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William Byers had always known that the night of his senior prom would be… dreary, to say the least. On days when he was being really pessimistic, he might have even predicted that it would be abysmal. This prediction was a simple one, really. While other people his age could go to dances and try on partners like trying on new clothes, things were different for Will. Things were always different for him. In the weeks leading up to prom night, Will would lie awake in bed, just thinking of what the night would have in store for him. He could imagine the sacred thrill of getting ready with the rest of his party - getting to be pretty and shiny, and showing off the new(ish) suit that he had thrifted with his mom. He could even picture himself laughing with his friends while busting out a move or two in their school’s run-down gymnasium. But at the end of the night, he would be stuck between slides of the View-Master again. That all-too-familiar feeling of being present with his friends on one hand, but still suffocatingly alone on the other. There was no one to be pretty and shiny for. He would have no one to slow dance with - at least not anyone who he actually wanted to dance with. The one person who could have made him feel anything at all wouldn’t dance with him anyway. And if he couldn’t even imagine it, how could it possibly happen?
However, Will never imagined himself becoming a bed-ridden incubator for a strain of the flu that seemed more like the actual plague. But there he was.
“Max, I’m telling you there’s no way I can come tonight,” Will wheezed into the phone as he twirled the cord. He wished that he could sink deeper into the couch.
“And I’m telling you that we can literally kidnap you if you want,” said the girl on the other side, her voice full of its signature fire.
“Yeah Will, just say the word and we’re there,” added a warm voice - Lucas’s.
Will could almost cry. “Thanks, but it’s not like I’m locked up here,“ Will croaked. “I- I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Hop said that he doesn’t want me to start a pandemic in Hawkins-“
“Who cares if you get some people sick?” interjected Max.
“Well, I don’t wanna get you guys sick. And besides, I can’t show up there looking like I’m on death’s door. That would be so depressing,” Will managed to say before erupting into a fit of coughs. The nickname 'Zombie Boy' had just recently fallen out of fashion among the other kids in his class, and Will wasn't keen on starting up a revival.
“This whole thing is depressing, Will,” Max sighed. “I so wish you could come.” The sound of defeat was beginning to creep into her voice.
“I do too.” Will’s fever was starting to get the best of him. “It’s stupid, but I just wish that I could’ve at least danced with somebody tonight,” he muttered.
It sounded like the phone was being shuffled around on the other end. “Hey, buddy. Hope you’re holding up okay,” chirped a third voice - Dustin’s. “And if you tell us who you wanted to dance with, then we’ll make sure he doesn’t dance with anybody else,” he added innocently enough.
If Will’s face wasn’t already flushed from a 101 degree fever, he might have blushed. Dustin and Lucas had been incessantly trying to play wing-man for Will over the past year. Their attempts were sweet, but they made Will’s heart ache in ways that he didn’t know were possible. They couldn’t have known that Will was busy being his own gravedigger - burying his love for one Michael Wheeler over and over again. It certainly didn’t help that he and Mike were spending more time together as of late, or that Mike’s smile never seemed to reach his eyes anymore. Will couldn’t bring himself to have eyes for anyone else yet, but he was slowly getting there. And to his credit, the thought of slow dancing with Mike had not seeped into his brain until Dustin all but forced him to conjure the image.
“N-no, I wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular,” Will stammered. The statement had been true until a moment ago. “Just you guys, you know!? Or maybe slow dancing with Lucas and Max… but that would probably look weird now that I’m thinking about it-“
“Are you sure you weren’t thinking of… Chance, perchance?” interjected Dustin, bulldozing over Will’s stream of thoughts. Will could tell from Dustin’s voice that his eyebrows were wiggling.
“No! C’mon, I already told you guys to drop the Chance thing,” whined Will. Chance was the most recent of a long line of names that his friends decided to throw out at random. “And aren’t there any rules against interrogating the ill and bedridden?”
“Alright, man. Well, sorry you can’t make it. But hey, maybe we’ll send Mike over to you ‘cause he’s kinda killing the mood again,” said Dustin.
Will thought he could make out Mike’s voice whining in protest, after which the phone erupted with the sounds of an entire room of people arguing. To Will it seemed like a two versus one, with Dustin and Max on one side and Mike on the other.
If Will was being honest, he had not expected that Mike would want to go to prom in the first place. He was surprised when Mike offered his house as their base of operations to prepare for the night. But ultimately, Will was glad that Mike was feeling up for it.
It sounded like the phone was being shuffled around again. “Alright Byers, we’ll see you later, okay? And for the record, Max and I totally would have danced with you,” whispered Lucas.
“Bye, Lucas,” said Will, just as he heard a faint click. The line fell silent.
Will hung up the phone and curled up tighter on the couch in the cabin living-room. The room was spinning, and he could hardly breathe through his nose. It felt like his only link to an alternate universe had just been severed forever.
At least his mom was there to pat his forehead and run her hands through his hair. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your prom night, but we can still have fun. Just the two of us,” she said with a sideways smile. Hop was out on night shift, and Jonathan was off at college in New York. Will had grown fond of these quiet nights with his mom, but the feeling of being stuck still gnawed at his chest.
Joyce got up to put The Princess Bride on the television. “I thought I’d stop by Family Video to rent our favorite again,” Joyce said, rubbing her hands together as she sat back down on the couch. While she was readjusting his blankets, Will made sure that his mom was looking at him as he scrunched his nose. It was already their fifth time watching the film, and it was Will’s fifth time pretending not to enjoy it. He thought that it could actually make for a pretty good D&D campaign.
“And let me know if you’re hungry for more chicken soup,” added Joyce, just as Will was beginning to nod off.
“No, I’m okay, mom,” Will yawned. And for the most part, things were okay. It’s not like the prom DJ was actually going to play danceable music, or like the gymnasium would magically transform into a place of glamour and romance.
It’s not as if a friend from the past would reappear to sweep Will off his feet and save him from himself. Perhaps watching it play out on screen was the best night that he could have asked for.
Will let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Will awoke to the sound of the doorbell, and the shifting weight of his mom getting up off the couch. He must not have been asleep for too long, as The Princess Bride was not yet finished. His senses were beginning to return to him, and he could just barely make out the beginning of the marriage scene.
“Hi Mrs. Byers,” huffed a familiar male voice from across the room. Will didn’t know that his friends had planned to stop by. They sounded tired, like they had just biked all the way across town.
“Hi Mike,” Will heard his mom say. “Oh my gosh, you look so dapper tonight!” If Will was feeling a bit better, he might have lifted his head to steal a glance.
“Thanks, Mrs. Byers,” said Mike sheepishly.
“But what are you doing here all by yourself? I thought you would be with the rest of the gang tonight.” Will forced himself to sit up upon hearing his mom’s latest remark. What was Mike doing at their cabin? Had something terrible happened to the rest of the party? He could think of about a thousand terrible scenarios that might have befallen his friends - Bullies? A car crash? Vecna??? Upon turning his head towards the doorway, Will made frantic eye-contact with Mike.
Will almost immediately regretted his decision. It was all just a bit too much - like staring directly at the sun. There was that unmooring feeling that his friends were in some sort of danger. The effort of sitting up was sending a splitting migraine up his temples. But more than anything, Will found himself in a trance. It had been a while since he had seen Mike so dressed up. Mike’s tall frame and lanky limbs seemed like they were destined for the all-black suit that he was wearing. His hair was slightly tamed down, but some stray curls dangled above his eyes. Will was almost annoyed at how well it suited him.
And it didn’t help that Mike was staring back with such warmth, looking for all the world like the hero in The Princess Bride.
“It’s kinda a long story, but I… I’m actually here to hang out with Will tonight,” Mike stammered. “If that’s alright with both of you,” he added.
Mike and Joyce both looked back at Will on the couch, after which Will gave them a slow nod. He had the vague feeling that he was already asking for too much, like he was inviting in a dream that had long been abandoned.
“Alright, come on in,” said Will’s mom. “I’ll just be in my room if you guys need me, and there’s chicken soup on the stove so help yourself.”
“And thanks for always helping out with Will when he’s sick,” she added with a wink as she disappeared into her room.
“Oh yeah, of course Mrs. Byers,” Mike nodded, his voice still slightly stilted. He creeped over to sit beside Will, and the couch slowly sagged as he tentatively took a seat. “Hey Will,” Mike said in a hushed voice. It seemed like he would no longer meet Will’s gaze.
Will let his vision sweep over the other boy's sharp profile, silhouetted by the silver glow of the TV. Maybe if he looked hard enough, he could figure out what was going on behind those dark eyes. Will thought back to all the times when Mike had seen him sick - face flushed, and hair stuck to his forehead. Faintly, he pondered if it ever used to make him burn up inside like it did now.
“Hey Mike,” said Will, his voice just a brush of air moving past his lips.
For a while, not a single word passed between the two of them. In fact, they hadn’t really talked in a long time, at least not about anything consequential. They would breezily discuss their classes, college, the weather, and occasionally the newest chapters of their favorite comics. But most of their hangouts looked just like this as of late - two people sitting side by side, enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes they would put something on the television. Other times Will would sketch in his journal while Mike read a book. It was comfortable and familiar. In some ways, they found themselves falling back into the same rhythm they had followed since they were five years old. Back then, Mike would chat Will’s ears off until the two of them settled into an easy silence. They were older now, and the air was heavy with the dust of things better left unsaid.
“Oh, and I wouldn’t sit too close to me. Wouldn’t want you to get infected,” coughed Will.
“I don’t mind, Will,” Mike breathed.
It was moments like these when Will let his mind wander - when he would indulge himself in age-old fantasies. He pushed it all down like second-nature, asking if Mike wanted to change the movie.
“No- no. I like what I’m seeing,” said Mike, eyes glued to the screen. “I have no idea what’s going on though, so we’re gonna have to rewatch it some day.”
The two of them sat quietly until the end of the movie, with only the television audio filling the air. Will knew that the lack of exposition was probably killing Mike, so he mercifully explained the role of the final line to him.
“So basically the last line there, when he says ‘as you wish,’ is like a code between the main characters. It’s kinda cheesy, but it’s basically a way of saying ‘I love you.’” Will spelled out. He couldn’t help but trail off at the end, hearing how pathetic the words sounded as they spilled out of his mouth.
Mike hummed in understanding, but said nothing else. His attention seemed to shift from the screen to rubbing his palms along the front of his dress pants.
With the movie over, and no books to read or blank pages to fill with sketches, the silence between them started to become heavy. Will took as deep of a breath as his lungs allowed. His slight delirium was making him feel braver than usual.
“So… do you wanna talk about it?” asked Will, his creaky voice punctuating the air between them.
“Talk about what?” rejoined Mike, a bit too quickly. His shoulders were tense.
“Well, about why you’re here. And not out at one of the biggest nights of the year,” said Will matter-of-factly. “I’m sure they miss you right now,” he added after a moment.
“Will, I think they miss you way more. Max and Dustin were being assholes, and then I was being an even bigger asshole.” Mike’s shoulders drooped. “And I know I was killing the mood. So I thought I’d hang out with you. God, I hope I’m not killing your mood too.” Mike looked up, as if he were actually looking to God.
“Mike, my mood was pretty much flatlining. I’m glad you came,” retorted Will. He couldn’t help but smile when he earned a chuckle out of Mike.
“...And if we’re both going to be miserable, let’s be miserable together, right?” Will grinned even wider when Mike caught his joke. Will was struck with the feeling of wanting to stay in that moment forever - a moment in which everything felt easy between them.
Between laughs, Mike managed to ask, “Hey, can you stand right now?”
“Can I stand?” Will tilted his head. He didn’t know where Mike was going with this.
“Yeah, like, are you too sick to stand?” clarified Mike. There was that glint of mischief in Mike’s eyes, the same glint that appeared when he successfully tricked the party into falling for a trap in D&D.
“I mean, yeah. It’s better if someone helps me up though-“
“Perfect. Wait right there,” said Mike, springing up from the couch. He bolted towards the cassette deck, and pulled out a mixtape from one of his many pockets. His finger hovered over the play button for a moment before the sounds of “I Got the Blues” by the Rolling Stones began spilling out of the speaker.
“C’mon, get up!” Mike caught hold of Will’s hands and pulled him to his feet. Will winced as he felt his blood pumping against his skull. His blanket fell to the floor.
“This really isn’t a good idea,” protested Will immediately. Whatever it was, it truly wasn’t a good idea - for both Will’s body and soundness of mind.
“You... you said you wanted to dance with anyone, right? I was kinda hoping that I fit the bill,” said Mike sheepishly.
Will could feel his face flushing from pink to scarlet red. “I didn’t know you heard that! And it’s not about you, it’s more a balance issue than anything-“
“Then just lean on me a little more, okay?” Will’s entire body tensed up when Mike pulled him against his chest. It felt like the little breath that Will had in his lungs got knocked out of him. His head ended up resting on Mike’s shoulder.
“Is this okay?” questioned Mike, his voice catching in his throat. Will didn’t know whether it was his own heart beating a mile a minute, or if he was close enough to feel Mike’s heartbeat. The vague fear that his heart was open and on display for all to see nagged at the back of Will’s mind. Were his stubborn feelings for Mike Wheeler written all over his face?
But Mike was just so warm, and smelled so distinctly Mike that Will couldn’t deny himself. He could only dumbly nod against Mike’s shoulder.
With that, Mike pulled one of Will’s hands down to wrap around his waist. Will’s other hand was firmly intertwined with Mike’s, held a few inches away from their torsos.
Thus began the first time that William Byers danced with a boy - and with Michael Wheeler no less. It was stiff at first. They were essentially clinging to one another while shuffling back and forth, and side to side. Will thought that they probably made for quite the spectacle, especially given the contrast between Will's wrinkled sweater and Mike's formal attire. He couldn't help but laugh. With time, they fell into a rhythm. They swayed with the music, and at one point Mike even spun Will around waltz-style. (Will told him they couldn’t risk doing that again, given that he was already lightheaded and woozy. “Anything you say, Princess Byers,” replied Mike, a ridiculously giddy smile blooming on his face.)
In the orange glow of the lamp-lit room, Will felt that this was how it was always meant to be. Of course his first dance with a boy would have never happened at prom. Maybe one day he’d dance frivolously out in the public eye, but for now, this was more than enough. He thought that there was something even more sacred about this first dance, given that it was in the comfort and privacy of Hop’s cabin. The night was cold and the fireplace was unlit, but Mike more than made up for it. He had been as warm as a furnace since they were kids - it was as though Mike was Will’s personal fireplace.
But at the end of the day, Mike wasn’t his. He would never be. Mike was just overextending himself, taking care of Will like he always used to do when Will was sick. That familiar melancholy began to set in, etched into every dance step. Then the panic set in. Without warning, he sprung apart from Mike.
“Mike, I… I think that’s enough,” murmured Will. “You really don’t have to do this.” He trained his gaze down on the strip of floor between them. Maybe if he kept his gaze there, he would never have to acknowledge the hurt look on Mike’s face. The spell had been broken, and its shards were lodging themselves deep in Will’s weak heart.
“I thought we were having fun?” Mike gulped. His eyes were scanning Will’s for any semblance of an explanation.
“It was amazing, and I didn’t even know you knew how to dance,” whispered Will. He was stunned by how cold it suddenly felt.
His mind raced to find the most trivial excuses possible. “But I’m just not feeling too good. And isn’t there anyone who you actually want to dance with? There’s still time-“
“No, Will, there isn't anyone, okay? And I wish you would… be selfish for once, you know?” Mike was pinching the bridge of his nose, and his voice was steadily growing louder. “Just take the things you want.”
Will couldn't quite piece together what he meant by that, but Mike’s words stoked a once dormant fire in Will’s chest. “And what is it you think I want, exactly?” Will shot back, a little louder and harsher than he had intended. He couldn't help but furrow his brow as his words danced on the edge of an uncomfortable truth.
“I don’t know! You don’t exactly make it obvious for me.” Mike was gesticulating wildly. “But I thought you wanted to dance, and I came here to dance with you-“
“And I’m telling you that you didn’t have to do that,” interjected Will, his voice steely.
Will lowered himself back down to the couch, as though he were slowly starting to wilt. Mike followed him shortly afterwards. Will held his breath as the boy next to him gathered his words.
Will had not meant to hurt him, but they crossed a line that night. Mike had stepped too close for comfort. Both of their feelings getting hurt was an inevitable casualty.
It felt like an eternity of silence passed between them.
“I guess I just meant to say that you’re always the one who has to heal me,” started Mike, his voice softer than before. He stopped to take a breath. “This past year it’s been, um... you know. You know," he whispered, halfway between a question and a secret prayer. "And deep down I feel like you’re the only one who still tolerates me, and all of my… my everything." Mike didn't have to explicitly say the words for Will to understand. "I don’t know why you do it, and it’s not fair that you have to do it all the time. If you woke up one day and stopped wanting to hang out, I would completely understand. But even when we were kids, you were always, like, my- my cleric.”
The way that Mike delivered the last two words caused butterflies to take flight in Will’s stomach.
Mike cleared his throat. “And when I heard that you weren’t going to prom, I- I didn’t even want to go anyway. I wanted you to have the one thing you said you wanted, and I wanted to be the one to give it to you.” Mike took a moment to swallow down the lump in his throat. “I- I wanted to hold you tonight. And while I’m being honest all this talk about Chance was really starting to drive me crazy and-“
“Mike,” Will breathed, trying to stop his friend’s runaway train of divulgences. Will could hardly believe what he was hearing. Perhaps he was still asleep after all.
“- I know that I’m probably too late, or that it was never me in the first place, or that-“ Mike continued.
“Mike,” said Will, a bit louder this time. He placed his hand over Mike’s, which elicited the desired effect of Mike looking him in the eyes. Will noticed through his own teary vision that Mike was beginning to cry. “Slow down. I don’t understand what you’re saying at all,” Will laughed wetly. Decades of friendship lay split open between them, but for once Will wasn’t scared of what was to come next.
“You make me happy, Will. And I want to make you happy. For the rest of your life,” Mike declared softly.
Will vaguely remembered hearing a variation of those same words back when they were kids, but it held a different meaning now that they were grown - now that they had a better idea of what forever looked like. The next words came out as easily as breathing the summer air.
“You make me happier than you could ever know, Mike. I couldn't help but wish for you every day since we were thirteen, you know." Will let the weight of his words sink in for a moment, and watched as Mike looked back at him with impossibly large eyes.
"And I only wanted to make you go because I thought you would be happier that way. I’m so, so sorry,” Will sighed with his eyes closed. “Dancing with you was probably the happiest I’ve ever been.” He slowly opened his eyes to gauge Mike's reaction.
“Hey, you don’t have to be sorry," said Mike, in that soft register of his. "Be selfish, remember?” Mike leaned in closer, and poked his fingers into Will’s torso. Will swatted them away because all of the laughing was making his chest ache.
“Well, are you surprised?” Will asked after Mike ceased his barrage of attacks.
“I... I sorta figured," said Mike, failing to conceal a smirk. "But the whole Tammy thing and then the Chance stuff had me stumped. Wait. Did you mean to call me Tammy Thompson of all people?!” Mike rolled his eyes, but his words had no real bite to them.
"...No? But also yeah, I guess."
"No way I sing that badly."
Will couldn't help but giggle until a thought twitched at his eyebrow. “I’d say sorry, but you know I don’t really do that now,” replied Will with a victorious grin on his face.
“Okay, fine, fine. But you said you want to see me happy, right?” Mike flashed his recently-mastered sad puppy eyes.
Once again, Will found himself unsure of where Mike was going with this. “Yeah?” questioned Will.
“And you said you’d do basically anything, right?” Mike’s eyes suddenly regained their wicked dungeon-master glint.
“I don’t know if I said it like that, but-“
“I think I have something in mind,” breathed Mike. A stupid grin stretched across his face.
Mike leaned in, cupped Will’s face with his hands, and pressed a chaste kiss to Will’s lips.
“Mike, you are so going to wake up sick tomorrow,” yelped Will, eyes open wide in disbelief. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Okay, sorry!” Mike conceded. He pivoted to peppering Will’s cheeks and forehead with soft kisses, while Will shrieked in delight.
In a few hours Hop would come back, and Mike would have to escape through a window. Will’s mom probably heard the whole exchange, and she would expect a debrief in the morning. The two of them would probably have to tell their friends about this somewhere down the line. But in that moment, they didn’t have to overthink things. Will had already done enough of that for a lifetime. All they needed to be was two slow dancers, finding their footing together in a world that would one day see them shine.