Chapter Text
Will
Mike Wheeler has always had a way of making space feel smaller. Not in a bad way. Just...when he’s around, everything shifts slightly toward him, like gravity deciding it’s had enough of being subtle.
Will notices this because Will notices everything.
Mike is sprawled across the floor of Will’s bedroom, gaming controller dangling loosely from one hand, shoes kicked off by the door like he owns the place. His dark curls are flattened on one side from where he’d been lying on the carpet, and there’s a faint crease in his cheek.
They’ve been playing video games for almost an hour. Dustin and Lucas had gone downstairs to help Joyce make dinner, since everyone was staying over tonight.
Jane is also downstairs with Joyce. Along with the older kids, and Max.
So now it’s just Will and Mike.
Again.
Will sits cross-legged on his bed, sketchbook open in his lap. He isn’t really drawing anything specific- just soft lines and shapes, a half-finished demogorgon in the corner of the page that he abandoned after Mike made a joke about it having a weird face.
Mike glances up from the glowing box. “You’re doing that thing.”
Will blinks. “What thing?”
“The quiet thing.” Mike states. “Where you disappear into your brain.”
Will shrugs. “Sorry.”
Mike frowns immediately. “Don’t be sorry. I just...” He trails off, then rolls onto his side so he’s facing Will. “You okay?”
Will nods automatically. “Yeah.”
Mike doesn’t look convinced. He never is. Mike has always been like that. Always watching Will a little closer than everyone else. Always checking in. Always making sure Will eats enough, sleeps enough, isn’t zoning out too hard. Always there.
It’s nothing new. Mike’s been like this since they were kids. Since before everything went wrong. Since before the Upside Down and monsters and possession and hospitals.
Back then, Mike used to sit beside Will during class and share his crayons. He’d defend Will on the playground when kids made fun of him. He’d invite Will over just to play board games and forget the rest of the world existed.
Now he does things like automatically hand Will his jacket when it gets cold, or wordlessly refill his glass at dinner, or sit close enough on the couch that their knees touch.
Everyone else notices.
Will notices too. He just pretends not to.
“Hey.” Mike says, softer now. “Earth to William.”
Will looks up. Mike’s eyes are warm and concerned and so painfully familiar that Will feels something twist in his chest.
“I’m here.” Will says.
Mike smiles, relieved. It’s small, but it hits Will like it always does. Right between the ribs.
Sometimes Will thinks loving Mike is like breathing. Something he learned to do so early that he doesn’t remember choosing it.
Mike rolls back onto his back and returns his attention to the game. “El’s gonna beat us later if we don’t get past this level. She's past it a million times already."
Will hums in response, even though 'El' isn’t playing with them right now.
El. Jane.
Will swallows. He’s gotten better at not flinching when Mike talks about her. Better at not letting it show when Mike reaches for her hand or leans into her shoulder or lights up when she laughs. He tells himself it’s okay. That this is just how things are. That Mike deserves to be happy, and Jane is kind and brave and basically his sister now.
Joyce had said it once, half-joking, half-serious. She’s family.
Will holds onto that.
Still, there are moments when Mike forgets himself.
Like when Will gets overwhelmed in crowded rooms, and Mike automatically positions himself in front of him, creating space.
Like when Will wakes up from nightmares, and Mike is already there, sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing slow circles into his back without saying a word.
Like when Mike laughs too hard at Will’s dumb jokes, or looks at him like he’s the most important person in the room.
It doesn’t mean anything. Will knows that.
Mike’s just...Mike.
“Will?”
He startles.
“Sorry,” Mike says quickly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.”
Mike hesitates, then reaches up and gently nudges Will’s knee with his foot. “Come sit down here. Your back’s gonna hurt.”
Will freezes for half a second. Then he moves. He slides off the bed and settles beside Mike on the floor, close enough that their shoulders brush. Mike doesn’t comment on it. He just shifts slightly so they’re more comfortable.
Will stares at the grainy TV screen, trying not to think about how warm Mike feels through his sweatshirt.
Trying not to think about how easy this is for him.
“You know,” Mike says suddenly. “You could draw the characters for my campaign, if you want."
Will turns to him. “What?”
Mike grins. “For the new D&D thing I’m working on. You’re way better at drawing than I am.”
Will feels his heart stumble. “Yeah. I- yeah, I could do that. If you want me to.”
“Awesome." Mike says. “Knew you’d be into it.”
Knew.
Mike always seems so sure of Will.
Sometimes Will wishes he could be that sure of Mike.
From the hallway, Jane’s voice drifts upstairs, laughing about something Dustin probably said.
Mike glances toward the door, instinctively. Then, he stands up. “I should go help them. You coming?”
“In a minute.” Will says.
Mike nods. He hesitates, then reaches out and squeezes Will’s shoulder before heading downstairs.
The touch lingers long after he’s gone.
Will sits there for a moment, staring at the paused game. He presses his lips together and exhales slowly.
Best friends.
That’s what they are. That’s what they’ve always been.
Still, as Will finally closes his sketchbook and stands, he can’t shake the quiet ache in his chest. The one that whispers that Mike Wheeler is already halfway in love with him.
Even if Mike doesn’t know it yet.
Dinner is louder than it needs to be.
Dustin keeps interrupting Lucas, Joyce keeps asking everyone if they want more potatoes, Max and Robin gang up on Steve about something dumb, Joyce and Jonathan observe with smiles on their faces, and Jane is telling a story about something Hopper said earlier that made her laugh. Mike sits beside Jane, their shoulders touching, his arm draped casually over the back of her chair.
Will sits across from them. He focuses on his food. He tells himself he’s fine. He tells himself he’s used to this. Still, his eyes keep drifting back to Mike without permission.
Mike laughs too loud at Dustin’s joke and almost knocks over his water. Will reaches forward automatically and steadies the glass before it spills.
Mike blinks at him. “Oh, thanks.”
Will shrugs. “Yeah.”
Their fingers brush for half a second.
Mike doesn’t seem to notice.
Will definitely does.
Later, when everyone migrates to the living room, Steve and Dustin immediately take over the TV, arguing about what movie to put on, Robin sits in between them. Max and Lucas huddle together. Jonathan and Nancy go to Jonathan's room. Joyce disappears into the kitchen with Hopper, and Jane curls up at one end of the couch.
Mike drops down beside her.
There’s space on the other side of Mike. But, Will hesitates.
Mike notices. “Hey, Will.” He says, patting the cushion next to him. “Come here.”
Will obeys before his brain catches up. He settles beside Mike, knees pulled to his chest, trying very hard not to think about how Mike shifts closer the moment he sits down. Mike’s arm ends up behind Will’s shoulders instead of Jane’s, resting there like it belongs.
No one comments on it. No one ever does.
The movie starts. It’s some cheesy romance Max and Jane ended up picking, and Dustin complains loudly about it until Lucas throws popcorn at him.
Will watches the screen but doesn’t absorb much. He’s too aware of Mike. Of how Mike leans toward him whenever something intense happens in the movie. Of how Mike whispers commentary directly into Will’s ear instead of speaking out loud. Of how, when Will laughs quietly at one of Mike’s jokes, Mike beams like he’s just won something.
Halfway through, Jane glances between them. Her eyes linger on Mike’s arm behind Will, on how close their shoulders are, on how Mike is completely focused on Will while Jane sits on his other side.
Will catches it, and looks away first. His chest feels tight.
Later, when everyone but Mike leaves and Joyce sends everyone to bed, Will stands awkwardly in the hallway, not quite ready to go to his room yet.
Mike hesitates too. “You good?” The boy asks.
Will nods. “Yeah.”
Mike studies him for a moment, like he’s trying to decide something. Then he sighs. “Do you- uh...do you wanna just hang out for a bit? Before sleeping?”
Will’s heart jumps. “Okay.”
They end up back in Will’s room, sitting on the floor with their backs against the bed. Mike talks about his D&D ideas, gesturing wildly, getting way too invested in explaining a character arc that Will only half understands.
Will listens anyway. He always does.
Mike stops mid-sentence. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“It’s fine.” Will says softly. “I like listening.”
Mike smiles, real and warm. That look is dangerous.
Mike shifts closer without thinking, their shoulders pressing together. Will goes very still. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Will obliges.
“Are you...happy here?”
Will blinks. “What?”
“In Hawkins.” Mike clarifies. “I mean, I know California was hard and everything, but- are you okay being back?”
Will hesitates. “I don’t know." He finally admits. “It’s...different, but familiar at the same time.”
Mike nods slowly. “Yeah.”
They sit in silence for a moment.
Then Mike says quietly; “I’m glad you’re here.”
Will swallows. “Me too.”
Mike looks at him, really looks at him, like he’s trying to memorize his face. “You don’t ever have to go through stuff alone.” He states. “You know that, right?”
Will forces a small smile. “Yeah. I know.”
Mike reaches out and squeezes Will’s hand once before letting go.
The touch feels heavier than it should.
When Mike finally leaves to go to Jane’s room, Will lies awake staring at the ceiling.
He presses his palm against his chest and breathes slowly. He thinks about Mike’s arm around his shoulders. About the way Mike had looked at him. About Jane’s quiet, observant gaze earlier.
Will doesn’t let himself hope. But something feels like it’s shifting. And somewhere deep down, he has the uncomfortable feeling that El sees it too.
When Will wakes up the next morning, it takes a second to remember where he is.
Hawkins. His room. Morning light spilling through the curtains.
He rolls onto his side and stares at the wall, trying to hold onto the peaceful feeling from the dream. It slips away anyway, replaced by the familiar ache in his chest.
Suddenly, he hears voices from a bit away.
Mike’s laugh carries through the house.
Will’s heart betrays him immediately. He pulls on a sweater and heads down, pausing in the doorway to the kitchen.
Jane is sitting on the counter, swinging her legs while Joyce flips pancakes. Mike stands in front of her, animatedly explaining something, hands moving as he talks.
Jane laughs and Mike grins back.
Will watches for half a second too long.
Mike notices him instantly. “Will!” He exclaims. “C’mere. Your mom made blueberry pancakes.”
Will moves forward automatically.
Mike steps aside so Will can reach the counter, then ends up standing right beside him anyway, their elbows bumping.
Will takes a plate, and Mike passes him syrup without being asked.
Jane watches. Will feels it.
They eat together at the table. Mike tells a clearly made up story, and Will snorts into his coffee before he can stop himself.
Mike beams like he just achieved something monumental.
Later, while Joyce, Jonathan and Jane clean up, Mike corners Will in the living room.
“You wanna walk?” Mike asks. “Just around the block.”
Will nods. “Okay.”
It’s cold outside. Not freezing, but enough that Will tucks his hands into his sleeves.
Mike notices. He always notices. And without saying anything, he slips off his jacket and drapes it over Will’s shoulders.
Will freezes. “M-Mike-”
“Just take it.” Mike says. “You’re cold.”
Will swallows. “You’ll be cold.”
Mike shrugs. “I’ll live.”
Will pulls the jacket tighter around himself. It smells like Mike. Laundry detergent and something warm and familiar.
They walk side by side down the quiet street.
“So,” Mike says. “Dustin thinks we should start another campaign.”
Will hums. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. He already has ideas. Bad ones, but ideas nonetheless.”
Will smiles.
They walk in comfortable silence for a bit.
Mike kicks at a rock in the road. “You’ve been quieter lately.” He says.
Will stiffens. “I always am.”
Mike shakes his head. “No. I mean...quieter than usual.”
Will doesn’t answer right away.
Mike glances at him. “Did I do something?”
The question lands heavy.
Both boys stop walking, and turn to each other.
“No!” Will says quickly. “No, Mike. You didn’t.”
Mike studies his face, searching.
Will hates how easily Mike can unravel him.
“Then what is it?” Mike asks gently.
Will looks away. “I’m just tired,” he says. It’s not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Friends don't lie. Friends don't lie.
Mike nods slowly. Then, without thinking, he steps closer and pulls Will into a hug.
Will goes rigid for half a second before melting into it. Mike’s arms are warm and solid around him. Will closes his eyes, and he tells himself to memorize this.
Mike rests his chin lightly on the top of Will’s head. “You don’t have to be okay all the time, you know.”
Will’s throat tightens. “I know.”
Mike pulls back but keeps his hands on Will’s shoulders. “You matter.” Mike says quietly. “To me. To all of us.”
Will can’t meet his eyes. “Yeah.”
They walk back home.
Inside, Jane looks up when they enter. Her gaze flicks to Mike’s jacket on Will. Then to the way Mike instinctively reaches for Will’s arm when he almost trips over the rug. Her expression changes. Not angry. Just...thoughtful.
That night, Will lies in bed staring at the ceiling again. He thinks about the hug, about Mike’s words, and about how Mike treats him like something fragile and precious without realizing it.
He presses his face into his pillow. But he doesn’t cry.
He just wishes.
Jane knocks softly on Will’s bedroom door a few days later.
“Will?” She calls.
“Yeah?”
She peeks in. “Can you do my hair?”
Will smiles despite himself. “Sure.”
They sit on the Jane's bedroom floor like they always do. Jane positions herself between Will’s knees, handing him her brush. Her hair is longer now, dark and soft, and Will works through the tangles gently.
Jane hums quietly, rocking slightly as Will starts braiding. “You’re good at this,” she points out.
Will snorts softly. “I’ve had practice.”
She smiles.
For a while, neither of them talk. Will separates strands carefully, fingers moving automatically. The rhythm of it calms him.
Jane fidgets with the sleeve of her hoodie. Then, very quietly, she says; “Mike likes when you braid his hair.”
Will’s hands still. “He- what?”
Jane shrugs. “When he falls asleep on the couch. Sometimes you do it. He always sleeps better.”
Will swallows. “I didn’t realize.”
Jane tilts her head. “You don’t notice everything.”
Will lets out a weak laugh. “I notice too much.”
His sister goes quiet again. After a moment, she asks; “Are you happy?”
Will blinks. It’s the same question Mike asked. “Yeah." Is all he says.
Jane nods slowly, and Will finishes the twin braids and ties them off with small elastics.
“There,” he says. “All done.”
Jane turns around to face him. Her eyes are soft. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” Will smiled. “Hey,” he added. “Do you happen to have any spare sweaters? Mine’s, uh..." He shrugged. “Not really cutting it today. Plus, it might be dirty.”
Jane smiled softly. “I might have one.” She stood and rummaged through her closet for a moment, then turned to him with a folded sweater. “Here. Try this.”
Will took it hesitantly. The fabric was thick and soft, heavier than his hoodie. He held it against his chest, inhaling faintly. It smelled like someone’s laundry detergent—and something else. Warm, familiar.
Jane tilted her head. “It’s clean. Don’t worry.”
Will slipped it over his head. It was huge on him, sleeves hanging past his hands, but it felt...safe. Comfortable. Somehow, it fit him in a way nothing else did. He froze. “Wait...”
Jane watched him quietly. “What?”
Will tugged at the sleeve, and the smell hit him again, stronger this time. A faint trace of shampoo, coffee, and...Mike. “Th-this is Mike’s.” Will said softly, heart racing.
Jane shrugged, casual but gentle. “Yeah. He left it here last week. None of mine will fit you anyway."
Will’s chest tightened. He looked down at the sweater, at the way it swallowed him, at how it smelled like Mike even though Mike wasn’t standing next to him. “Thanks,” he whispered.
Jane smiled softly. “You’re welcome.”
Will shrugged the slightly oversized hoodie on. It was warm. Too warm, in a way that made his chest ache with all the things he couldn’t say.
Jane hesitates. Then she leans forward and hugs him.
Will wraps his arms around her automatically. She smells like Joyce’s shampoo and something warm and familiar.
“You’re my brother,” Jane says into his shoulder.
Will smiles faintly. “Yeah.”
She pulls back but keeps her hands on his arms. “And Mike...” she starts.
Will’s heart stutters.
“He cares about you.” Jane finishes.
Will nods. “I know. He cares about all of us.”
Jane studies his face carefully. “He cares about you differently.”
Will looks away. “Jane-”
“It’s okay,” she says gently. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Will presses his lips together, and finally looks at his superhuman sister.
She doesn’t look jealous. She looks sad. And also...understanding.
Jane reaches out and squeezes Will’s hand. “He doesn’t know yet,” she says.
Will whispers, “I know.”
Jane finally stands and heads for the door, then pauses. “You deserve to be loved.” She says softly.
Will’s throat tightens.
He doesn’t know how El figured it out. He just knows that she definitely has.
And somehow, that makes everything feel both heavier and closer to breaking.