’. 

Mike smiles down at the picture. Then, he puts it down on Will’s bedside table and pulls his boyfriend into his arms. Will goes easily, snuggling up to Mike and burying his face in Mike’s chest. 

“Can we go back to sleep now?” he mutters into the shirt Mike has stolen from Will to sleep in. 

Mike checks Will’s alarm clock. 

“Yeah, for a bit,” he agrees. “We’ve got three more hours until we’re meeting the others at the lake.” 

Will hums happily and presses a kiss to Mike’s collarbone. 

“’kay,” he mumbles. “Love you.” 

And Mike... he is still scared sometimes. Scared of the future, of graduating, of going to College, of growing up, of leaving El’s memory behind when he leaves Hawkins. 

But for the first time in his life, Mike Wheeler isn’t going to let that stop him. 

Because Will Byers loves him and he is right here in Mike’s arms and he is not going anywhere. 

And that’s all that Mike needs to not be so scared anymore. 

So, he leans down and kisses Will’s forehead, and says, 

“I love you, too.”