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Mike Wheeler wasn't in the mood for a party.
These days, Mike wasn't really in the mood for much, but he definitely wasn't in the mood for some stupid high school party. He wasn't sure when his friends had decided to change their minds about the rest of the student population, but they seemed to have made this decision unanimously.
So Mike found himself trudging down the street, hands tucked into his dark jeans, doing his best to ignore Will and Dustin laughing about what might happen at Stacy's party. Will's laugh rang out clear and bright in the evening air, and Mike hated how easily he could pick it out from a crowd, how he'd memorized every variation of it over the years. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.
Lucas had assured them that he would meet them at the party once he convinced Max to join; Mike faintly wondered if he should've joined forces with Max in an effort to boycott the party.
Before he could form a plan to slip away, they were turning a corner, and the pulsing music from the house just down the street was already oozing down the street. Unlike the other houses on the block that stood dark and silent, this one had lights flashing in every room, the front door open with countless teenagers spilling out onto the porch and the front yard, drinks in hand.
God, Mike wanted nothing more than to be in his basement, finally playing the campaign he had spent the past two months fleshing out.
Once inside, it was only a few moments before Dustin was pulled away, and then it was just Mike and Will, and the thirty sweaty bodies around them. Mike's face must have shown his disgust because Will was laughing, and something in Mike's chest loosened.
"C'mon, Mike. Let's give it a shot, yeah?" Will bumped his shoulder against Mike's, the warmth spreading from that contact point down his arm and across his chest. For months now, every casual touch from Will had felt like this, electric, significant, impossible to ignore. Mike wondered if Will could feel it too, or if it was just another symptom of Mike's growing awareness of everything Will did. The way he moved, the way he smiled, the way he existed in Mike's space as if he'd always belonged there.
Will was quick to push through the crowd, and Mike sighed as he realized he didn't have much of a choice other than to follow Will into the jam-packed living room. They wove through the odd attempts of dancing until they were in the kitchen, and Mike forced a smile when Will turned to him with bright eyes at the sight of the drinks covering the kitchen counters.
There were countless bottles and cans, some in boxes and some left unfinished, but the large punch bowl in the middle of the cluttered counter that seemed the most suspicious would surely be able to do the job.
Mike was no stranger to drinking; he had seen the casual beers his father cracked open after work, the bottles of wine his mother stowed in the bottom shelf of the pantry, that old flask Nancy hid in her sock drawer. Alcohol was the easiest way to escape the grim reality that had become his life, and he had just been given unlimited access to it! Maybe this party wasn't so bad after all.
While Will busied himself with searching for a bottle opener, Mike pinched at the sticky ladle and filled his glass to the brim. In the time that it took for Will to select a drink and open the bottle, Mike's cup was half empty, so he made sure to refill it before tapping it against Will's bottle in a sloppy cheers. They both settled against the counter, watching the crowd through the doorway to the living room.
"I wonder what Dustin's up to," Will called over the loud music, leaning in towards Mike slightly.
"Probably busy making out with Stacy." Mike rolled his eyes. Whatever happened to not conforming?
"I'm happy for him! I remember how much he used to like her in middle school. We never thought she would come around, especially not now."
Mike chose the worst time to glance over at Will, his eyes catching on the way Will's neck was stretched out as he sipped his drink, the way the long lines of his throat jumped with every swallow. Mike's mouth went dry. He'd been noticing things like this for months now; the curve of Will's jaw, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the constellation of freckles that dotted his cheeks and neck. Things he shouldn't be noticing. Things that made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with grief and everything to do with wanting something he was too late to have.
"Mike? Are you okay?" Will waved a hand in his face, and Mike blinked out of his spiraling thoughts, ones he definitely should not be having. "Have you drunk too much already?"
Mike just plastered on a smile before tipping his cup to show Will how it was only half empty, though Will didn't know about his refill. "I'm all good! And no, I have not nearly had enough."
If Will thought Mike was lying, he didn't get a chance to say much because Dustin was poking his head through the kitchen door, cheeks pink and hair ruffled. "Will! Stacy wants to play a round of beer pong, and I need a partner. You in?"
Mike couldn't pull his eyes from Will as his face brightened, "Yeah! I would love to, but I can't say I'll be any good."
"Nah, don't worry about it, you can just be my stand-in until Lucas gets here!" With that, Dustin rounded the corner, and Mike wasn't sure if he should be offended or grateful he wasn't given an invite. His relief quickly faded as Will set his bottle down on the counter to turn to fully face Mike, concern knitting his eyebrows.
"Mike, do you care if I- Did you want to come? Maybe you can join the next round?" Will was still raising his voice to talk over the music, but the way he leaned closer to be heard made it feel so intimate. Mike could smell the faint scent of Will's soap, could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, could count his eyelashes if he wanted to. And he wanted to. God, he wanted to so badly it made him feel sick.
"No, no, don't worry about me! I don't want to play pong, I'll probably just come watch in a bit, yeah?" Mike pressed his lips into a tight smile, but Will didn't seem convinced. Sometimes, Mike hated the ease with which Will could always read him. "You go ahead, I'll just stop by the bathroom and come."
Will seemed wary, but he didn't argue, just granting him a quick nod before grabbing his drink. He hesitated for just a second, hand hovering like he wanted to reach out and touch Mike's shoulder, his arm, something—but then Dustin called his name again and the moment passed.
Mike drained his cup and filled it up before turning in the opposite direction to step outside for a breath of air. The fruity juice did a great job of masking the alcohol, and as he walked out the back door, the world felt like it was twisting and turning around him. Instead of the usual anxiety that set in whenever he was out past sundown, his chest felt light and only got better as his cup followed.
Even after all these months, Mike still scanned the edge of the woods for any movement, but there wasn't any. The porch light remained bright, and no monsters lurked behind the trees. The world had been saved, and it was all back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be.
The door behind him swung open as a couple stumbled down the steps of the back porch and plastered themselves against the brick of the house. They seemed to have no concerns about the way they were well within Mike's line of sight, but Mike wasn't paying attention to them.
Seeing happy couples just made his stomach knot in a way he didn't know how to explain. At first, Mike thought that maybe it was because he missed Eleven: maybe seeing happy couples reminded him of what he lost with her. But they hadn't been a happy couple, not for a long time. Mike wasn't sure when he would pinpoint their last happy moment as a couple, probably long before Lenora. Ages ago.
He watched the way the guy's hand splayed across his girlfriend's back, the casual intimacy of it, and felt something twist in his gut. He'd had that with El, or tried to have it, but it had never felt right. It had felt like wearing someone else's clothes, like playing a part in a play he didn't understand.
Even in their last moments together, he felt paralyzed in the face of saying those three words. Sometimes he wondered if it would have changed what happened. Sometimes he wondered if he could have ever said it while meaning it.
The door swung open again, this time a girl shoved past Mike, and he jolted back to his odd reality: hiding from his friends while he drank some suspicious punch next to the couples making out. At this point, Will must think that Mike was blowing up the toilet, and just thinking about Will made Mike miss him, so he finally made his way to the pong tournament, though not without stopping for another refill.
It seemed Lucas and Max had finally joined the party while he was on the porch because Max and some girl from his Algebra class were absolutely crushing Dustin and Lucas. Almost on instinct, Mike sought out Will, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on him like a compass finding north. It had been like this for months—this magnetic pull, this need to know where Will was, what he was doing, if he was happy.
Will was holding a new bottle in his hand, leaning back into the couch as he watched Lucas and Dustin fight over who gets to throw first, a smile playing on his lips. Mike had never been able to resist Will's magnetic presence, so he didn't waste any time heading towards the couch. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was the way they were slowly chipping away at Mike's resolve, but he threw himself down onto the couch, leaving no space between Will and himself.
Even as he sprawled out, shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg with Will, the other boy didn't say anything, just shifted to accommodate Mike's presence. Will raised his shoulders so Mike could nestle in closer, and Mike went, fitting into the space Will created for him like he'd been made to be there. The warmth of Will's body seeped into him, chasing away the chill that had settled in his bones months ago. He could feel Will's breathing, slow and steady, could feel the way Will's arm pressed against his. Mike wondered if Will's heart was racing the way his was, or if this was just another night on a couch for him: normal, meaningless, friendly.
And then Will was tilting his head towards Mike's, and his hair brushed Mike's temple when he murmured, just loud enough for Mike to hear, "I was wondering where you went. You doing okay?"
Mike stayed frozen, gripping his drink tightly, in an effort to dissuade Will from leaning back and out of his space. "I just needed a breath of fresh air. I'm fine."
"If the party gets too much, we can go. I know you didn't really want to come."
Mike stared down at his cup, watching the slight tremors in the punch with the way his hand still shook sometimes. "I know I've kind of been a buzzkill lately, I just don't understand how everyone does it."
Will still hadn't moved away, and now Mike wasn't sure if he was glad or if it was contributing to the gymnastics routine in his stomach. If anything, Will leaned in closer. "Does what?"
Mike couldn't help but turn to face Will, his breath hitching at how close they were, how he was so clearly able to see the faint smattering of freckles on Will's cheeks. He knew he was probably too drunk to be having a serious conversation, but he plowed on: "Move on as if nothing ever happened. The world ended, and our lives changed, and- but you guys just… kept going. I wish we could just go back to the way things used to be."
It was clear that Will was trying to understand what Mike was saying, even on his second drink, and with the pounding music and constant screaming, he was only listening to what Mike had to say. He seemed to fully consider it before tilting his head ever so slightly as he spoke. "You mean… You wish we didn't keep going on with our lives? Rebuilding the town, applying to college, graduating?"
"Yeah. I mean, how can anyone expect us to be normal! Our lives will never be the same again, and we're supposed to just keep going? As if we didn't witness a monster attacking Hawkins, as if we didn't witness so many-" Mike's voice cracked, and he didn't know why he was getting so emotional about this. He had done a good job keeping it to himself till now, but something about the way Will was looking at him made him want to spill all his secrets in the hope that Will could sort it out for him.
"It does feel a bit impossible at times," Will conceded, pressing his shoulder closer against Mike's. "But if we don't keep going, what else would we do? Vecna has already taken so much from us, we can't let him take our futures too."
"I guess I just wish things didn't have to change." Mike felt a bit like a petulant toddler at this point, and he knew he must be pouting. "Everything was so much easier when it was just the party. When we just hung out in my basement."
Will let out a laugh at this, a soft one that had no cruelty laced in it. "Mike, you're the one who told me we can't play D&D for the rest of our lives."
Will was smiling at him, fond and gentle, and the look in his eyes was so soft that Mike felt it like a physical touch. For just a second, they were just staring at each other, the party fading into background noise, and Mike thought maybe…
But then the memory crashed over him. It's not my fault you don't like girls! The cruelty in his own voice, the hurt in Will's eyes. How could Will look at him like that after what he'd said? How could Will have loved him after that? All those years ago, he had still been a couple of steps behind, not realizing the impact of his words and the truth that lay hidden behind them.
Mike was no longer interested in entertaining this party or sitting on the smelly couch that had probably seen a few too many bodily fluids. He barely spared a second to mutter, "I need to leave," as he sprang off the couch and away from the usual comfort of Will's presence.
That final cup of punch had done its work, and Mike felt as though he was pushing through a corn maze as he attempted to make his way to the back door. He could faintly hear Will calling after him, but he didn't bother waiting for him to catch up. He needed to get out of here.
By the time Mike had stumbled onto the back porch, the way the world was spinning had begun to stir up his stomach, and he had to slump on the porch steps to gasp for air. He felt sick to his stomach, and he wasn't even sure why.
He and Will had long settled that argument, and even after Will came out, Mike had told him that they would stay best friends. It had taken him years to realize there was some truth in the insults he had spat as a child, and it took months after Will's confession to realize that he had admitted to more than his sexuality. But at that point, it was too late.
A warm hand settling on his shoulder yanked Mike out of his thoughts, and he glanced back to see Will standing over him, eyebrows pulled together in concern. He wasted no time in settling down next to Mike, leaving a modest couple inches between their shoulders. "What happened? Why did you run off like that?"
Mike just stared into the dewy grass, looking at Will right now would only serve to make everything worse. "I just needed to get some air. It's so loud in there."
"Do you want me to grab you some water? I think you're drunker than you think you are."
Oh, sweet Will. Sweet, selfless Will, always trying to help others. Mike knew it would be fruitless to argue, so he just nodded rigidly, and Will was up in a second to go grab water. Mike focused on breathing because his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, and he wasn't quite sure why.
It didn't take long for Will to return with a cup of water, and Mike's fingers felt tingly from the way their hands brushed as he took the cup of water. His coordination was at an all-time low as he sipped from the cup, water dribbling down his chin onto his shirt. He just stared down at it forlornly.
"Oh, Mike," Will tutted before reaching out with his sleeve pulled over his hand to dab at the water on Mike's chin, and oh, he was even closer now than before. His touch was so gentle, so careful, and Mike felt it everywhere. Will's eyes were focused on Mike's chin, his lips, his jaw, anywhere but Mike's eyes, and Mike wondered what he'd see there if Will looked up. If he'd see the same longing that was probably written all over Mike's own face.
"Do you want to talk about what happened? I didn't mean anything by what I said, you know I still like playing D&D." Will's voice was soft and earnest, and the way he took everything so seriously when it came to Mike's feelings made his throat feel tight.
"It's not that." Mike paused, and he knew that if he were sober, he would regret opening this can of worms. But he wasn't sober right now. "I was just thinking about that night. What I said to you."
Will just hummed in response, encouraging him to continue on with that intense gaze of his.
"I was such a- a horrible friend to you. I was mean, and you were just a kid. I don't even know how you had everything figured out back then. You were right, I had been ruining our party… I had been messing things up for a while back then. But I was too stupid to see it." Mike broke their gaze to look back out at the grass, but he couldn't look away for too long. Instead, he rested his head on his arms, pillowed against his bent knees. "I don't know why I had been so eager to grow up back then. Now, I wish I had just kept playing with you and Lucas that day."
"Mike, that was years ago. You aren't a horrible friend, I mean- you didn't even know the effects of what you said. You had no idea back then."
"But you did?"
Will was the one who was silent this time, as he considered what Mike said. "About me… not liking girls?"
Mike nodded his head against his arms, staring up at Will as the other boy's eyes flickered across the ceiling of the overhang above the porch.
"I guess I knew something was different about me. I didn't have anyone to talk about it with back then, so I kind of just pushed it aside for a while. Until I could actually think about what I was feeling, and who I was feeling it for." Will's voice was a low timber that settled in Mike's chest, cushioning his racing heart. "It wasn't really a great time to be figuring things out, with everything else going on that summer."
"I don't know how you do it. You have- you always seem to have everything figured out."
"So do you, Mike. I mean, you've always been there for me, throughout all of this. It took me a while to figure out who I was, and you accepted me for who I am."
"Of course I would," Mike replied instantly, raising his head so he could look Will in the eye and make sure his words were clear. "I didn't know it during that stupid argument, but now that I know, of course I accept you. I'm sorry that it took so long before you felt like you could tell me."
"Well, like I said. We had been kinda busy for a while, and then I was in Lenora, and you and Eleven- Sorry, I just mean that, the timing was never great."
Mike was silent for a moment as he let Will's words sink in. "Sometimes, I feel like I'm always waiting for the perfect time, but even my perfect time is too late. I'm always behind, and I don't know how to fix it."
"Behind? What do you mean?"
"That day, when you told us about how you don't like girls. You mentioned a crush, someone who didn't like you back…" Mike paused, and he wondered if he should stop talking, but it felt as though the floodgates had opened, and he couldn't stop it from rushing out. "Was it me? Were you telling me it was me and I was just too thick to understand it?"
Will let out a punched out breath, and Mike couldn't watch as Will took a deep breath, and then another one. "I didn't think you would ever bring it up, honestly. For the longest time, I wasn't even sure you knew."
"I didn't. Like I said, I'm always late to the party. I didn't realize until Lucas said something about it, he had to explain it to me. I just never- I don't understand.. why me? After everything that happened, why would it be me?" Mike felt like he was being wheeled into open heart surgery, laid bare on the table for everyone to see the mess that was his heart.
"What? Mike, how could it not be you?" Will let out a disbelieving laugh, meeting Mike's eyes before looking away, and then back, like he couldn't help himself. "Mike, it was always you. It had always been you back then."
Back then. Late again.
"But not anymore?" He had to ask. He couldn't let this conversation end without clarifying.
At this, Will finally broke past the invisible barrier between them to rest a hand on Mike's arm. "Mike. Why are you asking me this? It was all so long ago."
"Not for me! I didn't even know- I'm still figuring things out. And I don't understand. I don't know why you feel this way, and I don't know what I'm feeling, and I feel like a shitty person for even considering any of this." Now that Mike had started, he couldn't stop himself. "Everyone thinks I'm depressed because of what happened to Eleven, but I think I'm actually an asshole because I don't care the way everyone expects me to! They think I lost the love of my life, and I'm just- I'm broken over it. But that's not- " He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I miss her. God, I miss her so much. But not the way they think I do. Not the way I should have, break or no break."
Will was just silent, so Mike took it as a cue to continue. He wasn't sure if, at this point, he could even stop.
"She needed someone who could love her completely, and I couldn't do it. I tried so hard, Will. I really did. But every time I tried to say it, the words just- they wouldn't come. Because they weren't true. And maybe if I'd been honest sooner, if I'd figured myself out sooner, she wouldn't have felt so alone. Maybe she'd still- "
"Mike, no." Will's hand found his arm, gripping tight. "Eleven made her choice, and it wasn't because of what you did or didn't do. It's because of all the atrocities she suffered, all the disgusting things she'd been told in those labs, it's because the world made her feel like she didn't belong. Eleven was so much more than your relationship, and in the end, it was not because of you that she did this."
"I just feel like I was too late, like I always am. Even now, you figured your life out, and you moved on, and I'm still stuck back there. I'm stuck with all these- all these feelings inside me! And I don't understand them, and I don't know what to do with them. But it doesn't even matter, because it's too late."
Mike wasn't sure when the tears had begun streaking down his face, but his chest was tight with a sob that was seconds from spilling out, and he was sure that he must look like a mess. But Will was still looking at him with those soft, gentle eyes, and despite everything Mike said, he still reached out to press a soft thumb against Mike's cheek to brush the tears away.
It wasn't fair how kind Will was.
"And even if you haven't moved on, even if there's still-" Mike had to stop, had to breathe. "I don't even know what I'm asking for. I don't know how to do this. I've spent so long trying to be someone I'm not that I don't even know who I actually am anymore. I couldn't be what El needed. What if I can't be what you need either? What if I'm just as bad at this as I was at that?"
"You weren't bad at it. You were trying to be someone you weren't. That's different." Will said quietly. "I just don’t understand what that has to do with me?”
"How do I know this isn't the same thing? How do I know I'm not just confused or projecting or-" Mike's breathing was getting faster, panic rising in his chest. "Everyone thinks they know what I'm feeling, what I should be feeling, and I don't know how to tell them they're wrong. I don't know how to tell them that I'm not who they think I am. I don't know how to tell you-"
"Tell me what?" Will's voice was so gentle it hurt.
Mike closed his eyes. This was it. This was the moment where he either said it or lost his chance forever. "That I think I've been in love with you for a lot longer than a couple of months. Maybe years. Maybe since we were kids, and I just didn't have words for it. Maybe that's why I said what I said that day, because some part of me knew, and I was terrified of it." He opened his eyes to find Will staring at him with an expression he couldn't read. "And I know it's too late. I know I already ruined everything by taking so long to figure it out. But I had to tell you. I couldn't- I can't keep pretending anymore."
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the muffled sounds of the party behind them. Mike felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. Will's hand was still on his arm, warm and steady, and Mike couldn't tell if that was a good sign or if Will was just being kind before he let him down easy.
"You think it's too late," Will finally said, and it wasn't a question.
"Isn't it?" Mike's voice was small. "You said 'back then.' Past tense."
"I tried so hard to move on, Mike. I told myself I needed to get over you. I tried to imagine a future where we were just friends." His hand tightened on Mike’s arm, watery gaze fixed on him. "And I thought I was doing okay. I thought I could handle it. But then you look at me like you're looking at me right now, and I realize I was never even close to moving on."
"So I'm not—" Mike could barely get the words out. "I'm not too late?"
"You're two years late, you idiot," Will said, but he was smiling through his tears. "But no. You're not too late. You're dense if you think I could move on that quickly. Yes, Mike, it's still you, and it will probably be you for a long time."
Mike must have lit up because Will laughed, and it was an even more beautiful sight up close. Will's warm breath rushed over Mike, the smell of twisted tea snaking through the air, and Mike loved it. There were only centimeters between them, and it would be so easy to just-
"Will, I-" Mike didn't have words for what he was feeling, for the way relief and joy and want were all tangled up in his chest. "Can I-"
He didn't finish the question, but Will seemed to understand anyway. "Yes," he breathed. "God, yes."
Mike closed the distance between them, and the moment their lips met, everything else fell away. It was soft at first, tentative, like neither of them could quite believe this was real. Will's lips were warm and tasted faintly of alcohol, and Mike felt the touch all the way down to his toes.
Will made a small sound in the back of his throat, and then his hand was shifting to cup Mike's jaw, thumb stroking along his cheekbone as he deepened the kiss. Mike's brain short-circuited. This was nothing like kissing El had been, nothing like the awkward, guilt-ridden attempts to feel something he never could. This was fire and coming home all at once, and Mike couldn't get enough of it.
His hands found Will's shirt, fisting in the fabric as he pulled him closer. Will came willingly, shifting so they were pressed together from chest to knee, and the warmth of him was intoxicating. Mike had imagined this—late at night, alone in his room, hating himself for it—but his imagination hadn't come close to the reality. To the way Will's breath hitched when Mike's tongue traced along his bottom lip. To the way Will's fingers threaded through Mike's hair, tugging slightly in a way that made Mike feel dizzy.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Mike couldn't stop staring at Will's face. His lips were red and slightly swollen, his pupils blown so wide his eyes looked black in the dim porch light, looking at Mike like he hung the moon.
"Mike," Will whispered, and his voice was wrecked in a way that sent heat pooling in Mike's stomach. "We should…we should probably-"
But Mike couldn't let him finish that thought. Couldn't let reality intrude on this moment. He leaned in again, capturing Will's lips in another kiss, and this time there was nothing tentative about it. This kiss was desperate, months of wanting and yearning finally finding an outlet. Will responded in kind, his hand sliding from Mike's hair to the back of his neck, holding him close like he was afraid Mike might disappear.
Will let out a shaky laugh that turned into a soft moan when Mike pressed kisses along his jaw, experimenting, learning what made Will's grip on him tighten.
"You're drunk," Will managed, but his head was tilting to give Mike better access to his neck, betraying his words.
"Not that drunk. Drunk enough to be brave. Not drunk enough to not know what I'm doing." Mike murmured against Will's skin, feeling the way Will shivered beneath his lips. He pulled back to look Will in the eye. "I want this. I want you. I've wanted you for months, and I was just too scared to say it."
Will's eyes were so dark, so full of want that it made Mike's breath catch. "We should talk about this when we're sober. We should-"
Mike kissed him again, softer this time, pouring everything he felt into it. When he pulled back, Will was looking at him with such open adoration that it made Mike’s chest ache.
"Tomorrow," Mike promised, pressing another kiss to the corner of Will's mouth, then his cheek, then his jaw. "Tomorrow we'll talk about everything. About what this means, about where we go from here. But right now-" He kissed Will again, slow and deep. "Right now, I just want to kiss you. I've waited so long to kiss you."
They kissed until Mike's lips felt bruised and his lungs burned from lack of air. They kissed until Mike couldn't remember why he'd ever tried to be anything other than this, other than someone who loved Will Byers with everything in him. Will's hands were everywhere: in Mike's hair, on his face, sliding down his back, like he couldn't decide where he wanted to touch, like he wanted to touch everywhere at once.
Mike felt the same way. His hands roamed over Will's shoulders, down his arms, across his chest, memorizing the feel of him. Every time Will gasped or made a soft sound, Mike silently filed it away, learning what Will liked.
"I can't believe this is real," Will whispered when they broke apart again, his lips brushing against Mike's with every word. "I can't believe that you feel the same way-"
"I do," Mike said firmly, kissing him again to prove it. "I feel the same way. I love you. I think I've loved you for years, I was just too stupid to realize it."
Will's breath hitched, and when Mike pulled back to look at him, tears were tracking down his cheeks again. "Say it again."
"I love you," Mike repeated, and it felt like the easiest thing in the world. Easier than any lie he'd tried to tell himself, easier than pretending to be someone he wasn't. "I love you, Will Byers. I'm in love with you."
Will surged forward, kissing him hard and desperately, and Mike could taste the salt of his tears mixed with the sweetness of his drink. "I love you too," Will gasped between kisses. "God, Mike, I love you so much. I've loved you for so long-"
Mike kissed him again, and again, and again, until he lost count of how many times their lips met. Until the world narrowed down to just them: Will's mouth on his, Will's hands holding him close, Will's heart beating in time with his own.
Eventually, they heard voices from inside the house getting louder, the party clearly winding down, and they reluctantly pulled apart. They were both breathing hard, lips swollen and hair mussed, and Mike had never seen anything more beautiful than how Will looked right now.
"We should probably—" Will started, but Mike cut him off with one more kiss, unable to resist.
"One more," Mike mumbled against his lips. "Just one more."
Will laughed, the sound soft and fond, and kissed him back. "Just one more," he agreed, but one more turned into three more, and then five before Will was pulling away again. ”We can continue this when we're sober. When we can think straight."
"I don't think I'm ever going to think straight again," Mike said, and then laughed at his own joke, giddy and light-headed and so overwhelmingly happy that he felt like he might burst with it.
Will groaned, but he was smiling, that bright, uninhibited smile that Mike loved so much. "That was terrible."
"Yeah, but you love me anyway," Mike said, and the words felt like magic. Like something he'd been waiting his whole life to say.
"Yeah," Will breathed, leaning in to press one more soft kiss to Mike's lips. "I really do."
They stayed like that for another moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, before finally managing to separate enough to stand. Mike's legs felt like jelly, and he had to grab onto Will's arm to steady himself. Whether that was from the alcohol or the kissing, he wasn't sure. Probably both.
"So," Mike said, still feeling giddy with everything that happened. "Tomorrow. When we're sober. Can we... can we talk about this? About what this means?"
"We can talk about whatever you want," Will assured him, and then, like he couldn't resist, he leaned in and kissed Mike one more time. It was soft and sweet and perfect, and Mike never wanted it to end.
"We have time now," Will whispered against his lips.
Time. The word settled something in Mike's chest. They had time. He wasn't too late. Will was here, solid and real and his, and they had time.