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Three years have passed since Eleven’s disappearance, three long years where each member of the party found their places, like college or work, as well as the companionship during the occasional D&D campaigns. Three years have passed and Michael Wheeler spent those three years writing An Untold Story, where he wrote about their adventures from November 6th 1983 until the final battle in 1987.
The period Hawkins changed forever.
There was just one thing that was bothering Mike, something that he had been ignoring or excusing for as long as he could remember. Lately, Will had visibly become more confident to be himself around Max, Lucas, Dustin, Mike and so on, and it was refreshing to witness. Will had suffered beyond belief, and that is putting it lightly, naturally happiness looked good on him. Mike was happy for him.
Except he had grown sour; a nagging feeling bloomed in his chest and words would threaten to come out whenever Mike was alone with Will at the basement or hanging with the others, when everybody was distracted by their reminiscing memories of college dramas and tragically bad teachers, Mike was distracted by Will’s change of hair or how sweat would glisten on Will’s neck.
“I just needed a change, you know,” Will responded to Lucas when he complimented the hair, and everyone else agreed. “The bowl cut had to go eventually.”
Will started to wear more jewellery too, and God, it did something to Mike. Will had this mature energy to him now, and a warm feeling would ensue on his insides. He felt slightly… uneasy? Like Will’s presence was beyond him, beyond what he deserved to behold. A sacred being that had grown stronger while Mike just… continued to be Mike Wheeler.
They had all agreed to meet up at Mike's home, like usual, and when they finished a campaign (letting an impatient Holly use it), they went upstairs to eat and drink together.
“How come Will became hotter and you just look like your dad, Mike?” Max said sarcastically, snapping Mike out of his thoughts.
The others laughed with her. “Ha ha, how funny. I just have never been the fashion type, that's all.”
“Yeah, right,” Lucas responded while giggling. “Even if that's the case, you dressed decently all of these years, and now you wanna dress badly?
“If I can dress well, dude, maybe you need an upgrade too,” Dustin added, pointing the beer at him before taking a sip.
Will stayed silent during that exchange, and they soon moved on to an entirely different topic (something about music, Mike wasn't listening to them anymore). Mike was thankful that Will took to heart when he promised they were best friends, so their relationship was no longer weird or awkward. However, Mike still felt perverted every time he looked at Will for too long.
Later that week, Mike couldn't handle anymore, grunting into his soft pillow. He was clearly attracted to Will, and probably, most likely, more than likely always has been attracted to Will. He loved Eleven throughout the years and still does, but with her absence and their last talk, something became clear: it wasn't the same love she had for him.
Eleven loved him, he knew and felt that in his bones, yet he couldn't say it back.
Mike couldn't bring himself to say I love you to his girlfriend as she was actively sacrificing herself for the better future. How pathetic was that?
And Will’s coming out… Mike realised he was the “Tammy” he was referring to and he definitely should have been more supportive, more compassionate towards this fairly known factor over the years. Now that everything was over, Mike had a crush on Will. Or at least only had time and the mind to face it now.
Will was no Tammy to Mike, no, he was sacred and precious. A powerful sorcerer that saved his life to a Demogorgon, and above all his best friend and companion.
With this realization, the elephant in the room had grown from a baby to a massive adult that hovers over his shoulder every day. Mike couldn't address, he shouldn't address it, that would be playing with Will’s feelings. But what if? What if Mike was wasting time dwelling on a possibility of a rejection that would never happen? What if Will still likes him? Would that be truly possible?
In Hawkins, one can easily be led to believe that anything was possible. After all, Hell had once stepped foot into town and ripped Hawkins apart, bringing much torment and chaos. However, Mike needed to be realistic in this case; it was nothing like fighting for his life in battle or seeing Will lift a Demogorgon in front of his eyes. It was frankly an ordinary problem with ordinary solutions and ordinary outcomes. The issue was that the ordinary outcomes could destroy Mike’s friendship with Will once again.
And so, Mike held it in until he couldn't. The home phone rang in his ear, dazed from a beer yet alert from the bundle of nerves that crackled at his skin like electricity.
“Hello, Byers’ home, how can I help?” Will’s voice came on, soft but robotic.
“Will! Um, hi, it's Mike.”
“Oh hi, Mike,” his voice sounded more cheery now, which didn't help the anxiety but made Mike happy nonetheless. “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing okay,” the automatic response rolled off his tongue, which wasn't entirely true nor entirely a lie. “Listen, would you mind if I drove over to your house? I need to speak to you.”
“Speak to me? You can come over, of course, but are you sure you're okay?” Will answered, kind as ever. Rustling could be heard in the background.
“I- yes, I just-” Mike sighed. “I guess the book was getting to me and I need a break.”
“Oh I understand, so when should I expect you?”
Mike looked at his watch for a moment. “Twenty minutes maximum.”
“See you then.”
Mike Wheeler was about to lose his mind, but kept it together for Will’s sake. Mike ran to see what clothes he had in the closet, choosing something less beige like he had been wearing lately, but nothing too bright. The glasses would need to stay on though because myopia was not something he could solve overnight, unfortunately. Mike fixed his hair as much as he could and was out the door within 10 minutes.
When Mike arrived at Will’s house, he gave himself a last pat down to make sure nothing looked strange and rang the doorbell. It was a cool afternoon that day, fortunately, so the sun didn't burn him alive but gave his back a comforting warmth while he waited.
“Hey, Mike, come in.”
Despite the outfit clearly being a more home feel, a t-shirt and (what looked like) pajama bottoms, Will almost shined in Mike's eyes. He was beautiful. Though the smell of alcohol and cigarettes clung to him, somehow, which was mildly unpleasant.
“My mom is out with Hopper, so it's just going to be the two of us. Do you want to try to call Dustin or Lucas to see if they wanna come?” Will suggested while watching Mike sitting on the sofa. “Oh and do you want anything to drink? We have coffee, booze, water…”
“Oh no, it's okay,” Mike said, hoping his voice doesn't break mid sentence. “For both things you said. Have you been smoking?”
Will frowned, then giggled. “No, actually, it's just the clubs I go to on occasion. Oh I met a nice guy over there recently too.”
Oh.
Abort mission?
“Oh really? That's great, tell me about it.”
Will sat back on the sofa beside Mike, relaxing and smiling to himself. “He was flirty, so we got to talking, but we didn't hit it off so we just understood it wasn't going to work.”
Negative! The mission continues.
“Well, anyway, I- I came here because I need to talk to you, it sort of involves my book,” Mike said while avoiding eye contact.
“Okay…” Mike could feel Will turn his body towards him. “What's up?”
With his heart pounding at his chest and hands sweating cold, Mike’s hidden and bottled up emotions wanted to flood the room, but Mike kept his voice neutral.
“Do you remember how I said the storyteller could never tell the story of the mage?” Mike gazed up at Will, who nodded. “There was another story he couldn't tell, one he- um, one he had been trying to ignore was happening. Because the storyteller felt that if he acknowledged it, it would ruin everything, especially his friendships.”
“Okay, you're scaring me, Mike, what could possibly be so bad?” Will chuckled nervously. “We went through Hell and back, literally.”
“Just listen, it's not-” Mike sighed, and Will was quiet again. “The storyteller was afraid, very afraid, but when he saw and understood Will the Wise’s pain and how he was capable of handling so many things at once, and-"
Mike stopped speaking for a moment, gesturing in the air. Will was completely still.
“The storyteller could see the wizard’s strength and it was truly beyond him. Not that he thought the wizard was weak! Far from that!” Mike quickly elaborates. “But the storyteller saw something he never thought was possible… He, too, sought acceptance within himself and outside as well. And now after God knows how many years, he's finally reached a destination where he can say that… he can say that…”
Mike looked at Will, whose eyes were shining with tears, and he felt guilt punch him in the gut. Mike felt nauseous, how could he make Will cry again?
“The storyteller could say he has loved Will the Wise for as long as he could remember,” the words rolled off his tongue. He needed to finish what he started. “He was just incredibly stupid, oblivious and selfish for not seeing it any sooner.”
A series of emotions flashed on Will’s face: bewilderment, sadness, anger, until he landed on hope.
“What… What about the mage?”
“The mage would be forever dear to the storyteller, she was undoubtedly important to all, but…” Mike looked down, humiliation washing over him. “His love for the mage was different from the mage’s love for him. The storyteller feels great shame from this; he feels that by fooling himself he played with the mage’s and the wizard’s feelings.”
It was finally out in the open, cards on the table waiting for the other to take his turn. Whether it meant a straight rejection or reciprocity, Mike would wholeheartedly accept the fate he created for himself. This was no one's fault but his own.
Tears streamed down Will’s cheeks, suddenly lifting himself out of the sofa and startling Mike. “Is this a joke, Michael? Is this some kind of weird… plot twist you wanna have in your book and you're- and you're suddenly telling me this?!”
“No, no, no, absolutely not, Will, I-” Mike feels the words ‘I would never play with your feelings,’ but he felt that he technically did, so he swallowed them. “This is serious. I love you and I’m selfish for saying this all of the sudden, especially after you- I- I'm sorry. You deserve better, I shouldn't have come here, I’ll leave you alone.”
Mike started gathering the few things he brought, holding back tears that suffocated him greatly. He refused to cry in front of Will, however, he would not make him carry Mike’s burden and blame.
“Oh you will not leave me now.”
Mike’s brain had no time to process anything, the only thing he could now process was his sight and touch.
William Byers was kissing him and Micheal Wheeler was kissing him back.
The kiss was a mess at first from how rushed and sudden it was, but while closing his eyes to focus on the touch - Will’s hand holding his wrist keeping him close, the free hand on the back of neck playing with his curls, soft lips touching his - Mike followed Will’s guidance, letting his wisdom shine through.
Eventually, the room was only filled with the slow kissing sounds. A dream that Mike never thought would come to be reality; and he thought a kiss like this was supposed to be electrifying, noisy and hot, but it was just… intimate, soothing. Mike was savouring every last drop of it. His hands, having a mind of its own, placed themselves at Will’s waist like he would disappear at any minute.
When they finally separated (but only to connect their foreheads together), their hands remained in the same places. The silence was deafening yet comforting; like a desire had been finally met, where no words could describe what they were feeling, but actions could.
“You stupid asshole,” Will whispered, Mike chuckled. “Why didn't you realise this when I gave you that god forsaken painting?”
Mike paused.
“... The painting was from you?!”
Will sighed, their breaths mixing with each other. “Yes. Yes, it was.”
“That…” Mike thought back to Eleven’s letter about a possible crush, Will’s speech, and it clicked. “Makes more sense, actually.”
“You're so…” Will didn't know what word to use, so he just kissed Mike again.
This time, however, it was hot and heavy. Will’s intention was crystal clear once he let go of Mike’s hair to pull Mike's hip forward, rubbing their crotches together and Mike felt hardness against his own.
Yeah, I should have definitely done this a long time ago.