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"and you slay thordak, the cinder king!" mike calls, cheeks up to his eyes as he grins, warm and joyful, as cheers erupt from the party. a joyful january night, filled with the people he loves most in the world.
"that was sick, man!" "congrats!" lucas grins, high fiving will, dustin beaming his toothy grin and cheering with max. its always so lively at the end. a natural contradiction, how the end can bring such joy.
mike just sits there and grins, adjusting a few of the figures on the table, tapping his foot under the table on the basement carpet. the table is more of a mess than usual, but its nothing he cant fix.
everyone packs up, lucas putting max's coat on for her while she glares at him, dustin's jacket left on the back of his chair he's claimed since they were little, the comfortable chatter of people he holds dearest like a restful return to reality.
dustin leaves his jacket. as always. he's too busy talking to will. lucas holds the door open and kisses max's cheek. she slaps his shoulder, but grins anyway. home.
each party member leaves the basement, max and lucas going first, dustin a few minutes later, and will awkwardly sitting there, gathering his things.
mike catches will's eye, as he does every time. deep brown and all consuming, like a fog he breathes in like his lungs crave him rather than oxygen.
"you okay? do you have any way of getting home?" mike checks, clearing away all their binders and boards and figures and dice, wandering about and stretching like a lithe little cat.
"i'm... i dont think so, to be honest, and i'd rather not go out too far at this time of night." he smiles softly, with the classic nervousness of the will byers he's adored since kindergarten.
"i mean, we've always got the spare bed down here. the boiler's down here too, so it'll be warm. or you can take my bed." he offers, as if its the smallest thing in the world. because as snarky and sarcastic as he can be, he'd sacrifice anything to make sure his friends — friends? — are safe and healthy.
friends is maybe not the right word. he doesn't hang on his other friends' every word. he doesn't look at his other friends' lips while they're in the middle of a campaign. he doesn't sleep in the same bed as his other friends when they're terrified at night and just need someone there.
so maybe friends isnt the right word. but what is he supposed to call him? his lover? they haven't even kissed. he kissed el when he was younger, but they were never particularly lovers. what makes someone a lover, anyway?
maybe he'll just stick to friends for now.
its just him and will. of course it is. it always ends up just them two. just him and the person he's loved for god knows how many years, and the person he never knew loved him back for eternity.
"um— yeah. i think— i think i'll stay here tonight. thanks, mike." he nods after a few moments, dark eyes meeting his own, a small, grateful smile gracing his lips. mike thinks he feels his heart do something stupid in response, so he pauses before speaking.
"no problem." he responds, swallowing thickly the moment he's turned away from will, wandering back and forth between the games table and the shelves, clearing up the mess they all made.
silence passes. it passes and passes and passes, like both the fortress and the moat all at once.
"mike. have you been okay recently? you've seemed more... far off than usual." will speaks up after a few minutes of semi-comfortable silence. its never uncomfortable with will, but the silence always just feels... charged with something. whether its shared trauma or sexual tension, neither of them can really tell the difference these days.
"what? yeah. yeah, of course. what makes you say that?" it takes him a second to even comprehend what will just said. yeah, he probably can't bullshit his way out of this one.
"like right now. you're doing it again." will points out. mike might be the observant one a lot of the time, but he sure can be dense.
"im not doing anything."
"you are."
"im just... thinking about a lot recently, alright?" he doesn't glare, but he has that meaner, cocky, though almost bored look about him that he has when he feels like hes being accused. great, snap at the only person you've ever loved. what? where did that even come from? fucking hell, he really needs to get out of his head.
"...mike, look. you've been weird with me since i told you about— well, you know what im talking about." will gives in, sighing and staring at him, not accusing, but just— worried.
mike doesn't say anything.
"the rest of the party have all been fine with it. you've just been tense. all the time. it feels like you won't even look me in the eye anymore." he pauses, voice ever so slightly cracking, like its fraying around the edges. "is it because of what i said? is it because i don't like girls?"
god, he is such an idiot. mike wheeler is quite possibly the stupidest man alive.
he doesn't even know what to say. will just stands there, almost stunned. his best friend. the boy he's been in love with since kindergarten. his best friend, hates him. all because he told him he was—
will just scoffs.
"mike. say something."
"what do you want me to say?" he snaps. again. god, what the hell is wrong with you? what are you doing?
"i thought i could trust you."
"you can."
"then what is this?! why have you been acting like there's— like there's something wrong with me, like you don't want to be around me anymore?" it's wills turn to snap now. and rightfully so. but he hates it. they both hate it.
"i'm not! i just— i don't know what to do about it!"
the thing is, with mike, is that he'd rather lash out and regret it later than try then and there and admit he's being a dick, all because he can't admit that will telling him that he had a crush on him for the best part of 17 years royally screwed him up and made him realise well shit, yeah, maybe he is in love with his best friend. and it's coming back to bite him in the ass.
"do about what? about me?" will only sounds more and more hurt with every word that comes out of mike's stupid mouth.
"no! no, not about you! about me! i'm—" he stammers, pissed off and confused and tripping over his words.
will just pauses. he doesn't know what to really say back to that.
"about you? what about you?"
he's really fucked it up this time. god, why can't he seem to get things right today? why can't he seem to get things right ever, on that note?
"what is it about you that's making you act like i'm diseased or something?" he sounds hurt. so hurt. just like he did when they were younger. and mike hates it. god, he hates it. it makes his stomach churn and twist like that time dustin made him eat something he found in his backyard in a bet, and he was sick for a week. and who was at his bedside? will. always will. it was always will.
"i don't want to act like that. i'm— you're— will." mike cuts off, sighing and stammering over his words like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.
"what?" he responds, but it's not mean. it could never be mean, coming from will. not to mike.
"the guy you said you liked. the one who— the one who made you realise you... yeah. who was it?"
will goes quiet at that. it's already so hard to stand where their friendship stands right now. he could fuck it up with a single word if he said anything right now. but if things go on like this between them for much longer, there won't be a friendship for him to fuck up. fuck!
"...you." he just goes for it. says it quietly, so there's a chance mike might not hear and just never bring it up again. "it's not like that now, though." he makes sure to cover his tracks, no matter how untrue it is, or how much it hurts.
and god, if it hurt for will, it hurt tenfold for mike.
"its not like that now?" mike checks, half hoping he'll agree, half hoping he'll disagree.
silence.
shit.
"no."
"...as in, no it is like that now, or no its—"
"it is. it is like that now."
shit.
mike doesn't think he's heard will's voice that quiet in a long time.
"can i kiss you?" mike blurts out.
"what?"
"can i—"
will shuts him up fast enough, his arm wrapping around mike's neck ever so gently, gently enough for him to pull away at any moment, pulling him in quickly, slowing down when he gets super close.
mike just takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes, leaning in first. god, his lips are warm. they're so soft, too, what the hell? he's perfect. he's literally perfect.
will reciprocates, obviously, but it takes him a minute, so stunned at the sudden question and that he just pulled mike in himself and now they're kissing? he's kissing his best friend. holy shit.
he rests his large hand on the back of his head and on his shoulder, mike's hands on his waist. no way this is actually happening. his fingers tangle in mike's hair, black and silken and comforting and gorgeous, like dipping his hand into heaven's own clouds, hand curling in his hair.
honestly, mike can barely even believe this is happening. will's fingers are in his hair and he's got his hands on will's waist, eyes shut and his heart so fast he swears he's going into cardiac arrest any second now. jesus christ, is this really what he wanted? is he actually—? no fucking way. no way that he's enjoying kissing his best friend.
and yet, he's slipping his tongue into his mouth. and yet, he's letting will brush his tongue with his. and yet, his lithe, slightly rough fingers are sliding under the hem of will's top, stopping once they're able to feel the bare, very warm skin of his sides beneath.
mike's the one who pulls away first. he just stands there, breathing heavier than he was before, his hands planted firmly under the edge of will's shirt. his eyes are still shut. he can't bear to open them. not when that felt better than any girl he's ever kissed in his life (which is a grand total of 2, for the failure that is mike wheeler).
"...are you feeling better now?" will says quietly, dark eyes fluttering open and staring up at mike ever so hesitantly, not sure what to even say after that, lips still wet with his best friend's spit. god, no way that just happened.
"think so." mike says quietly, forehead gently coming to rest against will's. he doesn't open his eyes still. he sounds a little raspier, like he's... nervous. mike wheeler doesn't get nervous.
he's just kissed his best friend. well, maybe he's not his best friend anymore. but it's not like he's his boyfriend. he can't have will as his lover. that'd just be weird, right?
but he can't stick to just friends. not after this. there needs to be something.
mike opens his eyes. he needs to get out of his head before he goes insane.
"was that— was that what was bothering you?" will slices through the silence, still quiet and stunned, but smiling a little. god, it melts him. he can't take that.
"it's— i don't know. i don't know." and it hurts will, how he sounds so stressed and unsure. all he's ever wanted is for mike to be happy, and yet, he just sounds so insanely upset, even more than he did before... yeah.
"hey. look up. look at me." its a demand, but it sounds so kind, coming from will. mike doesn't even need to think before he's doing what he says, lifting his head from where his forehead is pressed against will's. god, he's down so fucking bad. and it scares him more than anything.
mike meets his eyes, dark brown on lighter brown; dark chocolate on hazelnut, streetlamp on lamplight, midnight on sunlight. his sunlight.
"talk to me. tell me what's been bothering you." he urges, coaxing mike to just talk, to just tell him, to just say what's wrong. to just say that he loves him. but maybe let's just push that to the back for now.
"...i'm sorry. i don't know what to say."
will just sighs. he was dreaming of this, but its hurting mike so much he'd rather it be all a dream than reality, even if it feels like his dream is coming true, like it did when his lips were finally on mike's. he just looks so conflicted, so confused. he looks so, so, upset.
"you don't need to be sorry." will says quietly. he knows how he feels, and its heaven sent and so stupidly surreal that mike actually feels this way, but he hates what it's putting him through.
"i do. i've— i've been a total, absolute dick to you, and i'm sorry. i'm really fucking sorry." he sounds like he's going to cry, eyes fluttering shut again, pressing his forehead back to will's, onto will's temple, so miserable and confused. even now, his hands are still just slightly under will's shirt, their grasp a little tighter, as if he's holding onto him before he sinks.
"i don't know what i want, and i took it out on you." he admits, rambling on and shifting uncomfortably, trying so hard to make things okay. stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid. "everything's just— fucked. it's all over the place. i'm all over the place."
"mike." will just sighs, tilting his head up again, because mike will never listen to anything anyone says.
he doesn't look up. obviously. stupid wheeler.
"you're a good kisser."
and he genuinely laughs. because he's never heard will say anything like that before, and it's cute. it's really cute. but also, what the fuck?
mike doesn't say anything, because what do you say to that? but there's a smile there, a genuine one. soft and unavoidable, a gentler variant of his usual cocky smirk.
"seriously, mike. you're really good." will smiles fondly, a gentle huff of laughter escaping him as he sees mike laughing too. its all silent in the basement, save for the sound of just the two of them, laughing like little boys. stupid. but it means everything.
mike seems to follow up on that compliment, seeing as just a few moments later, they're back at it again, mike's hands moving from will's waist and up his sides, will staggering back a little, backing up against the wall, knocking down a poster and rattling a shelf, both of them giving small huffs of laughter into the other's mouth.
he captures wills lips in his like a perfect drug, sighing into him as will's fingers return to his hair, other hand on his lower back.
"i dont know why i want this." mike breathes shakily against his lips, pulling away a little, will's head still against the wall with mike's hand up his shirt, knocking down another poster or two behind him that's been there since they were kids. "i'm not even gay."
will laughs. genuine and warm. "you're not?" he grins up at him, affectionate and warm.
"it's— no, shut up." mike quickly covers, rolling his eyes and huffing in an annoyance. will acts offended, but he knows he isn't. because mike knows he'd rather swallow glass than say anything remotely bad to him.
"i don't know. it's you. i don't like guys, i just like you." mike tries to cover for himself, but he really doesn't do that great a job of it. he never does.
"are you saying i'm not a guy?" he blinks, grinning still, with his smile that never quite seems to meet his eyes and his eyebrows that quirk up whenever he's happy, with his whole being just full of warmth and feeling utterly floored by what the fuck seems to be happening.
"you are. and i like you. as a friend. but—"
"you just had your tongue in my mouth." fair point.
"...okay, maybe not as a friend, then."
"mike wheeler, are you telling me you're in love with me?"
mike wheeler is reeling. mike wheeler is obsessed and in love and confused and insane and going entirely feral. mike wheeler doesn't even know what to say. mike wheeler is absolutely fucked.
"i don't know."
"that's not a no."
"fuck you."
"seems like you're the one who wants to do that."
"when did you get so quick?" mike scowls, but its not mean. not at all. will just grins like the most beautiful idiot in the entire world. "...i think i'm in love with you."
"one more kiss to find out?" will murmurs ever so gently, mike's hands still under his shirt, hands in mike's hair.
he can't just stick to friends.
"...i might need a bit more than that."