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The late hours of the night started to get real when Mike found himself tip-toeing down the stairs of his house.
It was dark and cold because the autumn air slipped through some open window. Mike could feel how it was fresh and biting with cold, but he couldn't see where it came from and he couldn’t care about it any less about it too.
As the world slowly settled into its right pace, it seemed like most things weren’t something he cared about–the feeling of the nearby death was still creeping down his back and it was enough to stop him from thinking about anything else much.
It isn’t like anyone from his town had it easy, but he let himself be bitter about it. After all, it was him and his friends who finished all of this crap, so he must have some right to stay wary, right?
Not that it mattered now, when he was supposed to sleep hours ago, but he still couldn’t doze off and he was serious about his sleeping schedule!
Unceremoniously, he blamed everything on that stupid hunch telling him something is happening that made him have trouble falling asleep, get out of the warmth of his bed and now stand on the cold stairs looking through the darkness of the hall as if he was going to see something.
He couldn’t get rid of it, but at the same he knew it was stupid. Mike knew better than anyone else that sometimes being careful was the key, but gawping into the dark was pointless. Just when he was going to push himself to get back upstairs, he saw it.
There was a glow, dim enough to easily miss, but still very much seeping through the basement door. The soft light of a bedside lamp from his room, he guessed, as he was the one who put it there. It didn’t feel him with any type of want to go check, but rather a reluctance started seeping into his mind.
It was obvious that the person not sleeping in the basement was Will, who moved into the room months ago and it seemed like he wasn’t going to move until his mother didn’t find a place. It seemed that Jonathan too wasn’t going to move, but it was even more sure, as he was sharing a room with Nancy.
Mike could be a liar and say that not even a shred of worry made it into his thoughts. He could lie and stare at the door with a grimace, thinking about why Will was up.
Or maybe he could accept the fact that the weird feeling was filling his whole body and piercing his bones couldn’t be classified as close to what he described it as to himself.
He was a liar though. A coward too.
It wasn’t reluctance, or aversion, or anything like that that filled him.
If he was feeling really unwilling, he would turn around in seconds, but he was still standing there – frozen in place with just a stream of thoughts going on and on in his head, like a vicious circle. That all meant one thing; he couldn’t even name his own feelings.
At first he thought everything will get perfectly fine when they finish battling with the upside down, but he quickly learnt that it wasn’t the case here. Winning with the other dimension wouldn’t sew the gap that had grown between him and Will.
He often craved things he had before all of this. He mourned the loss of stuff that he even thought was annoying before and that was funny. He wanted them back, but he’ll never ask for them even though he knows Will would probably say yes, because that’s the kind of person he is.
He couldn’t burden him even if he had so many selfish reflexes telling him to do so and get what he yearns for.
With all that laid out–although he never directly addressed it–Mike is well aware that he keeps pushing Will away himself.
He keeps fumbling with words when he’s near, he constantly stares at him and then avoids his gaze or he just spits out mean things unconsciously, without thinking about it.
It’s all paired with the constant guilt he bears. guilt that grew roots so thick and buried deep, that Mike is starting to be afraid it will become all that he feels so enough.
And the cycle driven by his guilt repeats day after day, after day, after day and he can’t see Will as a rude one for turning away a bit. He can’t do that, but thinking about him makes Mike sick to his stomach.
Like that he’s making himself even more of an idiot standing there, doing whatever he is doing right now, which he for sure shouldn’t be doing so late in the night. He needs to do something, or resign. That’s the only rational thing he can do.
He gives the barely visible handle of the door a dreadful look and inches forward, like a scared animal.
He may or may have not frozen again just as he reaches for the handle, but that’s because he hears a quiet noise through the wood. The cold air is slowly making him shiver a bit, but he’s focused on the fact of a quiet whimper sounding in the silence of the house.
And Mike may be a liar, or a coward, or even an idiot, but he's still too protective of his friend to back out now.
Initially, this decision felt like the most confident one tonight, but when he makes his way down the stairs and he is met with the whole scene laid out in front of him he feels so unsure and out of place.
The room is filled with the dim light of the nightlamp washed in a warm colour of it. It elevated Will’s figure sitting on the edge of his mattress, with his back turned to Mike, surrounded by pillows and blankets just scattered around without much thought. He has grown so much over the course of months that Mike has a hard time recognizing the same boy he knows from kindergarten.
The space is filled with a heater rattle, making it such a mundane scene.
Mundane if crying wasn’t accompanying it.
It looks like Will didn’t notice the intruder at first, but then Mike sees how he looks in his direction just once; he gives him just a one, short look, and wipes his face with a sleeve of the jumper he is wearing right now.
It might have gotten the tears off his face, but even from Mike’s perspective Will’s puffy and red eyes are visible and there is another thing–he’s shaking.
Mike is left with his brain fuzzy and out of coherent sentences. He was never great at comforting people, but it’s Will. He remembers the time when comforting each other was second nature to them. He wonders where he had made a mistake.
Finally the memory of the past makes Mike mumble out anything he can think of, just to say anything.
“Is this the part when you tell me you’re ‘fine’? Because you’re literally shaking.”
After the words leave Mike’s mouth he feels so stupid, but it earns him another of those looks from Will, so he knows at least that he is well aware of the situation that had occurred.
For a moment the silence between them stretched again, like it always does when they’re alone. Mike feels like every sensible word is out of his vocabulary, just staring at Will, so many unrequited feelings weighing on his shoulders.
But then one thought occurred to him.
“Why are you crying?” He asks as if he was talking to himself.
Will’s eyes size him up and Mike just knows he’s unwelcomed here.
“Was it a nightmare?” He can’t help inquiring.
And those words actually make Will just stop and take a deep breath. He looks so done with Mike, that he swallows loudly with nerves.
“Mike, please–” The other boy tries to say but his voice is weavering. “You know it yourself.”
Mike swallowed once again and moved forward, highly relying on his instincts. He didn’t have a heart to heart moment with Will in months, but at the end of the day, he knew this boy better than himself.
“Scoot over.” With that being said, Will’s eyes go wide. Mike starts to doubt himself, but the request is done in a few seconds and he finds himself sitting barely a few inches from Will. It feels strange, he must say.
It’s the closest he was to him in a long time, but the warmth that he can feel radiating from him is familiar enough.
He doesn’t notice Will's breath getting more rapid and short, rather Mike has his attention focused on slowly embracing Will. One of his hands slips around his middle and he feels the soft wool of the jumper Will is wearing. That makes him flatter for a bit; it shows him that it’s all real.
Mike shudders and decides he’d rather not overthink it right now, so he takes a deep breath before he pulls Will closer.
They fit together instinctively, but Will stays stiff and the tears make a trace on his cheeks once again.
“Shh… It was just a dream.” Mike says without even thinking. He is a bit surprised by it at first, but the sniffle that makes Will shake more easily gives him a better thing to focus his attention on.
Two of their bodies flush together comfortably, as Mike’s other hand finds its place on Will’s shoulder.
“At this point I don't think I’ll have a restful night ever again.” A quiet whisper sounds near Mike’s ear and he knows Will is trying for an amused tone, even though he can feel the stiffness still lingering in the body of the boy next to him.
It makes him in one, instinctive motion, reach to take his hand into his own, and he squeezes it as tight as he can without hurting him. It’s a warm contrast to his own, cold one.
The two of them have always been affectionate, but now it's different. When Will gives in and lets himself be lured into a hug, it’s really intimate, in a way that makes Mike’s arm grow goosebumps.
It’s a feeling he’s never been able to name, the one they’re sharing right now. It is too difficult to name. It leaves Mike scared and unsure.
It feels strange, but not unwelcomed.
It is theirs.
The tears slowly soak into Mike’s shirt, but he doesn’t bat an eye. He focuses on rubbing slow, comforting circles onto Will’s back, like he had done one hundred times before. Back and forth, reassuring.
Will doesn’t even comment when Mike’s hand slips under the jumper to get closer to Will.
“I… I can’t–” Will stumbles over the words instead, having trouble catching his breath.
“Slow down, boy.” Mike shushes, squeezing his hand once again.
“It was so real.” Will spits out finally.
“Vivid, not real. It just felt real.” He rushes to comfort. “Deep breaths, come on…” Mike pleads with Will.
And he can see the attempt in an even breath, but it shutters and Will seems to be close to suffocating as he sucks in another breath harshly.
Will is holding onto him so tight that his shirt is crumpled, but the shaking he feels is more of his worry right now. He comes to an instant decision and pulls Will onto his lap.
It was fast, not planned out. Somehow even desperate.
And it makes Will curl into him.
It's enough to make it the best thing he could have done.
Will starts to slowly calm down with Mike all around him and his tender touch. Hesitation appeared as Mike tried to settle his hands somewhere and faded when he rested them on Will’s waist; it all clicked together.
“You’re okay.” Mike whispered, knowing that they were so close Will would hear him without any problem.
Will lifted his gaze and met Mike’s eyes. It was all so surreal that at first Mike didn’t even blink, just gazing into the soft, brown pupils.
He took the sight of Will’s face and hid it in his memories, so he could look back at this situation and remember this exact moment when he had the luck to see Will’s flushed, but still so beautiful face.
Caringly, he reached his hand and brushed out of the way hair falling into Will’s eyes, and–a bit stupidly–he decided that cupping his face was a good idea. His dumb brain tells him to run his thumb over the tear traces and wipe them out. And Mike being out of his senses does exactly this.
Only when Will shifts in his lap and the silence rings in his ears–only then he feel awkwardness come down at him and he quickly let go of Will’s face, laying his hand in his lap instead.
“Uh… Right, yeah.” He mumbles, eyes running anywhere but Will.
The fact of the soft skin against his skin where their hands are intertwined doesn’t help him feel calmer, but it feels like too much of a lose to just let go of it.
The worst part is that Will’s shining eyes are staring at him, and he smells like Mike’s laundry detergent, and he is so warm, and his breath is wheezing into Mike’s face because they became so close without him even noticing.
And Mike just cannot stomach all that.
Only when Will’s eyes fall from his face sheepishly and he gently wiggles out of the embrace, Mike can look at him.
He observes his actions from the corner of his eyes and when he put some distance between them, it makes Mike able to think, and he figures out he should say something.
“Do you want some tea?”
And okay! Screw Mike. Who talks about tea in situations like this? Why was the tea on his mind and not, like, anything else? He said it tho and the fact that he isn’t the most brilliant person is already widely known.
Still, Mike cringes, his face twisting in an abashed expression, but Will–sweet soul that he is–answered:
“Yes, please.”
Despite the simplicity that this situation should have, Mike can’t bring his brain to focus and make the damn tea.
Both of them, after agreeing on making some, ended up slowly making their way to the kitchen, not to wake anyone up. It was a really simple situation; Will was standing on the side, fishing out some mugs out of the cupboard, while Mike tried to get moving.
But Will just standing there was distracting enough. He looks a lot better than a scared mess that he found him as, but Mike never thought he looked bad ever in the first place. It’s just nice to see him calm, in more of his natural habit than breaking down and maybe Mike has a bit of a staring problem going on.
Will catches him looking just as he checks for any traits of tears still left on his face and it makes their eyes meet for a short moment.
That kick of adrenaline finally makes Mike move for the kettle and fill it with some water to boil. Surprisingly, he hears Will tentatively start talking, which he hasn't done since the ‘yes, please’ in the basement.
“What kind of tea would you like?” He asked as if what they were doing right now–making tea in the middle of the night, after not talking for days or even weeks–was the most normal thing in the whole world.
“Uh…” Mike frowned and put the kettle onto the stove and turned it on. “The– normal one?” He said trying not to sound stupid while having no idea what kinds of tea were out there.
When he turned around, he was met with–suprisinly–an amused expression painted on Will’s face. He blinked a few times, just eyeing the other boy, which made him laugh under his breath.
“Alright, whatever you say.” Will mumbled before putting two tea bags into mugs he had picked out.
There was some kind of urge that lurks at the corners of his brain and was making him actively want to do some unintelligent crap like laugh like Will just did, or just squeeze this boy in a hug so thigh he couldn’t breath, or just smash their mouths together and–
He was not letting this urge get to him.
Maybe the tea making was just the most normalcy he had in days and it triggered his mind to go to all sorts of places like right now.
And oh he was staring again and Will leaned against the counter with his arms crossed looking good even though he was literally crying ten minutes ago and god Mike missed the casual hang-outs and he just needed to act on impulses or he would die.
And it was pure luck that the kettle started to whistle at that moment.
It snapped him back from his thoughts back to reality and brought him a realisation on how much of a jerk he was just shamelessly staring at his old best friend who now probably had a hard time looking at him at all.
After pushing himself into motion, Mike got the kettle and hoped no one was woken up by it, while he made his way to the mugs Will set.
Then they finished making the tea and just hovered awkwardly over the steaming mugs too burning to drink.
Mike tried to keep his brain on a safe path, not wandering to all that crap that it was constantly trying to imagine, but the universe was clearly against him, stretching the silence in the room.
Even if he focused on the flickering light that they turned on or on the pleasant moment they were having just standing in silence, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“What was your nightmare about?” He made himself say as he turned to face Will. It was the first thing on his mind, and of course it was a stupid question to ask with everything piled on top, but Mike knew already tonight was just full of his stupidity.
For some reason, Will doesn’t mind the question, as if he decided that this is just a dream and he doesn't care–which is not Will like at all!
“It was just the same scenes that always show.” He explains and under Mike’s surprised but interested gaze adds: “Some blurred moments from the upside down that my brain couldn’t shut out.”
Mike could see Will's hands fidgeting and he felt the need to protect this boy from all of that he dreamt of, but they were just dreams and now they were standing in the kitchen safe, only with echoes of the past still ringing in their life every now and then.
It felt so unfair that he needed to go through that being only twelve years old, it was really unjust that he had to go through that at all, and it was just wrong that they all needed to go through bad experiences in the other dimension.
“I’m sorry.” Mike said, not knowing what he really meant.
“Stuff happens.” Will offers him an easy smile and Mike can’t help but smile back.
He feels uncomfortably hot and cold at the same time, because a weird kind of feeling flutters in his chest, while the room stays cold.
He’s standing there looking completely dumbfounded and he really needs to say something or move before he makes himself look even more insane than he already did.
The feeling only gets worse as he allows himself to look at Will this closely. It makes his heart try to escape from his chest and his hands get weirdly shaky. He can feel his hollow breathing sound in his ears, and Will is just standing there; as calm as he usually is, a steadying anchor.
Mike can’t stop himself from coming closer to him, can’t help but slowly give into Will Byres charm.
“...You want a hug or should I pretend I didn’t ask and just hover until you give in?” Will whispers, baffling Mike for the millionth time in a span of an hour and then Mike nearly gets what he wanted.
They both lean in and meet each other in the middle. Their arms wrap around each other’s bodies without any issues–they just fit together as if they were made to do that, and Mike is starting to think that it’s really a case for them.
And now it doesn’t matter how hot he was feeling. He welcomes Will’s warm hands like if he was freezing.
It’s a bit of a clumsy embrace, with Mike being lanky and tall and Will begin broad and a bit shorter, but they position themselves comfortably enough and pay no mind to it all. If Mike wasn’t so invested in feeling every single thing he could right now, he’d probably think the other boy must have wanted this as much as he did.
They stay like this for an embarrassingly long–and not normal for just childhood best friends who don’t talk that much anymore–time.
Even now though, Mike can’t feel satisfied all the way; even if it twists his insides and close up his throat, he really doesn’t feel satisfied.
He considers looking at Will again, as if he’ll give him the answers he needs, but he can’t bring himself to move away even a bit. In the end it's Will who moves away slightly.
“Mike.” He sais and Mike looks at him, locking their eyes, even though he has no idea what Will is about.
Then it hits him. The sad look in his tearing up eyes.
“Will.” He responds with a soft voice and takes Will’s face in his hands, having no strength left to resist doing what his brain was telling him to do all night and probably ever since they were kids; he rubs them away, delicate and featherlike.
The tears leave a wet mark on Will’s face and Mike wonders what caused them to fall again. Was he being mean? Or was this whole situation too much? Or maybe it was still about that nightmare Will had?
He didn’t need to wonder for long.
“I missed you.” Will says into the small space between them and Mike is a fool who closes it and gently kisses Will’s tears away.
He doesn’t complain about the salty taste on his lips. He just drowns in a routine of pecking the soft skin again, and again as tears slowly stop. When he knows the kisses don't have much purpose anymore, he leans away and not sparing a glance to Will’s face, just back off. Maybe after all he really is a scared animal.
With his gaze sealed to the floor he turns, takes one of the mugs and adds an enormous amount of sugar to it to the point where it is concerning. He always drinks tea this way when he’s stressed, so he pays it no mind and just lets his brain go on about what he just did.
And through Mike’s panic, Will just stands there and stares at the floor.
Only when Mike jumps onto the counter he follows his move with his eyes, but of course Mike doesn’t notice that, downing two sips of his tea quickly and burning his tongue in the process.
With how much he is out of it though, it all is just background noise to him, with his stinging tongue involved.
You see, the thing is that when Will parts his legs with his hands and steps in between them it’s really hard to ignore that.
The truth is, that Mike’s jaw dropped–Will is doing things that Mike only could have dreamed of in a really deeply rooted fantasy, when they were completely different people too. In which Will was some kind of a loving, typical boyfriend with the playfulness that only teenagers had in themselves, and where Mike could just melt in his arms every time he wanted, but that was an unrealistic dream, he ran to when he needed to feel protected.
Otherwise he was the one being confident and he really felt good in his role, so swapping sides just like that made him feel uneasy, even though not in a completely bad way.
It just felt like they really were two boys in the eighties, and not just normal people trying to love one another.
It made all the experience feel so real.
But is resisting really an option when you have your life-long best friend–clasified even as a crush if Mike feels bold enough–moving closer and closer?
When Mike was sure Will couldn’t get any closer without bringing their faces together, he moved an inch closer and wavered a bit.
It was sure he was a lot more comfortable and sure of himself when it came to doing something not-platonic with Mike–and Mike needs to talk to him about that later–but Mike felt like today he needed to take control.
He set his mug aside and placed solid hands on Will’s neck, holding him in place and whispering: “Just once.”
Then he finally lets their lips meet and it feels like Mike was being starved all of his life and it's the first thing that gets him satisfied. Mike tries to be gentle, even if it’s a hard job for a starving man, but he likes for Will to know that it matters to him.
Their lips make that characteristic sound and Mike can’t help but gleam with happiness seeing Will’s eyes fall close and him rely on Mike. One of his hands finds its place in the hair of the other boy, and Will is fast to follow, setting his hand on Mike’s legs.
Like that they share a sweet moment, with their lips sliding against each other in a steady, slow pace.
Mike doesn’t want it to stop, but they break apart when he needs to take a deeper breath. They stop and Will opens his eyes so they can share a look. It makes it all clear.
Mike kisses Will’s lip one, short time, saviouring the slightly chapped skin and warmth that he can feel.
Then they’re on it again, as Will kisses him hard.
The impact of it makes Mike make a little sound and lean back a bit, but he’s too busy matching the rhythm to feel any kind of embarrassment. In a minute, it’s Will who makes a similar sound, just a bit louder, when Mike nips at his bottom lip.
They get lost in it.
Their lips meet in a frantic movement, but Mike gets so high onto his satisfaction that he wants more.
It makes him tentatively bite again, in the same place, and then soothe it over with his tongue. It seems to make Will feel really good, because he makes a sound that Mike thinks is close to a moan. It makes his heart jump into an irrational pace.
He starts to lick now and then, and it makes Will open his mouth in a wordless plea of more. Mike is happy to coordinate.
They are both shaking slightly with all the tension. It’s all so much and not enough. They both lose their breath.
And then Will moves away, breathless, looking a mess, with ruffled hair, his lips red, puffy and visibly kissed. Mike just stares, feeling his heart get full of love, because maybe it’s hard to accept, but deep down Mike knows he loves this boy with all that he has.
And their tea gets cold as they share more and more touches and kisses.
In the end, the sun rises and its rays dance through the kitchen where the two boys are sharing things long over-due.