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Mike groans to himself as the music amplifies, echoing through the speakers set up all around the house.
Who’s house is this anyway?
Jesus, he doesn’t even know.
All he knows is that he wants out. The lights are practically neon, (beaming directly into his eyes, mind you), the music is vibrating through his bones, and the air is thick with smoke and alcohol- his body is practically shaking from the amount of shit that’s overloading his senses.
He’s always hated parties, but Lucas had nearly dragged him by the hair when Mike tried to deny the invitation- if he could, he’d go back in time, rip his hair straight out of Lucas’ grasp, and carry it directly to his bed.
Unfortunately, Lucas has a really strong grip.
Even worse, he had conveniently loosened that grip the moment they had walked through the door. Without the party by his side, Mike had no clue where to go, what to do, or how to function as a normal, well rounded teenager.
And now?
Mike’s back is all but stuck to the wall, skin slicked in sweat and fingers curled helplessly around a red solo cup he doesn’t even remember picking up. He’s holding his breath as he surveys the room for a way out- anything. He’s looking for anything at all. A trapdoor, even.
His eyes catch a glimpse of what looks to be a bathroom door, and without even realizing it, he’s already moving.
His free hand grips the latch and he pushes the door open with a little too much force, falling into the room and pulling himself up by the handle. He shuts the door and lets out a sigh he’d been holding in the moment they stepped into the house. He can still hear the partygoers shrieking and the music blaring, but at least the air is less thick and the lights can’t get to him here.
Slowly, his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness and he barely registers a bed, some drawers, and a vanity in front of him- okay. He might’ve misjudged where the door led to.
His train of thought is suddenly interrupted when a voice speaks up from in between the closet and the bedside table, causing him to drop the drink in his hand, spilling some sort of alcoholic-concoction all over the carpetted floor.
“Mike?” Will’s focus travels down to the puddle of.. something spreading into the crevices of the floor. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you-“
“No, it’s fine, people probably spill things in this room all the time,” Mike hurriedly reassures him, waving his hands in a disorganized manner. “Uh, I just- I just didn’t expect anyone else to be in here, too. Why are you..?”
He trails off, head tilting to his right just a smidge.
“Parties aren’t my thing,” Will shrugs, motioning for Mike to sit. He does, positioning himself in between the closet and Will, leaning his head on the rickety wardrobe.
“I know. They’re not really my thing either,” he huffs.
Silence washes over them as Mike resorts to picking at his nails and thinking, which is a dangerous hobby for one Michael Wheeler.
Will’s been odd ever since they started living together, and he’s not sure what he did wrong- it could be a plethora of things, honestly, but he can’t seem to figure it out this time. Maybe it was when he fell asleep on the roof and the whole household went into a frenzy trying to find him; or maybe it was when he attempted to surprise Will on his birthday with breakfast and royally fucked it up;
Or maybe it was when he and El broke up.
He wouldn’t blame him. He hates himself for it too- hates himself for not being able to love her right. Hates himself for not being able to tell the truth- why he can’t love her right. The right way.
“I didn’t know you drank,” Will says carefully, eyeing the dark circle on the floor.
Mike follows his gaze, stuttering, “No, yeah, I- No, I don’t, I don’t really know.. how that got there. In my hand.”
“You don’t know how it got in your hand?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Will says, pausing for a second to shoot him a strange look before continuing, “I don’t- really like alcohol. And I kind of lost everyone, so I just figured I’d come in here.”
“Oh. Oh, same,” Mike parrots. It feels a little pathetic to explain the only reason he found himself in this position was because he felt overstimulated, and it wasn’t totally a lie anyway. He had lost everyone to their respective corners, and his mother is an alcoholic, so he’s not 100% chill with the amount of booze being passed around.
Will just hums in response, stillness filling the room.
If he was being honest with himself, and let’s be serious, when is he ever- Mike mostly hates these parties because they take away all of his control. Sure, the trashy music and flashing lights don’t help, but the concept of drinking a little too much after a bad day, dancing without fear or shame, stumbling a couple feet to the left and landing straight into Will’s arms?
He bites his nail extra short at the thought. He hates being out of control. School is familiar, he knows the halls and rooms like the back of his hand- braving the Upside Down? No biggie- he’s the leader. He makes the plans, he controls it. But parties? He didn’t even know if the door he was opening led to the bathroom or not. He can’t even recall picking up a cup of crap; hell, by now he could have chugged it and been on his third one.
Being drunk sounds like a horror movie to him. Even now, completely sober, he’s all too aware of the lingering tension between the two of them- him and Will.
And it scares him so much.
It’s been there since California. Since Mike knew- knew about.. himself. He tried to stop it. Stop loving Will. He tried everything- he tried to pray it away, he tried to confess, he tried to love girls- but nothing ever worked. His mind would always wander back to Will.
Back to what they could be if he wasn’t such a disgusting freak.
“Do you remember,” Will spoke up, snapping Mike out of his daze, “the first party we went to? When Dustin drank so much he threw up on Lucas?”
“Oh my god, yeah!” Mike cackles, “Lucas had to get new shoes and Dustin just got away scot free.”
Will laughs in return, “I always thought.. you’d be the first one to over exert yourself at a party, but I guess I was proven wrong.”
“Me?” he sits up a little straighter, face twisted in mock offense, “What- are you calling me a lightweight?”
“No!” Will grins, laughter slipping through his smile (what a wonderful thing to witness), “I’m just saying.. I don’t know, you look like you’d go crazy and then pass out in the car.”
“So, I look that way?” Mike teases, “My face just gives off ‘absolute loser’ vibes?”
“I mean, if you put it that way..”
“Okay, now you’re just being mean. Tell me,” Mike scoots closer, “Tell me what else I look like.”
Will adjusts his posture, narrowing his eyes and sticking his tongue out as if he’s carefully analyzing Mike’s facial structure.
“A huge, fat nerd,” he decides, earning him a playful slap from the boy next to him.
“You know what I think you look like?” Mike challenges, “I think you look like..”
His voice trails off as his eyes focus on Will, breath catching in his throat at the sight of him, light accentuating every feature.
He’s perfect. So perfect, that for as long as he’s looking at Will he can forget about the devil inside of him- he can forget about control and sin and his dad- so perfect Mike’s not sure anything else is worth remembering.
Everything about Will is perfect. His eyes, his laughter, his lips, his hair, his nose, his words- everything.
He wants to forever swim in the golden hues that mark his eyes, to choke on the giggles that spill out of his teeth, to entangle their hands together and yell “I’m here. I’m safe. I love you.”
And with the way Will’s looking at him right now, he might just do it.
His eyes are gleaming, pupils dilated and eyebrows wrinkled, lips parted and fingers gently pressing against Mike’s own- the latter looks down at their hands, a pinky stroking his ring finger.
He could kiss him. He wants to kiss him.
“Will! Mike!” a voice rings through their ears as they jump apart, Mike hitting his head against the closet door and letting out a quick “shit!” before the voice continues.
“Stop hiding!” the familiar tone reveals itself to belong to none other than Lucas Sinclair as he continues, “You guys need to be out here with us- Max and Dustin just started a game of beer pong and I need backup for when they inevitably start killing each other. Get out here!”
“We’ll be out in a second!” Will yells back, pushing himself off the carpet and meandering to the door, turning to face Mike with a nervous glance.
“Uh- are you coming?” He squeaks out, painfully shaky.
Mike exhales, running a hand through his dark hair.
“Yeah I’ll- I’ll be out in a second.”
Will swallows and gives a short nod, fingers flexing and unflexing as he grazes the doorknob.
“Will-“
He turns, eyes wide and mouth parted.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not- …I’m not-“ Mike mutters pathetically, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. He can’t even look at Will. He can’t.
He just hears a quiet, “Yeah.” before noise erupts from the other side of the room, quickly silenced with a click that, although barely audible against the wave of uproar, echoes through the room far longer than the pandemonium a few feet away ever could.
He sprawls out, eyes now shut and hands clasped together tightly, uneven nails sinking into his skin.
He could’ve been something beautiful. Something loud and clear, something that shines in the sun and glows in the night. Something that others envy.
Instead, he was a fag.
And no one could possibly envy him.
“Fuck!” He yells, tears threatening to fall as he slams his fist against the closet door. He gets a few more punches in before his arm collapses back onto the floor, seering pain running through his knuckles.
He just wanted to be normal. That’s all he’s ever wanted.
“Fuck,” he cries, hands digging into his eye sockets, trying to somehow stop the flow from running down his cheeks.
It’s gutteral. It’s real. It’s raw.
..He should tell Will.
Tell Will so he can finally be free- free of Mike. God knows he deserves it. He deserves to be free of Mike’s constant mood shifts, his constant lashings- everything.
Especially this.
He lays there for a moment, the only sound audible to him being the sound of his breathing. Eventually, he unclasps his hands and shakily stands, deep red marks from where his fingers were clenched staining his fists.
He slowly squints his eyes, darkness engulfing half of his vision as he carefully slips out of the room, bracing himself for the blinding impact of a hundred overhead lights.
Instead, he’s met with a dimmed room and flashing strobes crawling in from what seems to be the living area. He blinks and cautiously steps toward the colorful lights, music ringing in his ears. He can’t quite make it out, which intrigues him even more.
His foot is barely in the room when it erupts with cheers as the next song starts to play. Drunk teens scramble to find a dance partner while Mike’s left to figure out what he missed in the span of 30 minutes.
His eyes roam around as he fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater, running a loose string through his fingers. Will. Will. Where’s Will?
His searching only becomes more desperate as the music picks up, lyrics seemingly guiding Mike’s focus to a corner near the refreshments. His stare drifts from person to person, breath hitching in the process as he locks eyes with Robin, leaning against the kitchen counter with an arm wrapped around her best friend.
He hurriedly rushes up to her, his nails snagging his sweater as he fights to free himself.
“Robin- Robin, have you seen Will?” He begs, collar choking him as he drags his fingers out of the stubborn fabric.
“Will? Yeah. Why?” She shoots him a quizzical look, a little concerned. “Did something happen?”
“No- I mean, yeah, but that’s why I’m trying to find him- where did he go?”
Robin pauses. He can feel her analyzing him- it makes him uncomfortable. He didn’t ask to be seen.
Eventually, she nudges the girl beside her, whispering something in her ear that Mike can’t quite make out.
They’re talking about him. More importantly, this random girl glued against Robin’s side is talking about him. Who the hell does she think she is?
“Who are you?” Mike snaps, wincing at his tone immediately after the words leave his mouth. He shouldn’t have said that- he needs to find Will. This isn’t helping.
…
“This is my girlfriend, Vickie,” Robin answers for her, quickly, without malice or shame. Like she knows something. Something he doesn’t.
“..and Will went that-a-way,” she finishes.
She points to the right of the room- a small corner less compact than the rest of the house.
“I- okay,” Mike says, mind reeling, all thoughts temporarily paused; “And.. cool. Cool?”
Was it cool? Was living like that cool?
Could that be Mike one day?
“Cool,” Robin grins, “It’s really cool. Everything about it is really cool.”
“Sorry, what- uh, what?” Mike repeats.
“Loving girls,” she teases. “Loving one girl in particular.”
She looks toward Vickie and gives her an exaggerated wink- one returned to her in the form of an eye roll.
“You don’t feel bad?”
“Bad?”
“Yeah. For living like this. For being..”
“Lesbian?”
“Yeah,” Mike whispers.
Robins eyes soften at his tone. She knows. Of course she does. No wonder she told him. Him, of all people- she had to have known.
“I did,” she starts, noticing the way Mike shrinks into himself before she continues, “but not anymore.”
“How?” Mike practically pleads, “How did you not.. feel bad?”
“I realized that if the worst thing about me was that I loved girls.. it had to be pretty bad. But it made me feel.. so good. The first time I kissed a girl, I cried- I cried so hard it washed her mascara off,” she laughed, eyes trailing to where Vickie had wandered off in order to give the two privacy before continuing, “My parents are Catholic, so I had this kind of.. idea of love cemented into my brain. Which never included what my version of love was. And for forever I thought.. I was a sin. Me. But eventually.. eventually I knew.
…Everyone in my 10th grade geometry class agreed on one thing- they all wanted a car. They all wanted to learn how to drive, so they could go to work, to parties.. They all wanted to drive.
But I.. I just wanted to drive away. To somewhere I could be free. I could love all the girls I want. I’d have this awesome girlfriend and.. no parents. No one to judge me or tell me I was weird. A freak.
I thought if I could have that.. I’d finally be happy.
Now I have a car. I could drive away if I wanted to. Sometimes I still do. But now.. I know that where I’ve always wanted to drive away to- it’s all around me. It’s my friends, it’s my girlfriend, it’s my room, it’s my cat- it’s me. Most importantly, it’s me. It’s always been me.
I’m fucking awesome! My girlfriend- my girlfriend is fucking awesome. My friends are fucking awesome! And I’ve never been happier. I’ve never been happier because I’m gay. I’m a lesbian! I’m a lesbian and I’ve never been happier!”
Mike lets out a small laugh as Robin slams her drink on the counter and lets out a short “whoo!” before turning her focus back to Mike.
“And God thinks I’m pretty fucking awesome too,” she beams, “I can promise he thinks you are too.
Right after you find Will. He’ll think you’re awesome then.”
Mike nervously rubs his hands on his worn down jumper as he shoots Robin a wobbly smile.
As he turns to hunt down Will, he spots Vickie in the corner of his eye- She’s all giggles, love written all over her face.
That could be him.
His eyes dart around the room faster than his legs can move- the soft lights only work to illuminate half of everyones faces, leaving most identifiable features in the dark. He groans to himself mentally before shoving high teenagers with no sense of personal space out of his way.
If he does one thing tonight- it’ll be making things right. With himself- with Will.
His breath starts to pick up as his searching begins to look increasingly hopeless- maybe he left. Maybe he’s gone, and he’ll never talk to Mike again- maybe he’s decided Mike’s too revolting, too dirty; maybe he’s-
Maybe he’s staring straight at him, 30 feet away.
All of a sudden, his sweater is too hot, too itchy, too scratchy. He wants to rip it off his body, but he doesn’t think that would be the most appropriate thing to do in this situation. Instead, he grips the ends of his jumper with his fists, clutching on for dear life.
It feels as if a spotlight found its way to Mike, irradiating him and all his flaws for the world to see. Like he’s being laid out bare.
He’s sure Will can see through every wall he’s ever put up, swim through every moat he’s built, venture through every forest- but tonight?
He feels like Will has almost cracked open the one thing he’s kept in a vault for his whole life. The one thing under lock and key. The one thing he’s not sure he can open himself.
The one thing he doesn’t want to open.
Before he can even process it, he’s moving- slowly, so slowly, out of the spotlight.
His gaze is still latched onto Will, observing how the latter scans his face, searching for something- anything. Mike can’t breathe under his stare, colored lights illuminating Will’s eyes, his face, his hair, his lips. Fuck, his lips.
What he would give to be free, free and unashamed to be staring at those lips. At those eyes. Those same eyes that looked at Mike with such love earlier that same evening.
What Mike would give to look at Will that way.
Can’t we give ourselves one more chance?
What he would give to run his fingers through Will’s hair- what he would give to card his messy locks through his hands, he wanted to be selfish, to hold onto the thought, to hold onto the fantasy.
Why can’t we give love that one more chance?
His pace quickens at the thought- just barely, just enough.
Cause love’s such an old fashioned word..
This was it. This was his night, his moment to be free. Unashamed. Loud. Under the flickering lights, under the colors and the music- under the spotlight.
And love dares you, to care for the people on the edge of the night..
His eyes crinkle and he lets out a sharp breath of air, a little laugh of relief- how could he have been so scared? So scared of himself, so scared of this overwhelming love for the boy in front of him, so scared of everything he was and ever will be- how could he have been so scared of the path laid out in front of him, a path with his friends, a path with his passions, a path with Will?
And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves..
He’s so close to this path, the perfect path; he just has to follow it- follow it through the bodies of teenagers dancing and laughing, through the drunken air, through the blasting music, through the glaring lights.
This is our last dance.
Through his hurt and his hate. Through his walls, through his moats, through his forest, through his vault.
This is our last dance.
To Will.
This is our-