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It’s been a few months since the Byers moved in with the Wheelers.
Joyce is staying with Hopper to help El train, and Jonathan spends most of his time with Nancy. So here is Will, in the basement, a sketchbook open on his lap. Soft light filters in from outside as he sits cross-legged on the couch. Holly asked him to draw her, and he swore that he’d make it perfect. He’s carefully tracing the lines of the sketch with a soft grey pencil, grazing the curve of her nose and the falling of her hair. His brows furrow in concentration as he focuses on the details, and he thinks that maybe when he’s done he can teach Holly how to draw portraits like this.
A good learning experience. He thinks.
His focus suddenly breaks as a knock sounds from up the stairs. He startles, looking up and lifting his pencil from the page.
“Come in.” He calls before he looks back at the piece to add a few more lines along Holly’s cheeks. He never noticed before, but she and Mike look similar. All the Wheeler siblings do, really.
Will looks up again to see who it is, and jumps slightly as he locks eyes with Mike himself.
“Uh– sorry. Hey.” Mike says, and crosses the last few stairs quickly. He seems distracted, and his face is slightly flushed.
Will tilts his head to the side with curiosity. “Hey. What’s up?” He asks, shifting to pay full attention to Mike; the hair falling softly against the sides of his face, curling gently at the ends – the light catching his eyes, making them look both lighter and darker than ever.
If only I could draw him like this. Right here, right now. Will thinks in admiration.
It’s only when an extra beat of silence has passed that he realises Mike has said something. He shakes his head, focusing back in again, and tries not to focus on the way Mike is looking at him.
“Sorry– I got distracted. What was that?” He clarifies, making sure he’s definitely focusing this time.
Mike pauses, something like confusion flashing briefly through his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you.” He repeats.
Will’s heart speeds up. The way Mike is saying it sounds serious, like it’s something important. He swallows, gesturing to the couch beside him. “Yeah?”
Instead of taking a seat, Mike stays where he is, standing on the basement floor and fidgeting with the hem of his long sleeves.
“I, um–” He starts, eyes darting across Will’s face before looking back down. “It’s kind of important, but I don’t want you to feel pressured to respond right away.” His voice is slow, measured, and careful. Like he doesn’t want to screw this up.
Will can’t help the worry creeping into his tone. “Mike, is something wrong? You, uh– seem…”
“Nervous?” Mike finishes for him, wincing slightly. He laughs a little, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I am a bit, um, nervous.”
Will frowns. “There’s nothing you could say that will upset me, okay? You don’t have to be nervous.”
Mike stays silent for a moment – still fidgeting – like he’s thinking deeply, turning words over in his brain. “You don’t know that.” He mumbles.
Now Will is very anxious. Whatever Mike wants to talk about is clearly worrying him.
“Mike, we’ve been best friends since we were five. I promise, I’ll never judge you.” He insists, hoping to catch his eye. But Mike’s gaze is fixed down on his hands, like looking up will somehow make this harder.
“Yeah.” He replies quietly, before clearing his throat and raising his voice just slightly, but still unevenly. “Friends. Best friends.” Will doesn’t bother questioning the way Mike says it.
After another pause, Will speaks again. “So… what did you want to talk about?”
Mike takes a deep breath and begins to ramble. “Well, it’s more something I want to tell you. You don’t have to respond or anything yet, honestly I wouldn’t blame you– and it’s been on my mind for a while, not that I didn’t want to tell you, I was just scared– Jesus Christ, not scared, just, um– nervous, I guess. I don’t know. But I had to tell you, you know?” He looks up again quickly and sucks in a breath.
“Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve said all that, but still haven’t told me.” Will replies, the corner of his mouth turning up. They both laugh for a moment, and the air lightens. Not by much, but just enough to let Mike speak again. To say what he really means.
“I like you.” He blurts out.
Time stops for a moment. Just the two of them, looking each other in the eyes, and trying to make their hearts beat quieter.
Will’s head is churning out thoughts at a hundred miles per hour, and his mouth suddenly goes dry. Everything he knows has been turned on its head, upside down. He cringes inwardly at that phrasing.
“Like… romantically.”
Those words hit even harder, like a swift punch to the gut that knocks all the air out of him. He knows he should say something, anything at all. Shit.
“No.” He chokes out. Okay, maybe not anything at all. Judging by the hurt and confused expression on Mike’s face, that wasn’t the right thing to say. But Will’s head is spinning and he can feel emotions rising up, higher and higher, threatening to spill over.
“Mike, you’re being mean.” His voice cracks, letting out a shaking breath.
“What..?” Mike replies breathlessly, and Will hates how oblivious he looks. Like he doesn’t even know what he’s doing.
“Mike, you don’t.” He blinks quickly, trying not to cry. “You don’t like me. Not like that. Don’t do this.” He feels like his words are choking him, twisting in the air to wrap themselves around his neck.
“But– Will, I do.” Mike responds indignantly. He opens his mouth to say more, but Will interrupts him.
“Mike, no. You don’t get to lie to me like this. This isn’t funny.” He can feel heat rising in his face, colouring his cheeks and making it hard to talk. He feels hurt – hurt that his best friend of over ten years would do something like this – but also overwhelmingly angry. Angry that he feels the way he does about Mike, angry at himself for wanting to believe it. Most of all, angry that this is exactly how to hurt him, and Mike knows that.
“It’s not supposed to be funny. I’m not lying! I wouldn’t do that.” Mike insists, his voice raw with pain. For a moment, it’s convincing. Will wants him to be telling the truth, to really mean it. But he doesn’t. He’s not like him.
He’s not like me. Will’s mind echoes again, and before he knows it, he’s saying it too.
“You’re not like me.” Will breathes out quietly, shaking his head and looking away.
Mike’s fists clench, and he’s visibly upset. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He exclaims.
“It means–” Will begins, but the words catch in his throat. He can’t breathe, his heart is racing, and he hopes this is all a bad dream. “It means you aren’t…”
Mike watches him, eyes burning into his head. “Aren’t what?”
“…Queer.”
The word hangs between them, engulfing the room in a feeling so tense, so disquieting, that they both fall silent for a moment. Then another. And another.
“Will.” Mike says suddenly, shattering the silence. “You don’t know that. You– you can’t decide that for me. I like you.” He says it like it’s a promise, and Will’s heart aches.
“Please,” his voice cracks, “just– look at me. Will?”
Will shakes his head, because he worries that if he looks up – or even moves at all – he’ll start sobbing. Mike steps forward and crouches to meet his eyes, cupping Will’s cheek with his hand and holding Will’s arm with the other.
They make eye contact, and Will starts crying. At first it’s light, hardly noticeable, but it quickly begins to flow. It’s unstoppable, like a dam has been broken and all his feelings are falling out until he’s left raw. Suddenly Mike leans in and wraps Will in a warm embrace – the sketchbook long discarded beside them – letting him cry into his shoulder.
“This is a really, really stupid prank.” He sobs, fingers clutching the fabric of Mike’s sweater like it’ll ground him.
“It’s not a prank.” Mike promises softly. “I swear, it’s not. I’m telling the truth, Will.” He holds Will a little tighter until he leans back, facing him again.
“I love you.” He whispers hoarsely, and Will can see he’s been crying too.
Will just looks at him, taking in his expression, the way his eyes are slightly red, the tear stains down his cheeks, the sincerity in his eyes.
“You do?” His voice trembles, shakily exhaling as he raises a hand to wipe the tears from Mike’s face.
Mike replies quietly, like he’s trying not to scare him off. “Of course I do. I– I always have. I just didn’t know what it meant.”
“And now you know?” Will hates himself for asking, but he has to make sure. He can’t feel false hope again.
“Yes, Will. I love you.” Mike’s gaze scans his face thoughtfully, slowly, like he’s watching every thought passing through Will’s head.
“I–” Will’s voice cracks, still quiet like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I love you too.” He admits.
They both sit there together for a moment, such a brief point in time that still seems to stretch forever. A moment that encompasses all others, a second where all words left unsaid are silently spoken into the air.
And then, they’re both leaning forward.
Their lips brush – just slightly – and it’s hardly even a kiss. Hesitantly, they weave their hands together, and time focuses into this moment, lips gently meeting.
As they pull apart, fresh tears roll down Mike’s cheeks as he takes a deep breath.
“I always wanted this… I just– just didn’t know if it was allowed. If it was right.” He sniffles, and now that he’s said it, Will can see everything he couldn’t see before. The yearning, the hiding, the self-doubt. Mike had never not loved him, he’d just been forced to hide it.
Will feels like he’s in a dream – that light, delirious and fuzzy feeling rising in his chest. They press their foreheads together, breathing in sync.
This time, they promise to stay by each other’s sides.
This time, they promise to tell the truth.
Even if it means they go crazy together.