Chapter Text
Will hadn’t noticed it.
It’s the type of thing that’s easy to overlook, until you realize that it’s gone. That twisted, disgusting pit you get in your stomach when you’re waiting for something bad to happen, for something to go wrong. He had felt that feeling nearly every day, for what felt like forever, ever since that night - the night he was taken.
Ever since then, Will hadn’t slept a full night without waking up shaking, gasping for air- his mind and body constantly playing back those horrible memories, reminding him that he was still out there, that they were connected. He never fully got used to it; you could never get used to something like that, but he was able to learn how to calm himself down, to slow his racing heart, remind himself that it wasn’t real. Vecna was out there, but he wasn’t here. Not right now.
It had become such a routine for him that he never really noticed when it stopped happening. When he’d wake up in the morning refreshed, his hands steady instead of trembling. When he could bike home from Mike’s house at nighttime without taking a detour around the woods. But it did stop happening. Slowly, over time, over the many, many months since they had finally defeated Vecna, Will’s life readjusted back to how it felt before.
This summer felt different from how it felt in the past few years.
This summer felt quiet.
Like he did most days since graduation, Will was spending the day sprawled out on the floor of Mike’s basement. He was absentmindedly drawing in his sketchbook, lying on his stomach with his chin propped up by one of his hands, the other carefully outlining the bricks of a castle. Mike was sitting on the couch behind him, flipping through a comic. It felt the same way as it did when they were kids, only they weren’t kids anymore, not really. Though graduating high school was technically the beginning of their adulthood, their next chapter, they had both agreed to take one last summer to try and make up for the time they had lost the past few years.
“That looks really cool,” Mike said, glancing up from his comic at Will’s sketchbook, breaking the calm, careful silence. “What’re you drawing?”
Will looked over his shoulder at Mike. “I don’t know, a castle, it’s just what came to mind,” he answered.
Mike had always appreciated his artwork. Will remembered being little, in the same basement, drawing books' worth of pictures of things Mike had enjoyed- knights in shiny metal suits of armor, scaly green dinosaurs, magical paladins and sorcerers from D&D. Mike had so many of his pictures hung on his bedroom wall, proud of his best friend’s work. It made Will happy seeing how much he enjoyed his drawings. He used art to express himself, especially when words just weren’t enough. He felt a tinge in his heart, remembering the one time where this couldn’t be more true, the one artwork that Mike would never know the true meaning of. Quickly shaking the thought, Will stared at Mike, waiting for a response.
Only Mike had already turned his eyes back to his book, eyes slowly scanning the pages. “Cool,” he said, without looking up again.
Will furrowed his brows, slowly tilting his head around to resume sketching, supposing Mike must want to resume the tranquil quietness of the late afternoon, the soft orange beginnings of a sunset peeking through the thin windows on the other end of the basement wall. His head was almost fully turned when he saw Mike look up from his comic again.
“What?” Will spun his head around, making eye contact with him this time. His voice was soft, curious.
“What?” Mike replied, a tinge of defensiveness in his voice.
Will was confused. “Why do you keep looking at me?” he asked. Mike had been acting like this all day. Looking at him as if he was thinking, contemplating something, but always looking away or saying something that didn’t quite make sense. He wanted to get to the bottom of it. They’ve always been able to tell each other anything- well, almost anything, Will thought to himself. So why was he being so weird all of a sudden? “Do you want me to go home?” he tried. He had been at his house since 11 am. Maybe Mike wanted him to go home, but didn’t know how to tell him.
Mike was caught off guard, shaking his head at Will. “What? Why would I-” He realized how this all must’ve looked to him- the stares, the empty space where there should have been words, the awkward silences. He didn’t think he had been that obvious. “… No, I don’t want you to go home,” he assured Will.
“Okay… so if that’s not what you want, then why are you acting so weird? Did I do somethi-”
Mike cut him off, “No! No… you didn’t do anything, Will,” He fully put down his comic book now and slid to the edge of the couch, placing his hands on his spread knees. “I was thinking about asking you something, but it’s not a big deal, like, it’s not really anything- well, it is.” He paused. Will was sitting up now, leaving his sketchbook and pencils behind him, criss-crossed on the floor, looking up at him curiously. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t know- a weird situation… not even a situation really. It’s just like… a thing.” Pause. He was rambling. He tried to gather himself. “I don’t know how to ask you this in a way that isn't really weird… like, really weird.”
Uh oh, Will’s heart dropped. Was this why Mike had been acting so strange? Had he figured out that Will cares about him more than a best friend should? Had Mike mentioned that painting to El, had she told him she had no idea what he was talking about, that she hadn’t asked Will to paint that? Had Mike put all the pieces together, had he found out that Will loves him? His stomach twisted in fear as he broke eye contact, choosing to stare at the blank wall behind Mike instead. He fiddled with his fingers in his lap as he thought of what to say, how to explain. Mike didn't look angry or upset with him, though. His expression was unreadable, chewing on his lip, waiting for Will to say something, anything.
“Uhh… what- what do you wanna ask me?” he finally replied, trying not to sound awkward himself. “I’m sure whatever it is, it isn’t that weird,” he added.
Now it was Mike's turn to look away, hands supporting each side of his head, eyes glued to the floor. “Will, but it is weird. It is. It’s about El.”
Oh god, Will thought. His worst fear was coming to life before his very eyes. Mike knew. He knew. What if Mike didn't even want to be his friend after this, let alone his best friend? Feeling embarrassed, he kept his eyes fixated on the wall.
After a few seconds of silence, he spoke, trying his best to hide his shame. “Just say it, Mike, you can ask me whatever you want. I- I’ll be honest, okay? Just ask me.”
“Uhh… okay. But... just hear me out… before you say anything. I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, okay?”
“I won’t. I promise.” Here it came. Will closed his eyes, mentally bracing himself. He should’ve just told Mike himself, because this was so, so much more humiliating, to be exposed like this. His deepest secret, the one nobody was ever supposed to uncover. He shouldn’t have lied when he gave the painting to Mike; he shouldn’t have given it to him at all. Hell, he shouldn’t have even made that stupid painting in the first place. He was regretting it all. Being in love with his best friend, his straight best friend, was a reality not meant to be lived outside of his own head.
“Okay, so… me and El,” Mike started, shaking Will out of his thoughts. “we… or I guess I… I don’t know really, I need your help…” He was stumbling over his own words. “So basically, when El and I like… we’re dating and everything, you know- so like we do dating things… like kissing and stuff, you know…”
Will opened his eyes, puzzled. What in the world was he talking about? Confusion was added to his nervousness as his gaze left the wall and returned to Mike, who was still looking at the floor. He didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet, letting his best friend continue.
“I don't know what happened… like- ever since she got back from Lenora, it's like- like when we kiss it's like… weird. Like, I don't know, it's just like- I forgot what I was doing somehow.”
Lenora? Will was even more confused now. They've been back from Lenora for like three years now. And even so, why was Mike so hung up about telling him this anyway? He's vented to him in the past about El, nothing big, nothing too serious- just needing advice or someone to talk to. Will had always been there for him- patient, helpful, pushing his feelings aside to comfort his best friend. It had never been a big deal like this, so what was different now?
Head spiraling, he had to cut in, “Mike…? Are you okay? You know I'm here for you. What's going on?”
Mike glanced up at him, finally, pushing his black curls out of his eyes as he sat up straight. His face looked strained as he struggled to find the right words. His expression worried Will, prompting him to get up from the floor and take a seat next to him on the couch. “Mike…?” he tried again, softly. While he was trying his best to be comforting, he was still thoroughly confused. What did any of this have to do with the painting?
Mike attempted to look at him, but as soon as he started again, he averted his gaze, “Will… you’re my best friend, so I'm only asking you this 'cause… because I know you probably won't judge me… I need… I need help, okay? Your help.”
“Help? What do you mean my help?” The more Mike spoke, the more Will grew concerned. His best friend sounded like he was losing his mind. He rested his hand on Mike’s shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “Mike, seriously, are you okay? I can get you he-”
Will guessed he was saying the wrong thing because Mike had already begun shaking his head again.
He turned his head to face Will, fists curled in his lap. “I just need, I want your help… to help me. With El. Like… my problem.”
He paused for a moment, looking at Will, hoping his expression would explain the rest for him. As Will’s face remained plastered with confusion, the regret started to sink in. He considered telling Will to forget it, act as if he had never said anything, but he knew there was no backing out of it now, though. He knew that he wouldn’t let it go, knowing something was wrong with him; he knew Will well enough to know that. He wouldn’t stop until he knew what his problem was and how he could help. It was one of the things he liked most about him- but really hated in this particular moment. He might as well just say it quickly and get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid, he thought. Mike took a deep breath and attempted to say it as plainly, as monotoned, as normal as possible. He was his best friend after all.
“I want you to kiss me, Will.”
Will’s jaw dropped open then quickly snapped back together, hand reeling back from Mike’s shoulder. His confusion morphed into bewilderment, and his nerves were back again- chest pounding and mind turning foggy. Mike, his best friend, his best friend that he's in love with, his straight best friend, wanted to kiss him? Was this some kind of sick prank? He wouldn’t joke like that, would he? Nobody had treated him any differently after he came out, especially not Mike. Why would he suddenly want to poke fun at him after all this time? This must be his way of getting revenge for lying about the painting, Will thought. His face burned as he tried to clarify, “W-What-”
Before he could finish his sentence, though, Mike cut him off. “NOT LIKE THAT. Oh my god- I didn't mean it like that. I don't want to kiss you. I just- I just wanted to see if you could maybe like… help me… help me get better at kissing, for El, you know?”
Oh. Oh. It dawned on Will. Looking at the uneasy expression on his face, unless he had recently started taking acting lessons, Mike was definitely not joking. He seriously wanted him to kiss him.
Well, Mike didn't want to kiss him; he just wanted to kiss someone, so he could get better at kissing, for Eleven, his girlfriend. Of course Mike didn't want to kiss him in particular. A small sense of relief washed over him, realizing this was not about the painting, the lie. But even this knowledge couldn’t calm his nerves. The whole situation, it was unbelievable to him. He had to ask more, know more.
“Why… why me? I mean, I'm sure there are plenty of girls who would be more than willing to kiss you- to practice.” Will cringed, hoping Mike didn't hear that the same way it slipped out of his mouth. More than willing. His heart was still racing, brain was struggling to accept that they were actually having this conversation right now.
“This is so weird, I'm sorry. I was just thinking, you, you're always honest with me. So I thought you could help me best, by being honest and telling me what I'm… what I'm doing wrong, better than somebody else could.” He rubbed his eyes with his hands, struggling to explain himself.
He didn't want Will to get the wrong idea; he wasn't gay, he had a girlfriend, duh. It's just… practical this way, he thought to himself. No possibility for feelings to get involved, just pure physical practice.
“Plus, it would be worse if I kissed a random girl.” He elaborated. “El would be pissed. She'd probably dump me. I don't want to kiss some girl anyway,” he explained, scrunching his nose.
If Mike thought Eleven would be pissed if he kissed a random girl he didn't know, Will didn't understand how kissing her step-brother would be any better. But he couldn't even think about that aspect of the situation right now. Nothing was making sense, and he was half convinced he was in some kind of weird dream, that he'd fallen asleep on the Wheeler basement floor atop his sketchbook. Mike was looking at him, trying to read his face, searching for a response. Will could hardly form a coherent thought right now, let alone a sentence.
His silence and blank expression made Mike regret ever saying anything. He began to backtrack, “Just forget it, Will. I'm sorry for asking you, you don't have to do that, oh my god, I don't know why I even asked you. I'm sorry.” Mike was so embarrassed. He was sure Will thought he was a weirdo now. It was so hard to explain, the way the plan made complete sense in his head. He needed to practice with someone, and with Will being gay, he thought he would be the perfect person to ask. It wouldn’t technically be cheating either, because Mike liked girls. It made sense in theory, but saying it out loud was so much harder than just thinking it.
Will studied Mike- his reddening ears, his foot tapping the floor. The nerves of his best friend were apparent, and they were only being made worse by Will’s lack of response.
But, he didn’t know what to say.
Seeing the state of his best friend, his initial reaction was to comfort Mike. He hated seeing him like this- flustered and uncertain. Part of him yearned to give him that certainty, calm his nerves. Part of him burned to tell him, Don’t apologize, Mike. I’ll kiss you. I’ll help you get better for El. I’ll help you because that’s what best friends do.
A different, opposing part of him held back. Sure, he had fantasized about kissing Mike before, but not like this. He had imagined coming out to the party, to everyone, and Mike lingering behind as the room emptied. Mike, looking into his eyes, grabbing his hands, telling him I get it, I feel it too, I’ve always felt it, and pressing his soft lips onto his own. He had envisioned them defeating Vecna, worn and triumphant. They’d embrace, arms and lips colliding as the wall of fear crumbled at their feet, the years of pent-up desire they had both kept hidden released. He’d pictured a version of reality where Mike loved him in the same way he did. A kiss that meant I see you, not just thank you for helping me.
At the same time, he knew that would never happen. Mike wasn’t gay, wasn’t like him. Will accepted that fact. This wasn’t the scenario he had dreamed of, not by a long shot, but it was closer than he ever thought he’d get to it. A small bit of him tingled with hope, excitement. Selfish thoughts swarmed his mind as he wondered what his best friend’s lips would feel like against his own. He wondered what Mike would taste like. He could get the answers to these questions; all he had to say was-
“I’ll do it, Mike.”