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The clock on his bedside table reads 1:59 am, and Mike hasn’t gone to bed yet. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in an old band t-shirt and pajamas, his brows furrowed as he cuts along the curve of a little paper heart. Around him, strewn all over the floor are chart papers of various colours and sizes, there’s glue and glitter and scissors and even a kitchen knife. He’s been on this project for at least five hours now, and he’s barely halfway through it.
His hand slips, and the blade of the scissors cuts into the soft skin of his fingers. He winces and instinctively sucks on the finger to stop the bleeding. Scrambling up, he lets go of the half-cut paper heart and goes in search of a band-aid. The first-aid box in the top shelf of the kitchen is of no use – hasn’t been for a long time. Mike changes trajectory and heads for the sink in the kitchen instead.
The water from the tap is cool and he shivers in the sudden chill hitting his skin. He holds his finger under the water for a few seconds before pulling it back to examine the wound. The blood wells up and trickles down the side of his finger and Mike sticks it back under the cool current. The sting fades into a dull throb as Mike watches the blood thin beneath the running water, the red dissolving until it’s barely there at all. It’s nothing, really. He’s had worse. He turns his finger slowly, inspecting it like that might make it behave.
When the blood doesn’t rise back to the surface immediately, he dries his hands on the soft towel on the kitchen counter and wraps a thin piece of tissue around the cut. It’s weird, he knows. He should probably go out and actually buy some bandages and stuff to put in the first-aid box, but he simply doesn’t have the time.
The thing is, it’s the 5th of February and Will’s flight lands early on the 7th, and Mike needs this to be ready and perfect by then.
Oh, has he mentioned that this is their first Valentine’s together? He groans and rests his forehead against the cold granite counter. It’s almost been a year since they got together – messed up and fought and confessed and had their big kiss in the rain. Mike had thought that was hard, well, it’s nothing compared to the absolute terror that has his stomach twisting itself into knots.
Will Byers, wonderful son, amazing student and an excellent artist. He’s also, impossibly, Mike’s boyfriend (boyfriend!). He’s on a short trip to Hawkins to visit his mom and Hopper, and if Mike doesn’t manage to impress him the second he gets back, he might just jump off the nearest cliff. Again.
Anyway, back to the point. It’s their first Valentine’s day together, and Mike heard from Lucas who heard from Dustin who heard from Steve that it’s not just the day that’s supposed to make their partner feel special, it’s supposed to be the entire week. Which, naturally, has them all freaking out.
It shouldn’t be this hard, he knows. But Will is perfect and so, by extension, Mike’s gift to him has to be perfect too. And the worst part is that he can’t talk about this with El, because she has switched loyalties after that incident with the M&M’s, so he’s stuck taking advice from Max because she is literally the only other girl he knows, other than his sisters.
And he’d rather talk to Max than have to ask Nancy, or god forbid, Holly for advice. They would never let him live it down, and he’d rather keep his reputation of ‘cool brother’ than show them just how much of a disaster he was for Will.
Will – who is his boyfriend. Eleven months of dating, and the word still sends a zing of excitement skittering down his spine. He’s sure he has the world’s goofiest smile on his face and he’s sure he looks like an idiot, but he doesn’t care. Because he is. An idiot.
An idiot in love, that is.
He pushes himself away from the kitchen counter and stumbles down the narrow hallway back into his bedroom. He’s careful not to trip over the various items spread out over the floor and drops back down to his previous place on the floor – right in the middle of the mess. He picks up the half-cut heart and frowns at the messy edges. This just won’t do.
He looks back at the small pile of paper hearts he has in the yellow box beside him, and lets out a tired sigh when he realizes that the others are in no better shape.
He scrubs his hands down his face and prepares himself for another sleepless night.
He’s jolted awake at some ungodly hour in the morning by the sharp ring of the telephone. He jumps up and rushes down the hallway and yanks the phone up and chirrups an enthusiastic ‘good morning!’ into the telephone.
There’s a beat of silence. Then laughter, and Mike immediately wants to melt into the floor.
“Oh my god! Good morning! You’re so gone, Wheeler!”
“Shut up, Max.”
He leans against the wall and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “What the hell are you doing, calling me at 10 in the morning?”
Max hums. “Well, I was gonna tell you that Will’s flight got delayed, and he’ll reach California at around 6’o clock in the evening and you might just have enough time to get your shit together, but I guess you don’t want to hear that.”
Mike can hear his brain come to a screeching halt. “Wait- what? What do you mean his flight got delayed?”
Max laughs at his obvious distress like the absolute gremlin she is. “His flight got delayed. You’ll have to wait a while more to see your boyfriend, but hey, on the bright side, you have more time to prepare for the surprise. Speaking of which, did you manage to complete your paper hearts project, or are you still stuck?”
Mike narrows his eyes at the imaginary Max in his head. He knows for a fact that she can tell. “There is no bright side to this.” He tells her, twirling the cable around his fingers.
“Oh my god, idiot.” Says Max, trying and failing to sound exasperated. “It’s just a few more hours. You're not going to die.”
Mike gives her a distracted hum, his thoughts going back to his half-finished project. “Max.” He says suddenly, perking up. “Do you think I should buy him roses?”
Silence.
“You haven't bought him roses yet?”
Mike freezes. “Should I have?”
Max gives a groan. “God, Lucas was right about you. You are helpless.”
“Hey!” Mike protests, affronted. He’s not helpless, far from it, actually. It just takes him a while longer to understand, is all. Max laughs at him, and he scowls at the blank wall in front of him. “Anyway,” he continues, determined to not give her a chance to make fun of him. “I was thinking I’d buy him a bouquet and meet him at the airport, but then I was talking to El yesterday morning, and she says it’s more romantic to take him out on a date. Which- it’s a good advice, don’t get me wrong, but Will will most definitely be tired from his flight, and he’ll want to rest, so I was thinking I’d make him dinner and then give him the bouquet and-”
“Whoa, hold up! Make him dinner? Have you ever cooked in your life, Wheeler?”
His scowl deepens. “Fuck you, Max. Thanks for being such a help.”
There’s cackling on the other side of the phone, and Mike is very very close to ending the call. He takes a deep breath. Will is more important.
“Anyway,” he says again, because some people have a very tiny attention span, “I was thinking I’d surprise him at home instead. I was thinking he could catch a cab to our apartment, which, I know is a douchebag move on my part, but I’ve got a good reason.”
Max seems to consider this, “And it seems like a bad idea now, because…?”
Mike exhales heavily. “It’s going to be late, which means it’s going to be past 9’o clock by the time his flight lands, and…I’m not sure I want him alone in a cab that late at night.” His voice goes soft towards the end – losing it’s hard edge to the genuine concern creeping around his head.
The last time Mike wasn’t with Will when he traveled at night, Will went missing. And Mike knows it’s been a long time since then, and they’ve both grown into more mature people, but the fear doesn’t go away.
Max must have sensed some of his insecurity or whatever, because the next time she speaks, her tone is gentler. “Hey, Wheeler. It’s a 30 minute drive from the airport to your apartment, and even if Will gets in trouble, he can handle himself. He’s been taking defence classes from Steve.”
Mike barks out a short laugh, “Was that supposed to reassure me? Taking classes from Steve? When’s the last time he won a fight?”
“Well, there was that one time with a Russian.” Says Max and that shuts him up fast enough.
“Okay…” he says at last, because realistically, there is no way Will’s going to be lost or kidnapped, or worse taken during a 30 minute drive to their apartment in a cab where he can clearly see the driver.
But nothing about their life so far has been realistic, and there are a lot of things that could put Will in danger, but like his government-appointed therapist told him, he has to take a deep breath and place his trust in other people too.
“So, uh…I’ll go buy the bouquet, then. And I’ll have to stop by the grocery store, and-”
“Oh! Will asked me to remind you to actually buy stuff for the first-aid kit. He says he knows you’re full of shit and it’s not been updated since he left three weeks ago. He says you’re a liar.”
“Tell Will I’ll try to remember. And I know he didn’t call me a liar. Stop making shit up, Maxine.”
“Fuck you, Michael.” is her cheery reply before the call cuts off.
He exhales once more and then puts the phone back in its place. He’s got work to do, and not enough time. He’s gotta hurry up.
The floral shop smells predictably – of flowers. The fragrance is not overpowering, but neither does it linger in the air. The scent of the flowers is drifting, barely there, and somehow, it makes it better.
This way, he knows the flowers are fresh and grown in proper soil with a proper system and haven’t been imported from somewhere else.
He wanders deeper into the shop, pausing now and then to bend down and smell a flower or two. He spots a cluster of roses a little further and makes his way there to smell them.
The fragrance is heavenly. Literally. He feels like he just stepped off this planet and ended up in another alternate realm made entirely of flowers.
No. Not flowers. Roses.
These ones in particular.
“Bouquet for the partner?”
Later, Mike will deny any and every allegation in regards to his reaction. He most definitely did not jump or scream or make a complete fool of himself. He reacted very calmly, as is evident from his past behavior.
The girl behind him laughs. “Sorry!” she says, “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but you seemed like you were really interested in those flowers. Are you here to buy them by any chance?”
He peers at her for a moment before giving her a slow nod. “Yes please. And yes, I’m here for a bouquet.”
The girl gives him an enthusiastic nod. “Right! Bouquet for your partner right away. We have some pre-packaged ones in those decorative ribbons, if you want. You will also get a card, although hand-written ones will cost extra. If you’ll just follow me-”
“Oh no!” He cuts her off, “I don’t want a pre-packaged bouquet, uh- can- can I select some flowers that you can wrap into a bouquet? And, uh…I don’t need a card, I have a hand-made one at home.”
The girl looks at him in surprise – her eyebrows lifting up. Her mouth falls open in a silent ‘oh’. For just a second he wonders if he said something wrong and somehow messed this up, but then her expression brightens and she gives him a brilliant grin.
“Wow! Someone who actually cares about their partner enough to personally select the flowers? Color me impressed.”
Mike gives her a shy smile. “Well, my - uh…” he pauses, unsure on how to spin the sentence so he isn’t outright lying, but he’s not telling the truth either. The girl, however, catches on to his hesitation.
“You can say ‘them’ if you wanna keep it neutral. But you can also refer to your partner by the correct term. I’m an ally.”
Mike blinks at her, at a loss for words. Every day, he keeps forgetting that California is better than Hawkins. He doesn’t have to hide half as much as he would have had to. He gives her a tiny nod to acknowledge her.
“My boyfriend,” he says, “is very thoughtful. He always gifts me any art he makes. I thought- I thought I’d do something for him this time around.”
The girl beams at him. “Aren’t you just wonderful! Well then, go ahead. What flowers were you thinking for the bouquet?”
“Oh! Uh- I think, uh-” Mike turns around, scanning the various flowers around them. There are red roses and yellow ones. Then there are pink roses and white ones. There are also-
So many different kinds of flowers, Mike doesn’t know what to do.
"...maybe I don’t have this as planned out as I had thought?” He finishes sheepishly. He flexes his hands at his sides as he begs his brain to actually think for once.
His brain, of course, refuses to do that. Stupid brain.
The girl smiles at him, “That’s okay! If you’ll tell me the message you wish to convey, then I can pick out the flowers for you. That way, you don’t have to select the flowers, but the sentiment behind the bouquet will still be there. It’ll still be your gift to him.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, thinking it over. “Okay. That sounds nice. So uh…I guess I want to tell him I love him? But not just that. I want him to know that our friendship also means a lot to me, and- and I’ll always be here for him.”
The girl nods. “Friendship that came before love. And then loyalty…” She looks around, and then picks out a bunch of pale-pink flowers. Then, she picks out a few of the same ones, but this time they’re yellow.
“What’re they?”
She turns to look at him, already arranging the flowers into a tight cluster in her hand. “Hmm…? Oh, these are called chrysanthemums. They symbolize friendship.” She shrugs, “Well, the yellow ones signify friendship along with joy, whereas, the pink ones represent friendship and affection.”
He nods slowly, trying to soak in the new information. He files it away for later, determined to somehow find a way to use it in his book.
“What next?” She asks, looking at him expectantly.
“Oh! Uh…I guess-”
“Oh, wait!” she exclaims, stepping off to the side and plucking out a few white roses. “You said loyalty too, right? So we’re going to go with white roses, and then…” she picks out a bunch of bright purple flowers. “...violets to signify faithfulness.” She pauses, then she turns to look at him, gaze narrowed.
“You are faithful, right?”
He gives an indignant squawk, and she waves her hand, laughing it off. “Relax. I’m just joking around. What’s next?”
“Depends.” He says. “Are you gonna interrupt me again?”
He winces. That sounded mean, he should probably correct it.
“Finally! I was thinking you’d been swapped out for an alien with the kind of mechanical answers you were giving me. But look at that, you’re actually human! So, what’s next? And this time,” She says, pointing a vaguely threatening finger at him, “ramble.”
And he does. He tells her everything he ever felt for Will and everything he ever hopes to feel. He tells her about their friendship and their love and how Mike desperately hopes that they can make this work.
He tells her about their playful fights and then their not-so-playful fights. He tells her the sentiment behind every moment they had ever shared, and every moment they hope to share.
He opens up to her in a way he hasn’t talked to anyone in years. Something about the girl seems kind – a safe person. Someone who will listen for the things he doesn’t tell her. The quiet things.
How much he loves Will. How much he hopes they can be together forever.
“I once promised to him that we’d go crazy together.” He tells her, and she gives him a soft, encouraging smile. “It was the best promise I’d ever made.”
She nods, and picks out a tuft of ivy for the center.
When she finally hands the bouquet to him, it looks beautiful. Perfect.
It looks like something Will would call art.
Mike is so thankful, he could cry. The girl only smiles at him and extends her hand.
“I’m Kayla Fern. My grandma owns this boutique. If you need flowers again, you’re always welcome!”
Mike smiles and shakes her hand. “Mike Wheeler. I’m kind of new here, I moved in with my boyfriend in December last year.”
By the time Mike gets home from regular grocery shopping, it’s already past 6 in the evening. He pulls out all the cookbooks his mom had forced him to pack when he first moved in, and sits down at the table to meticulously plan the next day’s dinner.
Two hours later, he’s gone through five cookbooks and he still hasn’t found a single recipe that Will might actually like. He groans and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in the process. He wonders if his mom would lift the phone if he called now, but he decides against it.
There was always a chance that his dad was lurking around, and he definitely did not want to explain why he was planning a dinner with his supposed best friend.
Yeah, that was another thing. His dad still thought him and Will were just best friends living together because they couldn’t afford the rent single-handedly. Big deal. Mike would be surprised if his dad still remembered if he had a son and an elder daughter.
Speaking of which….
He could probably call Nancy. She was rooming with Robin who knew Steve. Therefore, by extension she could theoretically know a recipe or two.
He pauses halfway to the telephone when he realizes that Steve would only know the kind of recipes that Mike would have to sell his house to afford, let alone cook. He slumps to the floor and prepares to lie there in defeat until Will comes home the next day. Maybe he’ll be kind enough to give Mike a proper burial.
He groans and lets his head thunk against the wall. He stares up at the white ceiling, lost in thought.
It must have been at least a quarter of an hour of him doing nothing but wallow in his misery when the phone rings shrilly. Mike picks it up at the fourth ring, tripping on his way to get there. He puts the phone to his ear, heart thumping with anticipation.
“Will?”
There’s a low laugh on the other side – voice deep and rich. It sounds like warm honey and morning sunshine. The pleasant rumble of his voice wraps around Mike like a security blanket, and he sighs in contentment.
God, Max is right. Mike is so gone.
“Yes, it’s me. Did I disturb you? Were you sleeping?”
“What- no! No, I wasn’t sleeping. Just…” He trails off, kicking his foot lightly against the wall.
Will hums inquisitively. “You were just?”
Mike fights the shy smile that threatens to bloom and tries to act non-chalant. “Just.” He says, just for the fun of it.
Will laughs again. It’s low and heavy, and it makes Mike’s heart flutter. “Oh, yes. I forgot how loquacious you can be. Your monologue was so long, it got lost along the way.” Will teases, and Mike can’t help the fond laugh that bubbles out of him.
He hums, “You know me,” he says, “I am always finding new ways to increase my vocabulary. What’s that mean, by the way?”
“What?”
“Lockey-something.”
“Loquacious?”
“Mhm.”
“It means,” says Will, dragging it out, “someone who talks a lot.”
Mike hums again. “Do I talk a lot?”
There’s a pause. When Will answers, his voice is soft – gentle and so full of love, Mike kind of wants to melt into the floor.
“Yes, but only when you’re really excited.” Will pauses, “And especially when you’re with me.”
Mike smiles and twirls the cable around his finger. He feels like a teenage girl talking to her first crush.
They talk for a while more, exchanging details about the things the other has missed. Will tells him about the picnic he had with Jonathan and El who had also come down from their respective colleges to visit. El and Jonathan are doing fine, Will tells him, although he suspects Jonathan might be thinking of finally proposing to Nancy.
“He’s been looking at rings.” Will tells him, “That’s very suspicious, right?”
Mike agrees as he always does on issues that include Jonathan, but he doesn’t tell Will about the ring that Nancy already has picked out. Nancy was planning on proposing first, and Mike had bet money that Jonathan’s response would be to faint.
That man was so predictable when it came to Mike’s sister.
Mike tells Will about the absolutely mundane life he’s been living since Will left three weeks ago. He complains about the cashier at the grocery store, and the old lady across the street who insists that her cat knows how to do math. He tells Will about a false fire-alarm that their neighbor set off in the middle of the night last week. Accidentally. He had apparently been so excited about his crush liking him back, he had kissed her against the wall. Without noticing the alarm.
Will laughs. “Doesn’t sound like it was that mundane. Sounds pretty eventful to me.”
Mike gives a sappy smile, “Well, you weren’t here to enjoy it with me so…mundane.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Oh my god, Mike! You can’t just say things like that!”
“Why not?” he asks, grinning. The sound of Will’s groan is muffled – like he’s pressing his face into his pillow.
“Because then I’ll catch feelings!” He whines. Mike chuckles. “Too bad, then. I’ve already caught feelings. So many feelings. Romantic, love kind of-”
“Okay, that’s it!” Exclaims Will, “I’m gonna go to bed. Good night, love you!”
Mike laughs. “Good night, Will! I love you too!”
The call cuts off and Mike rests his forehead against the wall, still grinning like an idiot. Will never fails to put him in a better mood. He deserves a big cake with lots of frosting and sugar. He deserves the world.
Wait. That’s it.
Cake.
Mike can bake him a cake.
Baking a cake, it turns out, is harder than it seems. So much harder.
He’s been on the call with Dustin for half-an-hour already, and the baking is going nowhere. Oh, and did he mention that Will’s gonna be here in like three hours?
Mike is so fucked.
“Dude, you have to whip the eggs!”
“How the fuck does one whip eggs, Dustin?!”
There’s another exasperated groan on the other side. It’s Dustin’s fifteenth one so far. “You have to grab the bowl, put the whisk in and spin it around really fast!”
“...what?” Mike asks faintly, looking around for the whisk. He swears he put it on the counter right next to him just five seconds ago.
“It’s very simple, Mike!”
“Yeah, well, it’s not simple to me!”
Aha! There it is. Mike grabs the whisk and the bowl – manoeuvring the phone so it sits between his left shoulder and ear. “Uh-huh. Now I should just spin it really fast?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, jeez!”
He puts the whisk in and turns it to the best of his ability. The eggs spin and come right back to where they were before.
“Dude,” he says, “nothing happened.”
“Yeah well, that’s ‘cause you did nothing, you idiot!”
Mike makes an affronted noise and attempts to whip the eggs again – to varying degrees of success. It’s probably the angle, but eventually, he manages to wrestle them into a thick yellow-ish paste. Dustin says that’s not how they’re supposed to look, but he also can’t tell Mike what they’re actually supposed to look like so Mike will allow himself to think he’s right.
The eggs are supposed to look like this.
“Alright!” He says, setting the bowl aside. “It says, mix flour, cocoa powder and baking powder in a bowl. Should I- I don’t know, use a separate bowl or something.”
There’s a pause as Dustin contemplates. “Nah, man.” He finally decides, “I don’t think a separate bowl is required. Just sift the flour into the bowl with the eggs and mix in the rest of the ingredients.”
Mike nods distractedly, taking out the flour packet and the sieve. He carefully measures out the floor and sifts it into the bowl. A few minutes later, he has a bowl of thick, chocolate-colored cake batter and a very satisfied look on his face.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this.” He tells Dustin to which he immediately groans.
“Man, don’t say that. That’s like a surefire way to mess it up.”
“Dude.” Says Mike, frowning, “Don’t say that. You’ll make me mess it up.”
In the end, predictably, he does mess it up. Although this one might actually be on Mike.
“Dude, how did you forget to add sugar?” Exclaims Dustin when Mike explains the situation to him.
“You didn’t tell me to add sugar!” He defends himself, trying to not let the disappointment get to him. The joy and excitement from before are absolutely gone – replaced by crushing disappointment and a sting behind his eyes.
“What the fuck do you mean I didn’t tell you to? It’s sugar! It has to be added in!”
“Well, I didn’t fucking know that, okay? This is my first time baking something, and now I’ve messed it up and Will’s gonna be here in like fifteen minutes probably. The kitchen is a fucking mess, I’ve used up pretty much every single bowl and the house is a mess and I haven’t put up the decorations yet and it’s all a fucking mess, okay? Will’s going to be fucking disappointed in me and I- I can’t-”
“Hey.” Dustin cuts off his spiral. “Listen to me. Mike, you didn’t mess this up, okay? You’ve still got the bouquet and you’ve got fifteen minutes. You couldn’t bake a cake, so what? I can’t bake one either, and for that matter neither can Max.”
Dustin is trying to encourage him, but all Mike wants to do is sink to the floor and fucking bawl his eyes out. There’s no way he can save this. He’s messed this up for good. Will’s going to come home and see how much of a mess Mike really is and he’s going to be disappointed.
And then what?
What is Mike going to do, when Will pretends to like the pathetic bouquet for Mike’s sake? What’s he gonna do when Will inevitably leaves him for someone better, stronger – more emotionally stable?
He sniffles quietly and tries to suppress the sobs that threaten to spill out of him.
“Dude.” Says Dustin, and he sounds alarmed. “Hey, nothing’s wrong, okay? Forget what I said, this is wonderful! You’ve got this, Mike! You can do this.”
“No.” He tells him and his voice comes out all wobbly and weak. “No, I don’t ‘got this’. I haven’t got anything. It’s all a mess-” His voice breaks and a sob tears out of his chest. He presses a palm to his quivering lips and tries to pretend that didn’t happen. God, he’s being so pathetic.
“Mike.” Dustin coos, trying to comfort him, but it’s too much. Mike can’t take it right now. He doesn’t deserve it – not when he just fucked up what was supposed to be a happy welcome for Will. His boyfriend.
His boyfriend who’s going to be disappointed in him.
Mike can’t take it anymore. He slams the phone back into its place and sinks to the floor, shaking with suppressed sobs.
They spill out of him as he kneels on the cold tiles of the kitchen – ripping themselves from his chest in guttural waves. The tears spill down his cheeks and over his hands and onto the floor below. They are hot – like shame.
His shoulders hitch as he shakes against the wooden shelf behind him – his chest is too tight and there’s no air in his lungs.
He can’t breathe.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there, tears falling over his lashline and over his cheeks – all his hope and excitement bleeding out of him, leaving him a hollow shell. He knows it’s been enough time when there’s the unmistakable click of the key in the front door and it swings open.
Will walks in, suitcase is one hand and a duffel bag in another. He’s smiling as he sets down the suitcase and looks around the room. He turns towards the kitchen – and he freezes.
Mike knows the exact moment when Will sees him. His brows furrow and his shoulders tense as if to prepare for something. He takes half-a-step forward and his eyes flicker to the mess on the counter.
Mike can’t help it, he cries. Again.
He buries his face in his hands as his body trembles with the force of his sobs. There’s a panicked patter of footsteps and soon enough, Will’s warm fingers wrap around his wrists and gently pull his hands away.
His eyes search Mike’s face – brows drawn together in concern, hazel eyes filled with worry. Mike doesn’t think he deserves any of that.
“Hey.” Will says, voice soft in a way that’s not patronizing. He’s not trying to make Mike feel like his breakdown is something to be pitied. He makes it sound like it’s okay to cry – like it’s okay to make a mess out of everything. “What’s happened?”
Mike shakes his head and tips forward to fall against Will’s chest. Later, he knows, when Will finally understands, he’ll push Mike away gently and tell him he can’t stay with someone like him. But for now, all Mike wants is to be comforted by him. He wants to be told that everything will be fine – that everything is fine. Nothing’s gonna change.
Will’s arms come to wrap around him in a tight hug and he pulls him closer against his chest. Will maneuvers them both so he’s sitting on the floor and he tightens his hold around him. He rubs his hands in soothing circles on Mike’s back, all the while pressing soothing kisses to his head.
Eventually, Mike quiets down enough to tell him. He tells him about his stupid Valentine’s day plan, and how he cut out paper hearts to hang around the house, and how he decided to surprise Will with a bouquet and a cake. Something Mike did for Will. Something he’d like. He tells him how badly he fucked up, and how much of a mess he made in the process.
Will listens to him as he always does – with a quiet kind of intensity that makes Mike feel seen. He listens until Mike stops talking, and he presses a lingering kiss to his forehead.
“Mike, I feel very loved right now.” He tells him, and Mike looks up at him with wide eyes. Will is already looking at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I mean, look at this!” he says, waving his free arm at the mess around them. “You tried to do something genuine for me. Because you thought I was worth that effort, Mike. And honestly? That’s enough.” He looks at him seriously.
“You’re enough.”
Mike looks at him for one suspended moment before he surges upward to press his lips against Will’s. The kiss tastes like warmth and safety and acceptance. It feels like love and care and affection.
It feels like home.
Will smiles against his mouth and pulls back slightly to look at Mike – properly look at him.
“I love you, Mike. And I’ll love you through everything. Always.”
Heat rises to Mike’s face and he gives him a shy smile. “I love you too, Will. Always.”
Will gives him a lovesick grin, and then he peers around the kitchen. “Now,” he says, “where’s this amazing bouquet that my amazing boyfriend got for me?”
Mike laughs and gets off him to fetch the bouquet from the fridge. The heavy blush of red on Will’s face and the look of absolute and utter love he gives him are totally worth the tears spent in the process.
Oh, and the kiss.
The kiss that has Mike weak in the knees and swooning like a maiden. He’s absolutely smitten with Will Byers, and if the passion in the kiss is anything to go by, Will Byers is absolutely smitten with him too.