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Mike flung his closet door aside, hurriedly pushing around piles of old and new clothes, a patterned sweater sliding out and landing right next to his feet. He can pick up the mess later, but right now, he’s going to be late if he doesn’t find that damn shirt.
“Shit,” Mike muttered, tugging on a shirt that’s on the bottom of a dangerously tall pile. Just a tiny tug that’s all he needs. Just a small tug–“Shit!” The pile toppled over, clothes flying everywhere and covering the entire floor. You gotta be fucking kidding.
Crouching down, Mike started inspecting the mess on the floor before a loud series of honks came from the driveaway. Quickly jumping to his feet, he slammed his window open, the wood creaking with old age, before peeking out.
“I’m coming!” Mike shouted, “I-I just need five minutes! I-” He looked back at the mess covering his room, clothes thrown everywhere haphazardly. His mom is going to be furious. “I need to find a shirt! Five minutes!”
“You get three,” Max glared at him through the windshield. “Or I swear to god I'm driving away with or without you, Wheeler.”
“That’s not–” Max slammed her hand onto the wheel, a sharp honk cutting Mike’s protest off, his lips twisting in annoyance.
“With or without you.” She warned. Mike wanted to argue, but he knew Max wasn’t joking, especially with her pointing at her watch before rolling up her window, accusatory glare still glued to him.
Mike brought his head back in, the warm late July wind combing through his hair and caressing his face. Should he wear a different shirt? He glanced over to one of his sweaters and yeah, no.
He needs that shirt, after all, this is a party–A real one, and Will says it looks nice on him, and if Will says that he must be right, because, well, it’s Will, he wouldn’t lie to him.
Where the fuck could it be? He’s going to find and wear that fucking shirt, and if Max leaves? He still has his bike somewhere in the garage. Probably.
“Where are you hiding, you little shit,” Mike whispered, his cheek smooching with the cold floor as he looked underneath the bed, nothing but dust bunnies and a few chewed-on pens looking back.
“Why are you talking to yourself?”
Mike jumped, banging his head against the wooden frame. “Holly! Warning!” Mike said, rubbing the back of his head.
“Sorry,” She didn’t seem that apologetic, her lips twitching upwards. “You didn't answer my question.”
“What?” Mike replied, brow furrowing. “Holly, I’m kinda busy,” He peeked underneath his blanket, nothing. “Sorry.” He tucked on. He could make it up to her later, maybe with another dm lesson.
“The shirt is blue, right?” Holly hummed lightly, shuffling in place. “Ralph Lauren?”
Mike’s head snapped to her, almost tripping in his hurry to get to her. His hands landed on her shoulder, gaze serious. “You know where is it?”
Holly shrugged, face innocent. “Maybe.”
A small spark of hope went off in Mike’s chest. He shook Holly’s shoulders, her hair swaying with it. “Holly, please,” Mike pleaded. Holly just continued staring at him. “This is really important!”
“Hmm,” Holly furrowed her brows mockingly, a slow smile creeping on her face. “You know what they say, an eye for an eye.”
“It’s just a shirt!” Mike exclaimed.
“You said it yourself,” Holly crossed her arms. “It’s just a shirt.” She looked ridiculously like Nancy, standing like that, with a serious face and not budging from her stance. Which that’s great for Holly, just not Mike right now; he still didn’t hear the squelch of tires on the road, but he didn’t want to test just how far Max’s patience can stretch.
“Yes, it’s just a shirt, but I really, really need it, Holly,” Mike stressed. His memory flashed back to last year’s summer, before Will went to college. A playful smile on his face as he knocked their shoulders together, whispering, ‘It looks good–the shirt.’ before moving on to talk to Lucas, leaving Mike with flushed cheeks and feeling like he has a fever.
And Will finally came to visit again for the summer, and Mike just wants to make a good impression, ok? He’s allowed to want his best friend to think he looks good, right? Right.
“Please?” Mike awkwardly smiled.
Holly looked unimpressed, tapping her fingers against her crossed arms. One, two and…three.
Mike dropped the smile, groaning in annoyance. “Fine! Fine,” He straightened, lips pressed together. “I will buy you that new set of D&D dice, deal?”
“Really?” Holly asked, a bright smile gracing her features as she bounced on her tippy toes.
“Yes, really,” Mike sighed, a tiny fond smile fighting on his lips. He couldn’t be mad, not really. Not with how excited Holly looked at the prospect of new dice, reminding him of his younger self, excitedly pointing and explaining all of the different new dice he got for Christmas to his friends. He’s still annoyed with the unfair trade, though. “Now, where’s the shirt?”
Holly grinned, starting to walk backwards to her room. “Mom took it out of the dryer a few minutes ago. It’s in the basement.”
She can’t be serious…this whole time? “You’re kidding.”
A few giggles came from Holly, who was shaking her head. “Nope.”
Fuck his life. Another series of honks started, all of them longer than before, and you could feel the anger radiating off them. It must have been over three minutes. Seriously, fuck his life.
Mike scrambled out of his room, a t-shirt tangled between his legs. Stumbling on the stairs, he ripped the shirt away and threw it on the floor, Converse smacking against the pristine tiles.
“Don’t forget the dice!” Holly yelled, her voice travelling all the way to the first floor.
“I got it!” Mike yelled back, shoulder hitting the basement’s door frame in his hurry. The stairs groaned underneath his weight, taking them two at a time. He jumped the last three, landing with a heavy thud.
“Mike! No running! How many times do I have to say this?” His mom scolded, sitting on the couch, towers of folded clothes surrounding her.
“Did–Did you see it?” Mike asked, out of breath. “My shirt?”
His mom just fixed him with a disapproving stare, nodding towards one of the towers. “That’s yours,” She watched him as he tore apart the tower, shuffling through the now messy pile of clothes. “I’m not folding that again.”
“Huh?” Mike looked over his shoulder. “Uh, yeah, it’s fine, I will fold it later.”
He beamed as he spotted the shirt, pulling it out of its hiding place among the other clothes, and quickly put it on top of his undershirt. He made a quick trip to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light as he fixed the shirt, making sure it looked good.
A lone bottle of cologne lying on the shelf caught his eye…should he? Or would it be overkill? Mike sat on it for a few seconds, his mind conjuring up Will coming up to him, looking up at him with a teasing smile tugging on his lips as he pulls Mike down and whispers, ‘You smell really good, what is it?’
The bottle is in Mike’s hand before he knows it, the spray cold against his neck and wrists. He takes a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror. He’s cool, he’s calm, and it’s not like he realized he’s in love with his best friend a year ago. Totally not.
His chest deflated as he breathed out. He’s so fucked.
Mike turned on his heel, picking off a key from the small ceramic plate sitting on the shelf above the laundry machine, pocketing it. Covering the room in seconds, he put his hand on the doorknob, upper body twisting to look at his mom, who was still folding. A wine glass with stained lipstick on the rim idly sits on the table.
“Bye mom,” He waved as the door creaked open.
“Have fun,” His mom smiled, taking a sip from the wine glass, the scars on her throat moving with it. Mike grimaced. “And oh, Mike?”
“Yeah?” He blinked, the humid wind making his palms clammy on the doorknob.
“Don’t get into trouble, ok?” Her tone was playful, but he could see the worry in the way her forehead creased, the tense line that was her shoulders.
Mike smiled as assuredly as he could, slowly nodding. His mom returned the smile. “Now go before the neighbours call the police from all the honking,”
Mike grinned, shutting the door behind him before walking around the house to the driveway. The streetlights spilled golden light over the bright green grass, the smell of asphalt and that distinct summer smell filled his nose, and his heart was beating faster than it should–a hummingbird caged in between his ribs.
The rumbling sound of the engine became louder the closer Mike got to Max’s car. Finally, her car came into view, a second-hand, 1989 Toyota Corolla, with a chipped dark green coat. He could immediately feel Max’s piercing gaze on him through the window.
Mike’s hand landed on the car handle before the sound of a sharp click came from the door. Peering into the car, Dustin’s smiling face greeted him.
“Oh come on!” Mike huffed, tugging on the handle, the door remaining firmly locked in place. “Dustin! C’mon, open the door!”
“Now, why would I do that?” Dustin asked, voice muffled.
“Asshole,” Mike muttered.
A gasp came from Dustin–or at least what Mike thought was a gasp, he couldn’t really hear it–who put his hand over his heart, lowering his head in mock sadness. His mouth was moving, but no sound was heard.
Mike banged on the glass with his fist, yelling. “What?”
Dustin shuffled in place before rolling the window down, just enough for Mike to hear him. “I said,” He repeated, a shit-eating grin on his face, “How could you say that to me, Michael. I'm hurt.”
Mike narrowed his eyes, about to retort, when a soft giggle caught his attention. He looked deeper into the car, ignoring Dustin, and there he was…Will. Looking straight at him and laughing.
He could feel his face get hotter, his cheeks so hot they felt like ice. He hadn’t heard Will’s laugh in so long that it felt like his heart got restarted with how fast it was racing. He looked good, even in the car’s dim and frankly ugly yellow ceiling light. Like really good.
“Look what you did, Dustin,” Max said sarcastically. “You broke him.”
“What?” Dustin exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “I did no such thing!”
The sounds of arguing coming from the car became louder, but honestly, Mike couldn’t care less. Will was here, and he was looking at him, actually looking at him. Suddenly, Will moved, coming closer till he was reaching over Dustin—“Will! C’mon, don’t open it!”—and the car’s lock opened with a click.
Will opened the door with a swing, looking up at him with a playful smile. “Coming?”
A warm, tingling feeling erupted all over his skin. He missed Will’s smile, pictures not doing it justice.
“Yeah,” Mike breathed out, watching as Will shuffled backwards into his seat. He looked at Dustin, waiting for him to move.
“No way,” Dustin crossed his arms, leaning further into his seat. “You’re getting the middle seat,”
“The middle seat? That’s the worst seat!”
“Too bad, buddy, should have been ready on time,”
“That’s bullshit–” Mike paused abruptly, gaze sliding from Dustin, to the vacant middle seat, to Will. Suddenly, the middle seat doesn’t seem that bad. He shoved himself into the car, Dustin loudly complaining about getting stepped on.
He flopped heavily into the seat, legs cramped in the small space between the seat and the car’s console. He turned to Will, their shoulders brushing.
“Hey,” Mike smiled.
“Hey,” Will replied, the dim yellow light casting a golden glow around him.
“Desperate much,” Max muttered, Lucas giving her a pointed look, eyebrows raised. The car rumbled as it shifted from park to drive, zooming out of the driveway.
The car flew by streetlights, light entering the car every few seconds. Mike stared into Will’s eyes as they flashed when they drove past a streetlight, eyelashes casting long shadows on his cheeks, the sight hypnotic to Mike.
One thought that always racked his mind was, what would Will’s eyes look like after he gets kissed? Would they be sparkling? Full of life and love? Or would they be piercing, a fire burning behind them? Perhaps both?
Either way, Mike could stare into Will’s eyes all night long. Too bad Will’s gaze was locked onto Max’s through the rearview.
“I mean, yeah, sure,” Max craned her neck to look at Will. “It’s a pretty… accepting place, but be careful, kay’?”
Will nodded as the car went over a pothole, their knees knocking together. Mike kept his knee close to Will’s, turning his head to Dustin’s side when Will looked at him.
“Can you please look at the road, Max?” Lucas slumped in his chair. “I really don’t want to die to a mailbox,”
Max rolled her eyes, sending Lucas a grin. “The only thing we might die to tonight is alcohol poisoning,"
“I’m watching you,” Lucas warned, narrowing his eyes at Max, who just laughed.
A conversation started to form between Lucas and Dustin as the ride went on, Max interjecting at random intervals. Mike drummed his fingers on his thigh, staring out of the windshield.
“Are you okay?” Will’s warm breath hit his ear, goosebumps crawling all over his skin.
“It’s just–” Mike turned towards Will, brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t you just prefer to play D&D? Is this party even necessary? What’s even fun about it?”
Will shrugged. “I think it could be fun,”
Mike scrutinized Will suspiciously. “Since when do you like parties?”
“Oh, um,” Will scratched the back of his neck, an awkward look on his face. “College, I guess? They throw a lot of parties in art school, apparently. One of my friends–” Friend? Will has new friends? “He has a lot of connections there, so he always knows about every party and just like, drags me there,”
“That’s…nice,” Mike gritted out, a forced smile on his face. “He sounds nice.”
“I think you two could get along,” Mike never wants to meet him, so he highly doubts that. He still nods, Will’s smile growing. “It’s nice, a lot of students there, um, are–are like me, so it’s pretty nice,”
Mike pushed his jealousy aside; that’s unfair of him. Will seems happy, and he has new friends, and Mike can’t be mad about that, so he swallowed down the bitterness in his throat, ignoring the way they painfully sat in his stomach.
“Happy for you, Will, really,”
Will’s cheeks had a light redness to them, a warm smile playing on his lips. “Thanks,”
The rest of the ride was quiet, and Mike still couldn’t stop glancing at Will; he had that newfound air around him, holding himself with more confidence than ever before. It was nice to see.
“And…Here we are.” Max said, pulling the stick back with a loud crank.
Mike glanced at the house in front of them. People were covering every inch of available surfaces and lounging in the manicured front yard, red cups thrown everywhere. Colored, flashing lights painted the street in some sort of disco mania fever dream.
“That’s–” Will started.
“A lot–” Lucas continued.
“A lot? It’s like a whole ass San Diego con!” Dustin interjected, leaning forward and throwing his hand out, almost hitting Mike. “Look at all of those people!”
“We should have stayed home,” Mike huffed, Dustin slapping his arm.
“Yeah, no, we're already here,” Max took her keys out, opening her door. “Are you guys just going to gawk at people all night or what? Because I seriously need a drink after dealing with Wheeler over here.”
“What the fuck did I do?” Mike threw his arms up.
“Being weird for the entire ride, like really weird,” Max said, jumping out of the car and slamming the door shut.
“I-” Mike opened his mouth. “Seriously?”
Lucas twisted around, shaking his head in sympathy. “She’s right, dude.”
“You’re biased, I’m not listening to you,” Lucas grinned before closing the door behind him. He turned to Dustin, who just clapped his shoulder before sliding out of the car. Mike gawked at the now-empty seat. Those were the same friends he fought monsters with, and yet, defending his honour is too much.
Will would be his saving grace; he knows it. He would never betray him.
“Will,” Mike pleaded, “Not you too.”
Will smiled at Mike, gaze soft, and Mike could have turned to a melted puddle right there and then. Will’s smile probably had some healing properties to it; he was sure of that. His smile carried warmth, kindness and the kind of gentleness you can only find at home and–
“Maybe next time, Mike.” Will teased, opening the car’s door and joining the rest outside.
Mike’s face fell, quickly scrambling out of the car. “Will you too?” He closed the door, coming face to face with Max, a sly grin etched on her face. “You.”
“Me,” Max replied, chin held high.
“You turned Will against me!” Mike scowled.
“What are we? Air?” Dustin said sarcastically.
Lucas put an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, sighing. “Why are you surprised? He’s only keeping us here to laugh at his jokes.”
Mike sent them a pointed glare. “You don’t even laugh at my jokes,”
“You got me.” Lucas threw a finger gun at him before turning around and heading towards the party with his arm around Dustin’s shoulder.
Max looked back at him, shrugging before looping her arm with Will’s. “I didn’t turn him against you, that would be impossible,” She winked at him. “I’m simply funnier than you.”
And with that, they turned around, heading up into the house, the crowd swallowing them the further they went. Max and Will’s arms were looped together, and Mike felt a small ember of jealousy spark up. He knew it meant nothing but…Mike wanted to be in Max’s place, let Will put his arm through his elbow and walk around like it was natural.
Will twisted his neck to look at him, face glowing in the flashing lights. He jerked his head towards the door before disappearing behind it with Max.
He took a breath, calming himself down. It’s just a party, nothing more.
Plastic cups crunched under his shoes as he walked up to the walkway, the house looming above him, music so loud he could feel its vibrations in the air mixed with drunk slurring and laughter behind him. What’s the worst that can happen?
The air felt stifling; it was hot and disgustingly humid, and whatever air conditioning unit they must have had in here amounted to nothing against the sheer amount of bodies filling the house. Mike felt like a bug, a moment from being stepped on and left to die in a stain. And he couldn’t see Will.
He couldn’t even spot Max’s fiery hair with how the lights kept flashing, colours changing every second and painting the walls in a different colour. Everything looked the same to him, his eyes having a hard time adjusting to the mix of dim and yet flashy lights. It was like a constant cycle of whiplash.
“Will?” Mike yelled out, voice drowning in all of the noise. “Will!”
Pushing between people was a harder task than he anticipated; some of them were like rocks that refused to move, just sending him a glare and a disgusted curl of their lips. The others were flat-out shit-faced, stumbling over their own tangled limbs as they laughed or yelled at nothing. Awesome.
Sweat started to gather at his brow, the tips of his hair damp, and he couldn’t be fucking happier that he put cologne on because the smell. Oh, it was horrible; sweat and strong scented flowery and vanilla perfumes coated the back of his mouth, and the distinct sting of shitty, cheap alcohol was flowing in the air.
He didn’t like the idea of Will out there on the floor all alone. Well, with Max, but Mike should be there with him, keeping an eye on him and making sure no one bothers him. He knows that Max wouldn’t let that happen, but–But still, he should be there.
“Will!” Mike pushed between sweaty and sparkly bodies, the soles of his shoes sticky and dirty from the floor. And if you ask him, that shit is probably hazardous.
“Take this!” Some girl with smudged mascara yelled at him, shoving an overfilled cup at his chest, the edges spilling out of the rim and staining his shirt. The fucking shirt. He hates this place. “It’s good!” The girl insisted.
“Uh, no thanks,” Mike slightly nudged her back by the shoulder, glitter staining his hand. “I’m good,”
The girl obviously didn’t get the memo and just crowded him again, curly strands of hair sticking to her face. “But it’s good! And no offence, you look like you have a stick up your ass,” She yelled, her voice dead serious.
Mike’s eyebrow ticked, his jaw clenched. “I said,” He put his hands on the girl’s shoulders, turning them around so he took her spot–one step closer to Will– “No thanks.” The girl just shrugged and left, disappearing into the crowd.
He huffed, looking down at his now-stained shirt. It wasn’t that visible, but whatever that girl had in that cup reeked of alcohol, maybe even multiple ones combined. Yeah, remind him not to drink any of the shit in here.
Mike turned around before someone slammed into him at full force, knocking him into another person, their cup clattering to the ground as the bright red drink spilled out across the floor. And under Mike’s shoes. Of course.
“Hey, what the fuck, man?” Someone yelled at him, and at this point, he didn’t even know who. He was annoyed, angry, fucking sweaty, and he couldn’t spot any of his fucking friends. Some fucking party.
Someone roughly grabbed his arm, turning him around. He came face to face with some drunk boy, his hair a wild mess and breath racking of cigarettes and cheap, tacky alcohol.
“You should say sorry!” He slurred at Mike, leaning in way too close. “You spilled my drink!”
“How is that my fault? I got pushed,” Mike rolled his eyes, this is a waste of time.
The boy’s face went blank for a second before anger flashed in his eyes. “You’re saying this is my fault?”
“What? No,” And this is why Mike doesn’t like parties–it’s just unnecessary interactions back to back, shitty alcohol and the occasional fist fight. It seems that Mike got awarded the great honour of participating in the latter. Awesome.
The boy tightened his hold on Mike’s arm, cracking his neck. So he’s one of those guys, double awesome.
“Mike!” A voice boomed out. Lucas.
Both he and the boy looked over towards Lucas, who was pushing through the crowd, fast, his face serious and locked onto them.
“Is he your friend?” The boy asked, squinting at Lucas.
“Yeah,”
“Oh,” The boy looked disappointed, a sad look passing through his eyes. “I can’t fight two people, man. I was only allowed one today.”
Mike raised his eyebrow. “Maybe you can find someone else,”
“I guess,” The boy dropped his hold on Mike’s arm, dejectedly walking away before disappearing back into the crowd. He really hates parties.
“Where the hell have you been?" Lucas asked as he came closer, sweat decorating his cheeks.
Mike rubbed at his arm, scowling. “What do you think? Trying to find you.”
“Well, obviously not, since you’re too busy picking fights,” Lucas replied dryly.
“Actually, it worked perfectly,” Mike pointed at Lucas. “See? Found you,”
Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose, brow scrunching up in annoyance. “Man, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Mike just grinned, ignoring the pain travelling all the way to his shoulder. He should show the bruise to Will; that’s at least worth a few points, right?
“I’m going to assume you didn’t just feel it in the air that I was about to get punched,”
“Honestly, I might’ve,” Lucas laughed, the corner of his eyes crinkling. He also had a pretty nice laugh. “But no, no uh, we tried to find you and well–” Lucas made a sweeping gesture at the room. “It’s pretty hard, as you probably realized by now,”
“Realized? Some random girl tried to poison me or something,” Mike dragged a hand down the now dried stain on his shirt. He wondered if the stain looked worse in better lighting.
“Oh?” Lucas raised his eyebrows. “Was she wearing devil wings by any chance?”
Mike blinked, drawing back on his encounter with the overbearing girl, and now that he thinks about it, she was wearing devil's wings–red and pink. Mike just didn’t notice in between all of the chaos. “Yeah,” he blinked back at Lucas. “Did you meet her too?”
“Met her?” Lucas laughed. “You could say that.”
Lucas started steering him towards the direction he came from, shoving people aside as they made their way into the heart of the party. The music was deafening at that point, and Mike swears he could hear a slight ringing in his ears.
“She got Dustin with whatever was in the cup,” Lucas yelled over the music as some brunette pushed them apart to stagger between them, looking like some sort of zombie.
Mike glanced back as the brunette threw up at the floor, someone catching them before they face planted. Lucas caught his arm and dragged him forward. “Some of them are beyond saving, man.”
Lucas stopped, letting go of his arm. “And one of them is Dustin.”
“Holy shit,” Mike whispered.
“Holy shit.” Lucas repeated.
“Is–is he doing what I think he’s going to do?” Mike asked, looking warily at Dustin. What the hell was in those cups?
Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, and for a second, Mike couldn’t help but notice the muscles on his arms. They looked firm and you know, strong–he could probably lift Max, no scratch that, he definitely could.
Could Mike lift Will? He would like to think that yes, but he would have to consider himself a liar. Like a massive liar.
“Yeah,” Lucas replied, tone grim.
They looked ahead as Dustin shot back..something from a red cup and thrust it out once he finished, a vodka bottle appearing out of nowhere to top it off, Dustin nodding seriously.
Some girl and boy were lying down on a circular wooden table, someone else shoving pieces of lime into their mouths. Mike dumbly stared at the scene in front of him. They were about to do body shots. Fucking body shots.
The very same girl from the start with the devil wings poured salt across the pair’s collarbones and upper chest with the most serious look Mike ever saw–and he saw Nancy when she was taking apart her guns–before the girl nodded back to Dustin, stepping away from the pair.
The closer Dustin got to the table, the stronger all of the yelling and whoops got and was that a fucking wolf whistle?
“Is he really going to do it?”
Lucas tsked. “This is his third round.”
“What?” Mike exclaimed, swerving towards Lucas.
Lucas didn’t look back, eyes glued to the scene in front of him. The hollering got stronger, Mike forcing his gaze back to the chaotic scene.
Dustin was pouring what seemed like whisky on the pair’s stomach before downing his own shot and immediately jumping to lick off the salt off their collarbones, the crowd around him in a doozy. With the way they moved in sync, they remind Mike of the Hivemind, except the Hivemind was less scary than whatever this is.
“You know,” Lucas started as Dustin went for their stomachs. “Dustin tried to pull Will with him to whatever rabbit hole he got pulled into.”
Sending a confused look to Lucas, he elaborated. “Well, Dustin tried to pull all of us, but Will was his main target.” Dustin went for the lime in the girl’s mouth, grinning. “He was convinced Will should do a body shot off somebody–” Lucas lowered his voice, correcting. “A boy.”
Mike couldn’t do anything but stare dumbly, mouth open and limbs frozen. And for a second, as he watched Dustin take the lime from the boy, everyone cheering, he thought about Will doing a body shot off him. They didn’t even have to pour it on his stomach, Will could do it from a glass for all he cares, but–the salt part, on the collarbones? And the lime? Well, Mike wouldn’t say no.
“And the crazy thing is?” Lucas continued, oblivious to the spiral Mike is going through. “You see that boy over there? The one in the striped shirt?” Lucas nodded towards one of the boys, mushed in the front of the crowd, clapping and yelling. “He wanted to do one off Will. Crazy, huh?”
Mike felt the ember of jealousy spark back up, anger coursing through his body. He glared at the boy, feeling the itch of jealousy under his skin. Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know Will! And–and he thinks he has the right to even think that?
He curled his hands, knuckles white. “Crazy.” Mike clipped back, unintentionally taking a step forward.
“Whoa,” Lucas stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Dude, relax, nothing happened,” He forced himself into Mike’s view, cutting away the image of that boy. “Even in his drunken state, Dustin didn’t let that happen–he knows Will well enough to not push him and that he isn’t comfortable with it. You can calm down.”
Mike gnawed on his lips, eyebrow twitching in shimmering anger.
“We’re his friends too, Mike,” Lucas said, deliberately slow. “We know what he is and isn't comfortable with, and we’re not going to let him do anything he doesn’t want and–college was good for him, he’s the one who told the boy no, not us.”
A teasing smirk grew on Lucas’s face. “And besides, he got Max with him, you really think she was about to let it happen?”
Mike’s shoulders slumped forward, fight leaving his body. “Well, no, but–”
“No buts! Will doesn’t need you to be his guard dog.”
Guard dog? Colour flooded Mike’s cheeks; his entire body felt on fire. “Guard dog? What? I’m–I’m not a, what, no I’m–” Mike spluttered as Lucas laughed, lightly punching him in the chest.
“I was joking,” He flashed Mike a playful smile. “Sort of.”
“I’m not a guard dog–”
Lucas put a finger to Mike’s lips, shaking his head. “You’re making it weirder by explaining.” Mike ripped his head away, glowering at Lucas, who lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I'm just telling the truth.”
Mike was about to retort–he was not about to let it go, guard dog? He’s not a guard dog. Does he get mad whenever someone hurts Will? Sure. And does he feel like punching some people when they talk badly about him, well–Yes, and does he get jealous when people get close to Will? Yes. But they’re best friends, okay? He’s allowed too. He’s not a guard dog. He’s not–when chants came from around the table.
Mike glanced at the scene once again, except this time Dustin was the one on the table. And he’s shirtless. Well, that tracks.
“Do you know where Will is?” Mike started before pausing. “I mean, Max and Will–Stop fucking smiling, Lucas, it’s not funny,”
“It’s kinda funny,” Lucas shrugged before happily pointing at the center of the room. “They’re somewhere over there. Max dragged Will to the dance floor.”
“Dance floor?” He’d never seen Will dance before, that’s–that’s not something he did. “Will doesn’t dance.” Mike shook his head. “Not on the dancefloor at least,”
“As I said, college was good for him,” Lucas remarked casually, hands crossed over his chest again.
“Well, that’s not cryptid at all,” Mike said dryly.
Lucas chuckled, lifting his shoulders in a ‘oh well’ kind of gesture.
The thing is, Mike knows Lucas is right. Will is far more confident and sure of himself since he went off to college. But the dance floor? As far as he knows, Will doesn’t like to be the center of attention, doesn’t like it when there are too many pairs of eyes on him. That’s something he was never fond of.
They don’t exactly talk a lot–he and Will, when he’s away at college. The time zones are different, and trying to match up their calls is a hell in itself, so when they do manage to talk, it’s mostly casual catching up and basic pleasantries. Mike loathes it, feeling like Will is not just physically distant but emotionally too–a repeat of Lenora.
Something they promised to each other won’t happen. Mike remembers it like it was yesterday, heart twisting in his chest at the memory. It was the night before Will’s departure to New York, all of his bags and suitcases packed and loaded into Jonathan’s old beat-up car. They were in Mike’s basement–the entire party–sharing one last sleepover together before life ultimately starts pulling them apart in different directions. Who knows when they will all be able to meet up again, like this?
Dustin’s snores filled the place, half of his body sprawled over Lucas, who was cradling Max's body, her hair all over his face, El’s old teddy bear sitting right next to them, holding her most recent postcard from wherever she was last month.
He and Will were still awake, sitting on the cold floor as their backs were against the radiator, cozy warmth seeping through their clothes. Will’s knees were pulled to his chest, chin on top of them, as he stared at the rest of the party, lips twisted downwards in melancholy.
They were quiet, a weighted feeling in the air. There was so much he wanted to say back then, to ask, but his throat felt like sandpaper, raw and closed off. He didn’t want to say goodbye; he wasn't ready for it.
Will was the one who shattered the silence, voice hushed and shaky.
“Do you think we would still be friends?” He asked, Mike’s heart immensely jumping to his throat.
He turned his neck to look at Will, who was still staring ahead, a few hair strands covering the side of his face. He wanted to tuck them behind his ear, get a glimpse into Will’s eyes, see what emotion was swirling in them. He tucked his hands underneath his thighs, forcing them flat against the cold floor.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” He whispered back, the moment feeling so sacred that even the smallest of noises could break it.
Will tilted his head, a small, sad smile flickering at his lips. “Lenora,”
Someone could have dropped a whole building on him, and he would have felt less crushed. He shook his head, a few stray black curls flying. “No, Will, that’s–that’s different.” His voice took a more resolute tone, but you could still hear the fear, the heartbreak. “It won’t happen again.”
“You said the same thing before we left,” Will replied thickly, somber. “Remember?”
Mike couldn’t do it anymore; he ripped his hands from underneath his thighs and caught one of Will’s hands in between his. Will looked at him, surprised.
He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring how warm his cheeks felt. “That won’t happen,” Will sent him a pitying look. He thinks he’s lying. “It won’t,” Mike repeated, voice firm. He won’t let Will slip away from him again like sand between his fingers–he can’t lose him, not after everything. “I promise you.”
Will still looked unconvinced, eyes straying back to the sleeping pile on the floor. That won’t do.
“Will, I promise you,” Mike said, voice low and tender. He gave Will’s hand a firm squeeze, waiting. And he would wait as long as he needed to, as long as Will needed him to wait.
After a few minutes, Will’s glassy gaze travelled back to Mike’s, tears webbed in his lashes. And Mike knows it’s not the right moment, but his heart lurched in his chest, like it was trying to burst open his ribcage. Will looked beautiful.
With his teary, red eyes and dark, glistening eyelashes, and the way his lips were downturned, the bottom lip tinted red from him chewing on it. But his eyes are what stole Mike’s breath away; his pupils were dilated, his iris now just a thin green rimmed circle around them. Eyes flickering with unsaid words and emotions; hope and sorrow, warmth and sadness, longing and anguish.
He reminded Mike of those old portraits with intricate wooden frames that you would see in old, crumbling mansions; haunting and beautiful at the same time, an untold story in painted eyes.
“Ok,” Will breathed out, voice raspy.
And as Mike was staring into Will’s eyes, their hands locked together, the trickling of a realization started, one that would take a full year till it dawned on him; he’s in love with Will.
The lights flashed blue again, the remnants of Mike’s promise floating in the air. He never kept that promise.
They were closer than they were back during Lenora, but far more distant than Mike could have guessed. It was hard to keep up with letters and phone calls, every time something else popped up out of nowhere, making sure the distance between them grew more.
But Will is here now, just a few steps away, and Mike is smarter now; he knows more–college was good for him, too.
“I’m going to go find Will,” Mike mumbled, not waiting for Lucas’s reply, turning on his heel and throwing himself back into the ocean of people.
The number of people steadily grew in size and density the closer he got to the main floor, loud music bouncing off the walls in steady beats before fading out. In those few moments of silence, the only thing that was heard was shuffling and squeaks of shoes on the floor, throaty chuckles and shrill squeals, and a laugh that pinned Mike to his spot.
A loud buzz of static erupted from the speakers before music started up again, a new song starting–one that Mike knows by heart, the upbeat tempo of ‘I Feel Love’ by Bronski Beat filling the space, the crowd jolting and moving around him.
People started to part around him as his eyes jumped around the room, trying to pinpoint from the laugh that he knew by heart came from, the music blanketing all sound across the room, all noise muffled. He completely lost his sense of direction; everywhere looked the same: dancing, drunk people and flashing lights.
He turned his head around, someone passing by him before a small parting in the crowd opened, giving him a glimpse into the main dance floor and… him.
As cliché as it sounds, the whole world slowed down for him; people passing by nothing but background noise, music slow and muffled, like it was coming from a different room. Mike stood, anchored to his spot by an invisible chain, slack-jawed, eyes fixed intensely on the scene in front of him.
Max’s fiery hair was whipping side to side, her hand linked with Will’s as they moved in sync on the dance floor. Will’s hair was tousled, a few wavy strands sticking to his forehead, his skin glistened underneath the dim light, the necklace adorning his neck bouncing up and down with every movement.
He had a huge grin plastered on his face, eyes bright and sparkling. Will, to put it simply, was glowing. He glowed brighter than the sun, every move from him magnetic, alluring, mesmerizing.
Mike felt bewitched, as if someone had cast a spell on him, one where his body refused to cooperate, remaining glued to his spot with his heart hot and pounding in his chest, as he tracked Will.
Will, who held no care for the world, taking up space as he laughed with Max, twirling her around with one hand. He looked…carefree, to say the least; his shoulders were free from any tension or weight, no trace of uncertainty or hesitance in his movements.
He could feel fondness enter into the fray of his already frenzied, chaotic emotions. Will was happy, he was confident, he was sure of himself, and Mike’s heart was seconds away from bursting like a balloon.
It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds before the crowd shifted again, Will coming in and out of view. The world blurred for a second as his focus on Will sharpened through a thin opening, and with it his determination.
His body snapped to attention, taking an unsteady step forward. Mike felt like a moth to a flame, body starting to work on autopilot as his steps gained speed, barreling between people and stumbling over his own two feet as he spotted Will again–he was close, close enough to see the way the shirt’s fabric moved and slid against Will’s back.
“Will!” Mike yelled out, but Will didn’t hear him over the sound of the music, still completely oblivious to Mike’s ongoing struggle against an ocean of drunk people. He huffed, pushing the last of the crowd away, finally bursting free and landing himself square in the middle, just an arm's reach from Will.
He breathed out a sigh of relief. He found Will.
A grin ticked up on his face as he came closer, their bodies close enough that Mike could feel the heat coming off Will. Will definitely knows he’s here now, but he still didn’t turn around. That’s fine with him.
He brushed a hand over Will’s lower back gently–a warning, if you will.
Will subtly tilted his head, craning his neck to glance at Mike from the corner of his eye before going back to looking straight ahead. His mouth was dry as he flattened his hand against Will’s lower back. Slowly and deliberately, he started to glide up Will’s back, savouring the heat radiating off him, the shirt’s fabric soft.
His hand stopped at Will’s waist, grazing it before letting it rest there as if it was always meant to be there, like it belonged there. And Will let it happen, encouraged it even with the way he slowed down his movements so as to not jostle Mike’s hand.
Mike crowded Will from the back, his fingers flexing before squeezing his waist. He took a quick survey of the crowd around them, finding everyone too drunk or caught up in their own business to even spare them a bored glance.
He stared at the back of Will’s damp neck, short strands of hair tangled and knotted. Mike would love to run his fingers through them, carefully untangling each one as Will giggles at him–maybe he can use those bruise points from before to convince Will to let him do that.
Mike startled as a warm weight landed on top of his hand, covering his own. The edges of a smile flickered on Will’s face as he pulled Mike’s hand closer, grip soft.
He leaned over Will’s shoulder, dropping his chin on it, his hair tickling the side of Will’s face. He felt dizzy with how close he was, smiling at the faint traces of Will’s cologne sticking to his neck, luring Mike even further into the trap that was Will Byers.
The music continued thumping above them, but to Mike it was nothing but faint, crackling static, hand digging into Will’s waist, capturing him–but really it was Will who captured Mike, with his bright eyes, soft laugh and an irresistible charm to him.
His best friend since childhood. His partner in crime. The cleric to his Paladin.
And maybe, hopefully, if the universe decides to be kind enough, his soon-to-be boyfriend.
Mike released a shaky sigh, the warm puff of air ghosting over Will’s ear, who squeezed Mike’s hand tighter in response. Mike inched closer, the tip of his nose inches away from touching Will’s flushed skin.
“Will,” he breathed out in Will’s ear, low and shaky before slightly pulling away, Will’s face meeting him in the middle, face painted with a pink glow, lips parted. Mike wanted to drag him in for a kiss, the urge hitting him like a brick wall.
“Mike,” Will murmured back, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, Mike’s eyes shifting downwards to track it. He was so close he could see the slight glisten on Will’s lip from his tongue, he could even count Will’s eyelashes if he wanted to.
They were close, too close. Close enough for it to be dangerous, reckless even. Close enough for Will to be gazing up at him, eyes hypnotic, pulling Mike into their endless depths. They were close enough for it to be considered a sin, an unnatural anomaly.
But Mike couldn’t care less, not with the way Will was looking at him, eyes filled with longing and hope, and not with the way he was gripping Mike’s hand in his, refusing to let him go. And not with the way that Will looked like he needed to be kissed, desperately so.
Looking like he needed to be kissed by Mike.
They were reckless, and stupid, and so, so fucking idiotic, but like Nancy always said, or the kids at school or even his mom, as she sighed, taking a sip from her wine, giving Mike the necessary talk about love and relationships; Love made you crazy.
And Mike felt crazy, crazy and head over heels for the boy in front of him, and he needed to kiss Will, he wants to kiss Will–everyday for the rest of their lives; at morning when Will is still half asleep, quietly murmuring ‘good morning’ in between kisses, over the kitchen stove, Will laughing and shoving at his chest as their food burns away in the pan, in a back alley, hiding from the world as he peppers Will’s face with kisses, dropping a kiss at the back of his neck before he leaves, rolling over in their shared bed, just lazily kissing and laughing.
He wants that, so badly. And he doesn’t care about the consequences, not as long as Will is in his arms, hands on Mike’s shoulders and kissing.
He leaned forward, Will’s eyes wide with shock, colour flooding his cheeks as he gnawed on his lip. Mike’s eyes fluttered shut, the world becoming black as his heart twisted in his chest with hope, waiting for Will.
Will moved in his hold, body shifting forward and oh god. They’re going to kiss, right here, right in front of everyone. Mike didn’t know if the buzz over skin was from fear or anticipation. Probably both.
“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” A bored, flat tone drawled out. Mike’s eyes snapped open.
Leave it to Max fucking Mayfield to ruin his moment.
Will jumped away from him. Mike mourned the loss of contact, his hand twitching uselessly by his side. He sent Max an annoyed glare at the same time Will laughed out nervously, His face became worryingly red. “Max, didn’t see you there.”
Max rolled her eyes. “Relax, I don't care,” She looked Mike up and down, judgment in her gaze. “But him? Really?” She staged-whispered, throwing her thumb at Mike–‘hey!’–before shaking her head in disappointment. “You could do so much better,”
“I’m literally right here,” Mike crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed.
Max looked at him, raising her eyebrows sarcastically. “I’m well aware,”
Mike narrowed his eyes at her, Max smiling back at him. His eyes darted away first, pulled away by Will’s shuffling, before quickly snapping back to Max’s gaze, but it was too late; he lost. Max’s smug smile growing in size.
A pointed cough grabbed their attention, Will standing there, his eyebrow raised in question. Max composted herself first, handing Will a red, plastic cup, liquid sloshing in it, another one in her other hand.
Will looked at her quizzically, gaze jumping from the cup to Max. “Where did you get this?”
“Oh wow,” Max laughed, eyes filled with mirth. “You didn’t even notice I was gone? You must have been real out of it,”
A flush climbed up Will’s face, a small smile tugging on his lips as he gazed at the dirty floor. Max stared at him, astonished.
“Real out,” She repeated. “Good for you, Mike,” Max whistled, and she sounded sincere. Mike loosened his arms, letting them drop and swing by his side, an appreciative smile on his face. He scratched his neck, lost for words.
“That’s really nice of you–” He started before Max cut him off. “Let’s just hope you don’t fuck this up,” Mike stared at her flatly, eyebrow twitching. The most annoying thing? She still sounded sincere.
“What is it?” Will asked, sniffing at the cup before taking a tiny sip, Mike's eyes following the curve of his throat as he swallowed. “It’s good,”
“Right?” Max nodded, taking a sip from her own cup. “I made it myself, whoever house this is needs to learn to lock their cabinets,” She glanced between Will and Mike, shrugging. “You’re going to have to share with Mike, cause no way I'm going to swap saliva with him,” Max shuddered, grasping her cup close to her chest. “Ew,”
Joke's on her, Mike thought; he doesn’t care. “I don’t mind,” He said, glancing at Will, who was already handing his cup over.
“Yeah, I bet,” Max muttered into her cup.
Mike is going to ignore that. Mostly because she’s right, but he’s not about to say that. He brought the cup to his lips, tipping it back, a few ice cubes hitting him. It was fruity, with a slight sting of alcohol, it washed down his throat, leaving a nice burning feeling behind.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, blinking at the cup. It was good.
“You’re right,” Mike said, glancing at Will before looking at Max. “It’s good,”
Max stared at him for a second, her lips tugging up in a genuine smile. “Thanks,” Mike nodded at her. A peace offering of sorts. “Now, both of you stop standing like some statues, we're at a goddamn party, act like it.”
Max immediately took her own advice, as ‘You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)’ burst through the speakers, starting to dance, hair flying widely as she took the hand of a random girl from the crowd, both of them matching each other’s energy. Will knocked his elbow into Mike’s side.
“Dance?” Will asked, flashing him a teasing smile.
Mike took another sip, catching Will’s eyes over the rim as he let the liquid settle in his stomach, cataloging the way Will’s gaze flickered over him, a light dusting of blush settling high on his cheekbones.
Slowly, he handed the cup over to Will, their fingers brushing, an electric buzz settling on top of his skin. He would have liked to pull Will in by his arm, letting the cup fall between them as he kissed him.
Will did the same thing as Mike did, keeping direct eye contact as he sipped from the now half-empty cup. A few drops of liquid clung to Will’s lips, Mike imagining diving in and kissing Will, letting his tongue trace over his bottom lip, fruity liquid coating his tongue.
Mike’s lips tingled, mouth becoming increasingly dry. “Yeah,” He rasped out, body feeling like lead, the tips of his fingers ice-cold, eyes hot.
Will put his hand out, palm upwards, still not breaking eye contact. Mike took a deep breath, chest contracting, before huffing it out, sliding his hand into Will’s, their hands slotting perfectly together. Like two pieces of a puzzle.
A soft grin flickered on Will’s face as he started to dance, pulling Mike into his orbit. The dance moves were flowing off Will, his body gracefully moving as if he practiced this, captivating Mike. Those dance moves weren’t loud or too out of there, no, they were distinctly Will.
To say that Mike was having out of body experience was an understatement. Lights were flashing above them, giving it a strange, dream-like feeling, warm bodies around them, their locked hands and Will’s bright eyes, anchoring Mike. His light house in the dark.
His body started to move, slowly at first, matching Will’s moves. It felt as if it was only the two of them in here, everyone else background noise and shitty static. Mike focused solely on Will; the way his cheeks flushed, his eyes shifting and sparkling in the flashy lights, the way his body moved, gracefully yet full of energy.
They were inching closer, the pull between them magnetic, music blaring and rolling off the walls and into the floor, Mike’s body vibrating in tune with the bass, the smell of Will’s cologne invading his nose again, coating the back of his mouth.
It was back to the dangerous territory, one look from the wrong person and they’re done, but the adrenaline rushed through his veins, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling from his nerves. His back was slightly damp from the heat, warm air engulfing them.
Will’s hand slipped away from his, but not before he gave it a firm squeeze. He circled Mike’s wrist, brushing his finger over the pulsepoint; his heart must be racing if Will’s laughing gaze was anything to go by. Gently, Will brushed his hand over Mike’s arm, soft palm grazing against his damp skin.
Will paused at his elbow, squeezing it as one of Mike’s hands landed heavily on Will’s hip, further leaning into his personal space, their warm breaths mixing. Will looked down, eyes fluttering before glancing back up at Mike underneath his lashes. Mike’s heart jerked as if it were on strings, fingers flexing.
Faint crackling came from the speakers, song changing again. The crowd started to move widely, jumping and shrinking. Both Mike and Will stayed rooted to their spots, Will’s hand moving from his elbow and onto his shoulder, grasping it.
Mike lifted his other hand, cupping the back of Will’s neck, playing with the necklace chain, pulling and tugging on it. It was everything Mike could have asked for, to have Will in his arms, smiling and content. Gazing up at him with so much love and want.
And Mike wants to give Will everything, anything.
Mike doesn’t know just how long they stayed like that, swaying together as the party washed over them. Tension so thick it could be sliced cleanly by a knife; moth to a flame, compass to north. Mike to Will.
They were in their own little world, and nothing could break them apart.
A shame some people don’t get the memo.
A hand slid over his own hand that was covering Will’s hip. He knows it couldn’t have been Will, both of his hands occupied–One on Mike’s shoulder and the other still holding on to the half-filled cup. Mike’s gaze snapped up, searching for the owner of the hand.
He caught the gaze of another boy behind Will’s shoulder, a smug smile pulling at his cheeks. The hot feeling of jealousy flared again, Mike narrowing his eyes at the boy. He looked sly and too damn proud of himself. He pissed Mike off.
The boy even looked similar to him, curly brown hair instead of black, tall and lanky, brown eyes, and he was even wearing the same fucking shirt. He more than pissed Mike off. The last straw was when he glanced around before putting his fucking hand on top of Will’s other hip.
The ember burst into one giant flame, anger coursing through his body, his jaw hurting from hard he was clenching it. Will sent him a confused, wary look.
Mike dug his fingers into Will’s hip, taking his other hand off Will’s neck and ripping him away from the boy’s hands, Will stumbling right into Mike’s chest, face fitting into the crook of his neck, breath warming his already overheated skin.
Mike glared daggers at the boy, lip curling in anger. His hands were shaking from the rush of adrenaline, and his mouth still had a sour taste in it. Who the fuck does he think he is? Putting his hands on Will?
The boy just looked at him, annoyed, before throwing his hands up and turning away, muttering something around the lines of ‘fucking boring’. Fuck him.
He tightened his shaky hold on Will’s hip, grinding his teeth. Will lightly pushed him away, just enough for him to look up at him, a teasing grin playing on his lips. Mike immediately felt calmer, shoulders slumping. His theory is correct. Will’s smile does have healing properties.
“Why did you do that?” Will asked. Mike tensed back up again, back snapping straight. What?
“What?” Mike replied, off guard. “Will–you, what? Why did I do that?” He repeated, becoming increasingly confused by the second, Will staring at him. “Why wouldn’t I do that? He–he came out of nowhere! And he looked fucking smug, Will! Like–”
“Mike,” Will interjects, dragging his hand down Mike’s shoulder, slowly, deliberately. “Are you…jealous?”
He ignored the question, eyes darting away, brows furrowed as he chewed on his lip, minutely tightening his hold on Will. “He’s not good enough for you,”
“And you are?” Will said softly. Their gazes locked again, Mike making it a point as he let his gaze travel downwards, focusing on Will’s pink lips.
He didn’t take his eyes off them, licking his own. “Why don’t you find out?” He whispered hoarsely. Will’s lips parted open, Mike peering back up at him.
Will’s gaze was piercing, blazing. Taking him apart and building him anew. Mike was a man at sea, drowning, lungs rattling with every shallow breath as he waited.
He was hungry, starving even. His lips were pins and needles as his teeth ached to pull on Will’s bottom lip, fingers flexing, once, twice before closing on Will’s hip again. There was cotton in his mouth and ears, hearing more than feeling every single beat of his heart, blood pumping in and out.
“Show me,” Will said thickly.
Mike didn’t waste any time, grabbing Will’s hand in his and making a path for them in between the dancing crowd, sending a glance behind his shoulder at Max, who was busy dancing with…Lucas? And next to him was Dustin, jumping. When did they get in here?
The stairway was packed with slumped bodies and trash, Mike almost slipping on what looked like glitter glue in his hurry, Will catching him just in time before he went tumbling down.
“Mike, relax,” Will pulled him down, chuckling in his ear. “I’m not going anywhere, you can slow down.”
Mike shook his head, still gripping Will’s hand as they dodged around people in the dim hallway, eyes scanning for an open door. “I’m not going to wait more than I have to.”
They turned the corner, a new hallway unravelling itself, the second door cracked open, the light off. Mike smiled, dragging Will behind him as he pushed the door open, hand trailing across the wall, feeling for the light switch. Will let go of his hand, entering the room as Mike snapped the lightswitch, bright light flooding the room.
“Let there be light,” Mike joked, closing the door with his foot and locking it before turning to look at Will. They were in a washroom, white tiles covering the floor, the walls a deep shade of blue, and there was a giant mirror with a thin golden frame hanging on the wall right above the counter.
Mike could see himself in the mirror’s reflection; his hair was a mess of tangled, untamed curls, his cheeks flushed like he had run a marathon, eyebrows pulled together. At least the stain on his shirt wasn’t that bad, just a dry patch now.
His eyes wandered back to Will, and he looked even more stunning now that Mike could see him clearly without the flashing lights blinding him every second. His skin was glowing, lips pink with a red hue from how much he’s been biting at them, tufts of wavy, brown hair landing on his forehead. But it was his eyes that pinned Mike to his place.
He was looking up at Mike through a layer of thick, dark lashes, eyes gleaming underneath the light, a fire burning in them, his brows pulled down. Mike only saw that look in Will’s eyes once, fire and dead soldiers surrounding him, blood trickling down his nose.
Mike can remember that moment clear as day, how could he not? How could he forget the racing of his heart, the lack of air in his lungs, the dead body of the demogorgon in front of him, blood splattering out to the pavement as Will looked straight at him, the only thing crossing Mike’s mind being sorcerer. A real, fucking sorcerer.
The moment flashed from his view, a mix of different ones taking its place; The way Will’s body felt under his hands as he hugged him, Will’s little breathy ‘Mike’ in his ear. Will struggling in pain before he flew backwards, hitting the dirt with a nasty crack. Will, coming out, voice low and trembling, hands shaking. Will, saying he had a crush, his eyes gliding to Mike’s before darting away—Oh.
The realization hit Mike like a truck, leaving him out to die on the road. He was Will’s ‘crush’.
Now see, Mike might have realized he was in love with Will, and that maybe he even had a chance with Will, but he’s an idiot, and he never realized he was the one Will was talking about.
He always just pushed down the warm, sick feeling of jealousy in his stomach every time he thought about who Will’s old crush was, discarding the idea of whoever that boy might’ve been, because he obviously hurt Will, but he’s gone now and doesn’t matter anymore, and that’s what’s important.
Except he’s the one who hurt Will all of those years ago. He was the one who made Will feel down, hurt and fucking heartbroken. Mike is the reason.
And now, Will is staring at him, apparently ready to forgive him, just like that.
“Kiss me,” Will said quietly, sliding closer. His voice thick with want, and Mike felt his heart shatter into pieces. He hurt Will.
“I–” He hesitated briefly, throat scratchy and bleeding. “I can't,"
The room goes cold, all warmth leaving in a blink of an eye, the silence stretching out past the comfortable stage. Will blinked at him, fire still burning in them, but a different kind, now.
Anger, so much anger.
“What?” Will asked, voice dangerously low.
Mike felt haunted, body ice cold and trembling. God, he wanted to kiss Will so fucking bad, to feel those lips on his, lick into them, and feel Will push their faces closer, playing with Mike’s hair. He wanted that badly.
But the regret and guilt filling his heart rooted him in place. He didn’t feel like he deserved to kiss Will, to bask in his glow and love, not after how he hurt him and left him hurting. The one thing that he promised himself from the moment they met, the one thing, he broke. He hurt Will and kept hurting him.
Every memory felt like a stab to his chest; their fight in his garage, rain pelting loudly against the pavement as Mike yelled at Will. Their fight in the Rink-o-Mania, Mike pushing him away, and he didn’t even hug him in that airport. Mike, joking about not being friends but best friends on that damn tower.
Max was right, Will could do so much better than him. He doesn't deserve to get to kiss Will, not like this. Not after everything.
“I can’t,” Mike repeated, squeezing his eyes shut.
A small laugh escaped from Will, but it was empty, lifeless. “Are you joking?”
Mike shook his head, not daring to open his eyes. He couldn’t look at Will’s expression. He wouldn’t.
“Mike, you gotta–gotta be joking, right?” His voice cracked. Mike gave another shake of his head. “Mike, look at me!”
His eyes opened, gaze not straying past to the side of Will’s face.
“Is–is this just a joke to you?” Will asked, his cheek becoming increasingly red from what Mike could see. “Why aren’t you answering, Mike? Huh? Was this funny to you? Using me like some…toy?”
“You aren’t a toy! That–that wasn’t what–”
“Well, you sure are acting like I am–”
“That’s not true! Will–”
“No, Mike,” Will raised his voice, shutting Mike down. “You used me, acting like I'm a disposable toy, whatever this was,” Will gestured between them. “Obviously wasn’t real, it was all a fucking joke to you, because it’s funny, right? Because I'm gay?”
“What?” Mike muttered, gaze snapping to Will’s face. “No, Will, please–”
“Save it, Mike.” Will looked at him flatly, the anger in his eyes burning out, nothing but silent disappointment and even more hurt in his eyes, the opposite of what Mike wanted. “I get it, I’m gay, and that’s weird, I get it,”
He shoved past Mike, their shoulders knocking harshly. “I just thought you wouldn’t care,” His voice became wet, head bowed down. “I really thought you wouldn’t use it against me. I guess I was wrong,” His hand landed on the lock. “Bye, Mike.”
Mike keeps fucking up, nothing he ever does is good enough, and he just keeps hurting Will, over and over again, like some fucked up cycle. But he’s not going to let him leave thinking that Mike did all of this just to make fun of him, to make fun of him being gay. No fucking way.
He dropped his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I–”
“I said, save it, Mike,” Will gritted out, the still half-filled cup in his hand crinkling.
“No,” Mike put his foot down, shaking his head firmly, even if Will couldn’t see it. “No, I won't.” He waited for a second, Will’s hand still on the lock, but he wasn’t moving. He was giving Mike a chance, again. “Will I–I this wasn’t a joke to me, it wasn't,"
He wiped his clammy palm on his jeans, fingers shaking. “I like you, a lot, like more than a friend, more than a best friend, ok? And, and everything that happened was real, Will, it was real, but I…I realized I hurt you more than I should ever have. I was an asshole,” Will still didn’t look at him, but his hand dropped from the lock, limp. Mike took it as a sign to continue.
“And I just–I just feel like I don't deserve to kiss you, alright? Max was right, you can find someone better than me, someone who wouldn’t hurt you and–and I'm not enough, I'm not good enough for you, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to kiss you while knowing that I don't deserve it,”
“I don’t deserve you, Will,” Mike choked out, eyes hot and burning with unshed tears. “And I’m sorry for everything, I really am,”
The silence was back, suffocating the room. Suffocating Mike.
“Forgive me, Will,” Mike bent over, neck cranking as he gently bowed his head, forehead touching Will’s shoulder the way a worshipper would bow their heads, foreheads touching the cold floor in an act of eternal faith.
Mike would do that–worship Will. For his whole life, every morning and night if Will would give him the chance to do so.
Hot tears rolled down his face, soaking into Will’s shirt, a sob stuck in his throat. Will was still quiet. “Please,” Mike agonized, a whimper escaping from his lips. “Please,”
Will’s hand slid into his hair, tangling in his curls. He gently pushed at Mike, lifting his head from his shoulders. Mike straightened back up, wiping at his cheeks, lip trembling.
“Will?” He whispered, voice so soft he barely even heard himself.
“You don’t get to make my decisions for me, Mike,” Will’s back was still to him, the crunch of the plastic cup becoming louder in the quiet washroom.
“No, you don’t get it, I don’t deserve–”
Will turned around abruptly, throwing the rest of his drink at Mike.
“Holy shit,” Mike gasped out.
He blinked the drink from his eyes, his hair a sopping, wet, floppy mess. Some of the drink was dripping off of him, landing in quiet drops on the floor. He stared in shock at Will, who looked just as surprised as he was, dropping the cup in shock.
“I–shit, sorry,” Will winced, snatching a towel off the rack before coming closer, sweeping his hair away before making quick work of wiping down his face, moving down to his collarbone.
He glanced down at Will, who made it a point to just focus on the task at hand, ignoring the burn of Mike’s gaze. Mike caught Will’s wrist mid-move, his body freezing. “I’m sorry, Will,”
Will blinked repeatedly, hand gripping the towel. “You don’t get to make my decisions for me,” He repeated as he focused on Mike’s lips, nose scrunched. “I know what I want, Mike.” Will’s gaze flickered to Mike’s, raw and wanting.
Mike exhaled, eyes flickering. Will looked at him, dropping the towel in his hand and put his hand on Mike’s cheek, palm warm against Mike’s cold, sticky skin. He got on his tippy toes, leaning forward, breath ghosting over Mike’s lips.
“I want you to kiss me.”
He stared, tongue heavy in his mouth. Will took Mike’s hand in his own, gently lying it on his hip, Mike’s hand instinctively squeezing it. The beginning of a grin ticked up on Will’s face. He leaned even closer, their noses touching.
Mike's stomach swooped, a warm, tingling sensation covering his body. “Kiss me,” Will murmured against his mouth, and Will’s lips were so close to his, a breath away. He leaned in a bit, their lips touching in a soft, barely there kiss.
Will pulled back slightly, gazing at Mike with a look that he will never forget. “Kiss me.” He breathed out, caressing Mike’s face with his hand. And Mike was never able to say no to Will.
Mike cupped the back of Wil’s head, dragging him in as he bent down, meeting Will in the middle, their lips locking together. The force of the kiss was bruising, breath knocking out of his lungs in an instant, blood rushing through his veins as Will made a soft noise against his lips.
The kiss was hungry, their teeth clashing against each other. All of those pent-up emotions spilling into the kiss unceremoniously. His knees felt like jelly, seconds away from buckling.
Will grabbed Mike’s collar, pulling him closer, their chests flush against each other. Mike’s heart thrummed as he deepened the kiss, stepping closer. Their lips glided against each other, fitting perfectly together, and Mike wanted to be closer, closer than they already were.
Will tangled his hands in Mike’s hair, lightly tugging as he pressed himself into Will, his foot getting caught in a stupid fucking rug.
Both of them stumbled, Will’s back hitting the door with a bang. Will gasped, parting his lips in surprise, Mike eagerly jumping on the opportunity to lick into his mouth, cheeks burning. Mike felt like he was on cloud nine, his body light as a feather.
Everything was about Will, the way he tasted, the way Mike’s hand perfectly slotted to the back of his head, his small puffs of breath in between each kiss, his warm chest pushing against Mike’s. He could probably die right now, and he wouldn’t even care, not as long as Will is kissing him.
Mike grazed Will’s bottom lip with his teeth, lightly tugging on it. Will huffed out a laugh, “That tickles,”
“Oh yeah?” Mike panted, biting Will’s lips again, teasing. Will's chest rumbled with a laugh. He would like to hear this sound everyday till his death.
Will dragged his hand from Mike’s cheek to his chest, palm outstretched against his heart. Will kissed Mike back, slower this time, taking his time to explore Mike’s mouth till he was satisfied, and Mike was happy to oblige, letting his hands wander over Will’s body in the meantime.
“Your heart is racing,” Will grinned in between kisses, Mike’s lips aching.
He stopped his hand at Will’s heart, paralleling Will’s own position. He could feel the unsteady rhythm of Will’s own heart; it was beating so fast Mike couldn’t even start to count the beats. His stomach felt warm in the realization that Will was just as excited as he was. A smile tugged on his lips as Will dropped another kiss.
“So is yours,” He laughed quietly.
Will pulled away from him, Mike leaning forward to try and catch his lips again to no avail. He opened his eyes, lights blinding him, before his gaze settled on Will, and god, did he mention he’s in love?
Will's head was tipped back, the column of his neck exposed, his pupils blown wide, lips wet and bruised, their shade of red matching the one on Will’s cheeks. He looked like a masterpiece to Mike, one that should be in a museum.
“You’re beautiful,” Mike professed, enthralled.
Will’s eyebrows shot up, staring at him wide-eyed. “You’re beautiful,” Mike said again, dropping a kiss on Will’s lip. “Like so fucking beautiful it’s unfair,” A kiss on his chin now, hand snaking around Will’s waist. “You’re like a real-life painting, you know?”
He trailed down Will’s neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses and tiny marks, worshipping his neck. He was dead serious when he said he could do this for the rest of his life. Will locked his hands behind Mike’s neck, pressing his head closer before dropping his own head on top of his, smiling.
A sharp knock sounded on the door. Both of them freezing in place, Mike’s face still buried in the crook of Will’s neck.
“Hey, is anyone there? The other bathroom is locked.”
Mike went back to kissing Will’s neck, ignoring the knocking. “Mike!” Will whispered. “Not the time!”
"Agree to disagree," Mike mumbled, dropping a kiss behind Will’s ear. Will shuddered, tightening his hold on Mike.
“Michael!” Will bit out. Oh, he liked this one.
“You should say that more,” He grinned, nipping Will's ear. “I like that,”
The knocking decreased, footsteps fading away. Mike brushed his lips over Will’s pulse point, dropping an open-mouthed kiss there. “See?” He mumbled. “All good.”
He managed to drop one kiss on Will’s collarbone before he cupped his face, pushing him back to look Mike in the eye. “You just got lucky,”
Mike looked at Will, at his bright eyes and wet, well-kissed lips, and yeah, he did get lucky.
“I did get lucky,” He whispered, tucking a stray hair behind Will’s ear. “Super lucky.”
He went in for another kiss, softer this time. He cherished the soft little breaths Will let out, and the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheek. They swayed slightly, bodies slotted together, as they shared small kisses between them.
Their kiss tasted of salt, Mike pulling back slightly to look at Will, a few tears running down his face. He brushed them away with his thumb, Will blushing.
“Sorry,” He rasped out, another tear landing on his cheek.
Mike kissed Will’s cheek, wiping the salty tear with his lips. “Don’t be.” He murmured against his cheek before cupping his jaw tenderly, his lips meeting with Will’s trembling ones. Their lips were wet, stained with salty tears and love, so much love.
The rest of the world was far away, only them in their make-shift bubble.
Maybe this party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.