Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mike steps through the side door, onto the driveway, following his friends. He pulls the door shut with a soft thud, the voices of their party mingling together, laughter hovering over the conversation. He feels his fingers leave the door knob as he listens to the chatter that continued on from dinner behind him.

“Dustin, man, are you sure you’re going to make it home after that?” 

Mike turns from the door to face his friends, watching quietly. Smiles beaming, joy radiating. A stark contrast to what lingers inside Mike’s chest at that moment. It was always strange to him how, in all this time, after everything was supposed to feel better— be better— he still feels like something was missing. Lost. Or never discovered. And not in the physical sense. Something inside of him. An emptiness looming over his mind or heart. Something he desires to understand. Or maybe just to accept.

“Dude, I didn’t eat that much. Seriously, it’s starting to sound insulting now with how much you’ve brought it up.”

Dustin shoves Lucas’s arm lightly, and it draws a snort and a chuckle out of the two of them. They turn to walk down the drive way, Lucas leading Max, his hand clasped to hers. Mike sees Max turn with an extra smile directed at Will, who Mike nearly forgets is still standing next to him. 

“Mike, thank your mom again for us! It was delicious,” Dustin calls back over his shoulder. Mike gives Dustin something like a ‘sure thing, man’ before letting out a soft sigh, watching majority of the party walk out of view.

That strange thing inside him, he feels it coil once again, reminding him relentlessly that it’s still there, settling in, making its self feel more permanent. 

“—a good campaign.”

The voice nearly makes him flinch, pulling him out of this thoughts. 

“Hmm?” Mike turns, Will was not among the ones who had already begun walking home. He remembers he isn’t alone, right. Will hasn’t left yet.

“Your campaign, tonight, it was good, really fun,” Will repeats softly, his eyes filled with sincerity as he looks at Mike. “I think you’re going to become a really fantastic author one day.” 

It hurts more than Mike would have expected any compliment to. Will had the ability, with even the simplest of words, to really worm his way into Mike's skin. Making it feel like it didn’t fit quite right. Finding its way to that part of himself that he hates, to the thing that twist and clenches in the centre of him. The mystery he wanted answers to. It wasn’t something Mike thought Will was ever aware of— just natural, honest Will. His words were always genuine and filled with endless care. Even through all the monstrous and evil things Will had suffered with over the years, the boy still had an unpalatable amount of love in his heart. So much to give.

To put it plainly, it makes Mike sick to think about.

Sick because the only thing he’s ever wanted, the thing he really wishes he himself could be, Will is all of it, and effortlessly so. Kind, gentle, thoughtful, and so incredibly real. Not to mention brave. Impossibly so. It almost makes Mike scoff out loud as he thinks about it. Brave. A word he based his entire D&D character after. A word to describe him that was nothing but a complete lie in reality.

He tried, for so many years to be just that, through Will being taken, monsters attacking, his town literally splitting apart. To be Mike the Brave, but in his real life, he ended up always falling short when it truly counted. Every instance he would ever think back to it seemed to come back to him cowering away and someone else giving him a desperate shove to finish something he should’ve have been able to step up to do himself.

Most of all, Mike knew he wasn’t brave. Will showed him, not long ago, that being brave meant being true to who you are— not lying to yourself. Mike was good at that. Lying to himself, ignoring even a bright neon sign of truth sitting directly in front of his eyes. Deep down he knew it would be an endless cycle of wanting to be something, trying, but never living up to it. Then, back to lying to himself again.

“Hey,” Will says delicately. Mike turns to him, eyes wide, watching Will’s eyebrows crease together in soft worry. “Everything okay?” He asks.

“Sure, yeah.”

He knows his voice betrays him by the way Will’s hand comes up and grips the side of his arm, close to his shoulder, keeping him there, away from his own thoughts. Will bends his knees slightly and tilts his head, searching Mike’s downward turned gaze, as if he’s seeking for more of the truth.

“It’s— I guess, it’s been a long day I’m tired,” Mike tries. 

Worth a shot, he thinks.

Mike makes a point to straighten his posture, and push that odd feeling lingering in him deeper, away, he ignores the scratchy feeling crawling its way up to his throat. He pretends his chin doesn’t wobble and he tugs a— hopefully, believable smile to his face. It only takes a moment for Mike to realize he’s definitely a bad actor.

“Mike…” 

Concern bellows over that single word from Will’s lips, telling him it is maybe the most unbelievable lie Mike’s ever told.

Before he can double down, reaffirm that he was in fact just tired, a barely steady hand lifts to his face. Mike freezes for a moment, his brain falling behind a full step as he watches, feels, a set of trembling fingertips brush across his cheek. It is so gentle it makes his heart squeeze too hard. His cheek— he hadn’t realized until now, is wet.

“You’re crying,” Will breathes, his voice quiet enough Mike would consider it a whisper. 

Mike pulls back, maybe a bit too abruptly. Will’s hand stalls in the air before falling back to his side.

“It’s fine. I think I forgot to blink. I’m fine.”

What a stupid lie, honestly. He knows that Will isn’t dumb, that he’ll see right through the broken deception in a heartbeat, but his brain begs that Will would just drop it and they would just go their respected ways and be done with this night. All of this.

Because maybe then he wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.

He knows what is going to happen. It’s like he has opened a novel to the final page and read the last sentence, spoiling the dreadful ending before he has even enjoyed the plot.

Mike knows what will happen once Will walks away, back home. He knows after summer is over, everyone and everything he’s ever known will be leaving, parting ways, all starting new chapters and starting new lives with people none of them had yet to meet. He knows there will be a point in his life that each of his friends will go days, maybe even weeks, without even sparing him a single thought. And with their distance— everything that had been good and felt safe and happy, would just fizzle away slowly until he was alone. Just Mike, trapped in his own sad lie of a life.

Mike’s throat starts to tighten worse now, and he is quick to fight it harder, turning away and tightening his jaw. He feels the light burn of another pathetic tear slip down his cheek, as if his body loves to betray him.

“Mike,” Will tries again, soft but with more authority this time. “Mike, I can’t read your mind, but you don’t seem fine.”

“I—” Mike chokes on his words in a way he wishes was never heard out loud. He bites his lip in a self punishing way. God, you’re pathetic, he thinks. To his surprise, Will isn’t laughing, he doesn’t seem to pity him in any sort of way. There’s only worry in his eyes when Mike dares to spare a quick glance. It could be that Will is just a much better actor than he is.

He feels a gentle palm reach his back, through his shirt, and the gesture almost burns with unintended mockery, but funnily enough it also brings a sort of comfort to him. He draws in the steadiest breath he could muster before clearing his throat.

“It feels—,” he starts, considerably more confident this time, although the shakiness still evident. “Everyone’s reaching the finish line and I tripped half a mile back. And— and no one's looking back for me.” His voice breaks again on the last word.

This was down right ridiculous, he doesn’t remember a time he’s broke down so easily, especially in front of Will like this. Mike swallows, the dryness ripping down his throat like a reminder to how hollow he feels. A reminder that the darkness was still there, finding its home, wherever it will fit inside him. Refusing to leave that odd gap in his chest.

“I get it,” Will says, after a silent beat.

Mike feels two hands land on his shoulders, grounding him again, the gesture makes him force his chin up and lock eyes with Will’s hopeful ones.

“You don’t though, you—” Mike stops himself and presses his lips together in hopes it will help him fight that awful feeling bubbling its way up to the surface again, threatening to escape as another sob.

“I do. Mike, if anything, I might be the only one who truly does understand that feeling.”

Mike doesn’t know whether it’s Will’s words or his determined stare locking him in place, maybe it’s both, but his thoughts stop and he simply decides to listen as Will continues.

“I mean, how can you forget,” Will huffs, looking around him, a sad smile peaking out. “Pretty sure it was right here when that exact feeling hit me like a goddamn truck. Remember? I was whining about an unfinished campaign, acting like a big baby, when all you and Lucas wanted to worry about was things kids our age should have been worrying about. Girlfriends and relationship troubles or whatever. I felt miles behind around that time. I didn’t understand why you guys didn’t care about the things I still cared about. It was scary, and sad seeing you guys move on to new things before me. But I mean, eventually, I figured it out, right? And everything ended up being okay in the end.”

Mike suddenly feels like this memory decide to stab him and twist the knife. He knows Will wouldn’t have brought it up if he knew the way remembering it hurts Mike. He felt almost selfish having that memory sting the way it does, mostly because Will was definitely not the baby in that moment. That alone was all Mike’s fault. Lashing out that day for no reason involving Will. He felt like a villain thinking back to how he deflected everything onto his best friend that day. Childish, with the way he made innocent, sweet Will bike away in the rain because Mike just had to pretend he was something he wasn’t. He didn’t know what it was, it never made sense who he was pretending to be that day, but reality smacked him straight in the back of his head the second his best friend biked away, that day, broken. All because of Mike, and his stupid mouth.

“No, that’s not—,” Mike stops himself, looking down to his toes, as if they’ll help him figure out what to say next. Because honestly, what is he even planning to follow with? 

“I know,” Will starts, pausing, his nose scrunches like what is coming after it might hurt to hear. “It’s hard, it’s like stupidly hard to talk about things that hurt. I know that, okay? And it sucks, but usually after you get it out, y’ know, it sucks a little less.”

Will’s hand becomes the main focus in Mike’s brain again as they quickly shift from his shoulders to his wet cheeks and sides of his neck, just below his flushed ears. The feeling sends a buzz to his skin. Will steers Mike’s head back up to where they can see each other closely. Mike swallows as his eyes dart back and forth between two focused hazel eyes.

“Don’t bottle things up,” Will voice holds a serious tone that would have thrown Mike off balance if Will’s warm hands hadn’t been holding him in place. “Even if it’s too hard to talk about to someone. Write it down instead, maybe. It’ll eat away at you, Mike, and it’ll keep eating even if you ignore it, or push it away, or pretend it’s not there.” 

When did Will grow up so fast? 

Mike still hasn’t broken the intense eye contact. He is convinced it would be impossible at this point because of the way there’s a glossiness to Will’s eyes and his eyebrows are pulled inwards like a pleading baby dear. Maybe Will is still magic after all these years because despite the earlier claims, he’s certain Will can, in fact, read Mike’s mind. Knowing exactly what to say. He just hopes Will couldn’t read all of what went on inside him.

“Yeah, I know,” he finally chokes out. “It’s not that serious, though. I promise.” 

Mike swears he feels Will’s hands press a little harder into his skin.

“Friends don’t lie, Mike.” 

Hearing his name leave Will’s lips with such fierceness, makes his chest clench with regret. He shouldn’t speak anymore. It would only be more pretending, more lies. Will didn’t deserve that.

“I— I can’t,” he pleas, his voice showing exactly how helpless he feels.

He doesn’t deserve that kindness Will always gives him. He doesn’t deserve his worried eyes and the careful hands on him. He didn’t deserve Will at all. He knew that deep down. That’s what terrifies him the most— Will realizing Mike isn’t worth it.

“I feel—,” Mike tries again. Because he has to. His mouth opens to continue but instead of words, he finally releases that sob that’s been threatening to escape for way too long.

Not even a second later he feels everything shift and Will is pulling him into the tightest hug he’s had in a long time. He feels his body react stiffly at first and he has to tell himself to relax into the embrace even though he knows it’s as undeserved as the rest of what Will offers him. His chin settles on Will’s shoulder and his hands lift to grapple at the back of Will’s shirt, right at his shoulder blades.

Mike swallows his next cry and exhales through his nose, considering finishing this thoughts out loud. Then, Will’s voice finds his ears first.

“I’d look back, you know,” he whispers. Before Mike can question it, Will continues. “If you tripped a mile back, I would notice right away. I’d look back. Look for you.” Mike hears an uncertain shake in his low voice. As if it’s a secret he’d get in trouble for sharing.

The hug doesn’t falter, if anything, Mike thinks his arms are squeezing Will harder now. He feels the heat of Will’s neck connect with his cheek as his body settles in further to Will’s.

“But what happens when someone else—,” Mike starts, stomach suddenly swooping in fear. He exhales loudly while finding the last bit of courage lingering is his body to finish the sentence. “When someone more important is waiting at the finish line.” His voice shrinks so small he wonders if Will can even hear him anymore.

He hears a delayed sigh as a response and suddenly all the warmth and comfort is sucked away from him, leaving him shuddering at the feeling as Will steps back.

“Do you want to watch a movie maybe? Have one of our old, stupid basement-sleepovers?” 

Mike’s eyes grow wider and his mouth opens twice but nothing comes out. His mouth is still dry and his throat is starting to feel the same.

“I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s cool. You’re probably tired, I just thought that—”

“No,” Mike interrupts, shaking his head, “I mean, no, I’m not too tired. Yes, we should— a movie. Yes to that and the sleepover.” He feels his own cheeks grow warm, noting the slight desperation entangling his voice. It is probably childish for him to get excited, but he thinks maybe childish is what he needs to feel less dead inside.

Will nods as he bites down his smile.

“Cool.”

A beat.

“Cool,” Mike replies, wiping the lingering moisture off his cheeks with his wrist.

Mike apologies twice too many times after they open the basement door and Holly yells at him to ‘go away, Mike’. Apparently something about their conversation outside made him forget about the slumber party Holly had planned, the one she wouldn’t shut up about this past week.

“Shit, sorry,” he says for a third time now— to Will.

“Stop apologizing,” he laughs. “Let’s just go to your room. The floor in there is probably more comfortable than the cold basement’s anyway.”

Mike watches how unfazed Will is at the suggestion. Like he’s not at all thinking about how it’s been close to 5 years since they’ve had a sleep over in Mike’s room. How it’s something they’d stopped doing because puberty was hitting full force, and they knew it wasn’t something teenage boys did. Or maybe, Mike is over thinking it. It’s been a long day.

“Uh,” Mike finally says after finding his voice, “I don’t have a tv in my room.”

It’s a lame excuse, he knows that, but he’s finding it impossible to think of anything else.

“We'll— I don’t know. We can play cards, or read comics or… just talk. That doesn’t matter, come on.” 

Will tip his head in the direction of the stairs to the second floor, silently encouraging Mike to lead the way. It doesn’t take anything else for Mike to give in.

The house is dark and silent, he guesses his parents have retired to their bedroom at this point, both of them probably having too much to drink anyway. 

Mike is impressed with how quietly they make it into his room. Neither of the boys step on that particularly squeaky part of the hallway floor, the one right before his door, and they slip inside his room effortlessly. Like they had rehearsed it. For some reason Mike’s heart raced in his chest like he was doing something illegal. It feels stupid. He feels stupid. Almost always does.

Once his door is shut and locked, naturally, he lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he has been holding. “Made it,” he whispers. Will turns to him, eyes locking for a beat before Will turns and bobs his head with a calm nod. Mike doesn’t tear his eyes away from Will yet, watching him scan around the room. “Thank my mom for how clean it is in here, if it were two days ago. I don’t think there would be any space for both of us,” he jokes, voice cautiously quiet.

Will turns around to face him again. Smile and eyes bright in the lamp-lit room. Will’s face suddenly turns into a pained look. “Micheal,” Will sighs. His nose scrunches before a playful smile returns slightly, and he says, “Your mom still has to clean your room?” 

Mike’s lips part, but he’s taken so far back, his brain blanks at Will sudden judgement.

“You’re a big boy now, Mike. Keep your own room clean.” 

Will sits down on the edge of the bed, smile never wavering as he watched Mike still standing at the door.

“Okay, no. I swear I do. Usually,” he lies, feeling oddly exposed. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy, I guess.”

“Sure, Mike.” Will’s eyebrows raise, lips curled at the edges, holding this stupid smirk at him. 

He shifts awkwardly, Mike isn’t sure how he feels about this new confidence Will has. Sure, they tease each other about silly stuff all the time, but the devious look accompanying it feels new. Will watches him from the bed, his elbows resting in his knees, hands clasped and his back curved to compensate the bend. Mike rubs his palms on his jeans and steps to joins Will, sitting down close next to him.

“I’m just messing with you,” Will admits, turning to look around the room again. 

He is thankful Will isn’t looking at him because his face feels a degree too warm and he’s worried it might be showing.

“So,” he blurts out, sounding too loud in the silent room. He dials back, “Comics, or cards? What was it you said?”

Will nods and his eyes find Mike’s again.

“Yeah,” he says softly, respecting the unspoken rule to keep quiet a lot better than Mike is. “or talk.” He presses his lips tight and shrugs, gaze turning down to the floor. “I feel like there’s more to talk about. Like— like, you should talk more. About that stuff from earlier?”

Mike can’t help it when his body stiffens. He also can’t control how hard he swallows, and the dry click it makes through the silent air. He regrets not grabbing a glass of water on his way up.

“It’s fine, Will. Really.”

“It’s not, though."

Mike frowns. He feels something distinct clench in his stomach, not painful, but annoying.

“I’ll get over it. It’s not a big deal. I was being dramatic.” He recites, it’s almost word for word what he tells himself all too often.

“No,” Will says fast. It almost makes Mike jump. “You were crying, man. That’s not—,” Will shakes his head and Mike notices that their shoulders almost brush. “I’m worried. And I’m sorry if I’m being pushy about this, but I— I just want you to be okay. Like, actually okay.”

Mike feels himself grip his own thumb a little too hard as he plays with his fingers in his lap.

Why are feelings so hard, he thinks to himself. It's a waste of time.

In reality, he loves talking. He is self aware enough to know he probably talks too much, in general. He could go on for hours about stuff he loves, like movies, books or his detailed campaigns. He could always joke around with his friends without a thought or care in the world. It’s all second nature to him. But as soon as it comes to talking about something looming around in his head, or something that resembled that ominous space lurking behind his ribcage, it is as if Mike somehow short circuits and his own brain electrocutes him, warning him not to speak a word.

“I’ll be okay,” he says, slow and small. “It’s all just silly stuff.” He knows Will isn’t going to buy that, just as he didn’t before, Mike doesn’t even believe it himself. But he tries again anyway hoping the room would just mysteriously collapse on him or swallow him whole.

“You will be,” Will reassures, “I know you will be.”

Mike feels Will’s hand spread over her his shoulder blade and press in gently. It makes him think about the hug from earlier and he wants so badly to feel that again. To feel warm and cared for. But instead of asking, or reaching for what he wants, he closes his eyes and breathes. Ignores it.

“I’m going to miss you guys.” He doesn’t realize he says it instead of just thinking it. Maybe he doesn’t ignore Will’s hand well enough and it is distracting him more than he expects. He scrambles for something to add to make it feel less serious. “I mean, when we all go to college and stuff. That’ll be a bummer… not hanging out together all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be fun too. New place, new people. Right?”

Will’s optimism makes him sick. Because, no. That sounds exactly terrible in Mike’s mind. Not even a little bit fun. He didn’t want everyone to go their separate ways. He didn’t want to be trapped in a dorm room with a stranger, surrounded by normal happy people having the time of their lives. He didn’t want to go through the struggles of making new friends. God, it had been so long since he’s had to make a new friend.

He wants to be only a short bike ride away from Dustin. He wants Lucas to be his neighbour still. He wants to be able to radio his friends to come over and them be there within 20 minutes, huddled in his basement, laughing or arguing about stupid stuff none of them will care about a day later.

He wants to have Will close. Close like they’ve been since the day they met. He doesn’t want Will in New York. It’s a selfish thought, Mike knows that. But he doesn’t want Will in a big city where he is going to realize that there is probably dozens, maybe hundreds, of better, funnier, cooler people than Mike. He doesn’t want what will inevitably happen and Will finds a new best friend, or a boyfriend, and then suddenly Mike isn’t important anymore. Then eventually, best friend turns into friend, which then turns into someone he used to know.

Mike blinks his blurry vision away and it is obvious he’s crying again— more than before.

“Shit.”

His voice rips out of this throat like it’s made of glass, and he shoves the heals of his palms into his eyes. 

Make it stop.

He feels a strong tug from the hand on the back of his shirt. He doesn’t fight it, he doesn’t have time too. Mike’s shoulder and head come crashing into Will’s inviting chest and as if Will has read his mind again, he hugs Mike tight, one arm surrounding his body and the other cradling his head. Fingers slide through Mike’s hair and settles there, making his scalp prickle.

He can hear Will’s heartbeat from where his ear is pressed, it’s loud, a little fast. Are all heartbeats this loud? He fights the pathetic wail that wants to escape his lips, he thinks maybe it’s something to do with Will’s embrace that makes it easier to fight it.

Neither of them speak for a while. Mike doesn’t dare. He knows he’s balancing on the line of holding it together and absolutely broken. He doesn’t dare risk starting that mess. Instead, he waits for Will to let go of him. Not that he wanted him to, Mike just didn’t want to be the one to break the moment of peace. The warmth of it all.

He feels Will shift after what feels like an hour— maybe five minutes, really— and Mike thinks it was nice while it lasted. But Will doesn’t let go fully, like Mike expects him to. Instead he uses the arm that was curled around Mike’s body and guides Mike’s dangling arm up to reciprocate the embrace, near his waist.

“Hug back, weirdo,” Will huffs out with a quiet laugh. “It feels like I’m comforting you with a head-lock.”

Mike snorts at that. The laugh is short and barely there but he knows they both hear it, because— somehow, Mike can tell Will is smiling big and bright. He shouldn’t know, because his face is nearly buried in Will chest and armpit and he can’t see his face. But he swears he can hear the smile and Will’s heartbeat picks up pace the smallest bit.

Mike complies with the request and throws his arms around Will, squeezing and leaning in harder to his friend’s body to balance at the odd hunched over angle he’s at. It probably looked awkward, the way he was coiled over into the other boy. Will was shorter than him, although not by much when they sat next to each other. But Mike is aware his own thin, long body definitely looks odd at this angle. He feels it.

In a sudden wave of self-conscious thoughts, Mike knocks the hug over, the two of them lowering down along the bed, Mike on his back and Will on his side, still holding his friend just as tight to his frame.

“Is this helping at all?” 

Will’s voice sounds so gravely, with Mike having his ear against his chest, it shakes something loose in his brain. Then he nods, hoping Will understands enough he won’t have to actually speak.

“Good.”

There’s another long silence before Mike feels Will’s fingers move in his hair slowly, carefully, like he’s unsure about the action. His scalp tingles again, the same way it did when Will first planted his hand there. He wonders briefly what Will is thinking. He knows his friend is worried, he said as much, but he wonders if he’s only holding him in pity. Mike wonders if this is as nice for Will as it is for him.

They didn’t hug, not often anyway— especially not this long. That wasn’t a normal thing for them. He doesn’t even remember the last time. But Mike tells himself, it was a tiring, emotional day. There can be exceptions. 

“If you’re sleepy, I’ll move,” he hears Will whisper.

Mike doesn’t remember when he had closed his eyes but he opens them again and retracts his head from Will's chest just enough to see his face straight on. Will’s eyes are so close and Mike wonders if it were brighter in the room, he would be able to see his own reflection.

“Do you want to sleep now?” He asks Will, and god, is his voice ever wrecked. The same as when he first wakes in the morning.

“I’m fine, it’s up to you,” he replies, a slight shutter following. Mike can feel the warm gust of his words tickle the flesh over his face. Everything starts to feel warm on his body. The strong hold wrapping his body securely, the fingers twirling and tugging lightly in his hair, the chest pressing against him with a hypnotic heartbeat, all of it, everything is getting to be a lot to handle all at once and he feels like surrendering completely to it.

Maybe he should go to sleep.

But he doesn’t want to.

“Or we can—,” Will pauses. Eyes glued to Mike’s still, like he was searching for something there. The distance wasn’t much between them, it was possible that Will would actually find something if he tried hard enough. “Nevermind, I’ll—,”

Mike cuts him off, nuzzling back in.

Yeah, he should definitely sleep.

“Can I sleep here? Like this, I mean.”

He knows it’s not fair to ask as much because Will is probably uncomfortable. Mike’s whole back is squishing Will’s arm, and their legs are hanging off the bed awkwardly, they’re over the covers and in their worn clothes. Shoes even still on.

“Yeah,” the answer comes out thinner than air. Then, “as long as you want.”

Mike’s guilty heart sinks. He feels undeserving all over again. He’s over-stepping and being weird and he knows Will is too nice to mention anything of it. Especially if Mike’s stupid sad face is pressed into him like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. He needs to pull away and just give Will his bed and apologize a hundred times for the way he’s acting. He needs to throw himself on the floor, smack himself and just go to bed and forget about it all.

But he decides against what his brain is screaming at him, and he doesn’t let go. Instead, he turns his body, from his back to his side, to mirror Will’s position and shift his body up the bed a bit. Will catches on instantly and they make enough progress to where it’s only their ankles and feet hanging over the edge now.

“If this sucks for you, you don’t have to.” Mike hopes he won’t regret saying this, because he is sure it must suck, and if he gives Will an out then there is a chance he just might take it.

“No, this is nice. Hugs are… good.” 

Will lets out a shaky sigh, one Mike doesn’t know how to interpret. 

“Am I killing your arm?” Mike guesses, bracing for the answer.

“A bit.”

“Shit— sorry.”

Will laughs but Mike is already detaching himself from Will, feeling that sad ache in his chest come rushing back as if the physical contact was the only thing keeping it at bay. They both sit up and he sees Will shake his arm out a little, waking it up.

Their eyes meet for too long and Mike locks his jaw while racking his brain for something to say other than another apology. Will stares at him almost as if he is doing the same thing. Thinking. Then, his hazel eyes dart away and he looks at the pillows at the top of Mike’s bed.

“I—,” Will stops to clear his throat. His eyes dart around a little more, avoiding Mike entirely. “I’m going to use the bathroom really quick. You get comfortable, I’ll be back.” Will nods to himself and is on his feet and at the door before Mike can even process the plan. Just like that Mike’s alone in the dim-lit room.

Through the walls, Mike hears the bathroom door click shut, it’s almost inaudible. 

He stares at the door— last place he saw Will and exhales loudly, processing— little to nothing.

Jesus Christ. What is he thinking?

Sobering thoughts came crashing down onto him all at once and he felt every ounce of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. A flash of every moment in the last hour replays in his head like someone smacking him in the face with a photo album of shame. He had to be crossing some sort of line. He knows he’s not acting normal.

His hands rush to the top of his head and he grips at his own hair like it didn’t deserve to be attached to him anymore. Feeling too awful about enjoying Will’s hands there moments ago.

Mike had been crying and throwing himself at his best-friend, guilting him into to coddling him like a damn baby. Tricking him into comfort and company just because Mike was having a momentary lapse of separation anxiety from his stupid childhood. He made Will awkwardly lay with him in his bed for god knows how long, and Mike knows he should feel wrong for wanting to resume it all the moment Will steps back into the bedroom.

He knows he is fully taking advantage of Will. And he knows he shouldn’t. But he wants to think that it is fine this one time because all of it would fade soon, the opportunity to be close will eventually disappear and he’ll probably slowly lose his best friend to someone else.

His ears catch the familiar sound of the pipes in the wall shifting as the toilet flushes and he hears the loud squeak of the faucet turning on.

Shit.

Will would be back soon and he’s still frozen in the same spot as when he left. Will had a plan and Mike needs to follow it.

He jumps up off the bed and tears off his blue shirt, quickly rummaging for a clean replacement. Luckily enough he manages to get changed before the sink stops running. He finds himself thankful that the knob on the sink is as loud as it is.

He races into his bed throwing his heavy blanket over his body and settles as naturally as he can into his spot on the mattress. The door cracks open moments later and Will slips inside silently, careful to shut the door without a sound. Mike hears him lock it and he pretends to not be out of breath watching Will turn to him.

“Your sink is crazy loud, dude,” Will whispers, earning a soft laugh from Mike.

“My dad’s annoying and won’t do anything about it. He says, ‘be a man, Mike. Figure it out’. Maybe I’ll fix it for him as a ‘fuck you, goodbye’ gift, when I move out.” Mike half-jokes quietly. If his Father had heard that, he’d be dead.

Only Will doesn’t think it’s funny. He doesn’t laugh. Instead he’s staring at the floor—or maybe the bed? Mike couldn’t tell exactly, although it makes him panic slightly seeing Will look lost in thought and worried like before.

It comes out like instinct. “Are you— Will? You okay?” Mike props himself onto his elbow and squints a fraction to see Will’s face more clearly. The boy flinches at Mike’s question and blinks up at him.

“I should probably sleep on the floor, right? You still have that old sleeping bag?” Will says, tone strained. Something is wrong, Mike knows that tone too well. Will is scared. Unfortunately, he had become accustomed to the tone, considering Will spent a large portion of his childhood terrified.

“What?” Mike furrows his brows and shakes his head, forcing his tired brain to wake up and understand. “I thought—,” he stops himself and sticks his hand out, gesturing at the empty half of the bed.

“Mike.”

His name surrounds him like a warning.

“Will?” 

“I just think maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

Mike huffs at the vagueness of the statement. What the hell isn’t a good idea, he wants to ask. He bites it back though, he has a feeling he could figure out what Will is implying. In reality, he already knows. Despite it all, he chooses to play naive for his own benefit. He wants to be selfish tonight and his chance is slipping.

“Just get in. You’re overthinking it,” He says blandly. He thinks maybe it’s too harsh considering how gracious Will has been handling Mike’s emotions tonight but he isn’t wrong to say Will overthinks things most of the time. Mike knows that much at least.

“Mike,” Will warns again, his voice a level quieter than before, “I don’t think we should— I should— share a bed with you. You know…” He sees Will lick his lips and shift his feet in his little ‘nervous Will’ way. “I— I know what your dad thinks about me, or whatever. About— you know. I don’t want him finding out I slept in your bed and thinking something… even worse.”

Mike feels sick almost immediately and he truly wouldn’t be much surprised if his stomach is actually inside his throat. Pure, unfiltered guilt washes over him and the look on Will face almost makes him terminally ill. 

Or maybe it’s not guilt. It’s more like rage. Maybe that’s what he’s feeling override him. That could be what is making him jittery and sick. Because what the fuck does Ted Wheeler matter? Why does his father get to make Will look so upset when he’s likely not even conscious and definitely not even in the room.

“Screw that prick. I’ll shove him down the stairs if he says anything bad about you,” Mike snaps. There is a bite to his tone that comes out a bit too loud. He takes a second to exhale, to calm himself, not wanting Will to think it’s directed at him. Then, “he fucking sucks, Will, please don’t worry about what he thinks. Please.”

“I know— no offence. I just don’t want this coming down on you. I don’t have to see that man everyday like you do.” 

Will pads over and reaches the edge of the bed, sitting cautiously, while finding Mike's eyes, finally. He looks a bit better, as if Mike’s defence is somewhat working.

“He’s stupid, Will. I’m serious. Nancy and Holly have had like 100 sleepovers in their lives. He’s never said shit about them sharing rooms with their friends.” He waved his hand like it’s no big deal but Will’s disapproving, uneasy look returns and it doesn’t waiver.

There’s a tense moment before Will finally speaks.

“That’s because they’re not in bed with their gay best-friend, Mike.” 

Oh.

Right.

Mike knows Will is whispering but it still feels way too loud in his ears, and now, there is a whole new awful feeling bouncing around in his abdomen. A scarier one. He feels like he’s been sucker punched out of a dream and it is stupid. And it’s not Will’s fault, Mike just feels so dumb.

“That’s—,” he starts, not knowing where to go. He’s stunned and knows his face has to look stupid in some way because Will is rolling his eyes at him. The same eye roll Will does any time he brings up his own sexuality and Mike does a horrible job of being normal about the conversation. Mike always aims to be normal about it, Will deserved for Mike to act normal when it comes to that but, for some reason, Mike is broken or something because his face and mouth do things without permission when he’s caught off guard. 

“Hold on— Will.”

He snatches Will’s wrist as the boy begins to stand, Mike’s hand stalls him long enough so he can think of something more to say.

“Listen,” he starts, too flustered. He releases part of his grip and drags a slowly pattern over Will’s wrist with his thumb as he continues speaking in a thoughtless rush, “I’m eighteen years old. If I want to cuddle with my gay best-friend in my bed, I’ll do it and that old man can mind his damn business.” 

Thoughtless indeed.

Will’s eyes widen so fast and his face almost loses all its colour. Mike thinks maybe a Demogorgon has materialized behind him and Will’s watching him about to die— the way Will looks at him. No, it’s actually probably something worse. Like Mike saying something outrageous again. Will’s expression tells him just that.

Shit. 

Does he double down or back peddle? That’s usually the predicament Mike finds himself in.

Why would he think to say it like that?

He’s panicking. Spiralling now. He’s also a complete moron, and shaking. 

It suddenly dawns on Mike why he loves writing so much. When he inevitably messes up, he can crumple the paper and throw it away like it never happened. Not words. Nope. They are out there in the air between them and now he’s got to repair it.

“I mean,” Mike shrugs, his face feels like it’s burning and his skin is melting away, making his head feel fuzzy. He feels like he’s half asleep with how his thoughts are trying to form but never making any sense, before getting lost somewhere unobtainable and it’s leaving his rambling, idiot mouth to do all the work. “Hell, I’d kiss you square on the lips to prove I don't care what my father thinks of me.”

And there it is. The most devastating outrageous thing to ever leave Mike’s mouth. Will should just shoot him. Put him out of his misery already.

Not only is he a liar, but he is also insane. Legally. 

Mike's biggest flaw was probably carrying what people thought of him. His own dad was not very high on the list but that didn’t change the fact Mike is a liar. 

But, ‘kiss you on the lips’? Mike needs to be sedated. He’s out of control.

“You need to sleep, Mike. You’re actually going crazy I think,” Will isn’t whispering anymore, he doesn’t sounds mad, but Mike could assume he also wasn’t happy. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

Christ. Mike, Enough. 

Did someone drug him? Why can’t he just shut up already? He needs to see himself out of his own room at this point.

“—cause it’s not fair,” Will is back to a shaky whisper, “—freaks me out.” Everything on Will’s body seems tense, and despite Mike’s blatant insanity he still notices it.

Mike’s eyes are wide when his hand falls away from Will’s wrist and Will curls that arm to his own chest protectively. Mike knows he’s gone too far, but sometimes he’s an asshole and sometimes he ignores stuff.

“The thought of kissing me freaks you out?” Mike wonders. His chest tightens— he can’t figure out if that feeling is disappointment, or something different but he sits up fully now, crossing his legs and he pouts. “Am I really that bad?”

“Jesus, Mike,” Will huffs, rubbing his palm over his face. “If I sleep here, will you stop talking?”

Mike nods, smiling. Feeling like he’s won a non-existent debate. He pulls the blanket down for Will to get under on the empty side.

“Okay.” Whispers Will seemingly to himself.

“Wait, do you want one of my T-shirts to sleep in?” 

“Sure,” Will sighs, standing straighter. Waiting.

Mike doesn’t hesitate and he scrambles out of his bed again to his dresser.

“And sweat pants?”

“Yeah.”

He looks over his shoulder and watches Will tug off his shoes first.

“Socks? Do your feet get cold?”

Will shakes his head, then catches the clothes Mike tosses his way. Mike turns to climb back in his bed and he accidentally catches a glimpse of Will turning around and pulling off his shirt. He sees the muscles of Will back contort and move and he quickly feeds his arms and head through the openings of the clothing. Okay, maybe Mike is accidentally staring. Crossing lines again.

Thankfully, Mike conjures enough decency to look away before Will’s pants come down.

They both eventually settle in, shifting in unison to find their place on the mattress. Mike is adamant on not grazing any part of Will as he finds himself teetering on the edge of the mushy surface. He’s on his back, not his usual sleeping position, but he couldn’t sprawl out on his stomach like he normally does. It’s silent for a while and Mike wonders if this is it. If they would just lay there in his bed, quiet and breathing until one of them falls asleep first.

Will breaks the charged silence.

“We still have all summer,” he starts. Mike feels the mattress move under him as Will’s body turns to the side to face him. “It’s up to us to make it the best one ever.”

Mike turns his head and Will’s eyes are already on him. The low light, Will close to him with sparkly hopeful eyes again does something to Mike he doesn’t want to explain.

“We’ll all hang out every chance we get, we’ll party, we’ll go on adventures, we’ll do stupid crazy shit over and over… Have a ‘no regrets’  kind of summer. And by the end of it you’ll be exhausted and sick of seeing us so much, you’ll be begging to get away from here.”

Mike catches himself twice staring at Will’s mouth as he talks, only half-listening. He’s always had a habit of that. He can’t help that Will is so endearing when he trails on, words falling out a little too fast. It’s sweet.

“I don’t think I could ever get sick of you, Will.” He sighs. “But I actually think that having a summer like that— I think it would make it even harder to leave.”

God.

Here Mike goes again.

He wishes that feeling inside of him would just leave him alone already. It’s growing again, it feels more determined every time it returns.

“I’m going to miss you too, Mike. We all are. But this isn’t the end. We’ll all still be friends. Forever probably.”

Mike hates how simple Will makes it all sound, moving on to the next chapter. Maybe it is simpler for him. Maybe Will doesn’t hold onto the past the same way Mike does. Of course he wouldn’t, Hawkins has been nothing but a burden and complete torture to Will since the day he was taken. He had probably already grieved his childhood years ago and is excited to get away. Get away from everything that reminded him of that disgusting torture.

“I feel like I already miss you,” Mike hears himself admit. He doesn’t mean to continue but he doesn’t stop it either. There has been a shift in the atmosphere that takes him with it. “You’re right here and I-I don’t know. I feel like I’m mourning or something. It’s dumb that it’s bothering me so much. And— I just want to understand it.” Despite the uneasy coil in his stomach, Mike feels a rush of pride find him from finally turning some of his cloudy thoughts into real words. 

Will’s eyes grow wide now, lips parting in the slightest, listening intently. His head jerks with a quick encouraging nod.

Mike finds himself stalling hard before he starts again, “I think I feel normal about leaving Hawkins. And like— a normal amount of sadness when I think about not seeing Lucas and Dustin and even Max,” he stops to shake his head and give the same eye roll he’d given Max a hundred times. There’s a smile but it doesn’t stay long. “I just— when it comes to you, Will. I don’t know… Maybe it’s because we’ve been friends the longest, or because you’re everything I’ve ever known. Shit, my earliest memories are with you, Will. And I already know what it feels like not having you around, I know what it’s like saying goodbye to you because of California. It sucked. It did. It was really hard and I told myself it was stupid feeling so sad about it, because it was stupid. I was home, surrounded by the rest of my friends, my family, and still— I don’t know. I— I felt like…”

Mike turns onto his side, mirroring Will now, making them that much closer. Maybe, Mike thinks, being closer would help him find the exact words he’s searching for. Will made feelings easier to talk about in some strange way. He never really understood why that was. He shuts his eyes and tries to breathe out his nerves.

“I felt like I lost everything when you left, I told myself it was El. I convinced myself it was only her leaving that made me feel like that. But now, I have that same feeling but only it’s a thousand times worse.” His throat feels tight in an inevitable way, and he knows what it means, but he ignores it and he’s on a roll— and Will is listening so well, he couldn’t stop now. “I was so caught up in myself, trying to ignore the stuff that felt wrong— stuff I shouldn’t feel. I just wanted to be normal. I wanted to be the same kind of sad that Dustin and Lucas were about you leaving. But it was always so much worse for me. So intense. It made no sense so I ignored it.”

Mike feels breathless, like he has cracked himself wide open and his lungs fell out of his chest. His tears are threatening his eyes again, he feels them prickling, but he fights it anyway.

Will sucks in a gust of air but doesn’t say anything, he just stares. Gaze flicking over Mike’s face quickly, with purpose but also like he is thinking a thousand things at once trying to process the full confession.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Mike says, softer now, finally squeezing his burning eyelids shut. He feels so vulnerable, having Will so quiet, waiting for any kind of reply. He needs to fill the silence, “I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t want to feel things anymore.”

The mattress moves again, Mike notices a new warmth near him now, the careful pressure of a hand gripping his bicep. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, he knows if he does his sad salty tears would run free.

“I’m sorry,” he feels Will say, his whisper is wobbly and nothing more than a breath ghosting past him.

Mike exhales again before feeling the hand on his arm disappear and it settle on his cheek instead. The fingers feel so cold against his cheek, it’s almost as refreshing as it is a shock to him.

“I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel so bad. I’m sorry,” he repeats, voice cracking quietly with it.

Mike risks breaking his eyes back open, he sees a diagonal stream of tears falling over Will’s cheeks and nose and dripping to the pillow under his head. He sees how sad Will’s eyes are and nothing is ever so devastating. Mike would do anything to take all of Will's sadness away. Will deserved to never be sad again a day in his life.

“No. No, Will, that’s not—“ he rushes to say. His heart is thumping painfully hard. “I’m not blaming you. God, no. You’ve done nothing wrong, I promise. It’s me— something is wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.” The response comes fast. Will looks so serious past his wet eyes, it makes Mike’s stomach swirl.

“Yes. Will, there is like a million things wrong with me.” Mike pretends to laugh, but he doesn’t think the short sound he makes counts as anything close.

“Please don’t say that.” It’s an aching warning. Will’s fingers sneak their way into Mike’s hair, scratching near the curve of his neck. Shivers spread through his spine at the feeling of Will’s forearm resting against his jaw. 

Warm, Mike thinks. He wants to melt into the feeling.

“Mike, I promise nothing is wrong with you. And there is nothing bad about missing someone. Okay?”

Will’s fingers playing in his curls almost makes him forget how to speak, but collects himself and forces his mouth open regardless to reply. 

“It’s not that,” He admits, straining his neck to press his face hard into his pillow. Will’s fingers don’t stop and he’s thankful of that. His words become somewhat muffled into the pillow as he trails on. “I don’t want to miss you. Don’t want to let you leave— leave me.” A sobs finally rackets out, and he knows if he speaks it will sound embarrassing again and very whiny but he continues regardless. 

“I want to be selfish and keep you here, with me. I want you to hug me and tell me you’re not going anywhere and that you’ll never leave me, and that nothing will change.” He tries to hide his face more as another inevitable sob escapes, letting his pillow absorb most of the sound. He reels back slightly after a few deep breathes while Will waited patiently, fingers caressing his curls endlessly. “I don’t understand why I think like that. That’s not normal. And I can’t figure out why I’m feeling like this. And maybe I don’t even want to understand— I just want it to go away. I don’t want to care so much. I want to let you go live your life— your dreams, and be happy about it. I want you to be happy, Will. But it hurts so bad to think about. So bad. It’s been hurting for so long and only getting worse the more and more I—”

“Mike,” Will’s voice snaps him back into the moment. Tone a bit sharp like it might not have been the first time he said his name. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t at first— look at Will— he sniffs into his pillow and tries to use the fabric to dry all his tears before turning slowly to find his friend's face. Will’s eyebrows are pulled together with a look of careful concern and his hazel eyes are still glossy but there’s also so much warmth pooling inside them. Will’s eyes might be his favourite thing, Mike thinks.

Will’s wiggles his other arm out from underneath himself and takes no time to cup both of Mike’s cheeks slowly, cautiously. Mike watches a few fluttery blinks and he thinks he is probably close enough to count Will’s long eyelashes. He waits a moment, searching the moment for the next step— what he’s supposed to do— but instead of further instruction, Will shifts closer. 

Their bodies and faces are only inches apart and Mike feels his entire body turn to steel and flames. His lungs stutter and he feels his heart squeeze painfully hard. This was a new intense closeness he’s never felt with Will, terrifying but also more than intriguing. He feels like he’s seeing Will for the first time all over again. The texture of this his skin, the way there is a ghost of damp tears trailing from his eyes. The curves and angles of his nose. How his mouth— his lips glisten with a wetness he’s never noticed before. It’s beautiful and pure, all of it, he thinks as he watches. 

Will’s thumb slowly drags a soft path back and forth on Mike’s cheekbone and it feels like it’s possible Mike would vanish from existence if Will’s hands weren’t there on him, with the way it feels like it’s anchoring him to this planet. It should be shameful how much Mike thinks he needs it.

Neither of them say anything, there is something unspoken dancing between them in the quiet room and Mike isn’t worried about figuring it out, not now, not when everything in front of him is so consuming. He dares to breathe again when his line of sight falls and sticks to Will’s lips again, but then the oxygen makes his brain fuzzy he closes his eyes to recompose himself. Attempt to, at least.

He must blank out for a second because the next thing he knows— he feels— is the presence of softness brushing against his lips. He doesn’t let himself move, not even the smallest bit. 

He pretends to not know what it is at first. He's certain he’s imagining everything because it’s so gentle, it’s barely even there. But then there’s more of it, it’s pressing firmer— none the less still careful, and a very shaky exhale glides over his face from Will’s nose. And suddenly, he can't pretend anymore. He is undeniably aware of the nose making contact with his cheek and the trembling hands framing his jaw and head. Then, it becomes all too obvious that the bashful gesture against his lips are Will’s pressed into his. 

Will is kissing him.

Oh.

Oh.

Nothing would have prepared him for this. Not the kiss its self— he himself half-joked about it earlier, no— he means the mind numbing sensation it brings. The body consuming chills that shatter the steel of his body and fuels the flames overriding him, that swirly feeling in his head, in his chest. He feels that dead space inside him, the one that ate away at him for years, suddenly break out and leave him as if it were never there to begin with. It’s so overwhelming and he’s aware that all the lines are being crossed right now but finally there is nothing inside him telling him to resist it anymore. It feels so good. It’s been so long since he’s felt this free.

Will’s kiss, it feels like freedom.

Mike doesn’t waste anytime to relax into the feeling, despite his whole nervous body wanting to react. If there would be consequences to this then he decides that is a problem for tomorrow. His hands find Will’s neck naturally as if it’s something he’s done before and he cradles the boy in hopes it would encourage him not to pull away. He needs to show Will he wants this too. Will’s lips part against his with a small gasp and Mike doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, even if it’s only by a little bit, he has to. He makes sure it is slow, and calculated, he doesn’t want to scare Will away. He couldn’t. Not now.

God, is this Will’s first kiss?

Mike feels his heart slam against his chest like it is warning him of his impending doom. He bravely ignores it because his bottom lip is perfectly slotted between Will’s and he wonders if this could be the cure to everything. To everything wrong inside of him. He has never felt so light, so weightless in his own body. The world doesn’t feel like it’s crushing his soul into the ground, it’s all so terrifying in the best ways possible. 

Mike groans before his brain tells him not to, it makes his lips part slightly. He presses in further again, moving his mouth deliberately against Will’s, hyper aware of the boys trembling lips attempting to mimic his actions. Cute. He decides to angle himself better now, shifting onto his elbow, making sure he wouldn’t break the kiss while he got closer and rolls Will onto his back smoothly. 

His mouth is moving more eagerly now, not too fast, just more intense— meaningful and less innocent than before. He’s chasing the sensation selfishly, the way he finally feels on fire but also put together, that maybe things would be okay. He knows it’s wrong. He’s probably always known it and maybe that’s what he’s been ignoring all this time. The truth. What he really wants— needs.

A sounds tumbles out of Will, unfamiliar to Mike’s ears and his own body automatically retracts, eyes shooting open with worry. His body learned to do this years ago and he’s never stopped — checking on Will, even at the smallest sign of distress— wondering if he’s hurt Will, or made him scared. But Will’s looking at him with dark hooded eyes and his lips still ajar lazily. He looks so checked out, or maybe way too focused, laboured breaths moving his chest up and down. His gaze never leaves Mike’s eyes and a pinkness has crept up Will’s neck all the way to his cheeks and — 

Whoa.

Mike is certain he’s never seen Will look like that. He hasn’t, because he would absolutely remember it.

Shit.

Mike’s back down, on his mouth again before gaining any more permission but he is positive he doesn’t need it because Will’s mouth is opening more than willingly and that’s enough for Mike to run with it. To chase that freedom all over again. To figure out how hot he can get this fire to burn inside him.

He finds himself settling over Will fully now, knee between Will’s thighs— their warmth hugging him. Elbows planted on the pillow, hands under Will’s fluffy hair, fingers lost and tangled in it. This is insane, Mike is fully aware of it but barely guilty. Will isn’t pushing him away, he is kissing Mike back just as hard, like he wasn’t planning on stopping. So really, Mike shouldn’t feel bad. 

Will arches his back enough that his chest is knocking into him and Mike decides he wants— needs more, and presses his tongue cautiously past the barrier of Will’s inviting lips. He feels the edge of Will’s perfect teeth on his tongue and something starts to come alive in the pit of him. A feeling that is starving and dangerous.

A whine vibrates from Will’s throat and something fully takes over what little control Mike had on his own brain and he lets his hips fall against Will’s, without thought, making their bodies flush with one another.

“Mike,” Will’s voice comes out breathy and warm into his mouth, like Mike forced it out of him and—

Christ, it sounds like a song.

Mike frantically peppers short kisses to his lips over and over, moving them to the corner of Will’s mouth, then to his cheek, his jaw. He settles on the soft, pulsing spot on Will’s neck and kisses there instead, feeling Will’s fast heartbeat on his lips, licking and sucking the skin like that would eventually satisfy the insatiable hunger bubbling inside of him. Will tips his head to the side leaving better access and Mike thanks him silently with more purposeful kisses and sucks.

“Jesus,” Will murmurs slowly, dragging the word under his breath. His hands are roaming Mike’s shoulders, his back, his hair. Everywhere it feels like.

Mike doesn’t mean to, really, but his hips become too heavy all at once and he lets them dig into Will’s harder, and he pretends not to notice the bulge pressing into the top of his thigh muscle. 

When they both moan at the same, Mike wants to laugh in disbelief and awe, but he doesn’t. He knows better. Their sounds practically harmonize in the quiet room. He feels like he’s engulfed in flames, right there with Will, and it’s melting them together into one.

Despite wanting to hear every sound Will has to offer him, Mike knows he has to move his mouth back to Will’s, hoping it’ll keep them both quieter somehow. Although, the slight shift his body makes rubs Will the same way as before and the brunettes jaw falls slack with another delicious moan against Mike’s kisses.

“You have to—,” Will cuts himself short, breathless. His fist clenches in the back of Mike’s hair, and he’s pulling in an incredible way. Will huffs quietly a few times as Mike grinds slowly twice more. “Stop. Mike, stop,” He manages to finally heave out.

Stop.

Mike. Stop.

He reluctantly listens to the instructions, but he doesn’t pull away by much. He tips his forehead forward to touch Will’s and rests it there as they catches their breath, hips now still. He wants to ask why he has to stop, but truthfully, he could probably come up with many reasons why he should. The same dark lustful look is swarming around in Will’s heavy eyes but there’s a crease between Will’s eyebrows that makes Mike's concern grow.

“I don’t want to stop,” Mike admits, probably easier than should have been possible. “Do you?”

“No.” Will’s reply is quiet but fast, honest. And it makes Mike’s heart thump alarmingly hard. “But you— you just poured your heart out to me, then I did— that, and now this is happening and I want it— I do, I mean I started it… but I feel like you’re just confused and I don’t think you really want— I don’t know, Mike, I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed. I can’t think right now and I’m trying to be a good person here.” 

It’s all a stuttering string of thoughts and Mike pauses to process it, making sure he retains it before he pulls his head back enough that their foreheads no longer touch and shakes his head while never breaking his focus on Will’s face. “I’m not confused. I was, that’s true— I had been for a while, I think. But right now, I think I’m finally understanding something for once. This— Us. Feels like it makes sense now. So please— Please don’t tell me to stop,” he rushes out. It’s a plead and he feels pathetic, but it’s also deservingly honest. He shuts his eyes and lets his clammy forehead fall against Will’s again.

a breath fills his ears as a pained sigh, and the sound makes Mike brace himself for the worst. Expecting rejection, for Will to rightfully tell him he is out of his mind— for Will to push him off and leave the room all together.

“You were never supposed to want me back,” Will whispers shakily, to himself it seems— in disbelief even. “I don’t understand. You’re not supposed to want this.” 

Something familiar creeps its way up Mike’s spine and into his skull like an awful intrusive parasite. Maybe Will is right. Mike spent so much of his time believing he was just like everyone else in that way. He thought it was true so many times. With El. Maybe, right now, he’s too emotional and broken and so desperate for affection that he’s doing crazy things, inappropriate things to his best friend just for the sake of comfort. This wasn’t him. Maybe he really is just confused or maybe—

“Mike, I told myself you would never want this. That it was impossible. I told myself for so many years— so many,” Will’s broken voice finds its way out through his tears, it’s such a heart breaking sound, Mike thinks. If not the most heartbreaking— hearing Will cry sad tears because he’s convinced Mike didn’t want him. “I made myself give up, that you’ll never be the thing that I am.”

Mike’s composure cracks in half, and it’s like finally for the first time in his life, his brain is giving permission for his heart to speak with no remorse. Speak as if the chain and lock around him has crumbled away and it’s his only opportunity to escape the prison that’s been containing him his whole life. He knows he needs to sprint now, he can’t hesitate or look back. He can’t go back. He cannot become trapped again—

“I do want you, Will. I want you close to me all the time, I want to see you everyday, I want to talk to you and hold on to you. I want to care about you, to protect you— make sure you are always safe. I know now that want to kiss you, a million times more if you’d let me. I want to be important to you. God, I want to be the most important thing to you. I want to make you happy. See your smile, your laugh. I want your eyes to be looking at me— looking for me. I want everything, Will. I’m selfish and probably too greedy. I— I’m also a stupid asshole and I know I’m late— so damn late figuring this all out. I hurt you and I don’t think I could ever forgive myself for that. Because I never wanted to hurt you.” 

Mike has to take a few very deep breaths, re-stable himself after throwing himself off that life-altering cliff. The painful truth found its way out of him where it had been locked so tight and suddenly his axis is completely shifted and he feels unbearably dizzy and floaty. He could pass out.

Will laughs, despite sounding like a blubbering mess, and thankfully it draws Mike back in from wherever he’d been drifting away to. The smile reaches up to Will’s wet squinty eyes and it sends a wave of relief over Mike’s body. Maybe he hasn’t messed anything up too bad. 

“Damn it, Mike.” Will sniffs, and lets out a long exhale through his lips. “I’m still so stupidly in love with you.” Will’s voice is light but laced with something so deep. Something so liberating.

Fuck.

Mike’s arms buckle in that moment and he comes crashing down into Will, he can feel the way Will tenses to support it, Mike’s own head falling in the inviting nook of Will’s shoulder and neck. He snakes his arms around Will, forcing the mattress to allow space to fully embrace him. Everything feels so warm and real— so unreal. Mike thinks this is the reason he was born, the answer to existence. Being loved by Will is truly the only thing he needs to keep him alive. He couldn’t be more certain of that.

“I love you.” His own voice is high and it’s muffled by the skin on Will’s neck but he doesn’t think that matters because Will fully whimpers while he hugs him hard— those three words coming through clear as day. “I love you,” he repeats, this time punctuating it with a long delicate kiss on the skin touching his lips. He had never meant those words so much.

Will releases him enough that Mike can find his face again.

“I love you, Will Byers, my sorcerer,” he avows, this time, eyes locked to Will’s with a new confidence and unbridled certainly. “I love you.” It’s really never been easier to say and he never wants to stop. He doesn’t care if it’s disturbingly cheesy, or downright ridiculous. He needs to say it over and over in every way, because for the first time in his damn life— he is saying it and fucking means it.

Will’s eyes are still so puffy and soaked with so many tears but he’s also smiling so wide that it doesn’t make Mike feel bad one bit. 

“You’re so embarrassing,” Will giggles and sniffles more. He brings his palms up to Mike’s cheeks once again, same gentleness as always. Will’s eyebrows draw together slightly and he stares into Mike’s eyes, as if he’s making sure Mike is fully focused and locked on him. Which of course Mike is. Will holds that moment for a beat before, “I love you, too. I always have, Mike. And yeah, you’re a little late getting here, but you could’ve never been too late because I probably would have loved you for the rest of my life.”

Mike wants to have time to process it, he wants to ingrain this moment in his mind forever because it really does feel like winning some kind of life-long war, but his instincts have more control over this moment than he expects and his mouth comes crashing into Will’s again. 

Mike kisses the boy like he's drowning and Will's his only source of air. He kisses him in a way that he hopes says, ‘I’m sorry, I love you, i’m sorry’, and Mike can only dream Will understands it.

He pulls his arm out from under Will and pins it next to his head instead, fingers slotting into Will’s hair, guiding their kiss into a deepness entirely needed. He knows he shouldn’t take so much so soon, though he can’t help but to indulge when Will tastes so good on his tongue. He feels delirious and it’s fully Will’s fault. Will’s teeth experiment with a nip at Mike’s bottom lip, it makes Mike jump and Will retracts, face full of regret.

“Sorry,” he pants, lungs working overtime. Will’s stressed eyes dart around Mike’s close face frantically. “I’m— I’m new to this.”

Mike swoons at the shyness of his voice. Maybe it’s his accelerated heart rate, or that he’s drunk off of Will’s saliva alone, but kissing has never been this good and he’s convinced Will secretly knows exactly what kind of affect he has on him— that’s if the tightness by their hips isn’t enough of a tell. He moves to Will’s jaw— allowing the moment to dial back, for Mike to sober up— sucking lightly, kissing and biting hard enough Will shivers but not enough to leave any evidence in his trail.

“Don’t apologize,” He breaths against Will’s neck. “Everything’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

Mike isn’t even sure he’s aware of his own words anymore, he’s more occupied by the taste of sweat and excitement on his tongue, the sensation of his body slotted naturally against Will’s like they were crafted to be together. His brain felt fuzzy with the tug-of-war battle going on between team Behave and team Take, hoping there was some way for them to tie.

“Is this—,” Mike breathes, pressing a kiss to Will’s ear lobe, “—this okay?”

Will whines quietly and his hands fall from Mike’s hair, a dull throb finds his scalp as the tension is released from it. Will doesn’t answer and Mike wonders if he doesn’t want to or simply forgets to.

“Will,” He whispers, deviously nipping at Will’s earlobe to gain back his attention. Hands snap to Mike's hips and slowly brush up and under his shirt all the way to where Mike’s ribs curve around to his back. Fingers dig in hard to his skin and something heated ripples through Mike’s body and he knows he’s losing some type of composure because he almost forgets to wait for Will’s answer. 

“Hey, you,” Mike soothes. He makes sure to pull back and asses the quiet boy for himself. “I need an answer.” He smiles brightly as Will finds his eyes a moment later. Mike watches as Will’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and his blinks flutter. His face is unmistakably flush and Mike notes the colour spreads all the way down to the collar of Will’s shirt. He pretends not to picture how low that blush might fall.

His eyes snap back up to Will’s eyes when he finally replies.

“I swear to god, if I wake up and this was another stupid dream… I’m going to be so mad.”

Mike feels like his brain is leaking out of his ears because why can he only think about how Will says ‘another’ as if Mike has been in his dreams kissing him before. If so, what else has Dream Mike done with him? Was Dream Mike better at this than Real Mike? It had never really occurred to him that Will might have those types of dreams and the thought of it drives him crazy.

He must be staring blankly somewhere in his own head because Will blows air over his face to break him free from it. He blinks too much to recover and he locks eyes intentionally now with the hazel ones under him.

“Mike, it’s good. I’m good.” He calmly clarifies, a sweet smile rising to his lips.

“Just good?” Mike teases. He did truthfully want that answer though. Will falters for only a moment before he smiles wider and he rolls his eyes. He feels his hips get yanked in again and a groan his knocked out of him. Will tilts his chin up enough that signals Mike to lean back in connecting them in a kiss again. It’s soft and Mike hums into it, forgetting completely about wanting that answer. 

Will leads them into a deeper kiss this time, Mike tries to act like it isn’t the most exciting thing that has ever happened to him. It’s becoming all too apparent to Mike that maybe he is a little to pent up and frustrated to keep this as innocent as it should be kept. He doesn’t know the boundaries, or limits to what is allowed, or rather, given the recent development of such circumstances. Mike has just discovered this massive cave and he wants nothing more than to explore every god given inch of it. He is a man of little self-control. He should add ‘impulsive’ to his list of flaws.

“Will, you’re going to have to stop me because my head’s lost all blood flow and I’m fully stupid right now.” Mike breathes his words straight into Will’s mouth, split up between quick kisses, and Will lets every bit of it happen. He feels Will smile and a laugh leave through his nose as Mike keeps his mouth planted against him. 

Will pries Mike off just enough to mutter, “I actually think maybe there's too much blood flow in a certain head of yours, Mike.” Will arches his hip up a little just to drive his point home.

“Christ.”

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or moan as he processes the remark.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He is a little too breathless to sound intimidating, but he presses his forehead and nose into Will’s straight on like it’s a standoff. “I feel you, Byers. You’re just as guilty.”

Will’s eyes widen and Mike’s hand skates its way down his side and hooks under Will’s one thigh, pulling it up so he’s bent at the knee. Mike makes sure his hand moves extra slow as it explores over the swell of Will’s bum, analyzing the body part he’s subconsciously glanced at too many times in his life. He wishes he could look purposefully now, but he settles on blindly feeling for their own safety. His own sanity.

“On a serious note,” Will’s voice shakes as Mike times a firm squeeze on the back of his thigh. “I think maybe we should go to sleep.” 

Mike’s not very convinced by the statement and he doesn’t think Will is either, with the way Will’s nibbling on his own bottom lip, looking up at Mike with his precious doe eyes. Practically begging Mike to start all over again from the beginning. He is utterly doomed.

“I might actually have to sleep on the ground,” Mike thinks to himself— but fully out loud to both of them. He watches Will’s mouth for too long and it has the deep part of his gut coiling tight as he imagines too much for his own good. “You’ve made me into a monster, Will.”

“A love monster?” Will laughs. Mike wants to squeeze Will until the cuteness oozes out of him because he got far too much of it to be legal. “—‘cause you love me.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Mike can’t bite back the bashful smile that pulls to his face so he hides it, forehead to Will’s shoulder. Will must see it because he’s bubbling out more light laughter.

“I love you, Will Byers, my sorcerer.” Will mocks, chest bouncing as he tires to hold back his overly pleased giggles. Mike’s head shoots up and he tries his best to have an expression of betrayal, although Will's contagious stifled laughter makes him want to join in so bad.

“Oh my god.” He gawks. “How dare you— mock me, your Paladin?” 

He loses the charade in half a second and they’re both huffing and wheezing as they try their hardest not to laugh too loud for the quiet house. It all feels so bright and innocent like he was sent back in time to when him and Will were so small and silly and always too loud about the stupidest joke either of them had ever told.

“You’re an idiot, you know,” Will says, there’s nothing but fondness around it.

“I know.”

“—and I love you, you know.”

Mike sighs happily through his nose as he smiles. Decides the fluttery feeling can stay in his gut as long as Will’s the one causing it. He touches his lips to Will’s nose quickly.

“I know.”

“And I think this summer might actually become our best yet.”

Mike thinks that there are tears gathering in his eyes again because the burn is all too familiar, but this time he doesn’t want to fight it because its the thought of all the new possibilities slamming through his brain making them pool there in his waterline.

“Crazy and stupid, with no regrets, yeah?” Mike asks as he rolls off of Will, just to the side of him, readjusting so the weight of him is gone but there is still just as much contact as before. He snuggles in close with his head on Will’s heart and he closes his eyes.

“Yeah.”

A wide grin spreads over Mike’s face, “Cool.”

A beat.

“Cool.”