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“So, Michael. Mike. Mikey. Mikey Mike Wheeler.” Steve clapped his hands together. “How are ya, kid?”
Mike shifted in his chair, resisting the urge to fix his tie- a habit of his Will had recently pointed out. His hands itched for something to do, so he focused on the feeling of his pants, the coarseness of the fabric. “Fine.”
Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Fine? Wanna elaborate?”
“That’s a big word for you,” Mike grumbled, but Steve just laughed.
“Yeah, Nanc got me a word a day calendar. A sharp tack, your sister. How’s she doing?”
Mike tried not to roll his eyes. He knew all of Steve’s tricks, his obvious attempts to get Mike to open up- it was all the same crap he used to pull when Mike was in high school. The big eyes, the nicknames. It made Mike sick.
“She’s fine. Didn’t you have dinner with her last night?”
“Yeah, Robin made soup. Nancy told me she invited you over too, but you weren’t really up to it-” Steve pitched forward on his elbows. “Is everything okay, kid? You’ve seemed kind of… out of it, lately. Did something happen?”
Did something happen? Did something motherfucking happen? How could he even begin to… Jesus.
Yes. Yes, something happened.
“They’re not… that bad?” Will cringed, pausing the video. “Right?”
Mike tried to swallow his laughter- the still frame of Will’s computer held Corroded Coffin, Hawkin’s least-sought after punk metal band. Eddie Munson, the office delivery guy, had screeched his way through a Metallica cover, and the worst part was, he was one of the better bands they had watched.
“They’re certainly enthusiastic.”
“Mike!” Will whined. “Don’t say that! Say something nice- I just want this to be done with.”
“Well, what does Carlton think?”
“He…” Will ran a hand through his hair- it was wild this morning, like he hadn’t had time to tame it. Mike wanted to fix it- to reach over and move it out of his pretty face- but he resolved to fix his tie instead, smoothing the fabric down until the urge went away. “He’s busy with the warehouse. And he doesn’t really care about this stuff. If it were up to him, we’d just fly to, like, Vegas.” He bit his lip.
Mike’s stomach pitched. This was such a bad idea. Actually, one of his worst ever. Because not only had he agreed to help Will pick a wedding band, but that apparently meant that now he had to be subject to the extremely unique torture of listening to Will tell him all the reasons Carlton was, in fact, exactly the kind of man Mike had always sworn he wouldn’t stand by and watch Will marry. Seriously, which god had decided that Mike’s disaster of a life was the perfect punchline in its cosmic joke?
Will deserved better. So much fucking better than some trashbag who thought it was acceptable to ignore his own wedding planning, to leave it all up to his already overworked fiance.
“Is that what you want?”
Will thought about it for a second. “I mean, it would be easy.” He opened his mouth, like he was going to say more, then snapped it shut.
“But?” Mike prompted.
“But I’ve always had this idea of my wedding, you know? Like, I want a little chapel- not because I’m religious or anything, I just think chapels are really cute- and I want to listen to White Wedding when I’m getting ready, and I want charlotte roses and forget-me-nots and, I mean, it’s my wedding! It’s the day I commit myself to a whole other human for the rest of my life! I want it to be beautiful, and Carlton doesn't get along with his family, but I want mine there, and we couldn’t really do that in Vegas- I mean, we could, but my stepdad doesn’t do planes, so they would have to drive, which kind of moots the whole ‘easy’ point, not to mention, I don’t want some random person officiating, much less a celebrity impersonator, but I know if we did Vegas Carlton would want Darth Vader to officiate and I can’t think of anything less romantic than Vader being all, ‘William, do you?’ except in his Vader voice and… and…” He trailed off. “And I’m talking too much. Sorry. But, um… yeah. That.”
Mike had to force himself to close his mouth- the way Will’s eyes lit up, all bright and sparkly when he got passionate about what he was saying, how those graceful painter’s hands jabbed at the air, punctuating his sentences… forgive him, but it was a little distracting, okay?
“Then I think you shouldn’t do Vegas,” he finally said, and he hated how soft his voice had gotten.
Will’s cheeks pinked. “I think we should nix Corroded Coffin,” he said, clicking out of the file. “Are you coming to Casino Night? I need you to back me up about the band.”
“I’m not sure.” If Mike had to watch Will and Carlton play happy couple, he was pretty sure he would have to drink the bleach under the sink. “Not sure if I’m up for it.”
Will’s eyes got all big, and he stuck his bottom lip out. “Please?” He grabbed Mike’s arm, and he went hot at the contact, sparks shooting up his arm. “Come on, I need someone there to rip on it with. Don’t you want to spend even more time at this horrible office than you’re contractually obligated to?”
“I’m sure Max will be there.” He pulled his arm out of Will’s grip, the fire in his chest immediately dulling.
“No, she and Lucas are taking the baby to visit his sister this weekend- apparently Erica’s pissed she’s missing all of Baby’s firsts.”
“She’s so scary. Did I tell you about the Fourth of July incident?”
“In detail. Oh, plus plus plus, you have to meet my sister! She’s coming tomorrow night, Jane, she’s dying to meet you.”
“Really?” Mike didn’t know why anyone would be excited to meet him, he wasn’t a very exciting person.
“I’ve told her about you.” His flush had gone dull, and he turned back to his computer. “What do you think about the fiddle?”
So there he was, drinking a beer and tugging at a too-tight bow tie.
Dustin and Steve had made camp at the poker table, arguing over the rules and ignoring Robin’s insistence that she could explain it to them. Chrissy and Stacy were at the slots station and had tried to get Mike to join them several times, but not only did he absolutely not have the funds to be gambling like that, but he waiting for-
“Will!” he called, raising his hand in a wave.
Will was walking up to the bar, talking to a brunette girl in a shimmery pink dress. When he heard his name, he turned, a smile spreading across his face.
“Mike!” He shoved through the crowd, pulling the woman along with him. His cheeks were flushed when he approached, his sketchbook pressed to his chest. “This is my sister, Jane.” He presented the woman with a flourish, who smiled and stuck out her hand. “Wonder Girl.”
Mike noticed that each of her nails was painted a different color. “Hi,” she said, and when she looked at him with those pretty hazel eyes, just for a second she looked so much like Will it actually took him aback. “You must be Mike.”
“Yeah,” he said, taking her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” She had his nose, and his lips, and even the same little dimple in her cheek.
“Same. I swear, Will talks about you more than he talks about himself- he says you’re a writer?”
“A little, here and there-” His eyes darted back over to Will, who was gnawing his lip nervously. “You talk about me, do you?”
“I talk about everyone,” he mumbled. “Shut up.” But he was smiling this wide goofy smile when he linked his arm through Jane’s, pressing his face into her hair.
She giggled, giving Mike this knowing look. “I think you’re well on your way to drunk, Wonder Boy.”
Now that she mentioned it, his eyes were a little glassy. “Let me get you some water,” he insisted, but Will only held him tighter.
“No, I’m fine. Stay here. Jane, tell him about your job.” Without giving her time to respond, he declared, “She’s a dance teacher.”
“I’m a dance teacher,” she said. “Children’s dance. And a little yoga here and there, but I prefer dance. I teach at the studio downtown, and a few classes a month in Indianapolis.”
“Oh, we have a new branch opening there.”
“Really, where, maybe I know-”
“There you are, baby!”
Mike’s gut tightened as Carlton strolled over, a beer in hand. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You found me,” Will said. “We were just talking about-”
“I won big time.” Carlton wasn’t even looking at Will, instead counting the money in his hand. “Four hundred bucks.”
“That’s great!” Will tried to grab the money, but Carlton pulled it back. “We can use it for the cake, maybe now we can get the two tiers.”
“Sure, baby, anything you want.” He turned to Mike, his expression twisting into one of disdain. “Wheeler.”
“Hey.” He tried to keep his expression neutral, focusing on the shimmer of Jane’s dress.
“Wait, Mike, tell him about the bands,” Will said suddenly. “Mike found some great bands.”
Summoning all of his patience, he turned to Carlton, who had this smug look on his face, like he somehow knew just how insane he was making Mike. “Well, we found this quartet, they do, like, modern music in classical arrangements, it’s really cool-”
“Thanks, but we already have a band.” Carlton wrapped an arm around Will, pulling him into his side.
“We do?” Will asked, brows scrunching.
“Yeah, I want Corroded Coffin, Chrissy’s roommate’s the lead singer, so we can get a discount. Their music’s sick too- they can do Ratt covers.”
“Oh,” Will said softly. “Okay. Yeah, that’s great.”
Carlton squeezed Will tighter. “You’ll love them, I promise. I gotta go, I want to get in on this next game. I love you.”
Mike's chest physically ached as Will echoed it back.
“I don’t believe you,” Carlton said.
“I love you,” Will repeated, and Mike didn’t miss the way his hand tightened into a fist. But he couldn’t focus on that for too long because then Carlton leaned in and kissed him, tilting his chin up and Jesus, Mike was going to be sick.
He squinted at the carpet, the blue and yellow flecks embedded in the grey, grunting a reply when Carlton bid them ado. Only once he knew he was across the room did he finally look up, only to find Will already looking at him. Jane had this look on her face, eyes narrowed at Mike, head cocked.
“Sorry,” Will said.
“For what?”
“For… he can be a lot, I know.”
“No, it’s fine, he’s your- fiance.”
Will sighed and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He is, isn’t he? What were we talking about before? The new branch?”
“Yeah, um, I’ll be right back.” Suddenly, the room was too loud, and the overhead lights were blinding him, and it was hot. “Smoke break.”
He hurried away, ignoring Jane’s ‘nice to meet you!’ and sliding out the side door, into the alley.
He was halfway through a cigarette when the door opened and Robin stepped out, blowing into her hands. “Jesus, it’s cold,” she griped, and pulled her jacket tighter around herself. “Isn’t it supposed to be spring?”
“Thank you, global warming,” Mike muttered. “Hey.”
“Hey, little Wheeler. How’s it going?”
“I’ve been worse.” There were no stars out tonight, the sky an endless abyss of black. How fitting.
Robin took a long puff, then exhaled slowly. “Look, not to intrude on your business-”
“Then don’t.”
“-But we should talk. About Byers.”
Mike stiffened. He turned to her. “How did you-”
“I mean, I have eyes. I know pathetic pining when I see it.”
“I’m not-” he started, but the words fell flat. “I don’t… Shut up. What happened to work-life balance?”
“Wheeler, as an elder homosexual-”
“You’re a cringy millennial is what you are.”
“-Can I give you some advice?”
He wanted to tell her to go to hell, that just because they were technically in-laws didn’t mean she had any right to intrude on his romantic life, or lack-there-of. But he wasn’t in the mood to deal with any angry emails from Nancy about respecting her girlfriend, so he just sighed and turned to her.
“I think you should tell him how you feel.”
His eyebrows shot up, and she continued. “I just mean… look, kid, I’ve been there before. The obsessive, embarrassing longing, wondering what they’re doing, if they’re thinking about you, but knowing they aren’t because they don’t like you like that- trust me, I’ve been there. A couple times. And it sucks and it feels like your chest is being bludgeoned with a hammer, and you’re not sleeping, right? Don’t answer that, I see you hitting up the coffee machine twice every morning, not to mention, you look like a goddamn mess.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly, stomping out his bud.
“No, sorry, shit, I just mean… just tell him. It’s gonna eat you alive if you don’t.”
“He has a fiance, Robin. One he’s deeply in love with.”
She scoffed. “Not exactly how I’d describe that relationship, but not the point. I’m not saying you go in expecting him to run away with you- you just need to tell him, then this burden weighing you down will stop being so heavy. Then maybe you can start moving on. It’s a big ocean, Wheeler, lots of fish. And yes, Byers is objectively one of the most adorable adults I’ve ever met, but he’s not the only one.”
The idea of getting over Will, much less finding someone who could even begin to compare to him was downright laughable, but Mike was just about ready for this conversation to be over. He hated talking about feelings, much less with the woman who was screwing his sister and best friends with his boss, so he just nodded, tugging on his bowtie.
“Sure. Right.”
“You don’t have to do anything-” She dropped her cigarette, smushing it under her sole. “But… just think about it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And call Nancy back- she wants to do dinner next week. I’m making soup.” She opened the door, a burst of light and noise beckoning them back into the building.
“Hey.”
Mike shot up, blinking harshly. “Huh?”
Will was standing in front of the reception desk. He had undone his bowtie, and it hung over his collar like the world’s littlest scarf.
“Oh. Hey.”
“I was wondering where you went.” Will joined him behind the desk, pulling the extra rolling chair over. “You never came back.”
“Sorry, I… It’s really loud down there.” And Will was down there. He had been in the casino room for a grand total of five seconds, mulling over Robin’s advice, before he saw Will and Carlton by the slots and realized that regardless, tonight was not the night for, well, anything, least of all a love confession. And he’d planned on just leaving, until he remembered that he promised Stacy he would have a drink with her at the end of the night, so, here he was, hiding out on the office floor, sitting at Will’s desk, jamming his thumbs into his eyes.
“Tell me about it- Chance’s got everyone doing karaoke, I was about five seconds from blowing my brains out.” He pulled his sketchbook out of his jacket, dropping it on the desk.
Mike chuckled weakly, cracking his neck. “Sounds rough. Where’s Jane?”
Will grimaced. “Last I saw? Joining forces with Dustin in poker.”
“Shut up.”
“I wish.” He rolled closer to Mike. “I think they might clear the house.” He looked up at Mike. “You two seemed to be getting along.”
“Me and Dustin? I took all of his money and he called me a frog-face. Haven’t heard that since the seventh grade.”
Will patted his cheek. “I can see it.” He laughed at Mike’s scoff. “No, you and Jane. She kept asking about you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, she wanted to know, like, how long we’ve known each other, what you think of Carlton, if you’re coming to the wedding- wait.” He sat up. “You are coming to the wedding, right? You haven’t RSVP’d yet.”
Mike’s stomach tightened. The idea of sitting there, watching Will- his Will- well, not his Will, but- but watching Will get married- he couldn’t do it. He knew he couldn’t. He just wasn’t strong enough. And he was so tired swallowing it, of pretending everything was great and fine and funny when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly smiled, every laugh weighed down by the knowledge that Will was marrying that douchebag, that he couldn’t say anything because he was Will’s friend and just Will’s friend.
His face must have betrayed him because Will’s face dropped. “Mike,” he said softly.
“Please don’t.” He pulled back. “Not right now.”
“Mike, it’s my wedding.”
“And I can’t go.”
“Why not?” And his eyes were so big and so sad and suddenly everything that had been sitting in Mike’s chest, simmering just below the surface of every word he ever said rose up in his throat, and he couldn’t stop them, even when his brain was screaming shut up shut up shut up.
“Because I love you.” Will’s mouth dropped open, but now Mike really couldn’t stop, now that the words were out there between them. “And I know that’s horrible for me to say and it’s so unfair because-”
“Mike.”
“You’re getting married and my timing sucks but-”
“Mike!”
“-I can’t come to your wedding because it would literally kill me, Will. Being around you every day is torture enough, and not even just because I love you, but because I have to listen to you talk about this guy who doesn’t deserve you- he doesn’t deserve you, Will, and I’m not saying I do, because I know I don’t, but he doesn’t either, he’s not good enough and you deserve so much because you’re literally the kindest, most caring, most beautiful person I know and-” And suddenly, the writer was out of words. He swallowed, but his throat was dry and clicked dumbly. “And so, um, yeah. That.”
Will opened his mouth and closed it again. His eyebrows furrowed, and even though Mike knew it was coming, his heart still squeezed when Will spoke. “You have no idea-”
“Please don’t,” he pleaded weakly. He wanted to go back in time, just two minutes, because this didn’t feel good, Robin had lied, this felt fucking horrible.
“-how much you mean to me,” Will finished. “And I… I don’t want to lose you.”
He wanted to say he wasn’t losing him, he’d never lose him, except he knew it wasn’t true, because Will had lost Mike a long time ago, as soon as he’d shown Mike the ring and Mike had realized he was a selfish, selfish person who had mistaken endurance for virtue.
He wanted to say that he was sorry, he was so, so sorry, he had never meant for any of it to go this far, that he had thought he’d be content to live the rest of his life watching from afar, gathering pens in his bottom drawer, that he had betrayed Will and himself and he’s take it all back if he could.
But all he could say was, “I need to go.”
And Mike wished it had stopped there. If it had stopped there, if he had just gone home, left his jacket for Monday, maybe everything wouldn’t be the royal clusterfuck that it was.
But he didn’t, and he hadn’t, and it was.
He gritted his teeth, smearing a hand across his face- his eyes were still wet, but the heavy sobs had slowed to the occasional tear. He just needed to grab his jacket, then he could go home and smoke enough weed to temporarily forget his own name. Just get the coat, get home, get the blunt, get the coat, get home, get the blunt.
He saw it draped across the back of Will’s chair. He moved like a ghost, drifting through the cubicles he knew better than his own apartment. He grabbed his jacket and was about to turn around when something bright caught his eye.
Will’s sketchbook was tucked under a few folders, the sunny yellow cover sticking out. He must have forgotten it when he went… wherever he went. Probably back downstairs. Back to Carlton.
He pulled it out of the stack- it was heavier than he would have thought, with sticky notes and paper clips sticking out at odd angles. It was decorated with yellow designs, with Will Byers printed in neat gold lettering.
And Mike knew he should put it back. It was Will’s private property. Will never let him see inside, always snapping it shut the second Mike drifted too near, and that should have been warning enough. Mike loved Will’s art; loved the way he noticed things other people missed, the care in every line. He should leave now- should get as far away from this godforsaken building as possible, Stacy be damned.
But his fingers didn’t move.
And really, what harm could one look do?
Mike flipped the sketch book open.
And he wasn’t sure what he was expecting- Will always point-blank refused to show Mike the contents of his pages- but it certainly wasn’t, well, Mike.
His eyes stared back at him, a complex mix of browns, lined with thick lashes.
He flipped the page.
He was reclined in his chair, talking on the phone, tossing an elastic band ball in the air.
He flipped the page.
He was straightening his tie in a mirror.
He was messing with Dustin.
He was laughing at Lucas’ joke.
Holy shit.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
Mike’s heart leapt into his throat- this was… this was what Will had been hiding? This was why he always hid his pages, insisted it was nothing Mike would want to see? Because he was drawing Mike?
He made Mike look handsome, elevated his features in a way that made him look much more confident than he did in real life. His jawline was sharper, shoulders broader and smile whiter. This couldn’t be how he saw Mike- this wasn’t how Mike saw Mike. But Will…
Will turned Mike into something worth looking at.
“Mike?”
His head snapped up to find Will, standing in the opening. He looked between Mike and the sketchbook, his cheeks going from pink to white alarmingly fast.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but Mike didn’t give him the chance. In seconds, he rose, took Will’s face in his hands, and kissed him.
For a second, Will just stood there, stiff, and Mike’s brain was a jumble of shit fuck hell, his hands already loosening, already preparing to apologize, to retreat, to pretend this had never happened.
But then Will’s arms came up, slow but sure, circling Mike’s ribs like he’d been reaching for him all along. He pulled him closer- close enough that Mike could feel the shaky inhale against his chest- and kissed him back.
It was soft in a way that felt almost reverent, like Will was afraid that if he moved too fast, the moment might shatter between them. His lips were warm, familiar, impossibly gentle, and Mike hated- hated- just how right it felt, how easily his body melted into it, as if saying oh, right, this is it.
Mike’s hands slid from Will’s face to his shoulders, thumbs brushing the collar of his undone bowtie, and Will made this quiet sound in his throat, barely more than a breath, that sent something hot and aching straight through Mike’s chest.
But as suddenly as he’d done it, he pulled back, heart pounding. Will’s eyes were wide and wet, boring into Mike, and it occurred to him exactly what he had just done.
“Mike, I-”
“I’m so sorry.”
And Mike, the fucking coward he was, turned and ran, jacket still sitting on the desk.
“Mike? You with me?”
Mike blinked back into reality. Steve was looking at him, eyebrows knit.
“There you are. Seriously, kid, you don’t look so hot. Have you been sleeping? How about you go home, take the day tomorrow, and come back Wednesday when you’re feeling a little better? How does that sound?”
“Hey, Steve?”
“Yeah? What’s up?” His eyes were bright and hopeful.
“You know how you said your dad was opening another branch? In Indianapolis?” He took a deep breath, straightening his tie. “If I was interested in transferring…”