Archive of Our Own

Mike did everything he was supposed to do.

He stopped playing with toys. He watched grown-up movies. He stopped having sleepovers. He stopped putting his friends first. He got a girlfriend. He loved his girlfriend, just like he was always supposed to love her. He did everything normal people do when they grow up.

And still, Mike ends up alone.

He tells himself all the time that Eleven isn’t really dead, like that makes a difference. Either way, she isn’t here. Either way, she’s alone, and so is he.

What was all of it for? He gave up everything he actually liked about himself so he could do what he was supposed to do, so he could be a normal fucking guy. And what did it get him? Alone in Hawkins, still stuck in that fucking basement. He has no friends, no girlfriend, no future. No clue why he did any of it. Does Mike even know who he is? Whoever this guy is, Mike Wheeler doesn’t fucking like him. The twelve year old version of himself would hate this guy.

Sure, he writes stories, and he helps Holly with her homework and drives her to the arcade or the movies or her friends’ houses, and he works at the library a couple shifts a week. Maybe this is what growing up is? Maybe it’s realizing that none of your childhood dreams will ever come true, and your friends will all move on without you, and your girlfriend either kills herself to stop a hypothetical future or disappears and never speaks to you again.

Maybe that one is specific to Mike.

Of course, his friends still write him. They call when they can, but they’re all off at school, making new friends and starting their lives. They’re busy. Lucas writes once a month, and Max usually writes a rude little epithet at the bottom of the page, along with a little doodle of a Looney Toons character, or whatever else she feels like drawing. Dustin is crazy busy, but he calls sometimes when it’s late and he’s drunk with his roommate, or when he stops at a payphone on one of his trips with Steve and can’t remember his home phone number. Will has written, a couple times. They tried to talk on the phone once, but Will kept getting interrupted by some guy in the background, so they didn’t get to say much. Mike has written him a few times too, but neither of them have much to tell the other. Either Will’s life is as boring as Mike’s is, or he just doesn’t want to tell Mike what he’s really up to.

He’s just getting back from an extremely uneventful shift at the library. He opens the front door and steps on mail that must have fallen off the entryway table. Sometimes his mother’s purse will swipe stuff off the table when she leaves in a rush. He stoops down to pick it up, sorting through the bills and flyers, collecting a pile to toss in the trash. At the bottom of the stack, there’s a letter addressed to him. From Will.

He wasn’t lying, they have written a time or two, but it’s been months since Mike last got a letter from him. He’s the only one in the party that Mike hasn’t seen in person since the summer after graduation, because Hopper and Joyce moved to Montauk after they finally got hitched. They’re so close to Jonathan and Will in New York, they don’t really come back anymore.

But here Mike is, loitering in his front doorway and staring at the New York address that Will has sent all his letters from. Mike thinks it might be student accommodations, but he isn’t sure. Will hasn’t told Mike much of anything about his life at school. He makes his way to the kitchen, depositing the mail he deems important on the table and tossing the rest. Then he sits down in the chair where he has eaten family dinner his whole life, and opens Will’s letter.

Mike,

Hey. I know it’s been a while, and it’s probably my fault. I was distracted. School was so big, and the city was so big, and I felt really small. Smaller than I’ve ever felt before. I was in a really bad place for a few months, mentally. I didn’t want to tell you about it, because Eleven is gone, and everything since she died has been about her.

Okay, maybe everything has been about her for a lot longer than that, but it’s worse now. She’s not some girl who showed up and made stuff move with her mind and then disappeared again. She’s not even just your girlfriend anymore. For a little while, she was my sister. And then she died, and it kind of felt like you died too, Mike.

I’m sorry, I know that isn’t fair, and it isn’t why I’m writing this letter. It’s just context. One of the many reasons why I was in such a bad place this past year. You know most of the other reasons. The point is, things were bad, and I didn’t tell anyone.

And then I met Ryan.

Ryan was like the total opposite of you. He was blond and shorter than me, and he was never sarcastic or rude, and he was on the rowing team. He was my first kiss, and my first time, and we weren’t boyfriends, but we were friends and sometimes we had sex. He wasn’t really out, but he hooked up with guys all the time. He dragged me to frat parties and then wouldn’t talk to me the entire time we were there. That part felt a little bit like you. It hurt, but I understood. He’s a jock, and I’m an art student, and I haven’t exactly been hiding my sexuality since I got here. No one really knows who I am, but it was too much of a risk. I was too much of a risk.

There have been other guys since him, but we were always in each other’s orbit, somehow. I tried to bring him to artsy parties and a gay club one time, but he was always worried about who would see him. I thought hanging out with more queer people would help him get more comfortable with himself, like Robin did with me. I think one day, Ryan could’ve been proud of who he was.

He died last night. Pneumonia. A complication of AIDS. I only found out because my roommate is a huge gossip, and apparently the news of someone on the crew team being gay and dying of AIDS is just too juicy to pass up. As if he wasn’t basically a kid still. As if his mother didn’t only find out about her son’s sexuality because he was dying of a ‘gay disease.’ He was my friend, and he’s dead, and I don’t even feel like I can grieve him because he didn’t want anyone to know we were friends. Maybe it doesn’t even matter now that he’s dead, but I can’t do that to him.

The faces I used to see at the gay clubs every week are dropping like flies. Everyone around me is dying, and it feels like Hawkins all over again. I was finally, finally allowed to be myself, I was finally allowed to look at boys and kiss them, and now I haven’t had sex in months because I don’t want to get sick and do that to my mom. Imagine if I survived all of it, just to be killed by AIDS. I think that would kill her.

It’s all so fucking unfair.

Anyway. I don’t really know why I’m telling you of all people about this. I needed to tell someone, and we are barely even friends anymore, so it’s not like I could ruin this. I promise I’ll be okay, it’s just so fresh. He isn’t even the first person I’ve known to die of it this past year, but he was the youngest, and the closest to me. He made me feel like life was worth living when I thought I had nothing but an empty future ahead of me. But he doesn’t get to have a future.

I hope you’re doing better than I am, right now.
Love, Will

Mike is pretty sure he isn’t breathing. How is Mike supposed to process any of this? There are a million questions in his head, most of them extremely selfish. What does Will mean, it kind of felt like you died too? Mike isn’t dead. Isn’t that the whole problem? His girlfriend is dead and he isn’t. And how is Mike supposed to feel reading about this boy that Will likes, who is like the total opposite of you? He’s dead, so Mike can’t even be angry about this guy using Will and keeping him a secret. He can’t be angry that Will was doing so badly and this fucking guy is who helped him. And who did he think he was, dragging Will to parties he probably hated, just to ignore him? How could Will compare Mike to this guy?

There’s also the fact that Will has had sex. With multiple guys. Mike hasn’t had sex with anyone, ever. Mike has never even heard Will talk about anyone, never heard him mention sex’s existence, and here he is, sleeping with multiple guys. Mike has never thought about how two guys have sex. How does it even work? And apparently Will is somehow getting into clubs, despite not being twenty one for another two years.

But then Mike rereads the last couple paragraphs. He thinks about twelve year old Will in that hospital bed, except then it changes to Will now, the Will who withstood the pain of fire and bullets while his friends fought an eldritch being, who felt the connection painfully sever the moment his mother cut Vecna’s head off. He thinks of that Will, frail and pale and laying in that hospital bed with Joyce and Jonathan crying beside him. He thinks of his best friend, the one he has known since he was six years old, dead.

Karen Wheeler walks in a couple hours later to see her nineteen year old son, sobbing loud and rough, with his head in his hands and a letter on the table in front of him. Mike didn’t hear her come in.

“Mike?” She exclaims, dropping her groceries and rushing to his side.

When she pulls him into an embrace, Mike feels all of his strings snap and he falls into her arms.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“I’m alone,” Mike whispers into her skin. “We did everything we were supposed to do. We killed Vecna, we destroyed the Upside down, and El left me. And then everyone else left me. And now I’m alone.”

“Oh honey, you’re not alone,” Karen murmurs into Mike’s hair. She presses kisses there and rubs his back, but the tears just keep coming. “You have me, and Nancy, and Holly. I know your friends are off at school, but they didn’t leave you. They love you.”



“Will said we’re barely even friends anymore,” Mike says miserably. “He’s been off living his life, without me. They’re all growing up and becoming real people, and I’m still here. They have real-life problems and new relationships, and I feel like I died.”

“Mike,” Karen whimpers. “Please don’t say that. You’re still here, you’re alive. You have a whole life ahead of you that you can’t even imagine.”

“Why did she do it? Why did she die, and leave me alone?” Mike sobs into his mother’s now-soaked sweater.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry she did that. I’m so sorry you have to feel like this.”

They’re quiet for a few long moments, Karen gently rocking them and running her fingers through Mike’s hair. Eventually, when Mike feels like he can breathe again, he pulls back to speak.

“Will’s friend died,” Mike admits. “He was the better version of me, and he died.”

“What? Did Will say that?”

“No. He said he was the opposite of me.”

Karen smooths Mike’s hair back and furrows her brow. “I’m not getting it. That doesn’t sound like a better version of you.”

“He was the version of me who could love Will back,” he says, and it feels like a million pounds lift off of Mike’s shoulders.

“Oh,” Karen says. “Will is…”

“He had feelings for me. When we were kids.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

Mike doesn’t know what that means, but he can’t stop talking now that he’s started.

“I think I could tell he liked me. That’s why I treated him so horribly. And I just tried to put all of my focus into El, and he made it so hard. He looked at me, and I could see how much he liked me, and it made me so angry. I was trying so, so hard to give all my attention to El, like I was supposed to, and he was just. Always there. In the background, cheering me on and giving me chance after chance to be a good friend. And every time, I ruined it. Why do I always ruin it?”

Mike looks up at his mother, hoping she can give him some kind of answer, but the look he sees on her face chills him to the bone. She looks pitying, and understanding. Like he’s a dumb child who doesn’t know what’s good for him. She cups a hand around his jaw and looks into his eyes.

“Why did you have to try so hard? For El, I mean,” she adds.

“What- what do you mean?” Mike asks, face scrunching up.

“Did it feel like a chore? Being with El?”

“Not all the time. But, sometimes, yeah,” he admits. “I think she felt it too. It kinda felt like we were outgrowing each other.”

“Why did you keep dating?” his mom asks, and Mike is confused. What else was he supposed to do?

“I mean… I cared about her a lot, she was really important to me.”

“Couldn’t you say that about all of your friends?”

Mike’s body is starting to feel a little numb, the tips of his fingers tingling. “Yeah, I guess.”

“El was your friend. She didn’t have to be your girlfriend. You don’t have to have a girlfriend,” Karen says gently, her thumb stroking against his cheek.

Mike rears back sharply. “Of course I do. That’s what happens when you grow up, you start dating girls.”

“Why?”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to force yourself to be ‘normal,’ Michael,” Karen says, making finger quotes.

The air is sucked out of his lungs and his chest feels tight. “I-I’m not. I don’t. What are you even-”

His breaths are coming in shallowly and quickly, and then Karen wraps her arms around him again, hugging him back to her body.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” she says, stroking his hair.

Mike shakes and his eyes sting, trying to cry but not having enough tears left. “What if I’m not normal?”

“It would be okay. You would be okay.”

“No, I wouldn’t! Will isn’t okay, his friend isn’t fucking okay,” Mike sobs, his breath hiccuping in his chest. “He died of AIDS."

“Oh, Michael,” his mom says. “That’s- you can’t think like that.”

“What am I supposed to think? How can this really be who I am? How am I supposed to be okay with this?”

“It’s not fair, I know it’s not fair. I’m sorry people like you are getting sick. I wish I could make it better.”

Mike shakes his head and chokes, “I’m not. I’m not, please, I’ve been trying so hard.”

Karen lets out a sound, and Mike realizes that she’s crying too. “You can stop trying. It’s okay. I love you so much.”

“Mom,” Mike weeps, head pounding from all the crying, feeling exhausted and terrified. Karen shushes him and just keeps cradling his face against her shoulder. Mike feels like he’s falling apart completely.

After a while, the house begins darkening around them, and Mike realizes how late it must be getting. He takes a few steadying breaths and asks, “Where’s Holly?”

“Sleepover,” Karen mutters. And then, after a moment, “Do you want to talk about it any more tonight?”

Mike’s chest clenches. He doesn’t think he can handle any more crying. He shakes his head, and Karen finally pulls out of their hugs. She wipes his tear-stained cheeks with her thumbs and offers him a watery smile.

“Why don’t you go lie down. I’ll heat up some leftover mac and cheese and bring it up to your room.”

“You’re letting me eat in bed?” Mike laughs wetly.

“Just this once,” Karen chuckles.

Mike ends up eating at his desk instead of in bed, bent over a piece of lined paper with a pen in hand. He doesn’t really know what to say, but he has to try.

*

Will is having one of the worst weeks of his life. He doesn’t even feel the need to point out how absurd that statement is, considering, well. The rest of his life.

Ryan’s funeral was today. Will wasn’t there, of course, but he heard about it from a friend of a friend of a friend. Will’s dorm roommate is his entry point for most of the sports related gossip on campus. He was the reason Will even met Ryan, in a roundabout way, several degrees of separation between them. Andrew, is the roommate’s name. As far as they go, Will definitely could have done a lot worse. Will hasn’t come out to him, but he suspects that Andrew has guessed that Will is gay. He’s been making an effort to hide it less. Andrew is tidy, and nice enough for a jock. He even brings Will his mail.

“Letter for you,” Andrew says as he flits into the dorm. He throws an envelope at Will’s form under the blankets, not making any comments about Will being in bed at 3 in the afternoon.

“Thanks,” Will mutters, sitting up and reaching for the letter.

He assumes it’s from Jonathan, until the return address catches his eye. Hawkins. This letter is from Mike. He honestly hadn’t been expecting a response. The last time Will wrote Mike, he hadn’t responded, and for a long time Will couldn’t bring himself to send another. Until he heard about Ryan. He tries not to look too eager as he tears into the letter.

Will,

First of all, I want to say that we are absolutely still friends. It doesn’t matter how much of a dick I’ve been, we will always be friends and you can always talk to me. About anything.

Second, I want to say that I’m so sorry about your friend. I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling. I’m so sorry that you won’t get to see him grow into someone comfortable with himself. I’m sorry you’ve lost others, and I’m sorry that everything is so fucking scary for you right now. I wish you never had to go through anything that scary.

I’m sorry, for everything. I’m sorry for shutting down after El died. I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t grieve your sister because I was too busy grieving my girlfriend. We needed each other, and I wasn’t there for you the way you were there for me. I guess some things never change. I’ve let you down a lot. I’ve let myself down too. I know nothing can really make up for all the ways I’ve fucked up, but I’d really like to try. I want to be here for you, if you want me. I copied my work schedule for the month, so call me whenever you can. I’ll be at home pretty much any other time, unless I’m driving Holly somewhere. Anyway, the point is I want to talk to you. I want to hear all about Ryan, if you want to tell me. Please call me. I promise I’ll be better.

Love, Mike
(PS sorry I said sorry so much)

Will is barely holding it together by the time he finishes reading the letter for the second time. Andrew is shooting weird looks from his place at his desk, but Will doesn’t care right now. Mike answered. He wasn’t angry about what Will said in the letter. He was apologetic, even. So apologetic, Will didn’t know what to make of it. Mike has said he was sorry for being a bad friend before, but again and again Will ends up feeling abandoned all over again. But he answered, and he told Will to call him, even though the first and last time they spoke on the phone since Will started college, Mike had seemed annoyed at everything Will said.

Will had never actually said that he felt like he couldn’t grieve his sister. Not out loud, at least, and certainly not to Mike. But he knew anyway. Somehow, Mike still knows Will better than anyone.

A pang of guilt strikes Will in the gut. Ryan is fucking dead, and here Will is mooning over Mike. Ryan hated Mike, said Will talked about him way too much. Maybe he was jealous, or maybe Will really was just annoying when he talked about Mike. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Hey, are you good?” Andrew asks, cutting through the foggy clouds that fill Will’s head.

“Um, not really. I just need a couple days, but I’ll be okay. Eventually.”

Andrew gives Will a once-over, but he just shrugs and gets ready to head to his next class. When he leaves, Will pulls the folded up schedule from the envelope and checks today’s date. Mike isn’t working. It’s the middle of the day on a school day, so the free phone in the dorm building’s lounge is probably not in use. Will gets dressed for the first time that day, and walks down to the common room.

He was right, the room is empty. Will brings the phone with him to the couch and spins the dial with familiar muscle memory. Will has had the Wheeler phone number memorized for over a decade at this point.

It only rings twice before Mike’s voice fills the receiver.

“Hello? Wheeler residence,” Mike says, exactly like his mother taught him to answer.

“Mike,” Will whispers down the line.

“Will?” Mike asks, voice softening.

“Yeah. I just got your letter.”

“Good! Good. I’m glad you got it. I’m so happy you called.”

That reminds Will of why he’s calling, and he heaves a steadying breath. “Ryan’s funeral was today.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Did you go?”

Will shakes his head before remembering Mike can’t see him. He chokes out, “No. It was just family. I think it was in Jersey.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t be there.”



“You’re making a lot of apologies these days,” Will says, because he can’t actually think about it.

“Long overdue,” Mike huffs.

“Hearing back from you meant a lot,” Will admits.

“I’m sorry it took something like this for me to remember how to be a friend.”

Will lets out a laugh that is closer to a sob. “Yeah, but you’re here now.”

“I wish I was actually there. I wish I could give you a hug.”

Will blushes hard, his ears hot, and he feels ridiculous. They’re friends, Mike is consoling him, a hug would be perfectly reasonable.

“That would be nice,” Will croaks after a heavy second.

“Do you want to tell me about Ryan?” Mike asks, and Will can’t hold back the tidal wave.

Will talks for what must be hours. He tells Mike about meeting Ryan, about them kissing for the first time. He leaves out any other details about the two of them getting physical. He talks about drama kid parties and the gay clubs who don’t card at the door, and Ryan avoiding him at parties. Mike asks relevant questions, never judgemental, just curious about Will’s life in New York and about Ryan.

When Will starts to run out of things to say, slowing down enough for long, comfortable silences, Mike asks, “So, you said you weren’t boyfriends?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you have wanted to be? If you could?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes I really wanted that. And then he’d ignore me when we passed on campus, and I’d change my mind.”

“I’m sorry.”

“This one isn’t on you, Mike.”

“I’m still sorry. That sucks. You’ll never get to see if he could have been that guy for you.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Will says around a lump in his throat.

“And are you- Have you been- Are you safe?” Mike stutters out.

“I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re asking. I know people are saying that abstaining from sex isn’t what we need to be doing, that condoms are the safest way to have sex, but…” Will trails off, suddenly embarrassed to be talking about sex with Mike.

“But you’re scared,” Mike finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Will breathes.

“That makes sense. It’s fucking scary. People are dying every day.”

The fact that Mike understands the enormity of what Will is feeling seems like a miracle. Will has mentioned it in passing with Dustin and Lucas, has talked about the protests he’s gone to with Jonathan, has walked around with his Silence = Death badge on his denim jacket. They all care, but they don’t seem to get it. It’s not a fleeting, background concern for Will. It’s everywhere, all the time. The older gay men who welcomed him to the clubs and bars are dwindling. People in their 20s, 30s, dying. Will has been to more funerals in the last year than the rest of his life combined. Despite being in a huge city where people walk around looking visibly queer, Will feels just as suffocated as he had in Hawkins. Someone told him to his face that queers deserved to die of AIDS. He’s been learning as much queer history as he can, but his teachers keep dying.

Everywhere, all the time.

“I’m so tired of being scared,” Will confesses down the phone.

“I know, I know, it’s awful,” Mike says.

“I miss you,” Will says.

Mike makes a small, pained sound. “I miss you too. So much.”

Will’s heart thumps double time in his chest.

“Maybe-” Will cuts himself off.

“What?”

“Maybe you could come visit me? Here in New York? I don’t think I’m technically allowed guests, but you can take my bed and I can sleep on the floor-”

“I’m not letting you sleep on the floor,” Mike interrupts.

“But, you’ll come visit?”

“Yeah, absolutely. You have my work schedule, lets figure out what weekend works best.”

Will can’t believe it was that easy. Mike wants to come visit this month. Will hasn’t seen Mike in person in almost a year. And it’s worse than California, because he doesn’t even get a footnote in El’s letters anymore.

They decide on a date and Mike promises to get his travel plans sorted the next morning. He’s going to take the bus into New York, and then he will sleep on Will’s dorm room floor. Will secretly still plans to give him the bed, but they can fight about that when Mike gets here.

Mike Wheeler, in New York City. It feels almost impossible to picture him anywhere but Hawkins. Will can’t believe it. Maybe he won’t believe it’s really happening until he sets eyes on Mike.

*

Karen drives Mike to the bus station two towns over. The drive had been silent, but when she puts the car in park, she finally turns to him with concern written all over her face.

“Do you have everything you need?” Karen asks, superfluously. She was the one who anxiously packed Mike’s bag the night before.

“I’m going up for a weekend, not the rest of my life,” Mike grumbles.

“I know, sorry. I’m nervous. This is different than Lenora, New York is so big and-”

“And I have been to an alternate dimension and fought monsters,” Mike interjects. “I’m pretty sure I can handle a city.”

“You’re right, of course you’re right. And I know you’re not a kid anymore.”

“I’ll be okay,” he assures.

Karen’s face clears a little and she asks, “You haven’t told Will yet?”

Mike can’t believe that the first person he ever came out to was his mother. He still feels like he’s barely out to himself.

“I still might not tell him,” he whispers.

“Why not? If anyone will understand-”

“I know. But I don’t want him to think I’m, like, trying anything. It’s too soon.”

Karen nods, and then she checks her watch. “You’d better get in there.”

Mike gives his mom one last hug, assuring her that she doesn’t need to get out and walk him into the bus station, and that he’ll be home in a couple days. He turns and waves to her as he enters the building, and he can see that she’s teary-eyed. The bus is busy and noisy, and Mike has almost twelve hours to kill. He takes his Walkman out of his backpack and presses play on his tape. Hopefully, he’ll be able to catch some shut-eye between here and New York.

*

Will waits at the bus terminal and bounces on his toes. He barely slept at all the night before, and he’s running on black coffee and a stale banana muffin, but he feels better than he has in weeks. Sure, he’s unbelievably anxious about seeing Mike again after so long, but he also can’t wait. He wants to show Mike all his favourite places and introduce him to Will’s friends. Maybe take them dancing, if he can convince Mike to go to a gay club. That one is more of a pipe dream than anything else.

Finally, after what feel like hours, Will hears his name.

Will sees Mike just in time to be crushed into a hug. He thinks of the airport in California, the awkward way they greeted each other then. This is nothing like that. Mike wraps his arms around Will’s waist and lifts him slightly off the ground. All Will can smell is Mike, the Wheeler house’s distinctive scent following him despite his many hours on a bus.

Will had been holding up a dumb sign with Mike’s name on it, like they do in the movies, but it’s crushed between their bodies now. Will lets his free arm circle Mike’s shoulders for just a few moments, before he makes himself pull out of the hug.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Will says through his grin.

Mike looks the same as he always has, but his new glasses make him look a lot more grown up. When Lucas and Dustin and Will started growing shitty peach-fuzz mustaches in their last year of school, Mike had still been unable to muster up even that amount of facial hair. His face is sharp and angular, like it’s been since he was a teenager, but Will has always found him so beautiful. His hair is longer than it was last summer, but not like the shaggy style he copied from Eddie, just like he hasn’t bothered to get it cut in too long. It reminds Will a little of Keanu Reeves.

While Will has been analyzing Mike, Mike has been doing the same. Suddenly, Will feels his cheeks heat up at the weight of Mike’s eyes on his face. Will changed his hair and started dressing differently when he got to school. He wouldn’t say he’s gone full queer, but he’s definitely more adventurous. The hairstyle he had gone with at the beginning of the year was terrible in retrospect, even worse than the bowl cut, but he’s been trying to pull off the Robert Sean Leonard in Dead Poet’s Society look for the last few months.

Mike stares at Will and doesn’t say anything. Will is starting to get worried.

“Mike?” Will asks.

“Sorry,” Mike breathes. “I just…”

“Hey,” Will says gently. “You okay?”

“I missed you so much.”

Mike pulls Will back into a hug, tucking his face into Will’s neck. Will is startled, but he hugs back again.

“You look really good,” Mike mumbles against Will’s skin.

Will feels his face heat again, and a shiver runs down his spine against his will.

“Mike,” Will chuckles, incredibly unsure of what’s happening.

Mike withdraws, saying, “Sorry, sorry. Let’s get moving.”

Will takes Mike’s backpack from him, despite Mike’s protests, and he leads them out onto the street. Will catches Mike’s expression as he looks around at the city around them; he looks a little awed and a little wary. Will zips through streets that are now familiar, holding Mike back from walking into the street at one point so he isn’t mown down by a cab.

“You look really comfortable here,” Mike remarks, a couple minutes out from Will’s dorm.

“Yeah, I’ve been living here for eight months,” Will reminds him.

“It suits you. All the high-rises and old architecture, crowds of people around. You look like you belong here.”

Will stops on a side street that isn’t too busy. He leans against the wall of a bodega and turns his stare on Mike.

“Thank you? I’m not sure I know what that means,” Will says.

“Nothing, really. You just seem… I don’t know, settled?”

Will pushes off the wall and keeps walking. Mike trails a couple steps behind him, seemingly content to take everything in around him. When they get to Will’s dorm, he leads them through the building, taking the stairs up to the second floor. He unlocks his door and sweeps inside, putting Mike’s bag down on his desk. He leans against it and looks at Mike. Mike is busy examining every inch of Will’s side of the room. He lingers on the polaroids tacked to the wall over Will’s bed.

“Is he in any of these?” Mike asks. He’s not looking at Will, instead studying a photo of Joyce and Jonathan and himself in Central Park.

“No,” Will answers, and pulls open the top drawer of his desk. Inside, there are stacks of photos he deemed too queer to let Andrew see. He pulls out a couple of Ryan, and then goes to stand next to Mike.

Mike takes them without a word, flipping through them with a pensive look on his face. “He looked happy.”

“I think he was, most of the time,” Will says.

Mike gets to the last photo in the stack and his body gives a tiny jolt. Will looks at the photo in his hands.

“Oh, sorry, I thought that was in a different pile,” Will says, trying to take the photo back from Mike’s hands, but Mike pulls it out of reach.

The photo was taken by Will’s friend Lola. Him and Ryan were a little drunk at a house party in Queens, and they snuck away to make out in the bathroom. The image is of the two of them kissing against the sink, one of Will’s legs hiked up around Ryan’s hip. Will figures Mike won’t want to look at that one, but Mike drinks it in like it’s the most important thing he’s ever seen.

“Mike,” Will insists, reaching again for the photo. Mike lets him take it this time, but he seems upset.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

“You don’t have to hide things from me. You aren’t going to make me uncomfortable by being too gay,” Mike says, as Will tucks his photos back into their drawer.

Before Will can say anything in response, the lock on the door clicks and Andrew enters the room. He looks surprised to see Mike standing next to Will’s bed, and then his eyes swing over to Will.

“Andrew, this is Mike. My friend from Indiana. I told you he was coming to visit.”

“Right,” Andrew says, moving further into the room and crossing to his side. “I didn’t realize it was already the end of the month.”

“You do know that exams start in two weeks, though, right?” Will laughs, and Andrew throws a shoe at him.

“Mike, this is Andrew, my roommate,” Will explains unnecessarily.

Mike holds his hand out and Andrew gives it a shake. It feels impossible that these two parts of his life are colliding like this.

“Andrew is from Chicago,” Will tells him, and Mike nods like this is important information that he needs to remember.

“So, where do you go to school?” Andrew asks, and Will sees Mike flinch a little.

“Oh, I’m not in school. I decided to take a year or two before I think about post-secondary. You know, get a little work experience,” Mike explains, sheepishly.

“Cool,” Andrew says, and it’s clear to Will that this conversation is taking a nose-dive.

“Mike has been on a bus for like, an entire day, so we were just going to get some dinner. What are you up to tonight?” Will asks.

“Oh, I’ll be at Sherry’s all weekend,” Andrew says. Sherry is Andrew’s girlfriend, but Will doesn’t often get the dorm to himself for a whole weekend.

Will gives Andrew a wry smile and says, “Have fun.”

“If you want, you could borrow my bed, Will.”

Will is surprised at Andrew’s generosity. “Thanks! I was planning on taking the floor, so that would be much better.”

“You were not! I was going to sleep on the floor,” Mike interjects.

“You just spent twelve hours on a bus, I wasn’t going to make you sleep on a floor,” Will insists.

“Eleven hours,” Mike argues.

“That’s not better!” Will says, and he’s laughing now, but so is Mike.

“Uh, anyway,” Andrew says, and Will almost forgot he was in the room for a second. “I’m gonna head out now. It was nice to finally meet you, Mike. Will talks about you all the time.”

And with that, Andrew is gone, and Will’s face is hot and probably very red.

“You talk about me?” Mike asks to the now quiet room. Will expects Mike’s voice to be teasing, but instead he sounds almost… pleased?

“Yeah, Mike. You’re my best friend. Of course I talk about you.”

“But we haven’t even talked in months.”

“Doesn’t stop you from being in all of my stories.”

Mike just looks at Will with a small smile on his face. Will doesn’t really know what to make of it.

“So, uh. Dinner?” Will suggests.

“Yeah, I’m starving. Is there somewhere I could take a shower here? I’m sure I smell like bus and old people.”

“You smell like home, actually,” Will says, before he can stop himself.

Mike smiles again. He looks like he’s delighted by what Will said.

Will doesn’t get his hopes up, he swears.

*

After Mike’s first dorm room communal shower, which Mike is not a fan of, Will leads them out of the building and to a pizza place a couple blocks away. It’s a little hole in the wall that Will insists has better pizza than the entire state of Indiana. They split a whole large pizza and sit at the only table in the place.

Mike can’t stop staring at Will. He looks so different and Mike can’t get over it. He doesn’t look that much older, but his hair and clothes have changed. He doesn’t look like he’s trying to drown himself in layers of Jonathan’s handmedowns anymore. Mike had always thought the bowl cut made Will look cute, especially when it got a little messy. But now, with his floppy, timeless hairstyle and his shirt with the top three buttons left open, Mike isn’t quite sure how to square away this image with the image he’s always had in his head of Will Byers. This Will is confident, sure of himself in a way that makes Mike just want to keep looking at him.

By the end of high school, no one could deny that Will was attractive. He got hit on by girls from his classes all the time; they were so enamoured by this boy they all used to sneer at. Suddenly, he wasn’t Zombie Boy anymore, he was the hot, sensitive artist who never gave any girls the time of day. He was different from all the other boys. Mike had admitted to himself in senior year that he was attracted to Will, but he didn’t realize what it meant at the time. He just knew Will was good looking, and he knew he liked looking at him. He just thought all boys felt that way about his friends, and he didn’t interrogate the way he didn’t feel the same things for Lucas or Dustin.

Now though, looking at this new Will, there is no way Mike could deny it; he thinks Will is really hot.

Will talks about classes and people and Mike doesn’t want to think about all the formative experiences he’s missing out on, so instead he studies the boy sitting in front of him. He shoves pizza in his face and allows his eyes to creep down the line of Will’s neck, to the little peek of his chest on display. Mike can see one of his collarbones, and a little patch of thin, pale brown hair. He watches Will’s hands gesticulate as he describes a painting he worked on in first term, and Mike notices how big and manly they look. Mike’s own fingers are thin and knobby, but Will’s hands are rough and calloused, his fingers and knuckles thick and strong. There are many colours of paint caked under and around Will’s trimmed nails. Even his forearms look kind of muscular.

“Mike?” Will says, and Mike’s eyes snap back up to Will’s face. He’s smiling like he doesn’t even care that Mike was barely listening to his words. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

Mike feels his face heat, and he’s sure his cheeks and ears are bright pink. He shakes his head and gestures for Will to keep talking. The pizza is quickly dwindling, so his excuse for not talking is about to go away. As he redoubles his efforts to listen to what Will is saying, he does start to feel his day of travel catching up to him. His eyelids are feeling heavy, and the sun has mostly set outside the pizza shop.

When their pan is empty, Mike insists he pay. Will smiles at him and doesn’t argue. Mike would do a whole hell of a lot more than pay for a pizza if it meant Will looked at him like that.

“Sorry I’m such a boring guest,” Mike says as they make their way back to Will’s dorm. “It’s a Friday night, I’m sure you’re usually partying all weekend.”

Will rolls his eyes, but he’s still beaming that gorgeous smile.

“You spent all day traveling, I don’t expect you to be up all night. Plus, there’s always tomorrow night.”

“Do you go out most weekends?” Mike asks.

“I wouldn’t say most weekends, but my friends drag me out a lot. Lola does drag most Friday nights, so Ricardo and Eli and I go see her shows as much as we can.”

“Drag?”

Will blushes and stutters. “Y-yeah. It’s this queer art form where men dress up as women and perform on stage. Some of them sing, but most of them just dance along to music and lip-sync.”

Mike has never heard of drag. He’s never really heard about men dressing up as women for anything other than comedy.

“Is Lola a man?” Mike asks, and Will instantly cringes.

“Uh, kind of. Not really,” Will replies, and Mike is just more confused.

“How can someone kind of be a man?”

“She was born a man. But she’s not now,” Will says, like that clears anything up.

Mike feels like he’s some dumb kid who doesn’t know anything about the world. They make it back to Will’s building and trudge up the stairs.

“Hey,” Mike says, wanting to change the subject. “I’d love to meet your friends. We should totally go out with them tomorrow. You know, if they’re free.”

Will stops on the top step and turns to look down at Mike.

“Mike,” he says, like he doesn’t think Mike will like what he says next. “You know most of my friends here are gay, right? We mainly go to gay bars and clubs.”

Mike hadn’t known that, but it makes sense. Will came to a huge city for college, of course he was going to try to find queer friends. Of course he wanted to hang out with people like him.

“That-that’s okay. I mean, obviously it’s okay, but like, that’s not a problem for me,” Mike stammers.

Will’s eyes narrow as he considers Mike’s words. Then he nods and turns around, continuing to his dorm room. Mike lets out a breath and follows after him.

Getting ready for bed together doesn’t feel like it used to when they were little. It doesn’t even feel like it did as teenagers, the party all gathered in Mike’s basement with sleeping bags and too many snacks. Will turns his back to change into his pyjamas, and Mike is struck by the fact that he’s used to this. He shares a room with another guy, and has probably had to get used to changing in front of him pretty quickly. Although, Mike supposes it may be different for Will, having grown up with a brother. Will whips off his shirt without a second thought, not bothering to put a new one on before he drops his jeans as well. Mike can’t take his eyes off of him; the broad expanse of his shoulders, the dip in his low back above his underwear, the way his muscles ripple under his skin as he takes off his pants. He bends down to grab sleep pants from his drawer, and Mike’s eyes are drawn to Will’s ass.

That’s where Mike hits his limit, and he turns to begin changing his own clothes. Mike has never checked out someone’s ass before. Okay, maybe that isn’t true; he definitely looked at Eleven’s ass in that wetsuit a couple times in their last year together. He certainly has never checked out a guy’s ass though. Is Mike into that? Is he an ‘ass man,’ as Steve dubbed it? He has no idea.

When Mike turns back around, dressed in his own PJs, he sees Will sitting on his roommate’s bed. He’s still shirtless, in just his sleep pants, and Mike remembers that Will runs hot in his sleep. Mike used to wake up from sleepovers as kids feeling like he had his own personal furnace next to him. Mike tries not to let his eyes travel down past Will’s face, but he isn’t particularly successful.

Will’s eyes are on Mike too. That isn’t really a new feeling; Will has always looked at Mike a lot. The difference now is that Mike doesn’t want him to stop.

They chat idly while they both settle into their respective beds, and Mike lets himself stare over to the bed across the room, even after Will turns out the lights.

*

In the morning, Will wakes up first. He feels a little disoriented, blinking his eyes open to see his own side of the room, rather than Andrew’s. It takes him a second to remember that the boy sleeping in his bed is Mike. Will smiles to himself, turning onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

Last night, however short, was so perfect. Will still can’t quite believe that Mike is here. And not only that, but he’s been super cool about everything. He obviously doesn’t know anything about queer culture, but neither did Will when he got here almost a year ago. Not that Mike needs to learn about a culture he doesn’t belong to, but it feels good that Will can talk about his gay and trans friends without having to worry that Mike will be weird.

Across the room, Mike begins to stir. From the corner of his eye, Will sees Mike stretch, his feet dangling off the end of Will’s twin bed. He rolls over onto his side, and Will copies him. They lock eyes and Mike squints at him. Then, he reaches under his pillow and slips his glasses onto his face.

“I kinda can’t get used to you in glasses,” Will says with a laugh.

“Yeah, I got my dad’s shit eyes,” Mike complains, a yawn interrupting halfway through. “Nancy got Mom’s 20/20 vision, and I’m sure Holly will too.”

“They look good,” Will says, before he can stop himself.

Mike smiles, and Will’s heart starts beating faster. He flops back onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

“Breakfast?” Mike asks.

Ryan loved getting breakfast. Dinner was too intimate, or something, and he was busy at lunch on most days, but after practice he could swing by, pick Will up, and take him out to breakfast. Will’s heart clenches painfully in his chest, and he’s embarrassed to realize that his eyes are welling up.

“Will?”

“Yeah,” Will says, and then clears his throat, because his words come out all wobbly. He throws the blankets off of himself and gets up. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“Are you okay?” Mike asks.

Will stands in front of his tiny wardrobe, trying to decide on a shirt, and he has to blink rapidly to keep his tears from falling. He wants Mike to just drop it, but he knows he probably won’t.

“Hey,” Mike says, and he’s closer this time. “It’s okay to talk about him, if you need to.”

Will turns, and Mike is standing in the middle of the room with a soft look on his face, waiting for Will to say something. Will could probably say he doesn’t want to talk about Ryan, that he doesn’t want their whole weekend ruined by Will’s grief. But he doesn’t want to say that.

“It’s always the dumbest little thing that makes me think about him,” Will says instead. “I feel good, and I kind of forget for a second…”

“And then you remember, and it’s like the full weight of it is hitting you all over again?” Mike finishes for him.

Will loses the battle with his eyes, and he feels a hot line of tears streak down his cheek.

“Do you ever tell people you lost a sister?” Mike asks, and that pulls Will up short.

He tilts his head to look at Mike, considering, and then says, “I say step sister, but yeah. My friends know.”

“Same difference,” Mike says with a watery smile. “I’m glad you have friends here to support you.”

“A dead sister is an easier tragic backstory to explain,” Will says, without thinking. “Shit, sorry, not dead, but-”

“It’s fine,” Mike interrupts. “Same difference.”

Ever since Mike told the party his theory, they all tried not to say dead. They would say lost, they would say gone, but not dead. Will just told his new friends here that she died. It’s easier.

“Get dressed, so we can get food,” Will says, turning back to his clothes and tugging a shirt off a hanger.

He pulls clean underwear from the basket at the bottom of his wardrobe, and starts tugging his clothes on. When he turns back around, he expects to either see Mike done changing or mid-changing maybe, like he had been last night when Will accidentally glanced at him and had to look away just as quickly. Andrew and Will have a silent agreement to change with their backs to the room and never look.

Instead, Mike is standing exactly where Will left him in the middle of the room, still in his PJs, with his mouth hanging open like he’s about to say something. Will sees his face is pink at the apples of his cheeks. Why is Mike still standing there? Did he just watch Will change his underwear, see his bare ass? Why wouldn’t he go get dressed too? Will’s own face starts to burn, so he turns to find where he left his jeans last night. He picks them up off the floor and pulls them on over his boxers. He takes his time buttoning up his shirt before he turns back around.

Mercifully, Mike is now fully dressed and sitting on top of the covers on Will’s bed. He must’ve gotten dressed with a fire under his ass.

They don’t talk about it at all throughout breakfast. They talk about D&D, they talk about Dustin and Steve’s next road trip, they talk about Hawkins. But they don’t talk about whatever it was that happened that morning. Mike seems mostly normal, so Will tries to be normal too. He thinks he pulls it off, but it’s too hard to tell with Mike. It has always felt like Mike can see right through him.

“So what’s the plan for tonight? Where are we going?” Mike asks on the walk back after breakfast.

“I figure I’ll give Eli a call and see if he’s around. Ricardo took Lola home to meet his parents this weekend, otherwise I would introduce you to them. I’m so bummed you won’t get to meet them, but hopefully you’ll be back sometime,” Will says, rambling slightly.

“Yeah, definitely,” Mike says, and he’s smiling at Will when he looks over.

“Eli somehow always knows where the best parties will be.”

“Do you like partying? Going to clubs and stuff?” Mike asks, bumping his shoulder into Will’s.

“Yeah, mostly. I like dancing. Drinking is fun, sometimes. More than anything, it’s about being somewhere with…” Will trails off. Even in New York, Will couldn’t talk about queerness in public as much as he’d like.

Ricardo is pretty big, and Lola isn’t all that small either, so when they’re out as a group, Will let’s loose a little bit more. People are less likely to try to beat the shit out of you if you move in a pack. But Will still feels like that tiny twelve year old most of the time.

“People like you,” Mike finishes for him, for the second time that day.

“Exactly,” Will sighs, shooting a grateful smile at Mike.

“I’m excited to try partying,” Mike admits, sheepishly. “I know I sound like the biggest dweeb on the planet, but I really haven’t done it. I’ve only been drunk a couple times.”

“I like drinking. Sometimes people offer harder stuff, but I don’t know if I would enjoy it. Watching Jon and Argyle get stoned for an entire year was enough drugs to last me a long time.”

“You’re still a little nerd at heart, Byers,” Mike teases.

“Oh, always,” Will promises.

*

Will’s friend Eli is free tonight and knows where they can go. They’re going to a gay bar with half-priced shots. Mike is going to a gay bar. And he’s feeling totally fine about it. They spend the day walking aimlessly around the city, Will pointing out restaurants and stores and bars that he likes. He shows Mike where he rents queer movies and where he buys his music. They stop in at a queer bookstore at one point and Mike contemplates buying A Picture of Dorian Gray, until he chickens out and puts it back on the shelf. Will makes Mike go stand in the street while he does something in secret, and then a moment later Will is standing next to him and handing Mike the book.

“Oh,” Mike says stupidly. He didn’t realize Will had seen him looking at the book.

“It’s a great book. I borrowed it from the library in Lenora,” Will says with a shrug.

Mike says thank you, and he carries the book around for the rest of the day like it’s precious cargo.

Eli is waiting outside of Will’s dorm building when they get back from their late lunch. They stopped on the way back to Will’s and got bagels. Mike has never had a better bagel in his life. Eli is short, a good half a foot shorter than Mike, with curly brown hair and round glasses. His sweater vest is a colourful diamond pattern and looks soft. He wears it open over a nice white t-shirt and light, pinstriped pants. Mike lets himself acknowledge that Eli is gorgeous.

Will had thrown on a woolen sweater with a big horizontal stripe before they left, his collared shirt peeking out the top, and he wore those same jeans he wore the day before. They were very well-fitted light wash jeans, and Mike has spent the day trying not to trail behind Will as they walked to ogle his ass.

Seeing it bare that morning had made Mike’s heart race, his face had gone hot, and he was frozen in place as Will turned to look at him. And now every time he stares at Will’s clothed backside, he pictures that morning and gets vaguely dizzy.

Now, Mike sees Eli’s eyes scanning his body at their approach, a heavy look of judgement marring his almost pretty face.

“He can’t wear that,” Eli says in greeting, and Will chuckles nervously.

“Mike, this is my friend Elijah Reed,” Will introduces, and then he adds, “Please play nice.”

“I’m always nice,” Eli grins, extending his hand for Mike to shake. “Eli.”

Mike shakes his hand and tries to smile back. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

Eli opens his mouth, but Will beats him to it. He points at Eli and says, “Don’t answer that.”

“Great to finally meet the famous Mike Wheeler,” he says instead.

“Famous?” Mike croaks. Eli knows his full name without Will even having to say it now.

“I’ve heard enough stories that start with, ‘One time Mike and I-’ to fill a book,” Eli says, and Will shoves him hard in the shoulder, just to get shoved back even harder in return.

“Oookay, settle down children,” Mike says, feeling a little unsure around this new personality, who clearly knows Will well.

“My clothes aren’t going to fit this beanpole. I was going to suggest we go back to my place and I could dress him up like a doll, but that will not work.”

Mike is mildly offended, but there also isn’t anything incorrect about what Eli says.

“You know I only own, like, one nice shirt,” Will says. “His clothes will have to be fine.”

“I’m not going out with a guy who looks like a model for the GAP. No one is going to fuck me if they see me with him,” Eli complains.

“Ouch?” Mike says, but they ignore him.

“I don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t magically make your clothes fit him. They only barely fit me most of the time,” Will argues.

“No, I think they fit you perfectly! Everything is so tight on you, really shows off your assets. I’m not sure Mike has any assets to show off.”

“Hey.”

“Mike’s clothes are fine, I’m sure you can still get laid with him around.”

“That seems highly unlikely.”

“Guys!” Mike interrupts. Eli and Will both turn to look at him. “I brought a little bit of extra money. It’s just upstairs in my backpack.”

Eli’s face lights up. “Are you suggesting a shopping trip?”

“Yeah. You can decide what I wear, since I clearly don’t know anything about fashion,” Mike suggests.

“That was a very bad idea, Mike,” Will mutters, as Eli claps his hands together like he’s planning a scheme.

“Shush, William. There is this gorgeous second hand store that I adore, we’re going there. Michael, I will dress you up like a doll if it’s the last thing I do!”

After Mike grabs his extra cash and stuffs it into his wallet, Eli leads them to a store with rows and rows of clothing on hangers. There’s a lot of colour, a lot of very loud patterns, and none of it looks or feels like anything Mike could ever see himself wearing.

“Eli is a fashion design student,” Will tells Mike as Eli starts rifling through the racks.

He starts piling clothing into Mike’s arms, more clothing than Mike thinks they could possibly need to look at, but Eli is pushing Mike towards the change rooms.

The first outfit Mike tries on is a pair of straight, brown corduroy pants, and a taupe polo shirt. When he steps out of the change room, Eli hands him a baggy vest with large, square pockets to throw on over top. He instructs Mike to leave it open, and then takes a few steps back to consider the outfit. He tilts his head back and forth, hemming and hawing, before he starts shaking his head.

“No, I think I hate you in cords. Go take them off,” Eli says with a wave of his hand. “Try the light trousers with the nice centre crease.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Mike replies.

Eli groans and pulls the pants he means from the stack of clothing that Will now holds. He shoves them into Mike’s arms and leaves him to change.

“Am I wearing a shirt with these?” Mike calls over the door.

“Start with this,” Eli says and passes a tan shirt through the space at the top.

He steps out after buttoning up the shirt, and Eli once again passes him a vest. This one is a cream colour with a small honeycomb pattern, but Eli only has to see him in it for a second before he declares it incorrect.

He cycles through a couple more top options that Eli doesn’t like; an ultra-baggy white collared shirt with an extremely deep V neckline and two green horizontal stripes, a tight button-up with heavy black and white vertical stripes and the sleeves rolled to his elbows, paired with a thin black tie, a sweater with a high, rolled neck and one large chevron on the chest, heavy stripes underneath, a white shirt with a suede, checkerboard jacket over top.

Will watches Mike come out of the small changing room with a large smile on his face every time. When Eli says something particularly harsh, Will locks eyes with Mike and makes stupid faces until Mike laughs and Eli tells them off for not listening to him.

Next, Mike is told to try the dark pants, a pair of pleated, tailored trousers in a heavy, woolen fabric, with a very subtle herringbone pattern. The first shirt he tries with it, a loose white button up with the top few buttons left loose, and a half-sleeve V necked grey sweater with black dots over that, is also not to Eli’s liking. Truthfully, Mike isn’t too sure about that one either. It makes him feel kind of exposed and vulnerable. And maybe he thinks it makes him look kind of… queer. He hates that it makes him uncomfortable.

Finally, at long last, Eli puts Mike in a tight black t-shirt with a wide, boat neckline. Eli throws a soft, thick cream coloured shirt over top, leaving all the button undone. He steps back again to consider, and then steps up right in front of Mike and starts tucking the over shirt into the high waist of the pants, which means a guy is kind of shoving his hands in Mike’s pants in the middle of a store. Mike holds his breath and tries not to react. Eli pulls his hands out and starts rolling the sleeves of the shirt up to Mike’s elbows. He steps back again and beams.

“This is it! This is the look,” he states.

Mike turns to look in the mirror on the back of the door. It’s a much simpler look than Mike had anticipated. He’s definitely never worn a neckline like this before, but he thinks he likes it. It’s not so far outside the realm of fashion he’s used to, but it’s… elevated?

Mike catches Will looking at him in the reflection of the mirror. When their eyes meet this time, Will’s cheeks flush pink and he looks down. Will wanders away and Mike watched him go. He starts flicking through a couple racks of clothing and wanders farther away from them. Mike doesn’t notice that Eli has walked up behind Mike until he starts talking.

“You know, I really like Will,” he says.

Mike tries not to show how much he startles.

“I know you’ve known him for a long time,” Eli continues. “But I care about him a lot. He’s been through a lot, stuff you know about and stuff you don’t. You’ve been supportive of him being gay, I appreciate that, and I know Will does too.”

Mike waits for Eli to keep talking, but he just looks at Mike expectantly.

“Is that it?” Mike asks.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing. I hope you won’t hurt him.”

“I don’t want to hurt him. I know I have, so many times, more times than I probably know. But I want to do absolutely everything in my power not to hurt him again.”

Eli nods, pats Mike on the shoulder, and leaves him to change back into his own clothes.

When Mike finds Will, he’s examining a pair of plaid pants. They’re a warm camel colour, with thin black lines criss-crossing in a simple check pattern. Will hasn’t noticed Mike, and he’s running his hands irreverently over the fabric. He keeps checking the price tag, and then going back to tracing his fingers up and down the length of one leg, and then checking the price tag again, until he finally hangs the pants back on the rack they came from. Before he can turn and see Mike staring, he steps loudly in Will’s direction.

“Ready to go?” He asks at an unnecessarily high volume.

Will still startles slightly, but he looks at Mike and smiles. “Ready to go.”

“Why don’t you go find Eli and step out to decide where we should eat dinner?” Mike suggests, and Will sets off in search of his friend.

Mike grabs the pants Will was admiring and checks the price tag. If his mental math is correct, he should have enough money for his whole outfit and these pants. He takes his haul to the register and checks out as quickly and surreptitiously as possible. He ends up having enough cash, and the bag is big enough for all of the clothing without making it clear that Mike bought more than he let on.

Will had bought him the book, and Will seems to like the pants. He hopes he likes the pants, he hopes Mike hasn’t just totally misread all of this. He can just donate them when he gets home if Will hates them.

Dinner is cheap and tasty. Mike has never had any middle eastern food before, but he thinks he loves it now. They haul the new clothes to Eli’s place and eat as they walk. Mike rides the subway for the first time, and feels like a real grown up. Eli lives with his parents in a fancy condo and Mike sees immediately that Eli owns a lot of clothes. His closet is bigger than any closet Mike has ever seen before, and he tears shirts from hangers and dumps them on the floor without a care.

“This is gonna take a while,” Will informs Mike with a solemn tilt to his head.

“Okay. Can I give you something?” He asks.

Will’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “We didn’t stop at my dorm, what could you have to give me?”

Mike reaches into his shopping bag and pulls the pants out from the bottom. He thrusts them into Will’s hand, and Will opens his mouth but doesn’t speak.

“I saw you looking at them. And you bought me that book…”

“These were a lot more expensive than a book, Mike,” Will protests.

“Whatever. You’re a student, a starving artist, or whatever. I live at home and don’t pay rent and work. Literally all I do is work and drive Holly around, what else am I going to spend my money on?”

“Gas?”

“My parents pay for my gas. They pay my car insurance! Please, just take the pants.”

Will looks shellshocked, but he takes the pants fully and throws them over his shoulder. He pulls Mike in by his shoulders and wraps him in a hug.

“Thank you so much, Mike. I thought they were really cool.”

“You’ll look great in them,” Mike whispers into Will’s shoulder.

“Those don’t go with your shirt,” Eli loudly interrupts.

Mike and Will pull back a little too fast for things to look normal, and Eli is just watching them with a weird expression. Mike has no idea how long he’s been watching them, and that unsettles him a little.

What is he so afraid of Eli seeing? It’s not like a straight guy can’t hug his gay friend. Except Mike isn’t straight and Eli isn’t straight, so maybe he can tell.

“Do you have anything Will could borrow?” Mike asks just so that someone is talking.

Eli lets him glide right past that weird moment and starts pulling shirts off the floor.

“Go get changed in the bathroom, I’ll find something acceptable for William.”

Mike finds the en suite and quickly changes into his new clothes. He tucks the shirt in and rolls up the sleeves the way Eli did, and then he checks himself out in the full length mirror behind the door. Mike doesn’t think he’s the most attractive person in the world, but Eli certainly knows how to dress him. The clothes feel comfortable and easy, but he likes how he looks. His wire frame glasses feel almost chic with these clothes.

There’s a knock on the door and Mike opens to find Eli. He openly checks Mike out, much more appreciatively than he had that afternoon.

“Looking good, Wheeler. I actually think this messy, overgrown hairstyle is working for you,” he says.

“Thank you?” Mike replies. He hasn’t been paying much attention to what his hair looks like lately. It had gotten pretty shaggy, enough so that his father commented on it as much as possible. Mike follows Eli back into the main part of his bedroom, and his eyes find Will right away.

He looks at himself in the closet door mirror, futzing with his hair. He has a white t-shirt on that is tight across his chest and shoulders, the sleeves cuffed to show off his biceps. The taper of his waist in that thin cotton is unreal. The pants fit perfectly, drawing Mike’s attention to Will’s long legs and back up to his waist. He looks so hot. He has this classic, fifties charm that makes Mike want to split a milkshake and ask him to go steady.

Mike doesn’t want to say anything stupid, so instead he asks, “Aren’t you going to be cold?”

“Beauty is pain,” Eli says as he closes himself into his closet to change.

Will and Mike are alone with no buffer for the first time all afternoon, and Mike ridiculously feels nervous. This is Will, his best friend. Why does he feel like his heart is going to leap up his throat?

“You look really good,” Mike rushes out, before he loses his nerve.

Will’s cheeks flush beautifully as he makes eye contact with Mike through the mirror. He grins and says, “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Are you sure you aren’t going to be too cold, though?”

“I’ll be fine, Mike,” Will tells him with a soft eye roll. “The bar isn’t too far from here.”

“You’ve been before?”



“Yeah, a couple times. Eli said we can crash here tonight, so we won’t have to take the subway super drunk.”

“Are we getting super drunk?” Mike asks.

“If we want to, we can,” Will replies, making his way over to Eli’s king sized bed. “I’ve crashed here before. There are like, three bedrooms, so no one even has to sleep on the floor.”

Mike wonders if Will ever shared a bed with Ryan here. Then he feels guilty about being jealous of a dead kid, and he doesn’t ask.

Eli’s look is layered like Mike’s, but he wears a white shirt with a subtle black check pattern, a black plaid tie, and a heavy grey shirt overtop. The tops are tucked into his tight, dark pants, and he wears a pair of clearly expensive black leather boots. He looks like a more upright version of Mike’s look, a little bit.

Before they head to the bar, Eli forces Will and Mike both out of their sneakers and into nice shoes. Will borrows a pair of Eli’s dark brown loafers, and Mike borrows some leather boots from Eli’s dad. He insists his dad won’t notice or care, but it puts Mike on edge anyway.

The walk to the bar isn’t long, less than ten minutes, but Will is suppressing shivers by the time they get there. As promised, none of them are asked for ID on the way in.

“Why are we in multiple layers and Will just gets a t-shirt?” Mike asks as they step inside.

There’s another door to pass through before you get into the bar proper, and Mike has just a second to steel himself before Eli is pushing through the second set of doors. The bar they walk into looks… normal. It just looks like a bar, with a smoking section in the corner that leaves the entire room with a haze over it. It’s busy but not packed, and there are one or two tables free. There is a small dance floor next to the bar and a stairwell going up, with a sign boasting pool tables and bathrooms upstairs. The only thing that clues Mike in to the fact that it’s a gay bar is the rainbow flag hung behind the bar, and the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a single woman in the entire place.

“You and I don’t look as good as Will in a t-shirt,” Eli replies, talking loudly over the music and making Will flush with embarrassment.

Mike scowls but doesn’t argue, as he follows Eli to the bar. He quickly orders them three shots of tequila.

“Eli!” Will complains. “Mike has probably only ever had beer or wine, I don’t know if we can start with tequila shots.”

“Nonsense, we all learn sometime,” Eli says, accepting the shots from the bartender, along with three lime wedges.
“Salt?” The bartender asks, before handing over the shaker at Eli’s nod. He moves on to serve other customers after Eli opens them a tab, and Eli passes them their shots.

Mike takes a sniff of his shot and almost throws up on the spot.

“What the fuck, you like this this?” Mike asks over the music. The song changed to something bassy and thumping that Mike feels like he vaguely recognizes.

“The salt and lime will help,” Eli insists, and then he explains the order of operations for shooting tequila.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Mike poor salt on the back of his hand, licks it of, and then swallows the entire shot. It feels okay going down, but the second he breathes, Mike feels like his mouth and throat are burning. Eli laughs at him and presses Mike’s own hand toward his face. The lime in Mike’s fingers is sour and citrusy enough to distract from the taste, but he still relives it every time he exhales. He watches Eli and Will take their shots with hardly a flinch and tries not to feel like a child.

“Another!” Eli announces right away, slapping his hand down onto the bar and flagging down the bartenders.

The second shot is just as bad, but at least Mike knows what to expect this time. His stomach feels a little queazy and warm, but he doesn’t think he’s going to be sick. Within a couple of minutes, Mike’s head swims pleasantly. The three of them head upstairs to commandeer a pool table. Mike’s never played pool before, so Eli tries to teach him, but the game ends with Mike being absolutely trounced by Will. Eli plays Will after and beats him soundly.

When Eli disappears back downstairs for more drinks, Will knocks their shoulders together.

“Are you having fun?” He asks.

Mike is drunker than he’s ever been, and from the corner of his eyes, he’s been watching men standing close to each other, some of them slipping into the bathrooms together. One couple in the corner is making out like they don’t care at all who sees them. It kind of makes Mike want to go over there and tell them to be more careful, but he has to keep reminding himself that it’s allowed here.

“Yeah, totally,” Mike answers honestly, with a dopey grin.

“I’m glad,” Will replies with his own grin.

Mike’s mouth is moving before he even takes notice. “It’s cool seeing gay guys be totally comfortable.”

Will’s eyebrows shoot up a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! They just so free and unbothered. I’ve never even seen two guys hold hands before!”

“It’s pretty life changing,” Will agrees.

Mike is swaying closer to Will’s space; not because he’s unsteady, but just because he wants to lean in close to Will and look at his face and listen to the sound of his voice.

Eli comes back, a triumphant smile on his face and a tray of drinks balanced in his hand.

“I come bearing gifts!” He says, before passing out shots and limes to them. There are two shots each on the tray, but Will only takes one of them.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” he tells them, and then wanders in their direction.

Mike takes his first (third) shot, but Eli just stares at Mike.

“What?” He asks, even louder than he needs to speak.

“I can’t figure you out,” Eli admits.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Will has told us all about you and your friends, and he mentioned that you dated his step sister all throughout high school?”

Mike’s heart stutters in his chest.

“Yeah. She died a couple years ago,” Mike says.

“I know. I’m really sorry you guys went through that.”

“I’m confused,” Mike says, because he has no idea why they’re talking about El.

“So am I,” Eli says, and then continues at Mike’s questioning look. “Will insists that you’re straight.”

Mike inhales too fast and chokes on his own spit. Eli pats him on the back and keeps talking.

“You apparently know about Will’s feelings for you and it doesn’t bother you, but then you ignore him for months. And now here you are, drinking at a gay bar and looking at Will like…” he trails off.

“Like what?” Mike squeaks.

“That’s what I can’t figure out.”

“Will is my best friend,” Mike says, because it’s true.

“I know. And you’re his. But he will probably always feel a little bit more for you, and I would hate for him to get his hopes up.”

“Get his hopes up?”

“If you don’t feel the same, if you really are straight, you can’t look at him like that. You can’t lean in close and look at his lips when he talks.”

“Do I do that?” Mike asks, alarmed.

“Yeah, you totally do,” Eli tells him. “And maybe it’s some weird childhood best friend thing that I don’t get, but I get having a crush on someone who can’t like you back, and it fucking sucks. So just, don’t get his hopes up.”

“I’m really not trying to,” Mike says. He doesn’t think he has been, at least.

Will chooses then to come back from the bathroom. If he notices the tension between Eli and Mike, he doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, you guys waited for me, how sweet,” Will says, taking his second shot from the tray. Without any salt, Will throws the shot back and and then tucks a lime wedge between his lips.

Mike tries as hard as he can not to stare at Will’s throat as he swallows his shot, but the alcohol is definitely making him less careful. He picks up his other shot and drinks that one too.

Eli drags them downstairs to dance when the song switches. He claims it’s his favourite, and Mike doesn’t recognize it, but Will seems eager to dance. There are only a handful of people on the dance floor, and most of them are coupled up, grinding against each other and drawing close enough to capture lips. Mike sways to the beat and tries to remember if he has ever danced before in his life. Will and Eli dance together, but not like the couples. They sway and bob, and occasionally wrap their arms around each other for a few seconds. Eli tries to pull Mike into their orbit a little more, but Mike is happy to stay off to the side and watch Will dance. Plus, his head is pretty fuzzy.

When Will is sweaty and glowing, with a happy grin on his face, and his white t-shirt turning translucent and sticking to his stomach and chest and the small of his back, Mike can’t look away. He’s mesmerized by the way Will moves his hips, the way the muscle in his back move under his t-shirt.

Because he is watching so intently, he sees when a good looking older guy sidles up to Will and tries to get his attention. Eli pushes them together, and Will starts dancing with the guy. It stays tamer than some of the other people on the dance floor, but less tame than how Eli and Will had been dancing. Eli drags Mike away by the hand and takes him to the bar.

“Does Will get a lot of attention from guys that age?” Mike asks, and he thinks its a perfectly reasonable question, but Eli looks knowingly at Mike’s face.

“Yeah, he’s like catnip for the thirty plus crowd,” Eli says with a sly grin.

Mike’s stomach twists and he tries to excuse himself to the bathroom, but Eli doesn’t let him go.

“Don’t worry, he’s just dancing. Will hasn’t gone home with anyone in months,” Eli assures, but that just makes Mike think about Will going back to the apartments of strange older men.

Is that who Will is into? Older guys?

Eli gives Mike a considering look, and then asks, “Has Will told you about our friend Ricardo?”

“Yeah. He’s dating Lola, right?”

Eli nods. “Did you know that he’s bisexual?”

Mike blinks at Eli. Is he supposed to know what that means?

“What?”

“Bisexual!” Eli repeats. “It means he likes both men and women.”

Mike stares at Eli, his brain taking a long time to process the words. Bisexual? Likes men and women?

“Is that allowed?” He asks, before he can stop himself.

Eli laughs, and then he pats Mike on the cheek. It’s not harsh like a slap, but it isn’t soft.

“Yeah, Mike, it’s allowed. People can like all sorts of things.”

Mike’s eyes are drawn over to the dance floor. He finds Will quickly, his back pressed up against the front of the older guy, swaying his hips along with the music, his eyes closed, as the guy kisses along his neck. While Mike watches, the guy pulls Will’s earlobe between his lips. Mike’s face flushes hot. Will is clearly enjoying himself.

Bisexual, Mike repeats to himself in his head. Likes men and women. Could that… Is that who Mike is? Bisexual?

When Mike finally turns back to Eli, there are three more shots in front of him, and he’s grinning at Mike like the cat who got the cream.

“So…” he says. “Bisexual?”

Mike’s eyes widen a little, but his head is fuzzy and his body feels like it’s buzzing with energy. He nods his head and tries not to feel like he’s about to say something he can’t take back.

“Yeah, maybe.”

The ground doesn’t open up and swallow him, just like it didn’t when he admitted to his mother that maybe he likes Will back.

“Have you thought about guys before?” Eli asks.

Mike shakes his head. “Not guys, no. Just…”

His eyes drift back to the dance floor but he can’t see Will anymore. Maybe he snuck off to the bathroom with that guy.

“Just Will?” Eli asks.

Mike turns back to look at him, but the expression is more than he can handle at the moment. Instead, he plucks up his shot from the bar and throws it back. Eli cheers him on, even when he makes a horrible gagging sound around the lime. Eli takes his own shot and then grabs the third and drags Mike along to find Will.

He isn’t on the dance floor, and he isn’t upstairs in the bathroom. Mike is starting to get worried, but Eli sees it and reassures him.

“Sometimes Byers smokes cigarettes when he’s drunk. He probably bummed one from his dance partner and is outside right now.”

It doesn’t really do what Eli hoped it would do, because Mike can’t help but think of how cold he probably is outside without a jacket.

“His mom has smoked his whole life,” Mike says.

“Yeah, I’ve met Joyce. She’s the loveliest woman. Her husband is a little rough around the edges.”



“Hopper. He fucking hates me.”

Eli laughs, and then he leans his head on Mike’s shoulder.

“Are you going to tell Will how you feel about him?” Eli asks softly.

And maybe it’s only because he’s drunk, or maybe it’s because Eli seems like a good friend and a good listener, but Mike says, “I want to. I wish I could.”

“Why can’t you?”

Mike takes a huge, deep breath, and replies, “Ryan.”

Eli doesn’t say anything for a few long moments, but the silence between them is comfortable.

“You know they weren’t very serious, right?” He says eventually.

“I know. Or, I kind of know. But it doesn’t seem fair to him. He’s trying to figure out how he felt about Ryan at the same time he figures out how to live without him. I know what that’s like, and I can’t put this on him too. He should be allowed to focus on Ryan right now.”

“I get that. But he’s been into you for so long.”



“No, but that’s exactly it. How unfair of me would it be to just say something now? All our lives, I have the capacity to like him back, but I wait until he’s grieving some other guy to tell him about it? That sucks.”

“It’s not like you did it on purpose,” Eli says. “You didn’t know yet.”

“Didn’t know what yet?” Will asks from behind them.

Mike and Eli pull out of their cuddle to turn and look at Will. He smells a little like cigarettes and he has a bruise forming on his neck.

“Weren’t you cold out there?” Mike asks, trying to distract Will from his question.

Will just rolls his eyes and says, “I’m fine, I’m drunk enough I could hardly feel it. Speaking of.”

Will plucks the shot that Mike had forgotten about from Eli’s fingers and drinks it, with no chaser.

“Are we about ready to head back, or should we get one more drink for the road?” Eli asks, wrapping his arms around Will and Mike’s waists on either side of him.

“I’m good,” Will answers.

“Me too,” Mike says.

“Perfect! Lets stop for food, though, I’m craving something greasy.”

They end up just getting burgers and fries from McDonald’s, and they eat them on the walk back to Eli’s parents’ place. Mike tries to let the cool night air sober him up as much as possible, but he is still plastered. Eli has to periodically prop Mike up when he starts drooping too far in any direction. Eli and Will are only slightly better. No one seems to be there when they arrive, because Eli is far louder than Mike would be sneaking into his home at two in the morning.

Will and Mike are lead to a guest bedroom with one king sized mattress and an en-suite bathroom. Eli disappears to his own room with a warning to throw up in the toilet and not the bed.

Will slips out of his fancy loafers, and then starts undoing his pants. Mike can’t help himself in this state, and he stares at Will as the pants fall to his ankles. Will steps out of them, and then bends to pick them up, folding them and placing them gently on the bedside table. Then he tugs the t-shirt off unceremoniously and leaves it on the floor. Mike is still just standing at the foot of the bed, staring at Will when Will looks up and sees him.

“Are you sleeping in those clothes?” Will asks.

Mike shakes his head, but he doesn’t answer and doesn’t move.

“Eli can’t sleep with someone else in the bed with him, and his parents’ room is off limits,” Will continues. “This is the only guest room, so unless you want to sleep in the bathtub, we have to share. We used to share all the time as kids, and the bed is big enough that we wouldn’t even-”

Mike cuts him off. “I wasn’t worried about that!”

Will looks at him, his eyes drifting all over Mike’s body and then back up to his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks.

“I’m not going to throw up or anything,” Mike replies.

“That’s not what I meant. You’ve been kind of weird today.”



Had he? Mike didn’t think he had acted weird.

“You’ve been kind of spacey and you keep looking at me.”

“Am I not supposed to look at you?” Mike asks.

Will’s face flushes, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but Mike just keeps talking.

“I learned a new word tonight. Bisexual. Eli said your friend Ricardo is bisexual? I didn’t even know that was a thing, I didn’t know there were people who like girls and guys. Isn’t that so cool? I mean, obviously you already know about bisexuals, but I didn’t know that was allowed!”

Mike watches Will’s face shutter off, going completely blank. Mike doesn’t understand what he said wrong.

“What do you mean?” Will asks slowly.

“What?”

“What do you mean you didn’t know it was allowed?”

“I thought you had to pick one, that you could only like one or the other.”

“Pick one?” Will croaks.

“Yeah, I thought I had to pick one,” Mike says, and as soon as it leaves his mouth, he knows he fucked up.

Will looks like he’s about to cry. “You like guys?”

Mike’s heart drops into his stomach. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to- to say that.”

It’s silent for a few long moments, until Will interrupts it.

“Can you please stop just standing there like that? You’re freaking me out,” Will says.

Mike takes off his top shirt but leaves the black one on, and then drops his pants. Will doesn’t take his eyes off Mike the entire time, even when Mike crosses to the other side of the bed and climbs under the covers. Will shuts off the bedside lamp, and then both of them lay down on their sides facing each other. The bed is big enough that they aren’t pressed up against each other, but they’re not far enough for Mike to need his glasses. He tucks them under his pillow and looks at Will’s face.

“Do you mean it? You’re not just drunk and saying stupid things?” Will asks.

“I mean, I’m definitely drunk and saying stupid things,” Mike says. “But yeah, I mean it. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“A year?” Mike breathes. “Maybe longer, I don’t know.”

Will lets out a long breath. “And you didn’t- you weren’t going to tell me?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Will’s brows knit together. “Why not? Aren’t I like, the best person to tell something like this?”

Mike looks at Will and tries not to feel like the room is spinning. They’re both drunk, and Mike wasn’t supposed to let it get this far, because how can he possibly explain now? He can’t, not without giving away way too much.

When Mike doesn’t answer, Will’s eyes widen. “Is it because I had feelings for you?”

Had?

“That’s- part of it,” Mike says.

“You don’t have to worry about that, okay? I get that just because you might like guys doesn’t mean you like me, and I wouldn’t expect anything from you,” Will assures him, needlessly.

“That’s not it,” Mike says, because he feels like he’s going to die, but he isn’t going to lie to Will.

“What?”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you because I was worried about you liking me. Even- even if it’s in the past now, I just didn’t want to hurt you. And I thought the timing wouldn’t be fair to you if I told you now.”

“Mike, I’m not following,” Will says.

“It’s really, really okay, if you don’t feel that way anymore, towards me. I’d be okay with that. But I-” Mike falters, and it feels like his heart is about to jump out of his throat.

Will’s breath hitches. “You?”

“I like you so much, Will,” Mike whispers into the space between them.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry it took me this long, and I’m so sorry I’m telling you now.”

“What? Why are you sorry for telling me? Mike, you know. You have to know.”

“I do,” Mike admits. “I know that you always liked me. But things are different now.”



“Why are they different? I obviously still like you,” Will tells him, and he reaches a hand out under the covers, and Mike feels it brush against his own.

“But you don’t just like me now. I missed my shot, and someone else was brave enough to step up.”

Will’s face crumples and his eyes fill with tears. “Barely. We weren’t even really dating.”

“I don’t think that really matters. He was important to you, and he’s gone. I didn’t think it was fair to tell you right now, because you’re going to be getting over Ryan for a long time.”



Will doesn’t say anything, but he pulls his hand back and rolls to lay on his back.

“Am I wrong?” Mike asks.

Will lets out a horrible sob, and Mike can’t take the distance, so he scoots closer and draws Will into his body. Will lets himself be arranged and hides his face against Mike’s clothed chest. Mike wraps his arms around Will and rubs gently at his bare back.

“I’m so sorry,” Mike whispers into the top of his head.

“I’m sorry,” Will chokes out.

“No, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. Okay? You aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“Everything is so complicated.”

“I know. We’re both drunk, and we’re both grieving other people, and I like you so much, but I don’t think it’s the right time,” Mike says, as if it doesn’t break his heart.

Will cries softly against Mike as he rubs his back, until eventually, Will’s breathing evens out ad he falls asleep. Mike doesn’t know how long he lasts, savoring the feeling of holding Will in his arms, but eventually he falls asleep too.

*

Will wakes up slowly, fitfully, with a horrible hangover. His body is tired and achy, and his head is pounding. The taste in his mouth is so foul that it’s making him nauseated, but he can’t bring himself to peel his eyes open yet, let alone get up in search of a toothbrush or some mouthwash.

He comes back into his body bit by bit, and then he realizes that he’s laying on someone’s chest and not a pillow. Finally, he lifts his head and looks up at Mike, sleeping soundly with his lips slightly parted.

Everything they talked about the night before hits Will at once; Mike is maybe bisexual and apparently has feelings for Will, and Ryan is still dead.

God, Ryan. How heartless can Will be? Ryan hasn’t even been dead a whole month, and Will is still thinking about Mike fucking Wheeler.

Will thinks he is cursed to always be thinking about Mike fucking Wheeler. Mike, who smiled so wide as he told Will how cool it was to see two guys kiss. Who has been thinking about liking boys for over a year now. Who was so excited to learn that he’s allowed to like both, like he’s just been waiting for permission. Who ran his finger over Oscar Wilde’s name in a queer bookstore, before getting scared and putting it back. Who bought Will the nice, expensive pants he liked.

Mike, who Will has loved for years.

Will’s eyes are wet and his nose is stuffed up, and his head is pounding so hard already, but he can’t stop himself from crying. He cries for the thirteen year old boy who was so fucking ashamed to realize he isn’t like his friends. He cries for the newly twenty year old boy he is now, who has already been through so much. He cries for Ryan, a boy who will never grow up, who will never be happy and free and alive.

After a little while, Will’s eyes dry and his head is too full of cotton to think about anything, so he just puts his chin on the back of his hand and stares at Mike. He sees when Mike starts to wake up, his eyebrows furrowing. He lets out a groan and reaches the hand not currently trapped by Will’s body up to his face to cover his eyes. Then, Will can feel Mike’s breath hitching in his chest, and the hand falls onto Will’s back.

Mike cracks one eye open and asks, “Will?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this what dying feels like?”

“No, this is what a hangover feels like,” Will says with a laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me, this is all your fault,” Mike whines, and it’s so cute that Will has to hide his grin against Mike’s shirt.

“I didn’t make you drink.”

“But I was trying to keep up with you guys.”

There’s a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Mike rubs at his temples and breathes heavily, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to move, or make Will move.

Eventually, Will has to ask, “You remember all of last night though, right?”

Mike’s hand on Will’s back migrates up, past his shoulders and his neck, until he tangles his fingers in Will’s hair.

“Yeah, I remember,” Mike whispers.

“I think you were right, about it not being the right time. I like you, obviously I like you, I will probably always like you.”



“But?”

“Yeah, but. It’s a load-bearing word.”

Mike laughs softly, and Will can feel his chest rumbling beneath him.

“I’m not expecting anything,” Mike says.

“I want to just say screw it and try to make it work right now.”

“I know. So do I. But I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about in that way, and you’re going to feel so many different things in the coming months. I’ll be there for you as much as I can. I’ll give you my work schedule every month, so even when you’re in Montauk for the summer, you can call me and we can talk. You can talk about him. You can talk about anything. I just want to be here for you, and be the best friend that you deserve.”

Will hoists his body up so he can tuck his face in Mike’s neck, and he’s feeling brave so he straddles Mike’s hips and settles his entire body on top of Mike’s. He feels Mike hold his breath, but his arms come up to wrap around Will’s back.

“Thank you,” Will breathes against Mike’s skin.

“And maybe, if I work enough hours this spring, I could afford to come out and see you again?” Mike suggests tentatively, as if there’s a universe in which Will would ever say no to that.

“I would love that,” Will says. “But you don’t have to spend your money for me.”

“It’s not for you, trust me,” Mike replies. “It’s most definitely for me.”

They lay like that for a long time. Will has to pee, and he wants to brush his teeth so badly, but he can’t bring himself to get up.

Eventually, when the digital clock on the side table is well into the pm’s, Eli knocks on the bedroom door. Will makes to get up, but Mike won’t let him. When Eli pushes the door open, his eyes widen slightly at the two of them. Will notes though, that he looks delighted and not at all surprised.

“Well don’t you two look cozy,” Eli drawls, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eli, along with all of Will’s friends, are all keenly aware of Will’s supposedly unrequited crush on his supposedly straight best friend from childhood. Turns out, Will was wrong about a lot of stuff.

“I thought you weren’t going to tell him, Michael?”

“What?” Will asks, lifting enough to look at Mike. “You told Eli?”

“He guessed!” Mike defends himself. “You’re the one who said it, I was staring at you all day.”

Will’s face burns and his buries his face in Mike’s chest again.

“I hate to break this up,” Eli says, “but my parents are coming back at 4 o’clock. So unless you want to make polite conversation with the worst people alive, I suggest you think about heading out.”

Will winces. He’s heard plenty of stories about Eli’s parents, and he does not, in fact, want to meet them. He finally drags himself out of bed, and starts to pull on his clothes from the night before.

“Wait, let me get your boring clothes,” Eli says, and then disappears for a moment. He comes back with an armful of clothes and throws them at the bed.

Will watches Mike strip out of his nice black shirt and pull on his stripy rugby shirt. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and tugs his jeans on over his boxers. When Mike turns to find Will staring, his face turns pink but he just grins and doesn’t look away. Will pulls on his own clothes from the day before, and tosses Eli’s shirt back to him.

Eli walks him and Mike down to the street, and he pulls a surprised Mike into a hug.

“Don’t fuck it up, Wheeler,” Will hears him whisper to Mike.

He turns to Will, smiling, and just gives him a salute. “Byers. See you in class.”

They watch him disappear back into the building in silence, until Mike says, “I really like him.”

Will can’t hold back his grin. “I’m glad. I like him too.”

“Anyone you would be friends with is going to be a good person, so I’m not surprised,” Mike says, blushing and smiling at his feet.

Will can’t believe he’s seeing Mike look so bashful over Will.

He doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he laughs nervously. Mike looks back up at him, and they just stare at each other for a few long, charged moments. Will comes to his senses first; he does not want to be here still when Eli’s parents get home.

“Ready to head back to the dorm?” He asks.

*

Mike spent the entire trip back oscillating between feeling the worst he has ever felt (hangover) and feeling the best he has ever felt (Will). Will knows. He knows that Mike is queer and he knows that Mike is into him. His stupid, drunken self had spilled his guts, but Mike can’t bring himself to be upset about it. Maybe it’s okay for Will to know. Mike thinks he made it clear that he would wait for Will forever, but he can never tell with Will. Sometimes he thinks he knows Will well enough to read his mind, but other days he’s a complete mystery. And Mike is always saying the wrong things. For someone who wants to be a writer, Mike sure has a hard time getting his point across.

Will’s roommate doesn’t seem to be home yet, but Mike assumes he will need to be back sometime that night. Mike knows him and Will need to talk about everything, but he doesn’t want them getting interrupted.

“We haven’t eaten anything all day,” Mike points out after they have both showered and dressed. “Do you want to go get dinner?”

Will doesn’t answer, he just stands in the middle of his dorm room with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes sweep down Mike’s body, and Mike just lets himself stare back at Will. When his eyes make their way back up to Mike’s face, Will steels himself.

“Like a date?” He asks.

Mike finds himself nodding before he even really means to, but he goes with it and says, “If you want it to be.”

Will smiles in a way that somehow looks both self-assured and sheepish. Mike wants to kiss him so bad.

“I think I can handle a first date,” Will says.

“First? How is this any different from the other meals we’ve shared this weekend?” Mike asks with a laugh.

Will doesn’t laugh, but he takes a deep breath and replies, “Because this time I know you want me.”

The look they share is heated. Mike does want him. Mike wants Will so badly.

The dorm room door open suddenly, and Mike and Will both jump. Mike hadn’t even heard the luck turn, but maybe Will hadn’t locked the door. Andrew stands in the doorway, a bag slung over one shoulder, and he shoots a look between the other two men. They were standing many feet apart and weren’t doing anything other than look at each other, but maybe that is also strange behaviour for two heterosexual best friends.

“Hey,” Andrew says, still looking between them.

“Yeah, hey,” Will replies with a little laugh in his voice. “Me and Mike are getting food, but we’ll be back later.”

“Is he staying here tonight?” Andrew asks, not unkindly. He crosses to his side of the room, dropping his bag and throwing himself down onto his bed.

“Sorry, I could only get bus back home tomorrow morning,” Mike explains. “The Sunday busses were outside my budget.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor tonight, and I changed your sheets,” Will says, and Mike hadn’t seen him do that. Maybe he finished in the shower quickly enough to get it done before Mike returned. When he had come back to the room, fully dressed and feeling a lot less hungover, Will had been sitting on his own bed in a soft navy blue quarter-zip sweater and dark jeans.

“Oh, thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” Andrew says. “Were you even here last night?”
“No, Eli took us out, so we crashed with him,” Will admits.

“I figured. Well, thanks anyway,” Andrew says, sitting up to lean his back against the wall. Mike is just about to suggest they head out, when Andrew adds, “I know the beds are pretty tiny, but you guys can share tonight. I don’t mind.”

Will lets out a startled laugh. “Oh, we’re not-”

“That would be cool, thanks,” Mike interrupts. Will’s eyes search Mike’s face for a second, before turning back to Andrew.

“Okay, yeah, thanks. I don’t even know if we would both fit, to be honest,” Will says.

“We’ll fit,” Mike insists, and Will looks at him again. “What? I’m going back to Indiana in the morning, and I probably won’t see you again for months.”

Will’s mouth twists like it does when he’s trying not to smile too wide. “Anyway, we’re leaving now.”

Mike doesn’t argue at all as he’s dragged out of the dorm. They stray a little farther from Will’s than they had before, but Will insists they go somewhere quiet. Mike isn’t going to argue with that, and he’s just happy to walk next to Will. They sit across from each other in a booth at a 24 hour diner, and a tired waitress brings them waters and takes their order.

When they’re finally alone again, Mike knocks his foot into Will’s under the table.

“I do, by the way,” he says.

“Do what?” Will asks, confused.

“I want you,” Mike breathes. He can see Will’s throat bob as he swallows, and Will’s whole calf presses against Mike’s.

“I want you, too.”

“I’m going back to Hawkins,” he says, because it’s true.

Will nods. “I have exams and final projects, and then I’m heading to Montauk. Hopper found me a job at an art supply store for the summer, apparently. I’m really hoping he didn’t blackmail the store owner into it, but we’ll see.”

Mike takes a deep breath, and tries to find the courage to say some other true things.

“I applied to school in Philadelphia,” is what comes out.

Will’s eyes widen, but Mike keeps talking.

“I haven’t heard back yet, and I might not get in. I had to submit a portfolio, and they might hate my writing, but I really hope they don’t. I worked on it for weeks, months even, I don’t know. I didn’t even tell anyone I was thinking of applying, maybe in case I chickened out, but I mailed all the forms, and they sent me a letter letting me know that they got my application and they’re considering it.”

Will doesn’t say anything for a second, and then the waitress shows back up with their drink order. She lets them know the food is five minutes out and tells them to flag her down if they need any refills.

“Philly is a lot closer than Hawkins,” Will finally says.

“Yeah,” Mike says dumbly.

“I can’t promise I’ll be ready by the fall. I can’t just jump into this, it’s too important to me. You are too important to me.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to be ready. I really am not expecting anything, I’m not asking for anything,” Mike assures. He desperately wants to reach across the table and take Will’s hand, but he restrains himself. “And I haven’t even gotten in, so this might not even matter.”

“You’ll get in,” Will says, so certainly that it makes Mike believe it too.

“I’ll wait for you as long as I have to,” Mike tells him. “I’d wait my whole life to be with you.”

“It won’t take that long,” Will teases, but he looks fond. “I meant it, I want you. So much.”

“Don’t rush yourself. Let yourself feel all of it, no matter how much it sucks. Running from it doesn’t work, at least not for long.”

Will’s face breaks into a watery smile, and his leg presses harder into Mike’s. Their food arrives, and Mike realizes how hungry he is. They eat in comfortable silence, periodically smiling at each other across the table with far too much food in their mouths. Mike convinces Will to let him pay for dinner by promising Will that he can pay for their next date. Will smiles brightly at the reminder, and doesn’t argue any further.

“I’ll call you all the time,” Mike tells him on the walk back to Will’s dorm. “Or you can call me, because you’ll probably be busier than me.”

“Yeah, Mike, I’ll call you. We can talk all the time. I’ll call you at least once a week. Except maybe during exams, last semester almost killed me.”

Mike is going to let the conversation settle, but then a thought occurs to him.

“Do you want to tell anyone?” He asks.

“Well, I think Andrew knows. Eli obviously does too,” Will says.

“Yeah, but I mean like, the party.”

Will stops walking and Mike stops to look at him. “You want to tell the party?”

“Not if you don’t want to!” Mike insists, throwing his hands out like he’s settling a spooked animal. “I know we aren’t like, really together yet.”

“No, that’s not- I’m just surprised, I guess. I was surprised you were so comfortable telling Andrew, I really didn’t expect you to be ready to come out to our friends.”

“I don’t know if comfortable is the word I would use,” Mike says, a furrow pinching his brow. Mike was drunk when he decided he’s bisexual, but he’s been thinking about it all day and it feels right. “I guess I’m just sick of shutting out parts of myself. I can’t fight liking boys, even if I wanted to. Trust me, I was trying for years.”

“I’m sorry you went through that alone,” Will whispers, reaching out briefly to touch his elbow.

“I’m sorry you did, too.”

“When did you figure it out?”

Mike takes a deep breath. “I started noticing it in high school.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you got really hot, Byers."

Will blushes bright pink and smiles bashfully at his feet. “Shut up.”

“I would never have admitted it then, but I definitely noticed. I couldn’t stop noticing. Senior year, when you cut your hair? Lets just say, my mother yelled at me for wasting water in the shower a lot that year.”

Mike doesn’t realize what he said until it’s already out of his mouth, and then it’s too late. But Will doesn’t look upset to learn that Mike jerked off while thinking about him. In fact, his eyes grow darker than Mike has ever seen them before; he looks at Mike like he wants to eat him.

“Yeah?” Will asks, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Mike breathes. “Did you ever-?”

“Oh, yeah. All the time.”

Mike clears his throat and breaks their intense eye contact. “Let’s just- let’s get back to your place.”

“Andrew is there,” Will reminds him with a lopsided smile.

“I know that!” Mike scoffs. “I’m not trying to hit on you, I’m trying to avoid getting hard in the middle of the street.”

“Fuck.”

Mike loves it when Will swears. Even as tiny eleven year olds, hearing Will say shit and goddamn brought Mike so much joy. This word is nothing like those curses though; this one is dripping with want in a way Mike hadn’t known a single word could.

They walk the rest of the way in charged silence, and the second they reach the stairwell in Will’s building, Will presses Mike against the wall with his hands on either side of Mike’s waist.

“Can I kiss you?” Will asks.

“Yeah,” Mike replies, and he can’t mask the unbridled awe in his voice.

Will smiles softly and looks at Mike’s lips. They’re standing so close, and Mike can smell Will’s shampoo that he borrowed and something that still smells like Byers, even all the way out here. Mike thinks Will looks so sexy he could melt into a puddle on the floor. He leans down the barest inch to make the kiss come sooner, and Will chuckles into the space between them. Finally, Will presses forward the last few millimetres and Mike closes his eyes.

Their mouths touch softly at first, a delicate press of lips on lips, and then Will pastes his whole body against Mike’s front. Will’s entire weight holding him to the wall has a soft moan tearing out of his throat. Will kisses Mike harder, slotting their slick lips together and turning his head. Kissing with glasses is new, and Will’s nose knocks them askew on Mike’s face, but he couldn’t care less. Mike wraps his arms around Will’s shoulders and hold him as close as he can.

The sound of a door opening a few floors up breaks them apart, and Will steps back, laughing breathlessly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist any longer,” Will says.

“No apologies necessary,” Mike says through his grin.

Will takes Mike’s hand and pulls him up the stairs. Andrew is listening to a walkman in bed when they enter the dorm. He waves at them but doesn’t take off his headphones. They quickly get ready for bed, and then Will pulls Mike under the covers.

They have to be plastered together from head to toe so they will both fit on the narrow mattress, but Mike is definitely not complaining. The bed could’ve been a California King and Mike would want to be in the same position. Will throws an arm and a leg over Mike’s body and sprawls half on top on him. Mike let’s his hand drift up and down on Will’s back and tries to commit the moment to memory. He wants to recall every single detail of how happy he feels in Will’s bed.

*

Will wakes up with his head on Mike’s chest for the second morning in a row. He stares at Mike’s sleeping face, his parted lips and his eyebrows slightly drawn together. He lets out soft snores that make Will’s heart soar. A quick glance at his alarm clock tells him they don’t have long before they need to get up and get ready to head to the bus station. Will doesn’t want to say goodbye. He has just gotten everything he could’ve ever hoped for, and he has to let it go. He has to let Mike get on a bus back to Indiana, and then go back to his regular life as if he doesn’t know what Mike’s lips taste like. As if his world hasn’t completely turned upside down; in a metaphorical sense, this time.

When Mike wakes, Will glances at Andrew to make sure he’s asleep, and then leans up and presses their mouths together for a quick peck. He scrunches up his nose at both of their morning breath, but Mike just smiles. They get ready to go as quietly as possible, and Andrew manages to stay asleep. They slip out the door with plenty of time to meander to the bus.

When they’re out on the street, Mike asks, “Is it okay if I tell my mom about us?”

“Your mom?” Will replies, shocked. Mike wants to tell his mom about them?

“Yeah, she already knows about me,” Mike says, and Will has to blink to clear his head from the million questions he has. Mike continues quietly, “She doesn’t know I’m bisexual, of course, because I didn’t even know yet, but she knows. And she knows about my feelings for you.”

Will can hardly believe the words coming out of Mike’s mouth. Breathlessly, he says, “Yeah, you can tell your mom.”

“Do you think you’ll tell your mom?” Mike asks.

“I haven’t thought about it, to be honest.”

“Just do me a favour?”

“Of course, anything,” Will says sincerely.

“Please don’t tell Hop,” Mike says, equally as seriously, but Will can’t help bursting into peels of laughter. Mike cracks a smile and laughs along.

They spend the walk talking about nothing and letting their hands brush against each other. Will is thinking about holding Mike’s hand, and he wonders if he’s thinking the same thing. They both fall quiet as they reach the bus station Will had picked Mike up from on Friday night. Mike’s bus isn’t going to be boarding for ten minutes, so they find a corner to wait in.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Mike whispers when hey’ve sat down.

“Me too,” Will whispers back, and he’s mortified to feel his eyes stinging.

“Call me whenever you want. I’ll give you my schedule every month.”

“Me too, when I find out how much I’ll be working. And like I said, exams will be really busy, but they’re only a couple weeks. I’ll be home by the end of next month.”

“Maybe I can ask for a plane ticket to Montauk for my birthday,” Mike suggests.

“Your birthday is in a couple days,” Will says around his grin. “A little last minute, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry I missed yours this year. I didn’t think a letter would get to you in time, and I realized that I don’t actually have a number for you at school.”

“That’s okay, there isn’t one, really. And I didn’t do anything, you know I don’t like my birthday that much,” Will assures.

“Next year, if I’m in Philly, we’ll go all out. Cake and balloons and alcohol that you can legally drink!”

“How are you going to buy it? You’ll still be twenty.”

“I don’t know, maybe Steve can buy it, and then him and Dustin could come up, and Max and Lucas, too. Really make it a party.”
“With the party,” Will interjects, and Mike laughs at him.

“You’re such a dork,” he says.

A loud speaker announcement interrupts them, and Mike’s bus has arrived. They stand up and look at each other uncertainly.

“Call me tomorrow?” Mike asks.

“Absolutely. As soon as I’m done in class, probably late afternoon?” Will promises.

“Perfect. I can’t wait.”

They just look at each other for a couple seconds, and then Mike pulls Will into a hug. He clings onto Will like he’s never going to see him again, crushing him so tight to his body. When they pull away, Mike’s eyes are teary, and seeing it makes Will well up, too.

“Go,” Will says. "Before you miss your bus.”

Mike nods and disappears through the doors out to the busses.

Will stands there and pulls himself together. He wipes his eyes, blows his nose on the used tissue in his pocket, and tries to remind himself that it isn’t really goodbye. In less than a month, he’ll be finished his first year of college and be back in Montauk with his parents, and maybe even his brother, if they can convince him to step away from his latest film.

Tomorrow, Will will call the Wheeler house, and Mike will answer.

And that will have to be enough for now.