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Mike stood under the low lights of a crowded living room. He leans against the solid of the wall behind him, hoping to sink into it and suffocate in the drywall. To add onto the already stressful atmosphere of being surrounded by people he doesn’t like, there’s a stupid fucking disco ball hung over the room and it won’t stop flashing directly into his eyes. He glares at the drink he’s nursing, swishing it in circles like that might make it taste any better. It’s some sort of concoction presumably made from random liquors thrown together in a giant bowl by a teenage girl who thinks she's a mixologist. Mike reluctantly takes a sip from the bright red cup, almost immediately pulling a face. Definitely not a mixologist.
He scans the crowd in front of him, desperately looking for a familiar face so he can urgently but politely suggest they go home. He’s somehow gotten himself trapped in the corner of the living room, which also happens to be the dance floor. Who fucking knows, man. He’s admittedly a little tipsy, the world around him is kind of blurred aside from the tunnel vision he has on the exit. He can feel himself making nasty faces and giving glares at anything happening around him. The combination of drinks and graduation has lowered his care for social manners and he’s got the idea in his head that he’ll never see most of these people ever again. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to go. He just wanted to play D&D in his dingy basement for old times sake. But no, the party had given him incredulous looks and proceeded to lecture him on why this party is so important. Stupid shit about how they should have some experience before college, they want their first time drinking to be together, blah blah blah, Dustin totally thinks he can get with Stacey Albright, blah blah blah, Lucas wants an excuse to make-out with Max, blah blah blah. What had really caught Mike’s attention was what Will had said.
–
“Mike, come on, man. You don’t even have to drink! It’ll be like we’re hanging out normally just in a different setting and…drunk!” Lucas pleaded, hands on Mike’s shoulders, shaking him a bit (like that’ll help at all) before releasing him.
“I just feel like this should be a more meaningful night, I don't know, I mean, we just graduated–”
“Yes! Precisely why we should celebrate! Look, I love D&D just as much as the next guy, but we’ve literally never been to a party. Never even been invited. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Michael.” Dustin cuts in abruptly, elbows on his knees as he leans forward in his seat on the couch. He looks way too strategic about this and it makes a giggle fall out of Mike’s mouth.
“You look ridiculous and you’re being dramatic.”
“I look fabulous and you’re the one being dramatic. It’s a party! We play D&D all the time! Let’s just let loose a little,”
“He’s right, Mike,” Will adds. Mike’s head whips in his direction, mouth open in shock, arm gesturing at Dustin and Lucas in vain.
“Will! You traitor! You’re really gonna side with them?”
Will laughs lightly, “Oh, please. I’m not Judas, I’m just saying I think you should think about it. Do you really wanna go to college without ever having been to a party?" Then he hesitates,"We’re– ..We’re not kids anymore.”
Dustin claps Will on the shoulder from where he sits next to him, while Lucas enthusiastically agrees and continues trying to convince Mike. He tunes him out and stares at Will. We’re not kids anymore. It burns in his throat, words they both know he’s said before. He can tell Will didn’t mean it like that, could hear his hesitation after the first word. He still said it and Mike can’t help but feel a little angry. Will using his own argument against him feels like a slap in the face for a reason Mike can’t name. Now, Will looks distantly at a fixed spot on the carpet, crossing his arms in an attempt to look nonchalant. Or shield himself. Mike watches as Will starts to nip anxiously at his bottom lip.
“--ike? Mike!”
“What?” he snaps, finally looking away from Will.
Lucas looks at him with caution,“..Are you like– good? I mean, we don't have to go if you really don’t want to–”
“No.” he flits his gaze back to the boy next to Dustin. Will’s already looking back at him as he speaks again, “I’m good. Let’s just go.”
Tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum cheer and begin to map out the entire night. Their rambling turns to faded background noise as Mike holds eye contact with Will. He looks confused and a little concerned. Just as he begins to open his mouth, presumably to confirm Mike’s really okay with this, Mike jumps from his chair and starts for the stairs.
—
Okay, in retrospect, Mike may have overreacted. He doesn’t exactly know why that comment irked him so bad. It brings him back to uglier times. Back when a lot of things Will said got on his nerves for unknown reasons. He would say normal things and Mike would not be able to stop thinking about it. Things like ‘And us?’ (Reasonable, but he was a little too harsh about it) or ‘But he was just my Tammy–’ (Mike likes to think he was so angry about this because he didn’t know what Tammy Thompson had to do with this and not because of..Well.) or ‘And..you still think we can be friends.” (This was an odd one that Mike couldn’t even begin to explain why it made him so frustrated without getting suspicious looks.)
Mike shakes his head. He doesn’t really wanna think about his problems with Will while drunk at Stacey Albright’s lame graduation party. He wants to leave.
Mike begins to weave through the crowd, muttering apologies and excuse-me’s, before giving up and just pushing through. That earns him a loud, ‘excuse you, frogface!’ from who he guesses is Troy, to which he looks over his shoulder and flips him off. Mike flinches and turns his head as a bubbly laugh sounds from in front of him.
“That might’ve been the first time you’ve actually deserved an insult from him.” Will smiles and tilts his head. Mike gives him an unintentional once-over, looking relatively sober, taking in his plain dark jeans, untucked white t-shirt (could’ve sworn that was tucked in before) which was rumpled at the neckline like someone had grabbed him–
“What happened to you?”
Will furrowed his eyebrows but he still smiled, clearly amused, “Gee, thanks. It’s nice to see you, too, Mike.”
“No, I mean– Your shirt. It’s all–” he gestures vaguely and uselessly at his collar. Words are hard. Maybe he’s drunker than he thought.
“Oh,” he laughs again, glancing behind him, “That’s a story for tomorrow. I just– I wanted to make sure you’re all good over here.” Will’s got this worried look in his eyes, but the constant grin makes it a little hard to believe. Maybe Will’s drunker than he thought, too. Also– story for tomorrow? What the fuck does that mean?
“Woah, woah, not so fast. I think it’s a story for right now, actually.”
“Mike–”
“Did somebody grab you? Did you get into a fight or something? Are you hurt? Did–”
“Mike!” Will kind-of yells over the music, still giggling and smiling wider and wider. Is Mike missing something? What is so funny? “I didn’t get into a ..fight, so don’t worry about it. Are you alright with the party still?”
It’s really bugging Mike that he won’t just tell him what happened. He knew he shouldn’t have wandered off so early into the party. He should’ve stayed with Will and protected him. God, now something so bad happened he doesn’t even wanna talk about it–
“Mike, dude– Are you– are you good?” Will says, waving his hand in front of Mike’s face.
“No, man, I don’t even wanna fucking be here– I– Whatever! It doesn’t matter, why do you keep avoiding the question?” Mike thinks he might not like being drunk because he feels a little insane right now. He’s never had trouble holding back thoughts before, it’s honestly unsettling that he can’t keep them at bay right now. Not only his thoughts but his words. He just keeps saying shit and he can’t stop. And it’s not helping that Will looks– Well– He looks–
Will’s back is slightly against the wall, like he came through the hallway and just absent-mindedly leaned here to get a better look at the crowd. Mike can guess now that he was trying to look for him. (That makes his stomach feel a little weird.) Will’s hands can’t seem to sit still, one of them fiddling with the belt loop of his jeans and the other making circles around the rim of the can he’s holding. His hair is ruffled, strands laying out of place from where they usually sit neatly. Mike doesn’t know if he wants to reach out and fix it or make it worse. (Okay, now his stomach is feeling really weird.) His necklace hangs around his neck, contrasting his white shirt and bringing attention to his messed up neckline, showing a little of his collarbone. (Jesus.) Will’s face keeps getting temporarily basked in the light of the disco ball. Stupid fucking disco ball. Everytime the light sweeps by, a different part of his face is lit up and Mike can’t stop looking.
It skims across his eyebrows, furrowed, twitching.
Across his nose and cheeks, tinted red, probably from the alcohol, but also maybe because Mike won’t stop staring at him.
It dances past his eyes, the hazel pops out for a second after being hidden in dim lighting. Mike feels himself missing it almost immediately. He suddenly feels like he wasted so much time not staring at the incredible color that lives in Will’s eyes. On the other hand, he’s probably looked into his eyes enough to be able to visualize them in his sleep. That hint of green haunts his dreams. Always did, even if he’d never admit it.
It drags across his– his mouth. He’s definitely saying something. Mike watches his lips form the words but can’t bother articulating them. His bottom lip is discolored– spots of red from where he’d been biting at it. His lips actually look flushed and fuller than normal. Like he’d just been kissed or something. (Alright, now Mike thinks he actually might throw up–)
Will suddenly smacks his hands onto his shoulders and shakes, “Earth to Mike! Are you listening?” He squeezes his hands and tilts his head. God, he looks so pretty. “You– you look really pale. How much have you had to drink?”
“Um,” Mike says, very intelligently. He meets Will’s eyes, the disco ball meeting them again as if Mike’s life isn’t cruel enough. His eyelashes are on full display from where Will looks up at him. He deliriously wishes they were longer and lusher so he could convince himself that Will looks like a girl and maybe that’s why Mike wants to– “Too much.”
–
Will, thinking Mike was actually sick, unceremoniously dragged him to the bathroom. Mike remembers the feel of his hand on his wrist, tugging, tugging, tugging. He remembers seeing Max and Lucas, Will drunkenly explaining that Mike’s had too much to drink. He remembers laughing because he’s actually not even that drunk, he just needed to distract Will before he did something weird. Then he laughed all the way to the bathroom because all he really did was get him and Will in a smaller space, alone. He’s so screwed.
Will locks the door behind him. Mike stops laughing. Will pushes him to sit on the toilet seat cover.
“How many times did you refill that?” Will nods to the empty red solo cup in between his fingers.
“Like– thrice. Maybe.. Frice. Heh, frice–”
Will actually does dissolve into giggles even though it wasn’t funny at all. He always gets Mike. What happened? “Knew we should’ve just given you a can of something. Like beer–”
“Ew, Will. Do I look like I’d enjoy a beer?”
“You look likeeee–” Will bursts back into laughter, Mike looks up at him from the disgusting toilet seat in what could only be described as drunken awe. “You look like your dad–”
“William Byers!” Mike pronounces every syllable like he’s deeply and soulfully offended. The boy in question is just chuckling away as he leans on the marble sink. Mike can’t help letting a giggle of his own slip out. “Think you’re so funny, huh?”
Will looks over at him, grinning ear-to-ear, “Yeah, I do. You don’t think so?”
Mike snatches his arm and pulls him to the floor in front of the toilet. Will gasps, spewing obscenities and whining about it being gross. He looks up, giving a half-hearted glare to Mike. That was definitely a mistake because his pulse jumps at the visual of Will looking up at him through his eyelashes with a smile disguised as a frown. He really is digging his own grave.
Will adjusts his shirt, pulling Mike’s eyes back to the stretch of his collar. His eyes narrow.
“Um, are you still feeling sick?” Will tries, seeing that Mike’s amusement is drained from his face.
“Mmnope. What’s wrong with your shirt?”
Will sighs, shaking his head and looking down, “Mike.”
“Will.”
“I already told you, I’ll tell you–”
“Tomorrow, yeah. Why?”
He fiddles with his neckline, smoothing it out, “I don’t, uh, I don’t think you really wanna hear it.”
“W– What? Will, c’mon, of course I wanna hear it–”
He finally looks back up at him, a blooming red coloring his cheeks, “Think about it, Mike.”
Mike almost laughs, like yeah, what do you think I’ve been doing for the past half an hour? He stops himself because Will actually does look really tense right now, biting his lip again, looking back at the dirty ground. Mike feels his eyebrows come together and scans over Will again, searching for whatever he clearly missed. Wrecked shirt. Messy hair. Bitten lips. Really rosy lips–
Oh. Fuck.
“You found a guy here?” Will eyes flick up, terrified for a moment, before seeming to remember Mike knows already. He swallows. Mike watches it move down his throat.
“Um, yeah.” he laughs nervously, but he puts his head down, almost in shame. That makes Mike feel sick to his stomach.
“Oh, uh, that’s–that’s cool. That’s awesome,” Mike fumbles, squeezing his own knees. Crap, what is his problem? It sounds fake even to his own ears. His jaw clenches. “What– Who was it?”
“Some random guy, never seen ‘m before.” Will mumbles, slurring a little. Mike is kind of pissed off at this random guy. It’s kinda all this guy’s fault that he was moping and alone in that living room corner, if it wasn’t for him, he could’ve been with Will this whole stupid party.
“So, you ditched me for some random guy?” Mike says, already wishing he didn’t. It came out way harsher than he meant it. Will snaps his head up, face twisted, like he can’t believe what he just heard.
“Sorry, what?”
“You heard me, Will,” Mike spits, his unwarranted anger even harder to control while intoxicated, “You ditched me, at a party you made me come to, to fuck some random guy!”
“I didn’t fuck him! Jesus, Mike!”
“Oh, sorry, you mashed faces with some dude while your best friend sat alone in a corner. S’that better?”
“Are you 5 years old? What’s the matter with you?” Will looked so dumbfounded.
“The matter with me is you.” he realizes that doesn’t make any sense after he says it, but the sentiment gets across just fine because Will sits up from his slouched position.
“Oh, yeah? Since when did you have a problem with ditching your friends to go make-out?”
“That–That’s not the same at all!” Mike starts gesturing wildly with his hands for no apparent reason other than dramatics. “We’re at a party! You ditched me!”
“Hows’it different? ‘Cause you did it with a girl?”
“No! Because– I–” Man, how the hell did this get twisted on him?
Will scoffs, “Right.”
Mike swallows against the dryness in his throat. He sighs, frustrated, “I knew this would happen. That’s why I didn’t wanna go to this stupid party.”
“You knew I’d make-out with some guy?” Will laughs bitterly.
“I knew you’d ditch me.” he says, a little more hostile than he would’ve liked, only because Will laughing about this is bugging him again, “I knew you’d go off and talk to somebody else and I’d be all by myself at a dumb party I didn’t even want to go to.”
“That literally makes no sense. When have I ever– ..Wait.” Will quirks an eyebrow, still somewhat amused, “Are– Are you jealous?”
“What? I–” Mike looks around the room, anywhere but at Will, while searching his head for a better explanation. Funnily enough, there isn’t one. Huh. This whole time, he’s been jealous? His mouth is still wide open as he glances back to the boy below him. He watches his smirk slowly fade into a confused stare, raising his eyebrows in question.
“Wait… you’re seriously jealous?”
Mike thinks about the random guy Will was with, feeling indescribably angry again. He thinks about how he could’ve rumpled Will’s shirt the same, if not better. Could’ve run his hands through his hair and more thoroughly ruined it better. Could’ve made his lips– Okay, yeah. He’s definitely jealous.
“I.. I guess I am.”
“Dude.”
“What? Can you blame me? You got with some– some random guy!”
“What the hell's wrong with you?” Will looks beyond pissed, any prior amusement lost from his face. Like he could strangle Mike right this second. And hey, Mike probably wouldn’t even mind– “You’re jealous? Of me?”
“Huh? No! I’m not jealous of you–”
“...So… you’re jealous of the guy I got with?”
There's a pause, even though Mike knows the answer, “...Yeah?”
“Mike,” Will says, wrecked. He scrambles onto his feet, running his hands through his hair, pacing across the small bathroom, “What the fuck?”
“I don’t know! You’re confusing me!” Mike tries, getting kind of stressed out by Will's frantic pacing.
“This isn’t funny, Mike–”
“I’m not laughing!”
“You’re telling me you’re jealous– of– of the guy I made-out with, because..?” Will’s hair is officially tussled now, his cheeks ruddy, his mouth open in disbelief. Mike’s too busy day-dreaming about the state of him at the moment to even consider the implications of what he just admitted to.
I mean, yeah, he’s jealous. That guy gets to have his best friend in all the ways he’s wanted Will this whole time, in one night! That’s bullshit! And he doesn’t even have to deal with the overbearing weight of how the people around you will react! Mike’s thought about this before. A lot. It’s been pushed to the very back of his mind because he can’t handle even thinking about the consequences of it. Since, god, probably middle school, he’s been so head over heels for Will and he never knew what to do about it. He can barely navigate a relationship with a girl who literally let him write the standards of their relationship like a D&D campaign. El is easy– it seems fucked up to say– but it’s like anything Mike does, she’ll come back and forgive him. Will is undeniably and visibly not like that. Will is not afraid to tell you that you fucked up and he’s not afraid to leave you for it. Okay, well, he’s obviously afraid but he’ll do it anyway. With Will, he’d have to accept the fact that he’s different, that he.. maybe wasn’t as in love with El as everyone thought he was. And he was such a dick about everything, it would just confuse the fuck out of everyone. I mean, who the fuck says, ‘Its not my fault you don’t like girls!’ to the boy who’s fault it is that he doesn't like girls?
He swore on his life that he would never address it. He can’t. It would just fuck everything in his life up. Originally, it was because he had a girlfriend, so obviously being in love with her brother is a little bit of a problem. But now, it’s just the way his whole life could change. He’d have to lie to his family, knowing they’d never really get it. He’d have to lie to his friends, knowing they’d probably feel weird about the fact that Mike was with El while in love with Will this whole time. Worst of all, he’d have to hide Will from everyone. Not that PDA is really his thing anyway, but not being able to even look at him too much without getting strange looks and comments is so frustrating. They’d be constantly stressed about people finding it out, constantly terrified that the wrong person might see. It sounds like a nightmare. Not to mention that everything about Will and his relationship with him is so fucking complicated, he’s not even sure Will likes him anymore. So he ended up shoving it all in a room in the back of his head and locking the door. Always feeling like a little kid who just “cleaned his room”, just praying his mom doesn’t open the closet. Mike accepted that they could never be, no matter how much he wanted it. So, any love he felt towards Will was labeled as nothing more than best-friendly love, in a feeble attempt to stay in denial forever.
Will coming out, predictably, did not help at all. It gave him a hope– a foolish hope– that maybe they aren’t as impossible as he thought they were. Of course, the thought was fleeting, because Will coming out didn’t change the fact that he himself would still have to come out. Sitting and watching Will as he tearily tried to explain the complicated feelings inside him. Mike thought about being in his position for a second and he felt like he might vomit everywhere. Then Will said something about having a crush, he glanced at Mike, and said he was over it. Mike had tried to convince himself it was a good thing (it didn’t work, afterwards he ended up staring pathetically long at the painting Will made for him, tracing his thumb over the heart on his shield). And then Will had to go ahead and say that he was so happy that he still wanted to even be his friend– Mike had proceeded to reference the conversation they had years ago, trying to keep as friendly as possible (‘Friends? No thanks. Best friends’). He vividly remembers Will’s eyes twinkling as he said ‘no thanks’, but the spark died as he finished. He also remembers screaming at Will in his mind to use his fidgeting hands– the ones that saved his life days prior– to hurl him over the edge of that stupid fucking tower and end his misery.
Now, Mike looks to Will’s hands, they’re suspended mid air, in an exasperated ‘what-the-fuck’ gesture. Oh, right, he’s still waiting for an answer.
“Do I really need to say it?” Mike strains, his throat is so dry. Will’s arms drop to his sides and he scoffs as his head turns away, like he was expecting that answer.
“Right, I forgot you’re emotionally constipated.” Will says, scathingly. So that definitely stings, but Mike definitely deserved it.
“Don’t be a jerk–”
“Don’t be a jerk–” Will mimics, his voice high and his face scrunched up. Drunk Will is something else, man.
Mike huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Let me rephrase that. Do you really wanna hear it?” Honestly, he might tell Will everything just because he’s still kinda bitter about that random guy and he wants to win in some sick way.
Mike glances up when Will stays silent. His eyebrows are furrowed, hazel eyes squinted and piercing through Mike, “Yeah. I do.”
Mike takes a breath, “Because I wanna make-out with you.”
Will’s eyebrows shoot up behind his bangs, his mouth pops open. You could probably hear a pindrop in this dank bathroom, even though you can still hear the muffled sound of music from behind the door. Mike’s nerve is slowly suffocating in the silence, his face heating up noticeably. I mean, Mike thought it was pretty obvious what he meant since he admitted he was jealous, why is Will so shocked? He prays that Will says something sooner rather than later. Instead, Will’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, his eyes jump around Mike’s face. He looks like he’s malfunctioning.
Suddenly, he creeps forwards, crouching in front of Mike, still sitting on the toilet cover. He slowly holds up 3 fingers on one hand and 4 on the other.
“...How many–”
“Will!” Mike whines, throwing his head into his hands, “I’m serious!”
“You’re drunk. And you–you don’t realize it but you’re being mean. I think we should head home–” Will starts to stand, his hand reaching to grab at Mike’s arm, presumably to pull him up, too. Mike snatches his wrist before he can even graze his arm, looking up at him in defiance.
“No. We’re staying right here,” Mike rises from his seat slowly, his gaze shifting down Will’s face as he goes. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” Will looks lost. He’s backing away from Mike, tugging lightly at the grip on his wrist.
“...Mike.” he warns.
“I thought I could hide it for the rest of my life, but you–” Mike swallows, it clicks in his throat. He squeezes Will’s wrist, stepping forward as Will steps back, “You had to go and get with some guy. Who–Who doesn’t even know you! And..and I don’t like it. I don’t want you with anyone else.”
Will’s eyes are glassy, his lips pressed together in a small frown, “What kinda timing is this, Mike? Why–” he trails off, looking at the hand on his wrist, thinking about what he says before he says it, probably for the first time all night. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because–... Because I love you,” Mike whispers, his throat getting tighter. Will’s eyes squeeze shut, his back finally hitting the wall, “Because I need you.”
“No. No, you don’t–”
“I do, Will! Listen to me!” he snaps, releasing his wrist in favor of placing both hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to meet Mike’s eyes. He sees the tears welling there, the hint of green almost begging him–to stop or to keep going, he doesn't know. “I’ve always loved you. I– I’m sorry I didn’t do something..but you know it’s hard to live like this–”
Will squirms under his hold, pushing at his shoulders, “Yeah, it’s fucking torture–”
“And I’m tired of it.” Mike breathes out, swiping away the tears running down Will’s cheekbone. Will freezes, his breathing uneven, hands still on Mike’s shoulders. His eyes are pleading.
And before Mike can stop himself, he’s leaning forward.
He captures Will’s lips against his, chapped and bitten raw. Will makes a sob-like sound into his mouth and pushes hard into the kiss. Mike uses his hands to tilt Will’s head, slotting their lips together and finally moving them. They fit themselves together over and over, Will’s lips taste like beer, and beer is gross but right now Mike can’t get enough– God, why did he ever wait to do this? How did he let someone else do it first?
He swipes his tongue at Will’s bottom lip, thinking about the random guy from earlier. Trying to remove any trace of him, nipping at Will’s lips. The nibble makes his hands jump from Mike’s shoulders to the nape of his neck. One hand reaching to card through his hair. Mike presses closer, closer, ugh, he’s not close enough– He makes a sort of mmph sound against Will, his hand skimming down his jaw, to the back of his neck. He pulls from his nape, moving Will’s head to tilt upwards, letting Mike press down to devour his mouth. Will chokes on a moan (holy shit), gasps, his fingers frantically pulling Mike away by his hair.
They pop apart, wide eyes locking, both of them in shock at whatever the fuck they just did.
“Uh–” Will starts, his voice scratchy. He clears his throat, “We should–we should go home.”
Mike swallows hard, nodding aggressively. He backs up from Will, his hands tingling from where he held Will’s face. “Yeah, um. Yeah.”
They both take an awkward second to collect themselves, still breathing too heavy to be normal. After a minute or two, they leave the bathroom. The party is still in full swing even though Mike’s world just got flipped on its head in that goddamn bathroom. It’s alarming how nothing changed besides them. It's also alarming how okay Mike is with it. Like this whole time he thought him and the world would crash and burn if he even considered having Will the way he wants him. Mike realizes now, nobody really cares because nobody even knows. He feels himself smiling as Will drags him through the party.
It’s all a little blurry– how they get home. Will’s taken him to the living room again, the stupid fucking disco ball still spinning, like it’s taunting him. Mike kinda wants to stick his tongue out at it and raise the hand joined with Will’s to say ‘haha i win’. He doesn’t, because he realizes he’d look a little mental, but he does give the disco ball an unfriendly glare. While this is happening, Will is talking to Lucas, holding a drunk Max in his arms. She’s dancing to the music with her back to him, swaying back and forth with the beat, eyes closed and head tilted back on his shoulder. Lucas is mindlessly swaying with her, while he nods along to what Will is telling him.
Eventually, they manage to find a phone and call somebody to pick them up. At the moment, Mike’s not sure who exactly they called. Nancy and Jonathan had driven them, but they’re both grandmas so they’re probably asleep by now. So, it’s actually surprising to see Steve pull up to the front lawn in his new car (his old one had gone on an unexpected space expedition). Mike remembers audibly laughing because he looks like an exhausted mother as he beckons them into the car. The party sends him overlapping varieties of ‘thanks’ and ‘you’re the best’.
“Yeah, yeah, just get in, you fuckers,” he grunts, shifting out of park and into drive.
“You’re the man, Harrington.” Dustin slurs, clapping Steve’s shoulder as he clambers into the passenger seat. He’s definitely the most drunk. Mike has a feeling that operation ‘get-with-Stacey-Albright’ did not turn out in his favor.
“I know, Henderson.” Steve sends him a close-lipped smile. Dustin makes a weird burp-like noise and then snorts at his own sound. Steve grimaces, “If you barf in my new car, I’m gonna sell you to Hawkins Lab.”
“They wouldn’t even want me, idiot,”
“Neither did Stacey Albright,” Lucas snickers from the backseat.
“Lies! She 100% wanted me–”
“You spilled your drink all over her–” Max chuckles, leaning her head against Lucas' shoulder.
Their banter continues, while Mike looks over to Will. The party, excluding Dustin, is squished in the backseat that was definitely made for a maximum of 3 people. His thigh is pressed against Mike’s as he looks out the window. Mike flicks his eyes to the side of his neck, getting a flashback of his own hand cupped around it, tugging. He swallows, forcing himself to look through the front windshield.
Fuck.