Chapter Text
This was it. There was no running from it. No avoiding it. No chance of escape. This was certainly, undeniably, without a doubt, the day Mike Wheeler was going to die.
Oh my God oh my God oh my God, he thought as he jumped from building to building that lined the narrow street. Bullets ricocheted off every surface, clanging as they bounced off the fire escapes, and Mike wondered, not for the first time, why it was so easy to procure a gun in New York City. I’m in such deep shit.
Okay, deep down, he knew he was probably going to be fine. He was no stranger to being shot at anymore; he faced worse criminals than this petty thief, like, every day of the week, and guns were somehow not the worst weapon he’d come into contact with. But none of those were the reason he feared for his life. No, he was terrified because this stupid thief was being annoyingly resistant to his attempts at capture, and he had about five minutes until he was inexcusably late to hang out with his friends. And if he was late again, Max Mayfield was almost certainly going to kill him.
“Spider-Man!” the thief growled, brandishing his gun. He’d backed Mike to the end of the street, where it dead-ended. He stood on the first-floor fire escape and stared down at the criminal. “You messed with the wrong guy!”
Mike cringed. “You know how many people say that to me in a week? You’re not getting any points for originality, man.”
“Fuck you!” he spat, and fired off several shots. Time slowed down, and without even thinking about it, Mike’s body moved of its own accord, twisting and jumping to dodge the bullets with ease. He breathed a sigh of relief as time snapped back into place and the bullets buried themselves in the brick wall behind him. Out of all his powers, he still didn’t really understand that freaky intuition sixth-sense thing, but it hadn’t failed him yet.
“That wasn’t very nice. I’d appreciate an apology,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m not giving you shit!” he yelled.
“Okay, fine,” Mike fake-pouted. “Then I’m not going to feel bad about this!”
Before the man even had time to react, Mike shot a web and yanked his gun out of his grasp. It came easily into his hand, where he pinned it to the wall with a web. The police could get it later, when the webbing dissolved, but for now, it was better to just have it out of the way. The thief, now weaponless, began to run. Mike laughed. It always gave him a kick when criminals thought they actually had a chance to get away from him. Lazily, he shot a web at the thief’s feet, binding his ankles together. He tripped and fell with an oomph, and before he had time to think of a new escape plan, Mike was standing in front of him, blocking the only exit route.
“Going somewhere?” he smirked. The man scrambled to army-crawl away, and Mike rolled his eyes. He had the man pinned against the wall and bound his wrists behind his back within a minute. Then, because he was screaming obscenities -- but mostly because it was fun -- Mike shot a web at his mouth, gluing it shut. The thief made muffled noises of dissent, but he just cupped his hand to his ear.
“What was that? Sorry, couldn’t hear you.” The thief said something that could’ve been ‘fuck you!’ and Mike shrugged. “I guess this can be your lesson to not take what isn’t yours. By the way, if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna…”
Mike dug through his pockets while he squirmed and attempted to protest. Finally, he found what he was looking for -- the wad of bills that he had snatched from the bodega register before dashing out the door and running straight into Spider-Man. Terrible luck for the thief, really.
Mike walked him over to said bodega and threw him on the ground outside, then shot a web that pinned him to the wall, just for good measure. The old man who owned the corner shop came out slowly, hands still cradling his head protectively, like he expected another attack.
“It’s alright now,” Mike called out. He walked over and held the stack of bills in his outstretched hand. “And I think this belongs to you.”
“Spider-Man, I… you didn’t have to do all of that, not for someone like me--”
“Don’t sweat it,” Mike cut in. “It’s all part of the job. I’m just happy to help.”
The man grinned in awe, taking the money like it was a precious artifact and tucking it carefully into his shirt pocket. “How can I ever thank you?”
“Uh…” he glanced at the thief, still bound and gagged and squirming desperately against the bonds that had no chance of breaking. “Maybe just call the cops to come get him? I’ve kinda gotta run. By the way, what time is it?”
He glanced at his watch. “6:12.”
Mike swore and grabbed his bag from where he’d ditched it on the bodega’s stoop. “I was supposed to be somewhere twelve minutes ago. I’m so sorry, I wish I could stick around to help clean up, stay safe, have a good day!” He was shooting a web and swinging away before he finished the sentence, and he heard the man’s “thank you!” echo after him as he swung uptown as fast as possible.
Mike had never been a particularly punctual person, but he did his best. Sure, he usually burst into class a minute or two after it had started, and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been the first of his friends to arrive somewhere, but he did try, okay? He usually wasn’t late enough to cause any real issues. At least, he never used to be. But this past month had proven being on time to be… difficult.
He finally made it to his destination and dropped down into a side street. It was blessedly empty, and there was a dumpster that effectively hid him from the view of the main road, so Mike pulled off his mask and gloves and shoved them into his bag. He scrambled to pull off his suit and change into pants and a sweatshirt. He hated having to change in public -- he felt like a total creep -- but in a situation like this, it was impossible to do anything else. He couldn’t exactly swing into the Macy’s and ask to use their fitting rooms, and his dorm was way too far out of the way to make a pit stop there.
Finally, Mike shoved his suit deep into his backpack and swung it over his shoulder, jogging around the corner. He stopped quickly to check his reflection in a store window, and winced. He looked dissheleved and sweaty and disgusting, but there was nothing he could do about it right now other than try to smooth his hair down and hope for the best. He dashed across the street and shoved the door of the movie theatre open. It slammed against the wall with a jarring thud -- he forgot to modulate his strength -- and when he looked over, the box office lady was sitting straight up, eyeing him warily. He waved awkwardly and cleared his throat as he walked up to the booth.
“Hi, can I get one ticket to Goodfellas, please?”
She raised her eyebrow at him. “It’s already started.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know, I was just running late.”
“Twenty minutes late?”
His jaw tightened. “Can I just get a ticket, please?”
Now it was the box office worker’s turn to roll her eyes, but she punched some buttons on her machine, and Mike slid a few crumpled bills under the glass. Ticket clutched tightly in his hand, he wove through the crowds lining the hallways until he found his theatre. He dashed up the ramp, then had to awkwardly survey the crowd until he spotted them, lining the second-to-last row. Guilt twinged in his gut, but oh well. At least they’d saved him a seat.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I’m late, I’m sorry,” he whispered as he wormed his way past them.
“Took you long enough! You missed all the previews,” Dustin Henderson hissed.
“Wheeler, I’m going to kill you,” Max said, just like Mike knew he would.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” he said again, sinking into the seat they’d saved for him at the end of their group. He looked to his left, where Will Byers was staring at him with a soft smile and concern etched in his features.
“Is everything okay?” he whispered, and Mike’s heart stuttered embarrassingly.
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said, too quickly in return. “I just… really lost track of time, and had to rush to get here.”
Will’s gaze was searching, and Mike’s face grew embarrassingly warm the longer he held his gaze. He prayed it was dark enough that it wasn’t noticeable.
“Okay,” he whispered finally, and bumped Mike’s elbow lightly with his own. It was fleeting, but it still sent a jolt of electricity through his body, and he tried to hide how his breath hitched at the contact. Will gave no sign of noticing, already focused back on the movie. Still, he moved his arm over on the armrest, giving Mike just enough space to rest his own there, pressing it tightly against Will’s. His mind narrowed until all he could focus on was every square inch of his body that was touching Will’s. Warmth spread through him, generated from that one stupid, meaningless point of contact, and for a second, he wondered what Will’s reaction would be if he just moved his hand a bit closer and threaded their fingers together. What would it feel like to hold Will Byers’s hand? It was so close, so accessible, and Mike wanted to do it so badly his chest ached. His hand literally twitched, like it was trying to move without his consent, and that sensation was what shocked him back to reality. He tore his arm away and clenched his hands tightly in his lap before he could do something stupid with them. He saw Will glance over in his peripheral vision, his brows furrowed in confusion. Mike could sense his question hanging in the air, so he refused to look over. If he met Will’s eyes, he just knew his face would reveal everything. Will frowned lightly for a moment, but turned back to the movie. Mike tried to focus, even though he’d missed a good chunk of it at this point, but his mind remained overly aware of the space Will left on the armrest for the entirety of the film.
---
“Oh my God, that was amazing!” Lucas Sinclair said as they filed out of the theatre. “I mean, so good!”
“Yeah, that’s, like, an instant classic for sure,” Dustin replied. “No wonder it’s been getting such good reviews.”
“Of course you guys would think that,” Max rolled her eyes. “It would’ve been better if it had more than, like, three women in it.”
“Oh--” Lucas sputtered, “well, yeah, I mean, that part was just-- I couldn’t believe-- so unfair--”
“Lucas, relax,” she said, laughing. “I’m not gonna break up with you because you liked some dumb misogynistic movie. It was pretty good.”
Mike shook his head at his roommate’s sheepish grin. He’d met Lucas last year, when they were randomly assigned to a freshman dorm together, and he was grateful every day that the housing people had found someone he got along with so perfectly. They became close friends, and, because neither of them wanted to go apartment hunting in New York, they decided to live in the dorms together for another year. He met Max in his first week of classes, and despite everyone’s warnings not to date someone in their first semester of college, they were pretty gone for each other from the moment they met. They didn’t make it official until a few months ago, but Mike couldn’t remember Lucas even looking at another girl during the entire time he’d known him.
Meeting the rest of their friends was an incredible coincidence, or maybe fate. Mike hadn’t decided which. Max invited Lucas and Mike to a party in her dorm a couple of weeks into their first semester. Lucas, wanting to gain points with Max’s friends, and Mike, wanting to meet some more people, both agreed. The ‘party’ was just a bunch of people packed like sardines into two dorm rooms connected by a Jack-and-Jill bathroom, but at least there was a bowl of heavily spiked punch. Mike let himself get tipsy, and then maybe a little bit past that, and suddenly he felt more outgoing than he had in his entire life. He met Dustin, who he recognized from one of his classes, and the two of them hit it off, talking too loudly about nerdy shit like Lord of the Rings and Dungeons & Dragons. At some point, Lucas had walked by, overheard, and enthusiastically jumped into their conversation. Then, Lucas dragged Mike to meet Max’s roommate, a girl named Jane who, for whatever reason, said to call her “El.” The four of them chatted for a minute before El spotted someone over Mike’s shoulder.
“Oh, guys, you should meet my stepbrother!” She had said as she waved him over. Mike had shuffled over to make room for him in the circle, then glanced over to see a face that, despite being older than he remembered, was forever ingrained in his memory.
“Will?” he asked softly. Will looked at him, and his eyes immediately widened with recognition.
“Holy shit, Mike?”
“Oh my God!” Mike yelled, and before he could think too hard about it, he had Will wrapped in a bone-crushing hug. “What the fuck? Why are you here? How are you here?”
“I go to school here,” he laughed into Mike’s shoulder.
“What?” Mike pulled back, mouth agape. “I go here! How did we not know about this?”
“I… I don’t know!”
“I’m sorry, what’s happening?” Max had asked, and both of them had turned to the rest of the group.
“Will was my best friend from kindergarten till eighth grade, when he moved away--”
“Yeah, my mom remarried, so we moved to California--”
“I haven’t seen him in years! You look so different!” he said to Will, who raised his eyebrows.
“I look different? You’re, like, three feet taller than you were when I last saw you!”
“Okay, not three feet…”
If Mike hadn’t been so intoxicated, he might’ve thought to react awkwardly. After all, the reason neither of them knew they were going to the same college was that they hadn’t talked for several years. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, they just… drifted apart. It was hard to keep in touch, and Will’s mom had a telemarketer job, so the line was always busy when Mike tried to call, and it wasn’t like either of them could visit the other very easily. Then, suddenly, it had been months with no contact, and finally, after accepting that Will wasn’t going to reach out, Mike decided to try to move on. It had never really worked, which had never been more apparent to him than it was that night, with Will standing in front of him. But, because he was acting off of a bit of liquid courage, and because he suspected Will maybe was too, they just… skipped over all the awkwardness and fell right back into their old dynamics. They stayed glued to each other’s sides all night, filling each other in on the last four years of their lives, laughing and grinning like they were fourteen again and no time had passed at all. It was perfect. When one of the RAs finally came to shut the party down, Will and Mike slipped away and found a 24-hour pizza place a block from the dorm. They sat on the curb, a box of pizza between them, and talked until their buzz had faded and the sky was beginning to brighten. The day after, Mike briefly worried if it was just the magic of that night, and the spell would be broken the next time they saw each other. But when they did, Will grinned in the exact same way, and it settled something in Mike’s chest. Or, it might have set something alight, but he didn’t realize that until much later.
He looked over at Will now, laughing loudly at some dumb joke Dustin cracked, and thanked the universe for the millionth time for bringing the two of them back together. Their friend group had formed quickly after that night, everything slotting into place like it was supposed to. Max and her roommate, Lucas and his roommate, Will and his childhood best friend, El and her stepbrother. So many invisible strings tying them together that it all just became one jumbled mess in the middle, impossible to untangle if any of them tried. Dustin was the only one with no direct connection to any of them, but he meshed so seamlessly that it felt wrong to ever imagine their little group without him.
The six of them filed into the open-late diner that they liked to go to after their movie nights and crammed into the circle booth in the corner. It was the only table that would fit six, and even six was pushing it, but they always managed to make it work. The waitress came over, recognizing them, and after a minute of small talk, their milkshake orders were placed.
“I thought that opening sequence was really cool.” Lucas was still talking about Goodfellas. “It set up the rest of the movie so well.”
“Oh, I didn’t see that part. That’s probably why I was a little lost for the rest of it,” Mike noted. Well, that and his body’s inability to not notice Will Byers, but he wasn’t going to mention that.
“Funny you should say that,” Max said, narrowing her eyes, and Mike blanched. He’d been expecting this, but that didn’t make it any less scary. “You know, I think I specifically mentioned that the movie started at 6:00. Not 6:25, when you strolled in, but 6:00. I also specifically remember you promising that you’d be on time today. Actually, I remember you promising that you’d go to dinner with us before the movie, too.”
“Well, I got held up and couldn’t make it to dinner--”
“Held up with what, Wheeler?” Max cut in ruthlessly. “What could have possibly held you up for so long that you not only missed dinner, but an entire half hour of the movie?”
“I…” he looked around helplessly, but all of his friends wore the same expressions. It wasn’t anger, really, just… confusion. Frustration. Maybe even disappointment. Mike shrank in his seat and wished he could just come clean with all of it -- So I’m actually not lazy, I promise, and I really try to be on time, it’s just that I got bitten by a genetically modified spider and now I kinda have a bunch of crazy-ass superpowers, so that random guy in a spandex suit you see swinging around all the time? Yeah, that’s me -- but as it plays through his mind, he knows exactly why that secret can never be spoken aloud. Telling people he’s Spider-Man might help him feel better, or help his friends understand him better, but it puts too much at risk. He’d rather lie to his friends to keep them safe than tell them a truth that puts them in danger.
“It… it’s personal, okay?” He tried to twist his face as he spoke, as if just talking about it was hard for him. It seemed to work -- their faces softened into concern and sympathy. “I promise I had a real thing, I wouldn’t just ditch you guys like that. It’s just… I really don’t want to talk about it, alright?”
Slowly, they began to nod. “Okay,” El said, smiling softly, and guilt wormed its way up Mike’s throat. His friends were so kind, and here he was taking advantage of it. It made him feel gross and messed-up, like he was wearing someone else’s skin.
“We understand,” Dustin said, wearing the same cautiously sympathetic smile. “Just, when you flake on us like that, it’s hard not to make assumptions, you know?”
Mike nodded. It was a variation of something he’d already heard several times this month from his friends. So he replied with a variation of something they’d heard several times, too. “I know. You’re right, and I promise I’ll try to do better.”
There might’ve been more to the conversation, but the waitress came with their milkshakes, and all of the numerous ways Mike kept letting them down were blessedly forgotten.
The rest of the night passed like any other — they made dumb jokes, talked over each other, bickered about inconsequential topics with no real malice behind their words. That was something else Mike loved about his friends — they took his flaws in stride, and didn’t hold grudges when he messed up, which seemed to happen more and more these days. It was what had helped them overcome so many fights, and awkward situations, and miscommunications, but he also feared that one day, that grace would run out. And when it did, he needed to have his shit together, because he couldn’t lose these people who he sometimes felt closer to than his actual family.
Eventually, their milkshakes were drained, and they began the trek back to campus. It wasn’t too far, but there was a chill in the late September air that made Mike wish he’d brought some sort of jacket. It was a lot easier to notice the cold walking on the ground than it was swinging through the air, buzzing on adrenaline.
“Mike, are you shivering?” Will bumped his shoulder and smiled gently.
“No,” he lied. “Maybe. It’s just colder than I thought it’d be, okay?”
Will chuckled. “You’re wearing a sweatshirt.”
In his haste to make it to the theatre, he had forgotten to put a shirt on underneath, but that wasn’t something that could be easily explained. “It’s thinner than it looks.”
“Here, just…” he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and shoved it into Mike’s hands before he could protest. “Don’t try to argue with me, it won’t work. Besides, I was getting kind of warm anyway.”
Mike knew it had to be a lie, but he still smiled and blushed like an idiot, and swung the jacket over his shoulders. Will was shorter than him, but Mike's frame was narrow enough that they could share clothes without the size difference being too awkward on either of them. He knew it wasn’t anything deeper than a simple, nice gesture, but still, a warmth spread through Mike’s body that he knew wasn't caused by the added layer of clothing.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
“Don’t sweat it,” Will smiled back. “Also, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but… are you sure you’re okay?”
“Huh?”
“Like, with why you were late. You said it was personal, right? Is it, like, family stuff? Because I remember you said your grandma was getting worse…”
“Oh, no, no, it was nothing like that,” Mike said quickly, though he was touched that he remembered. “Seriously, Will, you don’t have to worry about me, okay?”
“Okay.” They’d arrived at their friends’ dorm — apart from Lucas and Mike, they all lived in the same building. Will turned to Mike as they stopped outside. “You know I’m still going to, though, right?”
Mike rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t bite back his smile. He hoped Will couldn’t tell that his stomach did a somersault. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He began to shrug off Will’s jacket, but the other boy reached out and grabbed the front, pulling it back up over Mike’s shoulders.
“Just keep it. It’s a long walk back to your dorm.”
“But… what if you need to go out later, and you get cold?”
Will raised his eyebrows. “I own more than one jacket, Mike. I’ll just come by and grab it tomorrow, anyway.”
“Okay,” Mike said breathily. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds good.”
“Okay,” he said with a little laugh. “Goodnight, Mike.”
“Goodnight.”
The rest of his friends filed into their building, Lucas going with Max, and Mike was left standing alone outside. He knew he could’ve swung back to his dorm, but he chose to walk instead, using the cold as an excuse to wrap Will’s jacket tighter around himself. Even though he knew he’d be embarrassed about it later, he buried his face in the fabric and inhaled. It smelled like Will.
That was another unexpected consequence of reuniting with Will. Or maybe it should have been expected, Mike didn’t know. He couldn’t remember a time when his friendship with Will didn’t feel like this, like their friendship was somehow deeper than everyone else’s, but when they met again in college, it was… different. Like, they’d be studying together in the library, and Mike would get the sudden, uncontrollable urge to take Will’s hand in his, just to see how it would feel. Or they’d be lounging around in someone’s dorm, elbows or knees touching, when Mike would suddenly wish there were more points of contact, so much so that he would have to physically move away to quell the thoughts. Or he’d be watching Will laugh, or smile, or pull a face, or do anything, really, and completely unprompted, his brain would wonder, over and over again, what Will’s lips might feel like against his.
It was exhausting and overwhelming, and every time Mike thought too hard about what it meant, his brain began to hurt. He’d spent the better part of his high school years wrapping his head around being low-level into guys, but it was something he’d never, ever admitted to another person. He hoped he’d maybe never have to, that he would meet a nice girl he really liked and wanted to marry, and his attraction to men could be something he left behind in his youth. So, Mike had made a series of dumb decisions in his freshman year — most notably, starting a relationship with Will’s stepsister.
Okay, well, that made it sound like dating El was just some sort of way to smother his feelings, which it wasn’t. He didn’t even realize he really liked Will, beyond just finding him attractive, until they were already broken up. The relationship might’ve helped him realize that, though. But either way, he really did like her. She was cute, and funny, and even though she was quiet, she looked at the world with a wide-eyed curiosity that proved she picked up on a lot more than she let on. And El liked him, too -- Lucas gave him quite a few not-so-subtle hints relayed to him through Max before Mike finally asked El out on a date. And their relationship was good. After all, they liked each other. But the problem was, that’s all there ever was to it. It was good, not great. They liked each other, but they didn’t love each other. So when they broke up, toward the end of freshman year, it wasn’t drastic or emotionally devastating for either of them. They had been friends before, so they just… went back to being friends after. The rest of their group didn’t really get it, but that didn’t matter. Plus, at that point, Mike had realized something really, really unfortunate that he didn’t know what to do about.
It started when Will went on a date with some guy, and Mike moped for a week over the fact that some guy wasn’t him. The date never led anywhere, thank God, but it forced Mike to confront the thing he’d tried very hard to avoid for a very long time.
Being Spider-Man was his biggest secret, sure, but it wasn’t his most devastating one. It wasn't the one that consumed his every waking thought, or kept him awake at night, or made him stop and throw a penny and wish childishly into every goddamn fountain he passed.
No, that secret was much worse. It was that Mike Wheeler was stupidly, desperately, pathetically in love with his best friend, and he knew that Will Byers was never going to love him back.