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Back in smalltown Hawkins, Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair are considered losers. Some say nerds. Some say dorks. High key it's all of the above when it comes to them.
They're nobodies.
But in the video game community, in the world of zeroes and ones and coding, it's different. They're somebodies, depending on who's asking.
Whether they are online gaming or at an actual arcade, Mike and Lucas are superstars sweeping the competition at various contests and championships hosted at geeky conventions (cons for short) across the country coast to coast.
About twice now, they’ve been interviewed by magazines meant for hardcore gamers like themselves, especially because Mike and Lucas are really, really freaking good.
They can do it all; first person shooters, side scrollers, speedruns, racing, console controllers and keyboards, the classics such as Tetris or Snake. You name it, they can beat it and be top player.
No cheat codes or mods for assist. Just too many concerningly late night hours in Mike's basement and piles of junk food at their disposal.
Originally, their parents thought they were wasting their time indoors melting their brains leveling up instead of going outside to get fresh air and sunshine, that is - until - Mike and Lucas started winning prize money for their skills. Enough cash for them to set up hefty bank accounts before they graduated high school. Better than working at Surfer Boy's, Scoops Ahoy, or Family Video with their more socially accepted peers.
The most money they’ve ever won is when they work together as a Duos team, playing against others who can’t handle how in sync Mike and Lucas are when strategizing.
Perhaps, it’s because they're childhood best friends who live right next door to each other, and that’s why they fit like puzzle pieces.
Perhaps, it’s because they're also stubborn rivals who like to one-up each other and beat high scores with loads of smack talk in between.
Whatever the reason, one thing is for sure, they are unstoppable.
“Aaaaaaand the winner of this 2006 Summer Duos Award goes to Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair AKA Paladin and Ranger! Make some noise for our Indiana Boys!” Bellows the announcer into the microphone.
Cheers erupt in the vigorous crowd while Mike and Lucas happily hug, bouncing up and down so wildly they collapse to the floor laughing, limbs entwined and faces close.
Another trophy. Another check. Another day doing what they love best.
Once they gather themselves and collect their loot, Mike and Lucas are free for the rest of the day to roam the con. They immediately check out the food vendors, famished after beating fifty teams in an intense first person shooter battle royale.
“We gotta tell Dustin about this. I mean, we truly outdid ourselves. I think we broke a record even.” Lucas puffs his chest, all smug, and then takes a bite of his hotdog.
This is the seventh one he's eaten. This is the seventh one Mike bought for him.
With Lucas pumped up, Mike rolls his eyes and tries not to smile endearingly. Whenever Lucas gets this way, Mike finds his ardor contagious. Like his confidence soars and he can be just as self-assured as Lucas has always seemed to be since they met as kids. He offers a spare napkin for Lucas to wipe a dollop of mustard from the corner of his lips.
He’s almost tempted to clean the spot himself for Lucas, something he'd do if they were completely alone or around their other loser friend Dustin who'd joke about how stitched at the hip they are, but alas they're in public and Mike doesn't need a new reason to be judged by society.
At the moment, they're walking and chatting, unable to stay still when surrounded by all the available game demos they could test out, the Dance Dance Revolution machines scattered everywhere, and the giant screens showcasing who's currently charting on the leader board - both stateside and worldwide.
“Dustin’ll be too busy inventing an American version of Nintendo over listening to us brag again.” Mike reminds, already picturing their hat-wearing friend pretending to have a gun to his head when Lucas recounts flawless victory like a broken record.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re probably right. Hey! We should check out the Solos.” Lucas suggests in that tone that means he’s insisting they go. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
“Solos?” Mike scrunches his noise. His eyes land on one of the leader boards. He can't recognize any notable names. “What for? We don’t know anybody here.”
“Uh… we definitely know about the underdog newbie that’s climbing the ranks like it’s nothing: Will Byers AKA Cleric AKA Will The Wise AKA Sorcerer!"
Lucas pulls out a wrinkled itinerary flyer from his pants pocket, finger tapping at the event this Will person is supposed to be participating in.
Mike furrows his brows at the semi-familiar name. “I dunno, man. I prefer doing the playing. It’s boring to watch other people play.”
“You don’t mind watching me play.” Lucas evilly grins and it makes him unfairly handsome.
Mike pinches his cheeks to mask any type of blushing. He quickly comes up with an excuse. “That’s because you’re not boring. You’re… interesting, dare I say.”
“If you say so. C’mon, Wheeler. I’ve been following Will's come up since he was a nobody in the forums and blogs. Trust, he’s a revolutionary in the making. Might give us a run for our money, too.” Lucas hypes up, draping an arm around Mike's shoulder and pressing their sides flush together.
“Fine. Lead the way.” Mike eventually caves, wrinkling his nose at Lucas’ distracting cologne, the scent keeping him from thinking properly.
They stay glued together, horsing around and killing time. Unaware how life changing their night will become.
After much bickering about directions, plus getting lost, plus the hasteful search for a bathroom, Lucas and Mike find the correct area where the Solos competition is being held. They walk aimlessly until they find free seats to claim. There’s plenty of leg room, but Mike and Lucas find a way to knock knees regardless, bare skin touching with them both wearing shorts.
“How’s Nana?” Lucas asks, casually leaning back in his seat, getting comfortable. Mike mirrors him.
“Doing better. One of her nursing home caretakers is gonna tell her about my victory today.” Mike's lips form a half-smile, fondly remembering that it was his Nana that got him his very first Nintendo.
She nurtured his special interests, when his parents saw no point in it. They saw it as too isolating of a hobby.
“Our victory, dude. It was a joint effort.” Lucas nudges Mike with his elbow and Mike nudges back. “Anyway, glad she’s not as sick anymore.”
“Uh-huh. Me, too.” Mike begins to fiddle with his wristwatch and avoid Lucas’ eyes. “So, like, this Will Byers guy…. What’s his deal? He really as good as you say? Doubt it.”
“We’ll see. Can’t get any solid info on him. He’s kinda mysterious.”
“Mysterious?”
“Yup. Probably cuz he’s gay, so he keeps a low profile.” Lucas waves off.
Mike's jaw drops. “Gay! He’s gay!”
A few heads turn at the ruckus. Lucas juggles between shushing Mike and apologetically nodding at the curious stares of the other people here to watch a good game.
“Well, I think, I mean I heard he’s a little sweet.” Lucas shrugs. He's too calm about this for Mike's liking.
“Is he or is he not?” Mike's suddenly invested in this faceless Will Byers more than ever.
Not that Mike's gay or anything. He's not homophobic either! He just never met one before in real life. The most people he talks to on a daily basis that isn't his family are Lucas, Dustin, Dustin's far-fetched buddy and reformed douchebag, the popular Steve “The Hair” Harrington, and his unclaimed girlfriend radio host Rockin’ Robin.
He once had an opportunity to chat online with a fellow Ghostbusters fan, found out he wasn't straight as a ruler, and proceeded to panic, blocking the dude after not responding to innocent messages regarding Venkman’s character in the movie. Mike felt extremely guilty about it, like he did when his older classmate, Eddie Munson, complimented Mike's first time wearing a shirt that wasn't what his mommy got for him at the Gap.
“Look, Mike. It’s all speculation. Will, he’s a loner and people talk. Figure this is why so many wanna take him down from his pedestal. Rumors are total bullshit, anyway, when the guy can kick major ass.” Lucas dons a gaze of admiration.
He always respected rebels. Always spoke highly of brave people and Will was brave to not argue with nosy folk. One of Mike's sisters told him it's called “being secure of your sexuality” or something.
All Mike knows is that he wants to be on Lucas’ radar like that. He stares at Lucas, contemplative, and is about to open his mouth when the announcer interrupts, listing off the slew of contestants. Both Lucas and Mike listen to each name, waiting impatiently, and then their eyes widen when Will Byers steps on the scene.
“Whoa.” Mike sighs, breath hitched, heart thumping in his chest.
“I know, man. He’s a pretty boy. No wonder he’s got haters.” Lucas jokes, tugging at his shirt collar as if it's hot, yet the whole convention center is air conditioned, feeling colder than a butcher's deep freezer of meats.
On the big screen, a docile Will Byers is glowing, skin tanned from the California sunshine. He takes his rightful place in front of a monitor, logs into the server's map, and slips on headphones. Today's Solos is the same type of game Mike and Lucas played earlier in the day.
First person shooter.
The clock begins the countdown. Mike and Lucas glance at each other before focusing solely on Will. The match ensues and it is every bit mesmerizing.
Will is locked in. His fingers are lightning fast. His reaction time is magic. He is moving like a miracle, headshotting his opponents and routinely adjusting his camera angle. Not a single round of ammo is squandered. Will easily can switch from tiptoeing sniper to full on guns ablazing.
Mike can't breathe. He hasn't blinked. He can't miss a single move Will pulls from his arsenal. While the announcer narrates the quick paced game play in awe, Mike and Lucas both sit up at attention, excitement dilating their pupils and heavy panting escaping their lips.
There's a weight on Mike's thigh. Lucas has gripped it. Nothing new. Neither acknowledges the contact. Their minds are blank canvases, painted only in the image of Will, stoic and tranquilizing, killing his way to the top.
Lucas squeezes Mike's thigh every takedown Will commits. Mike audibly gulps and his shoe grazes Lucas’ own at the leaderboard inching Will's name higher to top 20 - top 10 - top 5. Each time because Will makes it look easy, makes it artful, Lucas treats Mike's thigh like a stress ball and with Mike's pale skin, there’ll be a bruise forming later.
Standard with increasing eliminations, comes the typical gamer rage at prematurely losing. Will keeps his cool, not distracted by the noise of disappointment and frustration escalating around him. He just tunes it out.
Two are left in the round: Will Byers and Troy Walsh.
Then it is over. Troy lost. Will won. Last man standing.
“Let's gooooo!” Will rips his headphones off and stands up, chair falling backwards from the swiftness and force.
He screams in mighty triumph, angelic in his domineering grin. A far cry from how meek he was upon introduction.
The audience roars with him, chanting Will's various nicknames. One sticks out, though. Zombie Boy. Supposedly because no one can halt him from killing everyone on the map and because he can’t be killed.
Mike and Lucas are stunned into silence. They are impressed. They are massively turned on. But that's normal. They have a love for the game, for e-sports and challenges, it isn't exactly Will that has their blood charged and thoughts drifting into dangerous territory.
“We gotta meet him.” Mike finally speaks.
“We will. Haha. Get it.” Lucas takes pleasure in Mike's scowl at the corniness. “Tonight, there's a banquet. He'll be there.”
“Banquet? Do we have to dress fancy?”
“If it gives us a shot at Byers, I'll take the risk.”
So it's decided.
The weather is warm. The sun has set. The banquet is located between the secluded beach and the expensive hotel renting their venue to the sponsors.
Mike and Lucas are in semi-formal clothing. They both nurse chilled beer bottles, quietly standing at a table, posing as wallflowers, their sights directly on Will dancing carefree with his friends - a trio of giggling and tipsy girls encircling him.
One has red hair. One has brown hair and kinda looks like Will's twin. The third is an older woman, Mike heard the name “Kali” in passing, squealed from the brown haired girl's mouth.
They’re all hot. Hotter than the summer heat. Fitting since Nelly's Hot In Herre song is blasting from the speakers. Will is having the time of his life getting doted on. Mike wishes he didn't have two left feet and Lucas appreciates Will and his little redheaded friend timing their hips to the beat in a last minute choreo.
Lucas points out Will's parents in the distance to Mike.
“They're proud of him. Y'know, they hurried up and got Will a brand deal when sponsors came a-knocking. Said he's good representation. Works in his favor, too. Will wants to be an inspiration to kiddos that escape reality in games. He's been praising World of Warcraft and the Sims lately as his go-to for ideas.”
“The Sims isn't a real game. Just like how Animal Crossing isn't.” Mike turns his nose up.
“I used to think that too, Mr. Uppity, then Will came along and now I'm willing to give it a try.” Lucas takes a sip of his beer.
Mike takes a sip of his own. He has to admit that Will is naturally influential. He wouldn't be caught dead playing a game his baby sister Holly enjoyed, but if it's good enough for a Solos champion, then Will might be on to something.
They don't drink nearly enough to have the liquid courage to approach Will. That and his gorgeous guards of girls are intimidating and seemingly possessive. Mike questions if Lucas got bad intel about Will's sexuality.
When they finally see an opening, Will going to grab a refreshment by himself, Mike and Lucas strike, gracelessly speedwalking.
Will’s sipping a fruity orange drink in peace, barely two seconds into sitting down and resting his feet, before he's ambushed.
“Hi, I'm Lucas Sinclair!”
“Mike Wheeler!”
Will narrows his eyes, assesses that Mike and Lucas aren't bigoted weirdos or sore losers itching for a fight by how innately and adoringly cringe they are.
He smirks. “I know who you are. You're Paladin and Ranger, right.”
“In the flesh!” Lucas says.
Will takes a few moments to size up Lucas and Mike separately, looking up through his long lashes, watching their dopey smiles at being clocked by their more famous tag names. Will flicks a finger briefly between them.
“Which one's which?”
Lucas motions his beer at him. “What do you think?”
Will sips more of his drink and makes eyes at Lucas. Mike quickly interjects, hoping to catch Will's eye, too.
“You were fucking incredible out there.” Mike eagerly states.
“Thank you.” Will smiles big, now concentrating on him.
“N-no, I mean, I - it wasn't even like a shooter. It was entirely different. Like an assassin simulator. I feel bad for Troy, though.” Mike scratches his cheek.
“Oh, uh, don't. Troy sucks at losing and is a racist homophobic bitch so…” Will informs, sucking through his straw pointedly. He stares at both boys and belatedly reassures. “He'll be okay.”
Lucas and Mike share looks and chuckle at such honesty.
Will slides his gaze between them. He lands on Lucas once more. “You're going to Stanford, right?”
“Yeah? How'd you know that?” Lucas asks, sheepish.
“Just accepted my offer and they mentioned you.” Will casually replies.
There's a hint of small talk brewing and Mike barges in. “You're going to Standford?”
Will eyes Mike in a scrutinizing way. “Is that a problem?”
“Why waste time at that school? UC is better.” Mike insists.
Will sips his drink again. He can tell Mike enjoys being contrarian, the fighting spirit possessing him, pushing to keep Will's eyes on him and on no one else.
Their conversation is cut short when Will's dad summons his presence.
Will stands up to politely tell Lucas and Mike goodbye. “I have to go take pictures. It was nice meeting you both.”
“Yeah.” Lucas agrees. So does Mike.
“Okay.” Will curtly says, cutely smiles at their matching awkward smiles and struts off.
He never once looks back. If he did he'd notice Mike and Lucas following his retreating form like birds of prey, their mirroring body language facing wherever Will goes. The smiles still plastered on their mugs as if speaking to Will was the highlight of their day.
Lucas claims Will's abandoned seat. Mike paces slowly beside him.
“Now what?” He asks.
“What do you mean?” Lucas asks Mike.
“Wanna stick around? Try to talk to him again?”
“No, no, no, no, no. That'll seem too desperate. We'll seem like fanboys.” Lucas advises.
“Yeah! Sure. Okay.” Mike resignedly agrees. He stares across the partygoers at camera ready Will.
Then he glances at Lucas staring longingly at Will, also.
“C'mon.” Mike orders, but they both don't move, both watching wherever the wind blows Will.
The banquet is coming to a close. People are returning to their cars or taxis or checked-in rooms. Mike and Lucas have made cushioned lawn chairs their resting spot, far from the dance floor and wet bar.
Mike’s finishing up a cup of ice cream when Lucas hits his arm rapidly. “Look!”
They see him again, Will saying bye-bye to the girls he was with.
“Hey!” Lucas shouts.
Will turns to them and to their luck he keeps closing the gap. “Hey, yourself!”
With a mix of stutters on their end, and an entertained expression on Will's face, the threesome chat. Will questions why they aren't preparing for their competition tomorrow. Lucas and Mike do it any chance they get.
After winning as a duo, they then try their hand at solo, finding it more fulfilling to challenge each other as opponents, going back and forth, needing to show who's boss.
It's a thrill they both get a kick out of that nobody else bothers to understand. Dustin brushes it off as a dick measuring contest. It's more than that to them.
Tomorrow, Mike and Lucas are entering Solos, the game of choice, a car racing one for nostalgia purposes. It's fascinating that Will knows they'll be matched as rivals. Is he a fan? Or is he just knowledgeable?
They both wonder if Will will be in the crowd and who'd he be rooting for - Paladin or Ranger?
“I wanted to ask about that move you pulled—” Mike can't finish his sentence. Lucas won't allow it.
“Do you smoke?”
Will blinks in surprise at the question. “Cigarettes?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“I'm more into the Devil's lettuce if I have to light up.” Will admits.
“Wanna go to the beach?” Mike finds his voice again. Then he clarifies, just in case Will gets the wrong idea. “As friends, of course.”
Will silently mulls it over, holding back a snort at Mike's pleading puppy dog eyes. “Sure. Lead the way, friend.”
The three venture to a secluded part of the beach. Mike and Lucas sit in beach chairs, lit cigarettes dangling loosely from their fingers. Will sits upon a rock across from them, resembling a mermaid, the backdrop a melding dark sky and black ocean waves illuminated by the full moon.
It's quiet and relaxing. Mike's body gets jittery, nicotine not soothing him any, and he breaks the intangible dam of tension, flooding them drenched.
“What's your angle? Why go to Stanford? That's so basic. You're already from Cali. Don't you wanna travel some place far and new?”
Lucas shakes his head at Mike's pestering.
Will eyes Mike in an unreadable expression, lips curled upward. The words Lucas previously stated echo in Mike's brain. Pretty boy.
“You know they offer amazing classes at Stanford, right? Many opportunities with their degrees, clubs, frats. The scholarly ones, not the party monsters.” Will teases.
The lapse of speech is for but a moment.
“I get it. I get it.” Mike nods in understanding, creating a scene by weaving a story that makes sense to him and starts blabbling. “You're sowing your seeds. Waiting for your crop to grow. It's brilliant, seriously. Will the Wise is educated, is kind and smart, and probably will have a successful indie game in the works few years from now. A real role model. That apparently prefers weed to cigarettes.”
“And where are you going to college? Is it UC?” Will counters, unbothered at Mike's call out.
Mike smirks. “I'm not going to college. I don't need it. I'm not a tool like my dad. I got intuition, see. I can tell this gaming stuff is going places nobody's ever dreamed of before. Some games might even be better than watching blockbuster Hollywood movies. And I'll be a pioneer of it, of people paying for the experience us losers have always feasted on when getting immersed, or as the normies say, getting too into the game.”
Lucas flits his eyes between Mike and Will, mutely observing.
“That's also your problem,” Will starts, laughing at Mike's answer that sounds more like a sales pitch, “You're an idea guy. A dime a dozen. Can plan for everybody, but themselves. I've seen how you play games, Mike. I've been watching you closely. You like the challenge, like being the best, doing your own way, not having a real execution, just pure luck kind of guy. Your Achilles heel. You lag behind just like a bad connection when solo, barely winning. Why's it so hard for you to make a solid decision when you aren't playing with Lucas on duos?”
“It works for me just fine. I mean, I still end up winning in the end.” Mike defends and then takes a drag from his cigarette.
He won't confess that Lucas has been picked up on his lagging situation and uses it to his advantage to best him when they're on opposing teams.
“Yeah, you win, but you're not a true gamer. You don't know what gaming truly is.” Will licks his lips.
“What is it?” Lucas asks for Mike.
Will's face gets soft, softer than it already is. “It's intimate.”
“That what you and Troy Walsh had today?” Mike teases.
Will nods and dreamily sighs. “Actually, yes. For those brief minutes we were playing like crazy, we understood each other completely, in the deepest of ways. So did everyone watching. It's like we were in love or like we didn't exist. We went somewhere really beautiful together. Winning became an afterthought. We were having genuine fun.”
“You screamed.” Lucas brings up. “When you killed him and won. Never heard anything like it before.”
Mike seconds that.
Will tenderly gazes at them, then stands to dust off the beach sand from his clothes. “I gotta go or my mom will come looking. See you at school, Lucas.”
“Wait! Do you have an email?” Mike blurts.
“Huh?”
“He wants your contact info. So do I.” Lucas translates.
“You both want my email?” Will has dealt with guys like this before.
“Yeah.”
“Very much so.”
They want more from him, don't know how to request it, don't know why they want Will to give it to them. He knows better than to engage with competitive boys, but Will enjoys a good show.
He plants the bait.
“Okay, well I'm not a homewrecker.”
Mike holds up his hands. “I'm not gay.”
“We're just friends. Best friends.” Lucas reiterates.
“We also don't live together. Meaning no home to wreck.”
“We're just next door neighbors.”
Will's hand covers his snickering mouth.
Lucas recovers, seeing an in with how Will hasn't left yet. “Come hang out with us later. You're staying at the hotel, right? We're in room 206.”
“Are we having a sleepover?” Will tilts his head.
“No. Who needs sleep? We can keep talking about games forever. We can play Old Maid if you want.” Mike latches onto Lucas’ invitation.
“Good night.” Will turns on his heel.
“We have weed!” Mike throws out as a last resort.
“Okay good night. Friends.” Will laughs at them, still on the move.
The shadows of night engulf Will, disappearing him in the blink of an eye. Mike and Lucas both pout and slump in their chairs, dissatisfied at the departure.
That's fine. They're used to being a party of two.
Even Dustin would rather do his own thing then be stuck to them 24/7.
Room 206 is at the end of their hotel hall. Lucas and Mike lounge around in solitude together, in just their boxers and loose shirts. Both shirts belong to Mike, one borrowed by Lucas. He didn't ask permission. He simply stole it from the luggage, but Mike doesn't mind.
“He's not coming.” Mike groans into a pillow, lying on his stomach in the bed. Fully disappointed.
“Shut up and have faith.” Lucas sits in a chair by the window and aims a potato chip at Mike's head.
The chip bounces off Mike's hair and falls beside his elbow. Without looking, Mike reaches for it and pops the chip in his mouth. It's been hours since the banquet. Soon they'd be calling it a night. They've made their room home, keeping it as messy as their bedrooms back in Hawkins. Clothes and socks are strewn everywhere. Snacks, cans of pop, and beer bottles decorate the floor. The lingering smell of cigarettes taints the air, but it's fine, this is a smokers room so no extra fees necessary.
It happens randomly. A sound their ears catch. Someone's outside, knocking on the door, and it's not room service.
Beyond the door is Will Byers himself. He carefully raps his knuckles on the wood, standing in the hallway expectantly. A pregnant pause has him wondering if he came too late, if Lucas and Mike have fallen asleep already. The prompt shuffling of feet and panicked muffled voices prove otherwise. Will leans forward, his head nearing the door and knowingly grins as he hears the boys cleaning up.
The unlocking of the door is rather haphazard when he’s greeted by Lucas and Mike panting, sweating, and speechless in the threshold.
“Hey.” Will playfully pushes inside, parting Mike and Lucas like the Red Sea.
Not much time has gone by when they're all sitting on the floor drinking beer and passing the blunt around. It's not quite Purple Palm Tree Delight, but Will finds the effort of Indiana weed to be adorable.
He notices that Lucas and Mike make it impossible for them to sit in a circle facing each other equally. They are very much like how they were on the beach and at the banquet, side by side like a team needing to work together against Will who represents the final boss they must conquer.
“What's the story here?” Will gestures between them, taking a drag and passing it to Mike in the rotation.
“What do you mean?” Mike absently asks.
His mind is busy thinking why he's able to share a blunt between his fellow Hellfire Club members, including Lucas and Dustin, so nonchalantly, but now with Will, it feels like an indirect kiss of sorts.
“You two. You're close. Extremely.” Will emphasizes.
“Told you, we're best friends and neighbors.” Lucas replies, taking the blunt from Mike and deeply inhales.
Will scoffs. “I get that. That's obvious. I just mean—”
“What? Never had a best friend before Mr. Loner?” Mike glares, clearly sensitive.
Will isn't offended at the outburst, truthfully saying, “Not any guy best friends, for me, at least. Only girls.”
“Then you must know how tiring it is to be mistaken as a couple when you're just friends.” Mike hisses and Lucas smacks his forehead in embarrassment at Mike's attitude. He hopes Will won’t run off.
“Please, don't mind him. He's just grumpy 99% of the time.” Lucas explains, smiling tensely.
Will chuckles. “Oh, no. He has a right to be upset. I shouldn't have implied you two to be something more. I just have a feeling.”
“A feeling?” They both say in unison.
“Yeah. A sixth sense, maybe. I can tell you guys have a history of doing non-friend things.”
“What the fuck?!” Mike is half-shocked and half-bristling.
“And what do you think happened between us?” Lucas offers the blunt and Will takes it back.
“Interesting. You're not denying anything. Most would by now.” Will narrows his eyes and Lucas winks.
“What. The. Fuck.” Mike repeats.
Will turns to him and earnestly says, “I promise to keep your secret. I'll even tell you a secret of mine for fair trade.”
“Really?” Lucas sounds intrigued.
“Lucas. Don't.” Mike grabs his arm.
“Relax, Mike.” Lucas reassures. “Byers is cool.”
“No. No way.”
“Next time we smoke, I'll get you my supply from Lenora. Maybe you'll chill out better.” Will takes pleasure in Mike's anxious discomfort.
Lucas has no qualms spilling his guts to Will.
“We were younger. Always had sleepovers in Mike's basement. Had to camp out in my room one weekend because Mrs. Wheeler was getting renovations done. This dummy wanted to prank me. Scare me by hiding under my bed after I got done in the bathroom. He found my stash and well…”
“Well?”
“One thing lead to another.”
Mike kicks at Lucas’ leg. “Not my fault. I never saw anything like that and got, um, inquisitive.”
“Enough for me to give an amateur health class lesson.” Lucas laughs and kicks Mike back.
“Was it gross? This mystery stash under the bed.” Will can only imagine.
“Gross? More like insane, really.” Mike describes and this time Lucas is the one to get flustered.
“Whoa! Dude, nobody told you to go snooping if you aren't prepared to see the results.”
“Nobody forced you to tell our business about it.”
Will counts to thirty, watching Mike and Lucas argue, their words an accusatory back and forth of verbal tennis.
“Quick question. If I wasn't here, would you two entertain yourselves like that again? As buddies, bros, best friends of course. Nothing serious.” Will interrupts.
Mike and Lucas cease their debate to eye Will cautiously.
“We're not answering until you share with the class yourself.” Lucas kicks Will's leg.
“I'll keep my word. No need to get antsy.” Will moves his hands in a placating manner. “As you know I'm gay. What I don't think you know is that you're both my type.”
“T-Type?” Mike stutters. He's never been that before.
“You're into us?” Lucas lights up.
Will lowers his tone, all mischievous. “Why else am I here in the dead of night? Not that I expect anything. I just bask in the company of men I like to talk to and look at on occasion.”
“You don't wanna do anything to us—with us? You just wanna hang out?” Mike gulps.
“You said it yourself, earlier. You want to be friends. I can accept that. Unless you were hoping for more.” Will stops himself from laughing at Mike's blanching face.
“Hah. No we are not.” Mike's cracking voice is laced in betrayal and Will raises his brows.
“Oh? Doubt it. You guys came and found me at the banquet. Then you beckoned me over to follow you to the beach. Then you practically begged for me to come by. All this in a single night. I dunno, man. Seems like you guys were expecting something from me. Not to mention you’re both in your boxers.”
“I already told you I'm not gay.” Mike states firmly.
“And we really just admire how you play games.” Lucas licks his lips.
“Ah, so you're fans. Just fans, huh?”
“Don't make this weird.” Mike grinds his teeth.
“I'm not. I told you, I'm not a homewrecker.” Will reminds.
“We aren't even living together for you to wreck a home.” Lucas massages his temple in exasperation.
“Well, you two are definitely a miscellaneous building with a strong foundation. Which is totally fine! I'm as much of a spectator as a player. Love me a good game.” Will stretches, arms raised, the hem of his shirt riding up exposing his belly.
Mike and Lucas can't help staring.
“Okay. You're doing this on purpose now.” Mike petulantly whispers.
Will ends his stretching and his shirt returns to normal. He notices Mike digging his nails into palms and Lucas gripping Mike's thigh. Both look like they're holding back.
“I'll catch ya later. Don't want to overstay my welcome.” Will springs to his feet.
“Wait!”
“Don't go.”
Will watches them plead and grovel. “Hmm? Why?”
“You just got here. We're still chatting.” Lucas says.
“We are? I thought I struck a cord.”
“You did, but that doesn’t mean you don't have to leave.” Mike mutters.
“I don't? Okay.” Will walks to the bed and sits on the mattress edge.
“What are you doing?” Mike owlishly blinks.
“I'm sitting down. The floor's not comfortable after a while. C'mon. You guys should come here, too.” Will pats either side of him.
Mike glances at Lucas, but Lucas already bolts from the floor to the bed, and Mike hurriedly chases after. They perch beside Will, Lucas on his left, and Mike on his right. They sit close, their knees and thighs flush. Mike and Lucas keep their entranced eyes on Will who seems positively giddy.
“Should I stay or should I go?” Will eases into it, giving them many outs if they get cold feet.
“Stay.” Lucas breathes, scanning Will from top to bottom.
“Are you my fans or my friends?” Will lifts his chin up at Mike.
“Friends.” Mike's hushed voice is the faintest Will's heard it so far.
Will turns from Mike and goads Lucas. “Can I give you guys an amateur health lesson?”
“Yes.” They both answer.
They hang onto every word Will says. Their eyes on his lips.
“Kissing is a natural high when you do it.” Will presents like he's in a classroom showing off his project. “It releases oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin. No drugs required to have euphoria.”
“Wow. I could listen to you speak facts all day.” Lucas exhales.
“I'm a better artist than talker.” Will admits.
“You draw?!” Mike's face is a war of yearning and feigned disinterest.
“I sure do. Wanna see my drawings sometime?”
“Yes!” Mike slaps his mouth shut after realizing he yelled directly into Will's ear. So, not smooth.
Lucas makes the prayer hands for divine intervention to help them as Will recovers from flinching. Faith must be real because like the trooper he is, Lucas comes to Mike's rescue.
“We wanna see a lot of things from you, Byers. Choice is yours.”
Will devilishly smiles at them both. “I could do that. Give you a tutorial.”
It is silent for a moment. Mike and Lucas refuse to look away, Will their focal point. Will knows how nervous they are. Mike's bouncing his leg jackrabbit style and Lucas has sweaty palms he keeps wiping off. Neither is going to make a move. They want Will to do it, to guide them, to choose between them.
When Will was a kid, it didn't take him long to figure out he didn't like girls. It did take him a long time to figure out boys liked him - like liked him - in the same way his dad liked his mom. Will couldn't spot the signs initially. He had to study his friend Max on how boys approached her. They were more open in their desires, unlike the boys that approached him. Will had to look deeper and see the subtleties of when he'd be flirted with.
There were times Will got it right. Other times he got it wrong. Mostly because the boys were still in the closet and afraid of being caught, or they had no clue their attraction to Will went beyond platonic admiration.
He for sure thought Mike and Lucas would fit into the “Will got it wrong” category. With how reactionary Mike was toward him and how Lucas took a shine to him solely for his game plays, Will got surprised at the invite to the hotel room. He tested the waters by sitting on the bed, obviously evoking the undertones of the looming restlessness, and again got surprised how fast Mike and Lucas dove to be physically near him.
Now, they're patiently waiting. Not quite ready to take the initiative, but willing to let Will steer.
Slowly, Will brings his fingers to pinch a strand of Mike's curls. He soon cups Mike's cheek, thumb rubbing underneath his eye. He slants forward, taking note that Mike is perfectly still and not pushing away. Their foreheads touch and noses graze. Mike shuts his lidded eyes anticipatingly. Will is so close to kissing him and he almost does it.
When he feels there's no contact, Mike pops his eyes open, brain muddled. He is flashed by Will's bold grin before watching Will switch to pressing his lips to a startled Lucas instead.
The kiss is captivating. Will and Lucas kiss chastely, small pecks that grow bigger, more intense, lasting longer. Mike childishly pouts at Lucas tautly wrapping his hands around Will's waist. Will has his hands holding onto Lucas’ nape, his mouth parts to let out high pitched whimpers at the buzzing electrifying his nerves.
Lucas bunches up Will's shirt the further their kissing goes. He matches Will's tricksy smile, sussing out that they have the same sense of humor, poking fun at Mike who hates being left out or left behind. Lucas cracks open an eye, locking his gaze with Mike who is pissed and in veneration from having a front row seat to his best friend making out with Will.
Even though Mike's got conflicted feelings stewing, Lucas isn't worried. He and Mike have always done things together. The Wheelers and Sinclairs go on family trips annually, Lucas and Mike biked to and from school their entire lives in Hawkins, and when it came to partnering up for the science fair - class assignments - video game tournaments: they were each other's top pick.
Dustin used to joke he was tired of being their third and that's why he sought out Steve or Eddie for better company. Lucas didn't think three's a crowd. He believed he could make it work. But Dustin clung to his independence, not getting why Mike and Lucas had to always be a team that rarely separated when facing obstacles. And Mike's so unused to sharing that it's impossible to expand their small circle.
Lucas gasps when Will plants a calloused spread hand on his chest and gently shoves him. Their lips detach, puff of air exchanging as they catch their breath. Will gives one final smooch before spinning to Mike and clutching his shirt to drag him in. Whiplash, Lucas is now the spectator, looking at Mike clumsily kissing Will back.
Mike has no clue where to put his hands, internally panicking. His eyes lock onto Lucas and Lucas mimics holding his own waist. Mike stupidly gives a thumbs up for the assist and proceeds to grip Will as tight as he does his Nintendo controller. Like mashing buttons, Mike’s fingers knead Will’s sides. He slackens into the kiss more, shyly copying whatever Will does. If Will tilts his head, so does Mike. If Will scoots closer, so does Mike. If Will yanks Mike's curls, apparently that's his Kryptonite because Mike practically pulls Will on his lap - needy instinct consuming every brain cell and fiber of his being.
Lucas has never seen Mike act like that. He's usually stiff and wary. Being with Will has Mike severely loosen up. Lucas can't say he's not affected, either. He's pictured himself experimenting with a guy once or twice. Lucas had a couple friends on the basketball team who made him realize that he wasn't as straight as he thought he was. He never brought this up with Mike, however. Mike seemed hellbent on not talking about romance or relationships. He was A-OK, however, with hearing Lucas give detailed fantasies of his own erotic dreams, the kinds that had Lucas spend extra time doing laundry.
Will releases Mike and resumes his place in the middle of Lucas and him. His face is as flushed as Lucas’ skin is warm as Mike's hair is tousled.
“Wow.” Mike wheezes.
“Ditto.” Lucas traces his lips.
Will's pupils are blown and he dazedly taps his fingers on either side of his neck, urging Mike and Lucas to continue to lavish him with more kisses. They oblige without hesitation. In sync they take their position, Lucas has his pearly whites nibbling a patch of rosy flesh while Mike sucks a bruise and marks that he's been here. Their bodies shiver and clothes rustle. Lucas trails a series of scorching pecks up the column of Will’s neck to his ear and Mike peppers them down to Will’s exposed collarbone like he’s plotting a map.
Will pleasedly smirks at the differing sensations they rip from him. He raises his hands up, fingers cradling both of their jaws so delicately, Mike and Lucas putty in his grasp as he pulls them off to gaze wholly into their eyes.
Spellbound, Will facilitates a three-way kiss among them. He shepherds all their faces close. He barely has to swivel his head when interchanging between the boys, biting Mike's bottom lip ravenously and then sticking his tongue down Lucas’ throat sensually. Will's hand fishes for Mike's shirt as the other slips under Lucas’ hem. He trails goosebumps on Lucas’ spine and places a palm over Mike's pounding heart. With every pat and stroke, Mike and Lucas expire guttural whines and constantly squirm, both moving hungrily and Will becoming the meal that'll satiate what they've always pondered, but never had the bravery to put into action.
Lucas could kiss Will and Mike forever. It's like he's getting an energy boost. Not a wink of drowsiness encompasses him despite daylight coming in a few hours. At this moment, right now, this is a fantasy Lucas never thought possible. One similar to his dreams. He never thought it would play out, hooking up with guys and it feeling so nice and overdue. Let alone Mike being into it just as much as him, and he has Will to thank for that. Will broke down the walls between Mike and Lucas that teetered the line of something more, but not quite there yet.
Mike thinks he's had too much to drink and smoke because he can't fathom that it can be this easy. This intoxicating. All he needed was a push. All he needed was Will as a buffer/conduit/key, as an experience destined to happen. All he needed was to know Lucas’ enthusiastic yes to go this far. When he kisses Will, he's kissing Lucas too. It's crazy because even though he's kissing them both at the same time, they both have contrasting and complimentary tastes on his tongue. Will's coaxing and calculating lips match Lucas’ fiery and demanding ones.
It takes another five minutes for Mike and Lucas to realize that while swapping spit with each other, they are missing a pair of hands and greedy mouth. Their shut eyes open to different shades of brown welcoming them back to reality.
They freeze, lips swollen and slick in saliva. Mike and Lucas are in a brief staring contest of confusion before instantly turning to look behind them on the mattress, where Will has cozily leaned back on his haunches, propped on his elbows, hazel eyes intently watching all satisfied and arrogant.
“Cool.” Will merely utters, voice hoarse and that stirs pools of heat in both Lucas and Mike's bellies.
“Cool.” Mike parrots dumbly.
“Okay!” Will scooches forward, splitting Mike and Lucas, and stands up to adjust his disheveled clothes.
Will glides to the door. Lucas snaps out of his stupor and yells, “Wait! That's it?! Where are you going?”
“Told you,” Will coyly repeats. “I'm not a homewrecker.”
“Ugh, again with this.” Mike scrubs his face with his hand.
“When can we see you later?” Lucas asks, optimistically.
Will likes how cute they are.
“You guys are playing Solos tomorrow. Winner takes all. I'm inclined to show my face. Only to the cream of the crop, of course. I wanna see a good fucking game.”
With that, Will bids them farewell, happily stoking the fire of competition.
Lucas and Mike are stationary. They don't speak. Not until the lock of the door clicks. Mike immediately hops up.
“I'm beating your ass. I can’t lose in front of Will.” Mike declares.
“You wish. I'm undefeated. Get ready for 2nd place.” Lucas extends his leg toward Mike and loops it around Mike's calf to trip him.
Mike goes tumbling to the floor, screeching at the light roughhousing.
They don't talk about it. Their intimate night together. Their intimate night with Will and also sharing Will just like they shared trophies and wins, as if it was meant to be eventually.
They play against each other the next day, never letting up, trying to impress and play smart in case Will really is in the crowd watching them in approval.
Mike and Lucas agreed beforehand to show Will a good fucking game and they deliver.