Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mike lets out a relieved breath as the bell rings to signal the end of class rings, his brain just about fried from trigonometry or whatever that lesson was about.

His brain has been more fried than usual, actually, because today is February 7th and officially marking a week until Valentine’s day.

Ever since he was a kid, Mike has thought Valentine’s day is a royal waste of time. Most of the time he’d forget about the day completely until the 15th when all the romantic chocolate boxes go on sale and he buys a bunch so he can sit around in his basement and share them with Will.

But every year, the most useless holiday of the year becomes harder and harder to avoid.

High school is stupid. A whole week until some stupid day and all the stupid couples are talking about how “love is in the air” and exchanging chocolates and meeting at lover’s lake and doing all the stupid couple stuff.

Could it be that Mike’s hatred for this holiday stems from his lack of ever having a date? Maybe. But the point is, Valentine’s day is stupid and forgettable and boring, and everyone is super annoying about it.

As he makes his way through the halls, people are already discussing it, and Mike wants to vomit.

“Hey, Mike.”

Mike is pulled back into the real world by the sound of a voice that he never grows tired of.

“Will!”

He turns to Will, who’s trying to match his pace to walk next to Mike, his casual smile bright as ever.

“I’ve needed you, man,” Mike playfully grabs onto Will’s jacket and clings to it, “trig drives me nuts.”

“It’s not that bad,” Will lets out a laugh, seemingly amused.

“It so is,” Mike continues, “you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re smart. Trig is the worst thing ever.”

“Worse than Valentine’s day?”

“Don’t even bring that up,” Mike groans, “I hate Valentine’s day. It’s—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Will sighs, a fond look crossing his features. “It’s stupid and forgettable and boring. You say this every year, Mike.”

Will’s always been the most tolerant of Mike’s theatrics. If this was Dustin or Lucas or El or Max, they’d shut him down and tell him to be quiet, but Will always entertains it with the same fond and amused look on his face that makes Mike’s insides kind of twist. And he’s glad at least Will goes along with it.

Because it’s true, Mike’s a naturally over dramatic person. He’ll say that a minor inconvenience is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him and he’ll say that he hates Max after she makes fun of him. Will’s the only one who doesn’t seem to find it annoying.

Mike’s always thought that Will puts up with his crap a lot more than he should, because he’s always been kind of a no-nonsense person, but he never seems to mind when Mike’s annoying. It’s probably why Mike’s constantly so annoying.

Will leans against the wall as Mike struggles to open his faulty locker, filling him in about something that Lucas did in chemistry class, absently grinning while sharing his little anecdote and watching Mike try to get the stupid locker open.

When he finally does, an envelope falls out.

Will stops talking immediately, his attention shifting to the piece of paper on the floor.

Mike’s about to crouch down to pick it up, but by the time he even processes what’s happening Will’s already retrieved it from the ground, handing it to Mike and seemingly biting back a grin.

“To Mike,” Mike reads the writing on the back of the envelope, “this was addressed to me.”

The first thing Mike tries to do is pick apart the handwriting, and Will’s is the first name that comes to mind. However, it isn’t Will’s because the “k” in “Mike” has a loop, and Will writes his “k”s un-looped.

“Really?” Will leans over to get a look. “I thought it would be in your locker by mistake. Who would write you a letter?”

“No clue,” Mike responds, trying to analyse the writing, “do you recognize this handwriting?”

“Nope.”

There’s a pause and they share a look, knowing they can’t open the letter by themselves.

“We should get the others,” Will suggests, fighting back a smile while Mike is just plain confused, “I bet they’d wanna see what’s in here too.”

“Yeah,” Mike laughs, “what if it’s a letter about something really cool and important? Max would rip my head off if she isn’t here to see it.”

Finding the rest of the party doesn’t take much searching, because they’re already walking down the halls as Mike further studies the letter.

“Hey guys.” Dustin says, diffusing Lucas and Max’s bickering about something probably stupid. “What’s that?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Mike gestures for the other four to gather round his locker, “look at this.”

“A letter?” El questions, looking over Mike’s shoulder.

“Yeah, a letter,” Will confirms, and Mike swears he exchanges a glance with Max, “it fell out of Mike’s locker.”

“Open it then,” Max urges, annoyance already filling her voice and she’s only been in Mike’s presence for about thirty seconds.

“Hold your horses,” Mike rolls his eyes as Max shoots him a death glare, “I’m opening it, literally right now.”

Mike carefully opens the envelope, unfolding the piece of paper inside. Lucas lets out a dramatic gasp once he sees what the letter is about.

“Dear Mike,” he begins to read aloud, “I’m writing this to you because it’s almost Valentine’s day.”

Mike pauses his reading to make an exaggerated noise of disgust, before Dustin hits him on the shoulder and tells him to keep reading.

“I’ve known you for quite a while, and truthfully I’ve had the biggest crush… on… you— what?” Mike's brain goes fuzzy and he rereads the line, his voice trailing off.

The group exchanges surprised but very much interested looks with each other.

“Okay. Where was I… truthfully I’ve had the biggest crush on you for ages. I think you’re super cool and funny and attractive — oh my god this has to be a prank — and I’m finally deciding to ask you to be my valentine.”

The entire group has erupted into stifled giggles at this point, while Mike’s confusion only grows with every word he reads.

“If you’re interested, meet me at lover’s lake on the fourteenth.” Mike spares a puzzled glance in Will’s direction, who only smiles.

“Love, your secret admirer…” Mike trails off as he finishes reading the letter clutched tightly in his hands.

“Woah, love?” Dustin comments, leaning over. “This person must have it bad for you, Mike.”

“Yeah,” Max snorts, “which is insane because who’s crazy enough to be in love with Mike?”

Mike moves to swat her on the shoulder, but Will beats him to it.

“Congratulations, Mike,” El smiles at him, “I’m glad you finally have someone to spend your Valentine’s day with rather than complaining about it all day.”

“Thanks, El, but…” Mike feels as though she’s insulting him more than anything. “This note is one hundred percent a prank. Some low-life thought it would be funny to write this and they’re luring me out to drown me at lover’s lake.”

“I think that drowning you is a bit extreme,” Will smiles, “there’s a chance it isn’t a prank, you know.”

“Yeah, who knows?” Max playfully shoves Mike on the shoulder. “Maybe there is someone in this school whose standards are low enough to find you attractive. You should consider this a win.”

Once again, Mike feels more like he’s being insulted.

“Whether it’s a prank or not,” Lucas begins, plucking the letter from Mike’s hands, “we absolutely need to find who wrote this. Then he can finally get a girlfriend and stop making his loneliness our problem.”

“Oh, definitely,” Dustin nods, “Mike can’t just ghost this girl who likes him, but I don’t think he’s dumb enough to just go meet some stranger at a lake.”

“He might be.” Max cuts in, and this time both Will and Mike hit her shoulder.

“We should find out who this person is before we release Mike to the lake,” El agrees, a grin creeping up onto her face.

“Release? Why do we need to—” Mike lets out an exasperated sigh, much to the amusement of everyone else, “you know what, I won’t bother.”

“Oh, come on, guys,” Will attempts to reason with them, “I think it’s not ridiculous at all that Mike has a secret admirer. Because, he’s, well…”

Will seems to stumble over his words for a second, his face morphing into a light shade of pink.

“He’s really cool. I can see why someone would have a crush on him,” he offers a nervous smile, resulting in unamused looks from the rest of the party.

“Thank you, Will,” Mike appreciates that there’s someone in the group who isn’t mercilessly insulting him, “I swear you’re the only person in this group who cares about me.”

Mike goes back in to dramatically grab onto Will’s jacket, and Will chuckles just before Mike swears he hears Max say “very subtle” to Will, and he doesn’t know what that’s about.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Will gives Mike a fond look, and Mike, for whatever reason, feels no reason to let go of Will’s jacket just yet.

“Barf,” Lucas rolls his eyes at the scene, “flirt when we’re not around.”

Mike has to do a double take when he hears that. Flirt? That’s outrageous. That’s preposterous. That’s crazy. Mike and Will have never flirted once, in the history of ever. Why would they flirt?

Mike’s about to say something perhaps too defensive when the bell rings, and Lucas speaks again.

“Okay, we’re meeting at Mike’s after school to discuss this.”

And everyone agrees, so Lucas shoves the letter back into Mike’s hands and leaves with Max, and Dustin and El trail not too far behind them.

It takes a second for Mike to realize he’s still clinging to Will while watching everyone leave, and he lets go before awkwardly clearing his throat.

He folds the letter up and shoves it in his pocket, slamming the locker door shut and grabbing Will’s arm to walk through the halls with him.

“So,” Will grins, not pulling his arm away from Mike’s grip, “a secret admirer, huh? Do you still hate Valentine’s day?”

“Yes,” Mike huffs, “it’s a prank. I can’t think of a single person in the school who would write this note.”

“Well, I think it’s possible for someone to have a crush on you,” Will’s smile is wider than Mike thinks it should be, “and Valentine’s day is in a week. Allow yourself to enjoy it for once.”

“Not possible,” Mike interrupts immediately, but he feels Will's voice slowly start to persuade him to not be so cynical about the holiday.

“Oh, come on,” Will tries to reason with him, “you might like them back. And we can still eat all the lame discounted chocolates on the fifteenth.”

“Fine,” Mike gives in, because it doesn’t take much for Will to convince him to do anything, “I’ll stop hating as much. But I’m only doing it because you told me to, so it’s your fault if I get drowned at lover’s lake.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” Will laughs, coming to a stop as they reach Will’s class.

“Shit, I’ve gotta run,” Mike jolts, panic setting in, “I’m gonna be so late for my next class.”

“Why do you always walk with me on Fridays?” Will looks sort of amused at Mike’s totally not at all funny predicament. “You know your class is on the other side of the school.”

“Walking with you is more important to getting to class on time,” Mike says honestly, and Will’s face flushes, “whatever. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later today, Will.”

Mike takes off to his next class, and he knows that he most definitely won’t be listening to a word of it.

He never concentrates in class usually, but this time he has a lot to think about.

First of all: the whole note thing, because Mike doesn’t talk to anyone outside of the party, and he can’t think of a single girl in the school with a scrap of interest in him, let alone one that has had a crush on him for “a while” and signed her letter with “love”.

Mike’s convinced that some bully has it out for him, but for some reason everyone else seems to think that this isn’t a catfish.

There’s only gonna be one good outcome to this situation if he isn’t being catfished, and that’s that whoever this admirer is is confident enough that Mike isn’t dating Will to shoot their shot.

That links into the second thing Mike has to think about— his mind keeps going back to how Lucas called Mike’s playful banter in which Will was, per usual, the only one in the group not ripping him to shreds for simply existing, flirting.

Mike still finds it sort of jarring that this is far from the first time they’ve gotten something like this. Mike and Will have been mistaken for a couple since middle school.

That’s absurd. Why would Mike date, or flirt with, Will? Sure, Will is, like, by far the kindest and coolest guy Mike has ever met, and also the prettiest guy Mike has ever laid eyes on, but they’re nothing more than best friends.

And Lucas knows that, so why would he say that? More than anything, he doesn’t know how people think that they’re a couple. They’re a normal pair of friends, and they act exactly so.

Don’t get him wrong— if Will asked him out, he would say yes. But, like, in a platonic way. He would date Will, platonically, in a heartbeat. Or, like, that common trope when two best friends kiss as practice for a real date. Mike would do that with Will if he asked.

But, platonically. Because their relationship is strictly platonic, and he can’t fathom the idea of anyone interpreting it as anything more.

So, Mike can at least have some degree of respect for whoever his secret admirer is for being one of the only people in the school with enough common sense to know that he isn’t dating Will.

It’s freezing outside.

“Well, It’s not actually freezing,” Will always says, “for it to be freezing it has to be below thirty two degrees.”

Will says that all too much, and Mike often hits him on the arm and playfully berates him for being a smartass about it.

Mike quite likes winter, but only in November and December. By the time January hits it’s just cold and dark and miserable and he just wants spring to hurry up.

And this year’s no different to every year, because Mike hates shivering at every waking moment in the day during February. It should be sunny skies and rainbows by now, but instead he can still see his breath when he exhales outside on a bad day.

He’s utterly thrilled to step into his basement, the warm air from the heating hitting him and making his treacherous journey across the seven seas (his simple bike ride home from school) all seem worth it in the end.

“Finally,” Max stretches, unzipping her coat and taking it off, “it was freezing out there.”

“Well, it’s not—” Will is immediately cut off by Max’s coat hitting him straight in the face. “Okay, rude,” he smirks, removing his own coat.

“Okay, guys, we need to discuss this,” Lucas calls over to the party from the table, taking a seat.

They all walk over to the table and grab a seat, Lucas looking like he means business.

“Okay, where’s the letter?” Lucas looks to Mike.

Mike digs around in his pocket for a few seconds before finally retrieving the folded up piece of paper, handing it over to Lucas as he can’t help but notice Will fighting back another grin.

Lucas unfolds the letter and sets it in the center of the table, so the whole group can see it.

“So, do you guys know anyone who might like Mike?” El asks, trying to get the discussion going.

Silence.

“Wow, thanks guys.” Mike says drily, causing the room to erupt into chaos, mainly consisting of Mike arguing with Max and Will trying to be a voice of reason.

“Sorry, Mike, you’re just really unlikeable,” Max says through laughter, clearly entertained by Mike’s pain and suffering.

“How about we look at the handwriting?” Dustin suggests, calming the bickering. “Someone at our school has to write like that.”

“True,” Lucas nods, analyzing the handwriting.

It’s neat. It’s so neat that it almost looks like it was typed, but Mike can tell it’s handwritten. It sort of reminds him of Will’s handwriting, because Will’s is neat and nice and pleasing to look at and one of the reasons that Mike keeps all the notes the two pass in their history class; the only class they share, much to Mike’s dismay.

“I don’t know anyone who writes like that…” El begins, looking deep in thought. “The closest I can think of is Will.”

Will and Max exchange a glance with each other that looks as if they’re trying not to laugh.

“No,” Mike cuts in quickly, “Will draws his “k”s differently.”

“Why the hell do you know that?” Lucas looks confused but not exactly surprised.

“It’s because they always pass notes in class,” Max points a thumb at Will with a smug expression.

Mike stomps on her foot under the table.

“Ow!” Max stomps on his foot, causing a war between them, like an evil game of footsie. “What? They deserve to know the truth. If I have to sit through how annoying you guys are in history class when you’re constantly passing paper and giggling and shit, they should know too.”

“You know what, I’m not surprised.” Dustin shrugs, looking a little amused.

“Yeah, me neither,” El adds.

Mike looks to Will, who looks a little embarrassed.

“Okay, stop stomping on each other’s feet,” Lucas raises his voice, causing Mike and Max to cease fighting for the moment, “so no one recognizes this handwriting?”

“No,” the other five say in unison, and Lucas sighs.

“Alright, dead end…” Lucas examines the letter for a second, trying to think of something else to say. “Is there anything else we can use to narrow it down?”

“I don’t know,” Will taps his chin in thought, trying to think of something, “there aren't many clues on the letter.”

“You know what?” El’s eyes light up. “Usually, in romances, when a character has a secret admirer, their admirer leaves them a series of notes, with clues on.”

“So, what if…” Dustin thinks for a second. “This person, theoretically, is going to leave you a letter every day leading up to Valentine’s day?”

“Actually, that’s a good idea,” Lucas agrees.

“Yeah, that’s right, Jane always has good ideas.” Dustin smirks and high-fives El.

“So, we don’t actually have to figure it out now, because, in theory, this admirer is going to leave me more hints during the week?” Mike clarifies, thinking the idea to be plausible. “I swear to god guys if I’m getting catfished it’s gonna be so bad.”

“Relax, Mike, it’s not gonna be a catfish,” Will tries to reassure him, but he’s grinning too much to be serious.

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Mike rolls his eyes, “we already said that if I get murdered it’s on you.”

“Will, you agreed to that?” Max looks disappointed but, once again, not surprised.

“Well, I told him to stop being so negative about Valentine’s day and he said he’ll stop hating it as much,” Will shrugs his shoulders, “so I’m taking responsibility for his potential murder, which I’m sure won’t happen.”

“Both of you are unbelievable,” Dustin sighs, “it’s way too easy for you guys to persuade each other into agreeing with dumb things.”

“You say unbelievable, I say…” Mike trails off, realizing he doesn’t actually have a cool comeback. “Really really smart.”

Will laughs at his stupid comment, which is sort of an ego boost, and Max stifles a laugh as well.

“Ha, you’re laughing,” Mike points an accusatory finger at Max, “you think I’m funny.”

“No, I’m laughing ‘cause I think you’re stupid,” Max regains her composure, “Will’s the sucker who finds you funny.”

Will hits her on the shoulder, in perfect sync with Mike stomping on her foot.

“Guys, stop hitting my girlfriend,” Lucas complains, folding the letter up and letting out a sigh.

“Yeah, stop hurting Max,” El agrees, nodding her head.

“Finally, someone defends my honor,” Max dramatically sighs, leaning back in her seat.

“Oh come on,” Mike groans, “Will’s the only person who has ever defended my honor, ever. How come it bothers you when Max gets ganged up on?”

“Because you’re not the fan favorite,” Max says matter-of-factly with a smug expression, causing Mike to step on her foot once more.

“Okay, we’ll meet here again after school on Monday,” Lucas announces, “and then we’ll hopefully have another letter.”

Everyone agrees.

If there’s anything Mike loves in this world, it’s the weekend.

Mike’s living his best life when his alarm goes off at seven a.m and he turns it off and goes back to sleep until midday without a care in the world. He dreads the day he’s going to have to get a job.

When he finally gets sick enough of that weird taste in his mouth to get out of his bed, he goes through his typical routine before reading over the letter that he got yesterday, still sort of perplexed by the concept of having a secret admirer.

All of it, the “I’ve had the biggest crush on you for ages”, the “super cool and funny and attractive”, and the cherry on top of this mess— the letter being signed with “love”.

Love is a big word. It’s never been one Mike likes to throw around, never one that he can bring himself to say when he doesn’t mean it.

He loves a lot of things. He loves Saturdays, he loves daydreaming, he loves his friends, sometimes. Those are all things he’s known well for ages, so how can this person who seemingly isn’t even his acquaintance say that they love him?

It’s not love, for sure, it’s probably the human mind’s fabricated view of love and tricking itself into thinking it’s in love. It’s something very deep and philosophical and can only be understood by intellectuals and Mike’s written a couple stories with it or whatever.

But still, he wonders what girl goes to their school and thinks she’s in love with Mike, because, as much as he hates to admit it, Max is right. Who the hell would be in love with Mike?

Of everyone in their lame nerdy friend group, they pick Mike. They could’ve picked Dustin or Lucas or Will— and Mike thinks anyone with common sense would pick Will because he would bet money that Will would be the best boyfriend, like, ever.

Will is super intelligent and kind and handsome and he would probably do all those little romantic gestures like holding the door open, or helping someone zip their jacket when the zipper’s stuck, or delicately placing a band-aid on someone’s cut, or playing footsie under the table, or sneaking through someone’s window at night when they can’t sleep, and anyone would be lucky to date him.

Mike’s just some guy.

As far as Mike’s sure, Will’s, like, never even kissed anyone before, and Mike has a secret admirer. All this reinforces the idea that he’s getting catfished bad. But what bully has such perfect handwriting? He wants to find out who wrote the note, and hopefully they’ll write a follow up to actually give him something to work with.

It wouldn’t be bad to date someone, Mike thinks, then Lucas and Max would stop thinking they’re better than him for being in a loving relationship. But it depends on who this admirer turns out to be.

Mike folds up the letter and puts it on his desk before he can think about it too hard, deciding to do something to clear his mind from a predicament that can’t be solved until Monday.

And what better way to clear his mind than to see the one thing that’s always on his mind? The cold air hits him in the face as he climbs onto his bike and sets off for Will’s house.

It’s still freezing. And Will’s voice telling him that it’s not technically freezing floods into his brain before he can stop it.

He’s pretty underprepared for the weather, throwing on the first jacket he caught sight of and not even bothering with gloves, which he regrets hugely after about thirty seconds of being outside.

However, he thinks himself too cool to just turn around and go get some, because in his mind he’s actually enduring the cold just in case he ever gets stuck in Siberia or something and needs the experience of braving the cold. So technically, this is a tactical decision.

Mike’s just about sick of being tactical by the time he gets to Will’s house, knocking on the door and practically shaking from the cold, his fingertips seconds away from falling off his hands.

When the door opens, El is standing in the doorway, Max just behind her.

“Will?” El asks, and Mike nods.

“Did you wear that little clothing in hopes that Will would lend you some?” Max teases, raising an eyebrow at Mike’s state.

“No,” Mike huffs, “I’m training myself to endure the cold. I’m the smart one here.”

“Sure you are.”

“Will just left. He said he’s going to your house.” El fills Mike in, and Mike dramatically groans.

“Seriously?” So Mike literally just endured all that cold for nothing. “Alright, I’ll see you guys later.”

Mike sets off back to his own house, still absolutely frigid and he hasn’t gained anything. He and Will should really start planning when they hang out.

It takes a few minutes of Mike wallowing in his self pity while his teeth chatter violently until he sees a familiar figure biking in the distance.

Immediately he steps on the gas, which has him winded almost instantly, frantically calling Will’s name until the figure comes to a stop.

“Will, finally,” Mike says in between breaths, getting off his bike and clasping a hand on Will’s shoulder.

“Mike?” Will looks confused, and breathes out a laugh.

“I just biked all the way to your house,” Mike explains, the cold air striking his stupid sensitive teeth, “just for El to tell me you were going to mine.”

Will laughs fully this time, and Mike feels himself get a little bit warmer at the sound of Will’s laugh.

“We should really start coordinating these,” Will smiles, “but you biked all the way out here in this weather?”

Mike observes Will’s worried expression, trying to brush it off.

“And— oh my god, dude— you have, like, nothing on.” Will looks down at Mike’s hand, still steady on his shoulder. “Your fingertips are red.”

“Oh yeah? Well…” Mike stammers, because he doesn’t actually have a comeback and he never does so he should stop trying to come up with them. “Your face is red.”

“And so is yours.” Will says, completely seriously.

“Whatever, let’s get back to yours,” Mike gets back on his bike, “your house is closer. I’m so cold.”

“I can imagine.”

The feeling of the warm air hitting Mike’s skin as he steps into Will’s house is possibly the best thing he’s ever felt.

“Ugh, you guys are here?” Max looks over at Mike, who rolls his eyes as Will takes off his coat and gloves. “Why aren’t you at Mike’s house?”

“Because this place was closer when we met up,” Mike shrugs, “it’s not my fault.”

“Everything’s your fault.”

“Don’t worry, Max, we’ll be in my room,” Will smiles apologetically, “we won’t bother you and El.”

With that, Will grabs Mike by the arm and drags him to his room, before beginning to dig through his closet as Mike stands and watches like an idiot.

“What are you doing?” Mike tilts his head.

“I’m getting you an extra jacket, obviously,” Will responds, concentrating on rummaging through his closet, “you’re ice cold, man.”

After a few seconds, Will retrieves a green hoodie and hands it to Mike with a smile, his face still red from the cold.

“Thanks,” Mike says absently and takes a better look at the hoodie, “hey, this is mine.”

“Then you can have it back,” Will grins, examining Mike’s zip-up hoodie as he pulls the other hoodie over it, “that jacket’s also mine.”

“Then you’re not getting it back,” Mike deadpans, making Will let out a breathy laugh.

“Seriously, what were you thinking going out without layers?” Will asks, concern clear in his voice.

Mike’s trying to formulate a response when Will suddenly grabs his hand, his warm hand squeezing Mike’s very red and still extremely cold fingertips. The sudden act makes a surge of heat run through Mike’s body in a way he can’t quite describe, because they’ve never really been a hand-grabbing pair of friends, but he chalks the weird feeling festering in his chest up to the fact that Will’s hands are warm.

“Not even gloves,” Will shakes his head, “your hands are freezing.”

Will lifts Mike’s hand up in front of his face, as if trying to prove a point by showing him how red it is.

“I bet they’re not lower than thirty two degrees,” Mike jokes, giving Will a smug look.

“Oh, shut up,” Will’s eyes dart to their hands, Will’s thumb still softly brushing over the tips of Mike’s fingers. He quickly drops Mike’s hand, and while his face is still red from the cold outside, Mike could swear it just got redder.

Mike thinks he could get used to the whole hand-grabbing thing, even if Will only did it to prove a point. Platonically, of course. Just two best friends holding hands on a cold day to keep warm. Nothing remotely romantic about that.

Will sits down on his bed, and Mike sits next to him, leaning on him. He rests his head in the crook of Will’s neck and tries to press up to him as much as possible, because he’s cold, and Will has a naturally warm body and also decided to dress appropriately for the weather.

Will doesn’t seem to mind. Mike hadn’t thought he would. If anything, he seems a little flustered, but Mike’s sure he’s imagining that, because Will has zero logical reason to be flustered over something so platonic.

“Have you had breakfast?” Will asks, fidgeting with the collar of his sweater.

“No,” Mike admits, “I, like, just woke up.”

“You just woke up and the first thing you did was come to my house?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Will smiles, his cheeks going slightly pinker.

“Okay, then I’m getting you breakfast,” Will declares, sitting up straight and pushing Mike off of him, immediately making Mike feel colder.

“I thought we weren’t going to bother El and Max,” Mike stands up, pulling on the strings of his hoodie.

“I’m not making it,” Will shakes his head and stands up with him, “I’ll take you to the diner. It’s a date.”

The word “date” makes Mike feel something he can’t quite place. It shouldn’t, because date is a completely platonic term and Will one hundred percent means it platonically, just two best friends going to the diner on a completely platonic brunch date.

“Yeah, awesome,” Mike says casually, trying to brush off the rising feeling in his chest.

“Okay, but you’re wearing my coat.” Will moves to open his bedroom door, holding it until Mike walks out.

“And leaving you coatless? No way!” Mike objects instantly, leading to a sigh from Will.

“Fine. But I’m giving you a pair of gloves, and you can’t refuse.” Will looks through a box labeled “winter clothing”, eventually pulling out a pair of leather gloves, and Mike’s eyes light up.

“Woah, you got leather gloves?” Mike marvels as Will hands him the pair proudly, “These are so cool.”

“I saw them at the mall one time and I thought of you,” Will gives a shy sort of smile, “they were crazy expensive but I figured you would like them. I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to give them to you.”

“Awesome,” Mike pulls on the gloves, feeling extremely cool, “this is why you’re my favorite in the group, Will.”

“I know you want me to comment about that, but,” Max calls from the living room, “literally no one’s surprised.”

“Shut up, Max,” Mike calls and shoves his hands in his pockets, “we’re leaving.”

“Thank god,” Max says, and Will ushers Mike out of the house before he can start an argument and hold them up.

The diner’s decently crowded for a Saturday afternoon, but Will and Mike have no trouble finding a table for two.

They look through their menus, looking as if deciding what to eat is the hardest decision of their lives when, in reality, they’re going to get the same thing they get every time they come to this diner.

“Ooh, look Mike,” Will starts, a teasing grin painting his features, “the couples’ discount. Valentine’s day special. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“No,” Mike laughs at his crazy joke, “we’ve been over this. They don’t have the discount on our usual orders. Plus, I’d rather not think about Valentine’s day right now, not when I’m about to eat.”

Mike makes a motion that’s supposed to picture throwing up, and Will gives him a disapproving parent kind of look.

“What did I say about hating on Valentine’s day?”

“Right, right,” Mike feigns annoyance, “if I stop being so negative about it you will take full responsibility for my inevitable murder at lover’s lake, because I am being pranked.”

“I still don’t think so.” Will smiles, but his tone suggests something more behind his words that Mike can’t figure out. “Is it that hard to believe that some poor, unsuspecting soul likes you?”

“So now you’re insulting me too? Wow,” Mike rolls his eyes, much to Will’s amusement, “and yes, it is. The only people outside of the party who have ever even talked to me are bullies. Who’s got the time to develop a crush on me?”

“Romance is strange sometimes,” Will’s gaze softens, “this person didn’t choose to like you. You just happen to be the one that they like. Who knows, they might be going crazy over it because they can’t believe that you’re the idiot they fell for.”

Will’s looking at Mike with something unreadable in his eyes, which is strange to Mike because he can read everything in Will’s eyes. His smile is delicate and fond, and the infectious nature of it makes Mike unable not to smile as well.

“You’re so poetic, you know that? Even when you’re maliciously insulting me.” Mike shatters the moment and leans back in his seat, dropping his menu. “If I do get drowned, your sentence is gonna be atrocious, I’ll make sure of it from the grave.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” Will lets out a laugh, “plus, what kind of bully has handwriting like that?”

“You know what? That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Mike snaps his fingers. “what if they, like, paid some nerd to write it for them so they wouldn’t be recognized?”

“Bullies aren’t smart enough to do that,” Will shakes his head.

“I bet you’re only saying that because you’re the nerd they paid to write it,” Mike points at Will accusatorily, “you drew your “k”s differently to throw me off.”

“You’re ridiculous, Michael.”

“Which is why I’m your favorite friend in the party and also the funniest and most entertaining person you’ve ever met?”

“No comment.”

If there’s anything Mike hates in this world, it’s Mondays. And also Tuesdays, and also Wednesdays— especially Wednesdays— and also Thursdays, and Fridays get a pass for being the last day of the school week, he supposes.

After two glorious days of ignoring his homework and doing absolutely nothing, he’s back to dragging himself out of bed as late as humanly possible while it’s still dark outside, and he’s probably not going to be able to form thoughts for two hours at least.

Today, the bitter cold is a little more bearable with his super cool leather gloves, which have practically been glued to his hands ever since Will gave them to him on Saturday. They’re literally the coolest things ever.

He pulls the gloves off when he gets inside the school building, the stupid school air already infecting him with a sense of dread.

When he gets to his locker, Lucas, Max, Dustin, El and Will are all already crowded around it, seemingly waiting for Mike to open it.

“Finally! What took you so long?” Lucas groans. “We need you to open your stupid locker.”

“Nice gloves,” Dustin observes, and before Mike can say anything, he adds something, “are they Will’s?”

“No,” Mike responds defensively, “Will bought them for me, it’s way different.”

“Technically they’re still Will’s,” El joins in.

“Are those Joyce’s?” Mike gestures to El’s clothes, and her response is completely serious.

“No,” she replies drily, “they’re Hopper’s.”

“Oh, you all suck.” Mike sighs, and Will chuckles a little.

“Whose gloves they are doesn’t matter,” Lucas cuts in, “Mike, your locker’s faulty. We can’t even open it with the code.”

“Alright, alright,” Mike says smugly, walking towards the locker, “stand back and watch the pro do it.”

Mike’s “pro” strategy actually just consists of him entering the code and then banging on the locker door until it opens, a repetitive ritual that it takes him an embarrassingly long time to complete, stifled giggles bubbling up from the rest of the group.

After what feels like hours, the locker door finally swings open.

“Ha, first try,” Mike says proudly.

“Definitely,” Max adds sarcastically.

Sure enough, another envelope falls out the locker, and Will catches it and gives it to Mike before it can hit the ground. Mike looks at the back of the letter.

“To Mike,” he reads, “yup. This is from the same person.”

“Read it, then,” Lucas urges.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t rush me,” Mike huffs jokingly, carefully opening the envelope and unfolding the piece of paper inside.

“Dear Mike,” he reads aloud, putting on a high girly voice, “I think that secret admirers are usually supposed to provide hints as to their identity, so I’ll give you two. Number one, you’ve known me since kindergarten— I have? Okay, number two, I share one of your classes. You know, guys, the bullies here have also known me since kindergarten.”

“Shut up Mike!” Dustin swats his shoulder. “Keep reading.”

“Anyway, those are your clues.” Mike continues. “Maybe I’ll give you some more leading up to Friday. For now, here’s a little something! I wanted to leave you a piece of chocolate but those aren’t thin enough to slot through your locker, so here’s a candy cane.”

“In February?” Lucas asks, raising an eyebrow.

Accompanying the letter in the envelope is a mini candy cane. Mike’s thrilled, and his first reaction is to look at Will, who seems to be fighting off a smile.

“Sick, I love candy canes.” Mike grins, shoving the candy cane into his pocket before he continues to read the letter. “Enjoy it! See you (hopefully) soon, love, your secret admirer.”

Mike clutches the letter in his hands, reading it over and trying to figure out what to make of it.

“Candy canes are advanced,” Max observes, “your insane amount of cavities outlasts the Christmas season.”

“I don’t have that many cavities,” Mike protests, and Will gives him a disbelieving look.

“That’s true, Max,” Dustin points out, “only Mike gleefully eats a candy cane at this time of year.”

The bell rings.

“Okay, we’ll discuss this…” Lucas thinks. “At lunch.”

“I thought we were meeting at my house after school?” Mike questions.

“Well, plans change, Mike,” Lucas adds an element of sass to his response, “we can just talk about it at lunch because we have the time to do that. We’ll still go to your place after school, we’ll just play Monopoly or something.”

“Oh, I’ll destroy all of you,” Max laughs, grabbing Lucas by the arm and walking off with him, Dustin and El making their way to their own classes behind them.

Mike slams his locker door shut and begins to make his way down the halls with Will, trying to unzip his jacket and failing because of his stupid stuck zipper.

“You know what, Will?” Mike starts, absently playing with his zipper and trying to get it to move. “I think that candy canes are a perfectly Valentine’s-y thing.”

“You do?” Will smirks, looking interested in Mike’s reasoning.

“Yeah, because,” Mike pulls the candy cane out of his pocket, “it’s like pink and white and red and stuff. And it’s sweet. That’s, like, everything that has ever been sold for Valentine’s day.”

“You do kind of have a point,” Will studies the candy cane, nodding his head, “does this mean that you think that candy canes are stupid and forgettable and boring now because you associate them with Valentine’s day?”

“Oh, I would never,” Mike says dramatically, still fighting his zipper, “candy canes are a blessing unto this Earth and some stupid holiday would never make me think less of them.”

“Alright, sure,” Will laughs, stopping next to his classroom, “do you need some help with your jacket?”

“Oh my god, yes, please,” Mike lets out a sigh of relief, dropping his arm in frustration, “I hate these things.”

“Okay, give me a second.” Will moves in closer, and Mike feels a spike in his heart rate for a reason he can’t explain.

Their faces are mere inches apart as Will grips Mike’s jacket with one hand to steady himself as the other tries to get the zipper to move.

Everything melts around Mike, and the one thing he can focus on is Will, so close to him, looking so concentrated on doing something that Mike could do himself with enough time and frustration, but he goes out of his way to help. This is why Will is literally the nicest guy on planet Earth.

He doesn’t know how long Will’s standing there and fixing his zipper, and he doesn't know why his chest grows tighter by the second, but eventually Will makes a noise of triumph as the jacket unzips, and Mike’s heart rate begins to return to normal as Will steps away.

“Thank you so much, dude.” Mike sighs, playfully pushing Will’s shoulder.

“No problem.” Will’s smile is something similar to sunlight, Mike thinks, and he doesn’t know why he thinks that as Will walks into his classroom. “Bye, Mike.”

“See you,” Mike waves until Will isn’t looking at him anymore, before dashing off to his own class.

When lunch rolls around, Mike switches his brain back on after whatever class he was zoned out in.

He navigates the suffocating halls, clutching the letter in his pocket as he makes his way over to the cafeteria.

Everyone’s already at the table when he gets there, and he catches Will’s eyes light up as he removes his backpack from the spot next to him and gives Mike a wave, like he does every day.

“Hey, guys,” Mike sits down casually, as Will slips him the other half of his sandwich.

“Hi, Mike.” Will responds, his usual grin wide.

“So,” Lucas interjects, “where’s the letter?”

Mike fishes the letter out of his unnecessarily cluttered pocket, unfolding it and placing it in the center of the table so everyone can read it.

“First of all,” Dustin begins, “Mike, who in this school have you known since kindergarten?”

“Like, everyone,” Mike answers, looking around the cafeteria to a sea of familiar faces.

“Very helpful.” Max rolls her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What?” Mike defends himself. “It’s Hawkins. Everyone’s known everyone since kindergarten. I’ve known Will since kindergarten.”

“Trust me, we know.” Max scoffs.

“Well, who do you share only one class with?” El tries, observing the writing on the letter.

“I don’t know,” Mike replies truthfully, “I don’t care. Um, I’m not sure, I mean the only person that comes to mind is Will.”

“I think Will is the only person that ever comes to your mind.” Lucas sighs, and Mike should think he’s being sarcastic but he looks like he means it.

“That’s not true,” Mike gets defensive once more, “I think about other people.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” Dustin smirks, “so Mike’s no help at all. Are these clues a dead end?”

“What about the candy cane?” El points out. “No one eats candy canes after Christmas, except for Mike. Did this person know that? Why else would they have a candy cane on hand?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Will’s smile grows inexplicably wider.

“Nice idea, Jane!” Dustin gives El a high-five. “What do we think, coincidence or not?”

“Not,” Max begins, smirking at Will, “what kind of person just has spare candy canes lying around in February? And how did they know Mike would be unreasonably happy about it? There are layers to this one.”

“Maybe,” Mike suggests, “they just think that candy canes actually have a Valentine’s vibe, like I do.”

“The only person who’s crazy enough to share that thought process with you is Will.” Max says bluntly.

“Actually, he did,” Mike says proudly, before realizing that Max is, per usual, insulting him. And she’s insulting Will.

“In my defence,” Will speaks up, “they’re pink and red and white and stuff. And they’re sweet. Mike had a very convincing argument.”

“Mike could convince you that pigs fly if given the chance,” Lucas crosses his arms and leans back, and Mike wonders if that’s true.

Will could definitely convince Mike that pigs fly, in like, two sentences. But Mike doesn’t think he appears as persuasive to Will.

“Okay, we’re doing this again,” Dustin sighs and reluctantly turns to Mike, “Mike, do you know anyone who you think knows you well enough to give you that candy cane? And I swear to god if you mention Will’s name we’re gonna throw hands.”

“Excluding Will? Um…” Mike taps his chin, acting as though he’s deep in thought. “No.”

“You’re no help at all.” Lucas groans, throwing his head back dramatically.

“I’m sorry guys,” Mike throws his hands up, “I just can’t think of anyone outside of the party who these clues line up with! We’re gonna have to think about this and try again when their hints get more specific.”

“That’s probably the best course of action,” El agrees, “Mike’s pretty much useless right now, so we should wait for some more clues.”

“Useless is kind of a harsh word, don’t you think?” Mike tries.

“No.”

“You guys are the worst.” Mike turns back to Will and throws an arm around him, using the other hand to grip Will’s shirt. “Will, you’re the only one here who cares about me. They all hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” Will laughs, “we'll just have to wait for the next clues.”

Lucas observes their position, with Mike’s arm tightly around his shoulder and his hand firmly gripping the collar of Will’s shirt, Will’s arm snaking around Mike’s waist. There’s nothing romantic about it. It’s a totally platonic position for two people who are best friends to be in when having friendly banter with one another. However, Lucas isn’t the brightest so he doesn’t seem to understand how platonic all of this is.

“Are you sure you actually wanna find this admirer or do you just wanna kiss Will?” Lucas asks bluntly.

Mike feels his face furiously heating up. He doesn’t know quite why, because he doesn’t want to kiss Will so he shouldn’t be embarrassed about the claim.

But why would he want to kiss Will? The very idea of that is outlandish. In no universe would that ever happen. Mike’s been over this. He would kiss Will, platonically, if he ever had to. But to want to is absurd. He would literally never, and he’s outraged that Lucas even got that idea from their completely platonic displays of affection.

He looks up at Will, face burning, to see Will’s face quite red as well. He assumes it’s from the slight cold weather, because Will’s chill and not at all into Mike, so he would never be caught blushing at such a dumb joke.

Will saves Mike from saying something way too defensive when he steps in, sounding like he’s kind of fumbling his words.

“I’m sure he cares about the letter,” Will stammers, and he looks oddly like he’s trying to keep his cool, “it’s just because I’m not joining in with you guys to gang up on him.”

“Yeah, okay,” Max leans forward, “you guys can let go of each other now.”

Will awkwardly removes his arm from Mike’s waist as Mike pulls away as well, separating the two and making Mike feel a lot colder.

“What’cha drawing?”

Mike sneaks up on Will, who seems to be focused on completing a little comic strip on a sheet of paper on top of his textbook.

This morning, Mike overslept a little, getting into school with no time to do anything before first period, so he’s just stumbled into his history class, still half asleep and shivering from the cold.

“Morning, Mike,” Will’s idle smile grows brighter as he looks up from his desk to see Mike standing next to it, “where were you this morning? Did you sleep in?”

“Yeah,” Mike drawls, “hey, don’t look so worried. You know Tuesdays make me tired.”

“Every day makes you tired,” Will still looks concerned, “did you sleep okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Mike laughs, because he’s telling the truth, “the whole letter thing’s so bizarre it keeps me up sometimes.”

That’s also the truth. Mike doesn’t lie to Will unless the times are desperate, and they rarely are. Sure, his version of the truth is kind of vague, but he was kept up last night by the whole admirer situation.

“I get that,” Will looks slightly more at ease, “speaking of the letter, you should probably apologize to Max. She’s pissed that you left us all hanging this morning and gave us no time to check your locker.”

Mike looks over to Max across the classroom, and she definitely doesn’t look happy.

“I have nothing to apologize for,” Mike crosses his arms, because he likes being stubborn.

“Mike,” Will disapproves, and the way Will says Mike’s name like that could convince him to do anything.

“Fine,” Mike folds instantly, turning to Max, “I’m sorry.”

His apology is very much half assed, but it would’ve been no apology at all if Will hadn’t used his sorcery to persuade Mike into doing something so very difficult.

Max rolls her eyes, looking like she’s about to say something perhaps hurtful but a look from Will shuts her up and leaves her to lay her head on the desk.

“Anyway,” Mike turns his focus back to Will, “what’cha drawing?”

“Oh, right,” Will picks up the piece of paper on his desk, “it’s us. Well, our D&D characters. The comic strip isn’t quite finished yet but I’m like, casting a spell on you.”

“Sick,” Mike gets a closer look at the comic, “what kind of spell?”

“Up to interpretation,” Will shrugs but something smug makes its way across his face, “maybe it’s a love spell because—”

“Don’t say Valentine’s day,” Mike groans as Will chuckles.

“Fine, fine,” Will smile lingers, “you can keep it if you want. I’ll give it to you when I’m finished drawing it.”

“Awesome,” Mike grins and sits down at his desk, right behind Will’s.

A love spell.

There are literally zero implications behind Will’s drawings and what it means, just a little comic strip of two best friends, and one of them casts a love spell on the other. Or he doesn’t. Will said it’s up to interpretation. Either way, it’s totally platonic.

Mike knows Will only actually said that because he was trying to get on his nerves about Valentine’s day, but the idea lingers in his head. He entertains it for a moment, nothing more than a moment.

Will the Wise, casting a spell on Mike the Brave that makes him fall in love with him. It’s ridiculous. However, Mike can’t help but wonder what it would be like to fall in love with Will Byers.

Shit, no he doesn’t. He wonders what it would be like for Mike the Brave to fall in love with Will the Wise. It’s completely different.

It’s cheesy, sure, but he can only smile at the thought of Mike’s D&D character being absolutely smitten for Will’s. Of course, that doesn’t affect their very platonic friendship in real life, because they’re just fictional characters who happen to look exactly like them and are inspired by them in every possible way, but it’s totally different to real life.

But, as cute as it is to imagine, it doesn’t take long for his mind to wander and for the paladin and the cleric in his head to morph into the real life versions of Mike and Will.

He doesn’t know why. It’s probably nothing, just getting the outfits mixed up. After all, perhaps Mike has already fallen in love with Will, but platonically.

Because, at the end of the day, Mike cares for Will more than anyone else, and they’ve exchanged “I love you man”s on occasion. So Mike does love Will, but like a friend loves a friend. He would say like a brother loves a brother, but something about that feels icky for a reason he can’t put his finger on.

The whole point is, if Will the Wise were to cast a love spell on Mike the Brave, that would be funny and cute, and also completely unrelated to Mike’s real life relationship with Will. Because Mike and Will love each other, but platonically. They’re not in love, because the mere idea of that is unthinkable, and Will can’t cast a spell to change that. Not that Will would ever want to cast a love spell on Mike, because of how platonically they both feel about each other.

Maybe Mike spends too long thinking about this, his brain completely zoned out while his eyes are fixed on Will’s concentrated figure in front of him, taking notes while Mike’s notebook remains absolutely blank.

Before he knows it, class is over and his brain is practically mush, but this time it’s less because of the concept of history as a whole and more so because of the mental pretzel he’s gotten himself into while thinking about a fun comic strip Will’s drawing that is also completely up to interpretation.

Max joins the two as they walk out of the classroom together, still looking drained, because who isn’t drained?

“Congratulations,” Max begins, “you two didn’t pass any of your stupid notes today.”

“It was the least we could do after pissing you off this morning.” Will smiles. He’s so sweet it’s sickening.

“Who’s we?” Mike asks, because he would much prefer to be exchanging his silly notes with Will than to be making up for something he quite frankly isn’t sorry for.

“Right,” Will starts to correct himself, “it was the least Mike could do after pissing you off this morning.”

Mike hits him on the arm, and Will hits back.

Unsurprisingly, Dustin and El are already waiting at Mike’s locker, Lucas trailing not far behind.

“Where were you this morning?” Dustin huffs.

“Overslept.” Mike shrugs, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“Seriously?” Lucas makes a noise of mild annoyance. “Whatever. Just unlock the locker, man.”

It takes Mike about one, full, agonizing minute of entering the locker code and then slamming on it with all of his might for the door to swing open, and, as the group had hoped, a letter falls out.

Will catches it and gives it to Mike, the “to Mike” on the back of the envelope the same as the previous two letters.

Mike opens the envelope, retrieving the piece of paper tucked inside and unfolding it.

“Dear Mike,” he begins, “I’m kind of embarrassed. This is my third letter and I’m already running out of things to say to you. I have so much that I can only tell you in person. Luring me out to lover’s lake. I’m gonna get drowned.”

Mike’s comment causes a collective groan from the entire group.

“Whatever. Anyway, just to keep you entertained until Valentine’s day, I’ll give you another hint. Saying we share one class was perhaps a bit vague, so I’ll tell you that we’re in the same history class.”

“We can work with that.” El thinks out loud.

“I have another candy cane on hand, here you go. Love, your secret admirer.”

“You sat in that damn history class this morning,” Max looks over at the letter, “if you decide to be useless and say the only person you can think of in that class is Will, I will explode.”

“Fine, whatever,” Mike rolls his eyes as he stuffs the letter in his pocket, “sorry you just hate joy and whimsy and fun and that I like to talk about my best friend.”

“You like to talk about your best friend too much.” El states, and Lucas, Max, and Dustin all make noises of agreement.

Much to Erica Sinclair’s dismay, the party decides to meet at Lucas’s house after school.

They went over the details of the letter at lunch, but Mike was too busy happily munching on his candy cane and “flirting” with Will to contribute to the discussion.

So now, the six of them are in Lucas’s room, and Will and Max are helping Mike to name everyone in their history class.

As it turns out, naming everyone in Mike’s history class and then narrowing it down to everyone who doesn’t share any other classes with Mike, and then narrowing it down to everyone who’s known Mike since kindergarten, isn’t easy on the brain.

Mike’s repeated use of “the only person I can think of is Will” gains him multiple hits from various people around the room.

The group is sat in some kind of circle on Lucas’s bedroom floor, the three letters in the centre as they try to make something of them, Mike trying to do the mental gymnastics of working out everyone he can narrow it down to.

“Dude, I’m so getting pranked,” Mike throws his head back and groans as dramatically as he can.

“I’m starting to think you are,” Lucas reads through the first letter, “this is all insane.”

“We’ve narrowed it down to five girls right now.” Max says, looking just about ready to give up.

“Why did you have to have a secret admirer, Mike?” Dustin sighs. “These clues are so cryptic it hurts. We’re getting nowhere.”

“Do you guys see why I hate Valentine’s day now?” Mike says plainly, getting up to leave the room. “I’m getting a snack.”

“Bring me something!” Lucas calls as Mike leaves the room.

Mike makes his way down to the kitchen, and he’s inspecting the fridge when someone else enters the room.

“Will?”

“I decided to come with you,” Will says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever, “I could do with a snack.”

“Okay, great.” Mike nods as Will comes to examine the fridge’s contents with him.

“Oh, and by the way,” Will digs around in his pockets to fish out a piece of paper, “here’s the comic I was drawing this morning.”

Mike takes the drawing and unfolds it, and all he can do is smile at the cute little comic strip in front of him. Will’s drawings are extremely special to Mike. There’s an entire space in his heart dedicated to Will’s artwork.

There’s an entire space in his room, too. Mike knows that the first thing he’s going to do when he gets home is get a roll of tape and stick this on his wall.

“This is so cool,” Mike finally speaks after admiring the drawing for too long, “I love it, man. Thanks so much.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Will’s proud smile makes Mike want to melt.

It’s a really nice moment between two platonic best friends until Mike moves to fold the paper back up, but the edge of the paper brushes Mike’s finger a little too hard.

A sudden spike of pain in Mike’s finger causes him to inhale sharply, looking at his finger to see a small cut and a drop of blood sitting on it.

“What’s wrong?” Will asks, the smile on his face instantly shifting to worry.

“I got a paper cut,” Mike replies weakly and holds his finger up for Will to see, “I got a paper cut. I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Will chuckles at Mike’s immense pain and suffering, “not on my watch at least. Nancy would kill me. I’m just starting to get her approval, you know.”

“Why would you need her approval?” Mike’s laughter sort of distracts him from the fatal wound on his finger. “Plus, I think you’ve been having her approval. She’s dating your brother.”

“But what if I wanted to date her brother?” Will retorts, before something resembling instant regret washes over his face.

“Will,” Mike laughs, “you know I’m Nancy’s only brother.”

Will looks as if he’s going to say something more before simply shoving his face into his palm for a second.

Mike isn’t sure why. He knows that Will was saying a dumb comeback joke. You know, like someone says “it’s a cat” and the immediate comeback is “you’re a cat” or something dumb like that that makes no sense. It’s— he can’t explain it, but he knows what he’s talking about.

Because, obviously, Mike is Nancy’s only brother, and Will obviously isn’t looking to date him. Not to mention that despite Will’s consistent lack of a girlfriend or interest in girls in general, Mike’s pretty sure that he’s straight.

So Will made a dumb joke, and it got a chuckle out of Mike. Maybe any joke that Will makes could make Mike laugh, but that’s besides the point.

He doesn’t understand why Will reacted the way he did, looking like he regretted saying it and the facepalming after Mike’s response. It’s probably nothing, though, so Mike decides not to dwell on it, because the overwhelming pain in his finger is more important than that right now.

Will’s eyes flicker to Mike’s finger, and he starts digging around his pocket.

“Here,” Will pulls out a pack of band-aids and carefully takes one out, “give me your hand.”

Will wraps the band-aid around Mike’s finger with the utmost care, his fingers delicately brushing Mike’s hand and sparks seem to fly at the touch.

There’s something oddly intimate about having someone put on his band-aid, Mike thinks. He can’t explain why, but the way Will seems so unbothered about Mike repeating that the end is near, and he’s so focused on something as simple as wrapping a band-aid around a paper cut, touching Mike’s hand so gently and carefully, makes his chest feel funny.

Mike could go as far as to say it’s attractive, objectively. But Mike isn’t attracted to Will because of this, because it’s an objectively attractive thing to do, but it’s done completely platonically.

Most people don’t even put band-aids on paper cuts, let alone have their friend do it for them. It makes Mike feel very close to Will. He thinks it fitting, because he knows Will thrives on small gestures of kindness, which is why Mike thinks he’d make a great boyfriend.

“There you go,” Will moves his hand away from Mike’s, and Mike can’t help but feel a little disappointed, “this is why I always carry band-aids with me. Now you’re not gonna die.”

“I guess it’s good that you do that,” Mike acknowledges, “thanks, dude. Mike Wheeler lives to see another day.”

The two make their way back to Lucas’s room, having completely forgotten about their original goal— the snacks.

“How’s the cut? Does it still hurt?” Will asks as they walk down the hall, looking ever so slightly concerned.

“I’m in immense pain.” Mike responds, and he feels warm at seeing Will’s light smile. “Nah, I’m just kidding. It’s alright, it just hurts a little.”

When they enter the room, Lucas immediately sits up.

“Finally, what took you guys so long?” Lucas blinks, seeing Will and Mike carrying no snacks whatsoever. “Where’s my snack?”

Will and Mike share a look with each other, and Mike doesn’t know what’s so funny, but they both burst into laughter at the same time.

Mike has come to terms with the fact that he’s not getting a girlfriend this Valentine’s day. Instead, Will’s going to be taking full responsibility for Mike’s murder.

There are about five girls they can narrow it down to, four being girls who Mike has never even properly looked at and one being some girl called Stephanie who despises him because he accidentally got gum in her hair in elementary school. He’s pretty sure the other four girls also hate him for various other reasons.

If anything falls out of Mike’s locker today, it’s going to be a love letter full of bullshit and a candy cane if he’s lucky.

He doesn’t even know if he wants a girlfriend this Valentine’s day. Hypothetically, if this isn’t a catfish, this is some random girl who barely knows him at all. And she, like, really likes him, and he’s probably never even acknowledged her existence.

He’s not sure how good of a boyfriend he’d be to a girl he hardly knows. He’s never even been able to imagine himself with a girlfriend.

At the end of the day, Mike would rather spend Valentine’s day like he does every year, forgetting about its existence and making disgusted noises whenever it’s mentioned and eating chocolates with Will.

He would much rather spend the day with Will than some girl. Platonically, of course, but Will is infinitely more important to Mike than this admirer, and he imagines that she wouldn’t entertain Mike’s ranting about how much he hates Valentine’s day quite like Will does.

No one entertains Mike’s drama quite like Will does. Maybe it’s because he’s known Will the longest, but he’s afraid that whoever this person is would just find Mike annoying.

And everyone finds Mike annoying. Including Will, probably, but Will’s cute about it, and he comes off as endeared by how annoying Mike is.

The entire party seems deterred from the whole situation now, too, after they spent hours at Lucas’s house to get results that make no sense. No one has completely given up on the entire thing, but everyone except for Will and Max are considering the fact that it’s a catfish, which it definitely is, by the way.

There’s no letter today. When Mike gets his locker open, nothing falls out aside from another candy cane, which falls to the floor before Will can catch it, shattering to pieces and putting even more of a damper on Mike’s already crappy Wednesday morning.

El goes throughout the day trying desperately to bring up group morale, suggesting that they all go to the diner after school. Everyone goes along with it, because El’s just such a bundle of joy and some waffle fries don’t sound bad.

The cold is bitter this morning but the afternoon just takes on more of a cool breeze with gray skies, which Mike is very thankful for.

Mike’s fingertips aren’t cold thanks to his awesome leather gloves, but he has to be careful when taking them off so as to not remove the band-aid on his finger with them.

Whenever he looks at the band-aid, he thinks back to the sort of intimate moment he shared with Will when he put that band-aid on his paper cut.

It wasn’t all that intimate, and it was one hundred percent platonic, but something strange still grows in Mike’s chest the more he thinks about it. He figures it’s just the pain from the paper cut making its way into his heart through his bloodstream or whatever, he doesn’t care about the biological logic of that right now.

He pries his focus away from his hands as the group walks into the diner, the air as warm and welcoming as always.

This place is a pretty iconic hangout spot for the party. They have this one booth at the back that’s basically reserved for them at this point.

It was also Mike and Will’s “date” spot. Their platonic date, of course, but the whole point is that this group is very familiar with this diner.

And why wouldn’t they be? It’s cozy and it serves good food. That’s all anyone could ask for in a hangout space.

The six of them make their way into their usual booth at the back, picking up their menus as if they don’t all get the same thing every time they come here.

“Okay, Will,” Mike turns to Will, menu in hand, “what am I getting?”

“I’m not sure…” Will leans over to look at the menu, deep in thought. “Some waffle fries don't sound bad.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Mike smiles and looks at Will, whose face is surprisingly close to his right about now. “We’re, like, on the same wavelength.”

“Great, so we can share a side,” Will taps his fingers on the slightly sticky table, “what about mains?”

“I don’t know, wanna try something new?” Mike contemplates, before shaking his head and answering his own question. “Nah.”

“Agreed, how about we just get the usual?”

“Sounds good.”

Across the table from them, Lucas and Max are having a similar conversation about what they’re going to get.

“Woah, Max, look!” Lucas’s face lights up and Max rolls her eyes, seemingly knowing he’s about to say something dumb. “The couple’s discount. Valentine’s day special.”

“I promise you said this last year,” Max playfully hits him on the arm, “every meal the discount applies to sucks. It’s not worth saving the money.”

“I already know what I’m getting,” El says, a smile on her face.

“Oh really? What would that be?” Dustin looks up from his menu and grins at her.

“Of course. Waffles. From the “breakfast for dinner” part of the menu.” El looks elated at the mere idea of having waffles.

“Your usual, huh?” Dustin’s smile softens.

“Why would I change it?” El tilts her head. “Waffles are bitchin’.”

“Preach your truth,” Dustin looks back at his menu, whistling a tune, “waffles are pretty awesome.”

The entire party is all in agreement to get the same thing that they get every time they visit the diner by the time the waiter comes to take their orders.

In fact, they’re so frequent that when the waiter comes around he simply says “the usual?” like you see in the movies. Mike feels like he’s achieved something by having the waiter recognize him and his friends as regulars.

When the waiter leaves, Lucas throws his head back and starts up at discussion.

“The secret admirer thing is annoying me so bad,” he groans, “we have no plausible options and we didn’t even get another hint today. Just some stupid candy cane.”

“The candy cane’s not stupid,” Mike corrects, remembering the sad candy cane that he had to eat like pop rocks after it was smashed to pieces, “it’s not my fault you don’t like whimsy.”

“I can be whimsical, but not when it comes to eating candy canes in February.”

“Not to mention this admirer has been leaving him candy canes for three days in a row,” Dustin adds, “and from who we’ve narrowed it down to, they have literally no reason to have a clue that Mike would keep eating them at this time of year.”

“Yeah, five random girls and one of them hates his guts,” Max snorts, “it’s honestly kind of funny if she just assumed that you’re the type to eat candy canes after Christmas.”

“Maybe you just have that vibe,” El shrugs.

“I doubt it…” Mike mumbles.

“Well, tomorrow’s the day before Valentine’s day,” Will chimes in, “they want to meet you at lover’s lake on Friday. They’ll probably leave you another letter to elaborate about that.”

“That’s the good ending,” Mike taps his foot, “but man, they weren’t kidding when they said yesterday that they were running out of things to say.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Max throws a smirk in what seems to be Will’s direction.

Mike eventually gets a little cold, so he scoots in to sit closer to Will. There’s space in the booth, but there’s nothing wrong with a little huddling for warmth, and he knows that Will won’t mind.

Will scoots in as well, and the two end up with their shoulders pressed together just a little, which makes Mike feel warm.

The other four are engrossed in their own conversation by now, but Max briefly breaks off from the discussion when she notices.

“Why are you two sitting so close?” There’s a teasing glint in her eye. “The booth isn’t cramped.”

“I’m cold.” Mike says simply.

“And does huddling up to Will make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?” Max makes fun of him, putting on a cheesy voice.

Actually, it does, strangely enough. However, Mike doesn’t say that because he fears that’s exactly what she wants to hear.

“Nope,” he shakes his head, “I feel warm… externally.”

Will laughs lightly, leaning in ever so slightly closer.

“You’re so stupid.” Max rolls her eyes and turns back to Lucas, El and Dustin.

“I bet he’s not as stupid as someone who thinks that lukewarm water is superior to ice cold!” Lucas interjects.

“Are we still on about this?” Max huffs, but something like fondness sparkles in her eyes. “Room temperature water would destroy ice cold in a one-on-one fight.”

“In your dreams.” Lucas smirks.

Lucas and Max’s bickering is diffused by the water showing up again, bringing their orders to the table.

The argument quickly resumes once everyone starts eating, and Mike decides to join in.

“Oh my god, Max, what are you talking about?” Mike takes a waffle fry and pops it in his mouth. “You’re literally always wrong. Ice cold water is a blessing unto this earth and lukewarm is disgusting.”

“You know what, I don’t think so,” Will takes a waffle fry and starts dissecting it rather than eating like a normal person, “I’ve always preferred room temperature. Ice cold gives you brain freeze and stuff, and it makes you really cold if you drink too much.”

“But it tastes better!” Lucas argues.

“I don’t know, I’ve gotta agree with Max.” Will shrugs, and Max makes a sound of triumph.

“Take that!” She cheers. “I’ve got Will on my side while the person agreeing with you is Mike. That’s gotta hurt.”

Mike steps on her foot under the table.

“Oh come on Mike, be civilized.” Will teases, and kicks Mike’s foot under the table.

Mike kicks back, and Will’s foot rests on Mike’s, his shoe brushing against the hem on Mike’s jeans.

A game of foostie. Something hot flies through Mike’s face.

Okay, it’s barely a game of footsie. They’re simply just kicking each other’s feet under the table for fun. Plus, even if it is, footsie isn’t inherently romantic and, in Mike and Will’s case, is just a fun platonic game which is not at all any form of flirting.

But even knowing that, there’s a closeness that comes with it. The way they don’t sit still for long, they exchange a grin while they lightly kick each other, legs tangling under the table, it all feels electric.

Electric. That’s a dumb way to describe it, but Mike can’t think of anything else. There’s just some kind of electricity in the air.

Some kind of very platonic electricity.

The group shuffles from argument to argument, and whenever Mike and Will disagree, their shoes move from resting against each other to a full on war with each other. It feels kind of intimate.

There’s that word again. Intimate. Mike thinks that word to sound more romantic than he intends, but it’s the only one he can think of for the way he interacts with Will, for some reason.

Mike tries to make his smile less obvious, because he doesn’t need the group catching on and thinking something outlandish like Mike and Will are flirting or whatever.

Because obviously they’re not. Everyone with common sense can see that they’re partaking in a platonic game of footsie, because that’s a normal thing for best friends to do.

Unfortunately, he’s surrounded by dumbasses who think that everything he does with Will is romantic.

The two have never really played footsie before. Not like this, at least. Mike thinks he can get used to it. There’s something so homey about it.

He presses his shoulder a little closer to Will’s, their hands touching ever so slightly. He knows he wouldn’t be comfortable like this with anyone else. For a second, he tries thinking about if he was doing this with Max and he almost feels sick.

But Will’s different. Will’s warm and gentle and inviting, and everything feels comfortable with him.

Sunshine basically radiates off of him every time Mike glances at his big goofy grin, and Mike’s eyes always drift down to his mouth for a second before he catches himself losing eye contact and brings them back up. He doesn’t know why.

Maybe the next time they’re at the diner, Mike will initiate another game of footsie. Because it’s fun. It makes him feel at ease in a way that makes him just want to melt into Will’s company and never leave him.

A fire practically ignites at the thought of doing this more often. Just Will and Mike, leaning on each other while bickering with the rest of the party like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His brain itches for it, like he’s been rewired by this experience and can’t live the rest of his life without it.

For some strange reason, however, the thought of playing footsie with Will platonically doesn’t quite scratch that itch.

The game lingers until everyone is done eating, and everyone pays — except for Max, who won in Monopoly on Monday so everyone agreed that she doesn’t have to pay for her meal today — and they shuffle out the booth.

Mike trails slightly behind Will as he sees Max go up to him, grinning.

“A game of footsie?” Mike hears her say, her voice hushed.

Will nods and subtly gives her a fist bump.

Mike wonders why Max noticed it and didn’t make fun of them for “flirting” in the diner with the whole group.

But most of all, he wonders why his simple platonic game of footsie with Will is a fist bump-worthy achievement.

It’s one more sleep.

But this time it’s not one more sleep until something fun and exciting like Christmas, it’s one more sleep until either Mike gets drowned in cold blood or some poor unsuspecting girl gets stood up by the royal asshole that is Michael Wheeler.

Or, the secret third option, Mike gets a girlfriend he barely knows, which he fears is a recipe for disaster.

He told himself he was going to wake up early this morning to get the letter, but he ends up deciding that he can’t be bothered, and gets out of bed at his normal time.

The good news is, he gets to school with time to spare, the entire group standing at his locker as El taps her wrist, which doesn’t actually have a watch on it.

Mike might as well still be asleep as he uses all the energy he can muster to slam his fist on the locker door until it opens, trying to wake himself up.

“Could you be any slower?” Max groans, pushing him aside. “Let me try.”

She bangs on the door once, and it pops open instantly.

“Beginner’s luck,” Mike huffs, catching the letter that falls out.

He checks the back of the letter, seeing the same “To Mike” that’s on every one of them.

“Dear Mike,” he begins, “sorry I didn’t leave you a note yesterday, I found myself with nothing to say. I didn’t want to give you another hint and make it too obvious. I left you another candy cane, though.”

“Not so much a candy cane as a bunch of candy pieces,” Dustin comments.

“Tomorrow is Valentine’s day!” Mike pauses to make a mandatory noise of disgust, garnering a hit on the shoulder from both Will and Lucas. “I told you to meet me at Lover’s Lake in my first letter, so I’ll give a few more details. I’ll be at Skull Rock at seven p.m. tomorrow.”

“Skull Rock? The makeout spot?” Lucas whistles.

“Meet me there, I’ll be waiting. Love, your secret admirer.” Mike checks the envelope, and there’s nothing else in it. “P.S. I ran out of candy canes. Sorry!”

There’s a second of silence before Mike bursts into a dramatic groan.

“She ran out?” Mike bangs his head against the locker door. “Man, those are the best things about these letters.”

“So, we need to decide,” Will begins, “how safe is it to let Mike meet this person?”

“Right,” Dustin nods and taps his chin, “because it could be a catfish.”

“It is a catfish.” Mike says simply.

“But it could also be one of those five girls we narrowed it down to.” Lucas adds, glaring at Mike’s pessimism.

“It’s a fifty-fifty,” El observes, “if you go, you risk getting pranked, but if you don’t, you risk standing her up.”

“Should I stay or should I go?” Mike attempts to say nonchalantly, but he fails to hold back his stupid grin. “Get it? Should I stay or should I go? The Clash?”

He’s met with four straight faces.

“No one finds you funny.” Lucas states, an unamused expression painting his features.

“I find you funny, Mike,” Will smiles, before gleefully breaking into song through laughs, which causes a collective groan from everyone in the group except for Mike.

“Oh look what you’ve done, you’ve set him off!” Max steps on Mike’s foot. “You know what, send him to the lake. Let him drown.”

El, Lucas and Dustin all agree, and Mike makes an offended noise before he throws an arm around Will’s shoulder and joins in on his singing.

“I say we let Mike go.” Dustin interrupts, making Mike and Will stop singing, and Mike take his arm off of Will’s shoulder.

“Really?” El asks.

“Yeah, because I’d feel bad if it’s not a prank,” he plucks the note from Mike’s hands, “again, look at the handwriting.”

“Will’s with different “k”s.” Mike interjects.

“Uh-huh. Maybe I’m being presumptuous, but it doesn’t scream bully handwriting. And we have multiple plausible options for who it could be, and all the candy canes is a nice gesture. It would suck if she got stood up.”

“I agree,” El nods sympathetically, “I would feel really bad.”

“But what if it is a catfish?” Mike points out.

“Which brings me to my next point,” Dustin gestures to Will, “I say we let Mike go, but someone goes with him. Then they can leave if it’s not a prank, and they can get out of there together, or fight off the bully, if it is.”

“And we all know who Mike’s gonna pick to go with him.” Lucas rolls his eyes, gesturing to Will as well.

“I think Will should go with me.” Mike says, oblivious to how Dustin and Lucas are making fun of him.

“You’re painfully predictable.” Max crosses her arms.

“What? Will’s my best friend.” Mike justifies. “And I think he could take a bully in a fight.”

“I don’t know how you think that at all, but thanks for believing in me, I guess?” Will smiles fondly, as Mike punches him on the shoulder.

“Get a room!” Lucas shouts as the bell rings, grabbing Max to walk away with him.

“You better start your combat training,” Mike jokes as he slams his locker shut, “I don’t think it’s gonna be a secret admirer.”

“I don’t think so,” Will crosses his arms and leans against the wall, “I do think that there’s someone with a crush on you. But if it is a prank, I can be your knight in shining armor.”

“No, dude,” Mike laughs and gives Will another light push, “I’m your knight in shining armor. Stay in your lane.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Will chuckles, beginning to match his walking pace with Mike’s, “the point is, I’m there if anything happens.”

“Thanks, man,” Mike’s smile softens, “for being so confident that it’s not a prank. I’m glad that you think I’m not repulsive enough for the idea of anyone liking me to seem crazy.”

“Yeah, of course,” Will nods, “I think it’s totally possible. Max just likes to hate.”

“I know,” Mike sighs, “it would be kind of an ego boost. The idea of someone liking me, I mean.” And that’s true.

Mike has a lot to think about, which makes him unable to focus in class. The idea of a secret admirer seemed bonkers from the beginning, but there’s so much more to it.

He could be getting pranked by some bully, which is possible. But then again, it could be some random girl in his history class who managed to develop such a huge crush on him that she signs her notes to him off with “love”.

The entire situation is insane. Mike has no reason to have gotten these notes. He wonders why this bully, why this girl, chose him specifically.

Why Mike? More importantly, why not Will? Will is so much cooler than Mike. There’s nothing special about Mike, but he’s basically already jealous of Will’s future girlfriend.

Okay, he’s not jealous of Will’s future girlfriend. Why would he be jealous of Will’s future girlfriend? It was a dumb thing to think, because the idea of Mike being jealous of Will’s future girlfriend implies that he would want to be Will’s future boyfriend, which is beyond absurd.

He wouldn’t be jealous of her, he would just wish he was her.

Nope, not better. Worse, actually.

The whole point is, whoever dates Will is going to be lucky, and whoever dates Mike is going to break up with him in a week.

A part of him worries that his hypothetical girlfriend would think that he’s secretly in love with Will or something, given that everyone thinks that they’re dating for some bizarre reason.

He’s been over this multiple times, the idea of him loving Will in any way more than platonically is utterly ridiculous, but he’s kind of concerned that everyone is dumb enough to think of them as a couple.

That thought seems to open a can of worms because he can stop it, he starts imagining him and Will as a couple. He tries desperately to suppress the thought, but something inside him twists as he pictures Will as his boyfriend, saying he loves him and sneaking around to steal kisses in private, or whatever boyfriends do.

Something inside him twists but it’s not something bad. As much as he feels as though he should be, he isn’t uncomfortable with the idea of dating Will.

He would be lucky to be in a relationship with Will, actually, super lucky. He knows how well Will would treat a lover and also Will’s just so awesome and he’s known Mike for over a decade and he’s the person Mike cares about most and Mike bets he would be, like, a really good kisser.

He definitely shouldn’t think about that. After all, he’s thinking about this from a completely objective and one hundred percent platonic lens, and the thought of kissing Will that floods into his head is making him have doubts about just how platonically he’s thinking about this matter.

Again, it’s not a bad thought. He’s actually just simply complimenting Will. It’s a really intense, almost romantic compliment.

Will hasn’t even had his first kiss yet, as far as Mike’s aware. He thinks that whoever isn’t kissing Will at this point in his life might be seriously missing out. That’s another thought he shouldn’t have had, because now he wonders how he would hypothetically kiss Will. Probably on his bed, maybe in his basement, just anywhere private and cozy. He would be soft and slow and careful, pinning Will up against the wall and cupping his face, maybe Will would have a hand around Mike’s waist or up in his hair and he would—

Woah. He got way too into that fantasy for a second.

So into it that he almost starts to believe that he wants to kiss Will.

Key word— almost, because that idea is crazy.

It’s so, unbelievably, stupidly crazy.

Mike can’t sleep.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s day, and everything about this insane situation is going through his head at once.

Or maybe, today is Valentine’s day. Whether it’s past midnight or not is completely beyond him.

He sits on his bed, absently playing with his hair as light from the street lamps seeps through the window, illuminating his otherwise dark room.

Everything that he’s contemplated since this entire shit show began, from thinking that Will is more deserving of an admirer to thinking that he wouldn’t be a good boyfriend to thinking that he can’t even imagine himself dating a girl and everything, just fuses together to create one strange amalgamation of thoughts racing through his brain.

Of course there’s the obvious consideration that some loser is messing with him, and he finds himself seriously not ready to die.

But how are things going to go if it’s real? Perhaps it took being faced with the possibility to see it clearly, but Mike doesn’t want a girlfriend. Especially not one he isn’t even already friends with.

You know what they say, every good romance starts with a good friendship. This girl would be confessing her “love” to him, and he doesn’t even know her favorite color.

What would they even talk about? They might have literally nothing in common. Mike doesn’t want to date someone he can’t talk with for hours, about everything and nothing.

If he were to date someone, it would be someone like Will. He wishes Will would stop being the name that immediately comes to mind whenever he thinks about this, but he can’t help himself. Will is the sweetest person Mike has ever met and they’ve been best friends for years and they know each other like the back of their own hands and they tell each other everything and Mike feels so comfortable with Will.

That’s what he would look for in a relationship. Not some random girl who he’s never even looked at for longer than two seconds.

But at the same time, what’s he gonna do, reject her? After she left all those notes? After she gave him candy canes for three days in a row? That almost doesn’t feel like an option.

All that’s why Mike’s sort of secretly hoping that he’s being catfished. Because a relationship is something that Mike doesn’t want with this hypothetical girl, and this hypothetical girl would surely regret dating Mike. He’d probably get added to her list of loser exes who never really cared about her.

The idea of dating just to have a long list of exes has never been something that has appealed to him. Mike wants to date someone he loves; someone who loves him back.

If it’s a prank, Mike will be pretty pissed, sure, but in the end he can fight off the loser with Will and then they’ll look back on it and laugh, and tell people that’s the reason Mike hates Valentine’s day so much.

Because a week ago Mike would’ve said he hates Valentine’s day, but now he dreads it. He dreads the idea of the stupid day rolling around and he has to go all the way out to skull rock when he could be chilling out in his basement. The only comforting aspect of it is having Will by his side on the way there.

Mike thinks he needs to have Will by his side right about now.

Just at that moment, as if he wished it into existence, Mike’s thrown back into reality when he hears a knock on his window.

He’s scared shitless at first, his immediate thought is that a serial killer’s coming to get him, because why else would someone be knocking on his window in the dead of night? When he looks out the window, however, there’s a very familiar figure nervously smiling up at him.

“Will?” He blinks as he opens the window, the night’s cold air hitting his face.

“Hello,” Will grins, his cheeks red, “a little help?”

Mike mirrors his grin and pulls him in through the window, grabbing his hands, which are cold to the touch.

Will stumbles into his room and sits on Mike’s bed, catching his breath.

“What are you doing here?” Mike isn’t at all mad that Will just snuck through his window, just a tiny bit confused.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Will states plainly with a shrug of the shoulders.

“You couldn’t sleep and the first thing you did was come to my house?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Mike smiles, and he can’t stop smiling. He feels all warm and fuzzy inside, which isn’t unusual when he’s around Will, but it’s something he feels high on.

He fishes around his closet for a jacket and sits down on his bed next to Will.

“Here,” he tosses the jacket to Will, “it’s freezing out there.”

“Well, it’s not actually freezing.” Will corrects, looking smug. “For it to be freezing it has to be below thirty two degrees.”

“Yeah, okay, I know,” Mike laughs, fondness obvious in his voice, “just put the damn jacket on.”

The two press themselves up against the wall, leaning on each other. Will has never been the best sleeper, whether it’s nightmares or just not being able to keep his eyes shut. Mike knows how to comfort Will when he can’t sleep, he picked it up on all the sleepovers they used to have as kids.

It usually helps most to just sit in a comfy position and talk. That’s probably why Will’s decided to come here tonight, because usually he sits next to Mike and they talk about whatever they can think of until Will gets comfortable and nods off.

However, it did throw Mike off to see Will show up in his room, because he’s never gone out of his way to sneak through Mike’s window before. It makes Mike feel sort of honored that he’s the person Will goes to first, even if he lives across town.

“I wanna say you can’t sleep for the same reason I can’t?” Mike asks, turning to face Will.

“If it’s about the letter, then yes,” Will confirms, “it’s just… a lot, you know?”

“Trust me, I know,” Mike laughs, “I never thought that something like this would happen to me, and I don’t know what to do about it. I have no idea if it’s a prank or not.”

“Makes sense. I had never even thought that anyone in our party would have a secret admirer.”

“I don’t know. It would’ve been pretty believable if it was you.”

“You think so?” Will looks sort of surprised to hear that.

“Yeah, of course.” Mike says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, because it is. He waits a beat before speaking again. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always.” There’s curiosity in Will’s gaze.

“I don’t think I want a girlfriend.” Mike begins. “I mean, the idea of it doesn’t sound too bad at first, but if this secret admirer isn’t pranking me, then she’s just some random girl who I’ve probably never even had a proper conversation with. I can’t imagine myself with someone like that.”

“I think I get that,” Will nods, “you would prefer to date someone you know, right? Someone you’re friends with?”

“Exactly,” Mike sighs, “I don’t think I would be a very good boyfriend to someone I can barely understand.”

“I get you,” Will leans in a little closer, “because romance is supposed to be a deeper connection than friendship, right? How can you effectively skip to that without having the foundation of being friends first? Meeting someone in, like, a bar or something is nothing compared to someone you’ve been close with your whole life.”

“You know what, I knew you’d get it.” A smile crosses Mike’s face, and Will smiles back. “At this point, I’m hoping I’m getting pranked so I don’t have to deal with the logistics.”

“And so I can be your cleric in shining armor?” Will smiles teasingly.

“Sure, whatever.” Mike rolls his eyes with an amused chuckle. “The whole thing’s absurd. This person has perfect handwriting, knows I eat candy canes all year round, and is allegedly in my history class. But meeting at skull rock is the perfect setup for my murder! It’s a complete tossup.”

“It is absurd,” Will agrees, “it’s almost like it would make more sense if this person was in the party.”

“Yeah, but that’s not possible,” Mike sees something smug appear on Will’s face, “honestly, this entire thing might make me go crazy.”

Will stares at Mike for a moment, and Mike’s eyes flicker down to Will’s mouth for a split second.

“I think I’m already crazy,” Will says after a bit, but the way in which he says it makes Mike feel like there’s something behind it that he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Hey, well,” Mike smirks, “if we’re both going crazy then we’ll go crazy together, right?”

There’s a comfortable silence for a second, and Will’s eyes widen, sparkling with something Mike can’t read.

“God, you’re a flirt,” he jokes with a breathy voice, “yeah. Crazy together.”

“I just can’t wrap my head around it,” Mike faces forward and leans further into the wall, “there’s so much going on and none of it makes sense. And I have to confront it all tomorrow, and chances are that’s gonna go horribly. This is why I hate Valentine’s day.”

“Ah, there it is,” Will snickers, “I knew it wouldn’t be long until you brought up how much you hate Valentine’s day.”

“But I hate Valentine’s day,” Mike whines, “and now I’m going to have to waste my precious time either getting catfished or getting a girlfriend I don’t want. This holiday is literally the worst.”

“It’s not that bad,” Will tries to reason, “at least this is interesting.”

“I guess,” Mike softens his voice and turns back to Will, “at least you’re coming with me. I don’t know what I would do in this situation without you. You mean so much more than some stupid girlfriend.”

“Mike…” seems to be all that Will can say, with all the affection in the universe filling his voice, and they stare at each other for a moment.

A fire lights. It’s a long moment, a very long moment. Mike’s eyes wash over Will’s features, etching every detail of his face into his memory. Their faces are close together, probably just inches apart. The only sound that Mike hears is their breathing, and it might be a trick of the light, but Mike swears that Will glances down for just a fraction of a second.

It’s kind of funny, because it almost feels like they’re dangerously close to kissing right now. Of course, that’s insane, because Mike and Will would never kiss each other in a moment such as this due to their obviously strictly platonic relationship.

Even so, there’s some kind of tension in the air. Like the universe itself is expecting them to kiss. And the idea wouldn’t sound bad in the moment if the two were romantically involved in any way, shape or form.

But they aren’t. They’re just two platonic friends, staring into each other’s eyes without saying anything, faces so close they’re practically breathing on each other, and Mike just can’t seem to get enough of tracing around the features of Will’s very pretty face with his eyes, and he secretly hopes this moment will never end. Platonically, of course.

Will looks like he’s holding something back. Like he wants to say something, to do something, but he’s waiting. It could have been seconds or hours when Will finally exhales a shaky breath and clears his throat, moving his face away just a little.

Like that, the fire dies out. The two go back to facing forward, their backs against the wall. Before Mike can think too much about it, his arm wraps around Will’s waist, and Will’s head tips sideways onto Mike’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” Will says quietly, his eyelids looking a little heavy.

“For what?” Mike looks at him, a little puzzled.

“You know, for doing all this for me. I kind of just showed up at your room in the middle of the night, and you’re still speaking to me all soft and letting me lean against you and telling me that I mean so much more than some stupid girlfriend and… I don’t know. It’s cheesy or whatever but I seriously appreciate that you’re doing this all because I came here and said I couldn’t sleep.”

“Of course,” Mike presses his body impossibly closer to Will’s, “you know I would do anything for you. Plus, it’s not like I could sleep either. I was actually just thinking about how much I could do with your company. I’m glad that I have someone to talk to about this kind of thing, and I’m happy to help you sleep.”

Mike speaks as gently as possible, trying to sound calming to lull Will to sleep. Fortunately, it works, and when Mike looks back at Will, his eyes are closed, seemingly peacefully asleep in Mike’s arms.

Mike can’t find it in him to do anything but smile. He feels so ridiculous right now, he’s an absolute idiot. His face is soft and relaxed, like seeing Will fast asleep without a care in the world is the purest sight he’s ever laid eyes on, and it is. This isn’t the first time Mike has done this to get Will to sleep before, and he always finds himself feeling like this when he succeeds.

It takes a few more seconds of staring for him to rest his head on Will’s and decide to go to sleep, whispering a quick “I love you” before closing his eyes.

Something festers in his chest when he says it. He reserves “I love you”s for special moments with Will, and this moment feels like it calls for it, but he feels something weird when he verbalizes it.

Because he does love Will, he knows that, but when he says it this time around it feels like it carries more weight than a simple “I love you man” exchanged between friends.

He can’t say he knows why it feels this way, but it feels like love has more than one meaning when he says it to Will.

When Mike wakes up, he’s freezing.

Well, he’s not below thirty two degrees, but he’s really, really cold.

It’s probably because he’s sat on his bed, with no blanket covering him, and there’s no one sleeping by his side.

He figures Will must have left earlier, so he could get home before anyone in his house wakes up, and then pretend that he’s been there the whole night.

Mike doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s not totally dark, so he figures he should be getting ready for school. School. Not only are his Friday lessons a huge drag, but it’s Valentine’s day.

A dramatic groan leaves him once he realizes the situation. Unfortunately he can’t spend the rest of his days in his room in the middle of the night, Will cuddled up against him as he talks about his innermost feelings with a low voice to soothe him to sleep.

Well, maybe not his innermost feelings. Though he would tell Will anything, he still feels as though there’s something deeper hidden under all the other things he’s told Will about, something Mike can’t even decode himself.

He thinks that he’s just paranoid, because he knows all of his own emotions and he can confidently say that there is absolutely nothing he can’t figure out, and definitely nothing he’s in denial about.

Okay, that’s sort of a lie. He feels things he can’t figure out all the time, but only around Will. And that doesn’t mean anything.

When he sees Will in school this morning and he says good morning all warm and welcoming and he makes a joke about it being Mike’s favorite day of the year and he gives him a candy cane he managed to get his hands on somehow, Mike does feel an unexplainable rush of butterflies — eugh, he hates that stupid corny term, butterflies — but that doesn’t mean anything.

And that rush of butterflies comes back when Will does most other things, but that doesn’t mean anything. Mike’s felt that jitteriness in the pit of his stomach around Will for years, and it’s never meant anything.

In fact, he doesn’t have to prove anything. His relationship with Will is so platonic, it speaks for itself. What’s really at the front of his mind for the whole day is the entire Skull Rock thing.

But he also can’t stop thinking about how much he hates this stupid holiday. All the couples are all around the halls and all they’re doing is making out and exchanging chocolates and talking about their Valentine’s day plans and Mike spends most of it wanting to tear his hair out of his scalp.

The only person getting him through the day is Will, who he only sees in the halls and at lunchtime. It’s torture. From trigonometry to the grossly lovey-dovey couples to the thought of having to go to Skull Rock at seven o’clock tonight and he has absolutely no idea who’s going to be there. The stupid icing on the stupid cake is that today is really, really, cold.

He had to bring two jackets to school today (both of which might be Will’s), and he takes every single minuscule excuse to put on his gloves, and he still spends a decent amount of his time complaining about the cold.

He complains about it so much that Will offers him his jacket a couple times, the same jacket Mike had given him just last night, but he has enough common sense to reject the offer.

This singular Friday might as well have been a whole week by the time the bell rings to signal the end of the last lesson.

When he walks out of his stupid class, Will’s waiting outside the door, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Will!” Mike runs to him and dramatically grabs Will’s arms, clinging to the fabric of his jacket. “Today has been so slow.”

“Trust me, I know,” Will chuckles, beginning to walk down the halls, “it’s the first thing you’ve mentioned every time I’ve seen you today.”

“Sorry for expressing my feelings,” Mike crosses his arms, causing another laugh from Will. Unfortunately, Mike struggles to act annoyed when he hears Will’s laugh.

Dustin, Lucas, El and Max catch up to the two when they get outside the school building, and they go over the plan for tonight.

“Okay, so, Mike,” Max starts, “you’re gonna go home with Will, and then you guys go to Skull Rock when the time comes. And we’ll be at El’s house, so head straight back there when you’re done and tell us everything that happens.”

“Spare no details,” Dustin emphasizes.

Mike shares a quick look with Will, who still can’t control his smile.

“Yeah, okay,” Mike nods at Will and grabs his arm, “see you guys in a few hours, then.”

“See you,” Will adds, biking off with Mike as the other four wave them off, Max looking a little too smug for Mike’s liking.

“Valentine’s day,” Will teases at some time during the bike ride home, “don’t you just love it?”

“No,” Mike says bluntly, “it sucks. And now I can’t even relax and do nothing.”

“You relax and do nothing every day,” Will counters.

“That’s not true,” Mike feigns offence, “and even if it is, I deserve it today. I had trig.”

“Trig’s not that bad,” Will smiles, “neither is Valentine’s day. You said it’s stupid and forgettable and boring. And, while stupid is arguable, this situation can’t be forgettable or boring for you, right?”

“Wrong,” Mike denies the claim immediately, “I’ll probably forget this ever happened by next Valentine’s day, tops.”

“You’re lying,” Will accuses with amusement in his voice, “you’re doubling down on your lie to prove a point. You’re too stubborn for your own good sometimes.”

“I’m hardly too stubborn for my own good.” Mike replies, putting his bike to a stop as he reaches his driveway. “Valentine’s is horrible and it’s still forgettable and boring.”

“Stubborn,” Will mutters under his breath, and Mike lightly hits him on the shoulder, “but don’t worry. Whatever happens today, it will be fine, and tomorrow you can still eat all the discounted chocolates with me. Plus, I told you I’ll take full responsibility for your murder if I fail to protect you. That ought to make you feel better, right?”

“It kind of does,” Mike admits, smiling to himself as he opens the door to his house and the warm air embraces him in a giant hug.

“Good,” Will mirrors Mike’s smile, following him down to the basement, “just get through today, and we’ll surely have an interesting story to tell the rest of the party.”

“I guess,” Mike collapses onto the couch in the basement, “but only because you said so.”

“Right,” Will lets out a breathy laugh, sitting next to him, “only because I said so.”

There’s silence for a moment, as Mike wracks his brain for what to talk about. There’s an air of nervousness about Will, as if he’s just a little bit antsy.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks, a little concerned at the way Will fidgets with the strings of his jacket.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Will responds, “the entire situation’s just kind of nerve wracking, you know? Like, we have no idea who’s gonna show up.”

“I get that,” Mike sighs, “well, it’s nowhere near seven o’clock right now, so how about we do something to get our minds off of it in the meantime?”

“That sounds good,” Will purses his lips and taps his foot, before it looks like a lightbulb goes off in his brain, “you wanna see a drawing I made in class today?”

“What kind of question is that?” Mike asks sort of sarcastically, with a beaming smile at the idea of seeing one of Will’s drawings.

“Alright,” Will smirks, digging around his pocket to find a folded-up sheet of paper, “check this out. It’s us again, but a little different. I thought, what if Will the Wise, like, met you? Just regular Mike Wheeler. So I came up with this comic strip.”

Mike looks at Will for some kind of permission before taking the sheet, and getting a closer look at the absurd idea of Will the Wise getting transported into Hawkins of all places and meeting Mike.

“This is so awesome,” Mike comments, eyes sparkling, “it’s a really fun idea. You should make Mike the Brave meet you.”

“I love that,” Will looks like he’s just uncovered all the secrets of the universe, “you can keep it if you want.”

“Will, you’re spoiling me,” Mike teases, but he’s not at all sad by this, “my wall’s getting full.”

“You put my drawings on your wall?”

“Of course I do, have you never seen? I put the one you drew me on Tuesday up there as well. You probably didn’t see it yesterday because it was dark, though.”

“Aw, Mike…” Will grins, and his face flushes just a tiny bit. “I’m glad you think my drawings are wall-worthy.”

“I would make a gallery for them if I had enough money, dude,” Mike isn’t joking, “they’re way more than wall-worthy.”

“You flatter me, do you know that?” Will gives Mike a light push, and Mike’s heart rate speeds up. “Actually it was kind of funny how I came up with the idea for the comic.”

From there, Will starts talking about his whole story on how the bright idea for his drawing came to him, and Mike loves it when Will rambles. Will’s the quieter one of the two, as Mike’s way more prone to running his mouth without realizing it, but Will talks a little more when he’s around Mike. It’s nice that he’s comfortable enough to have a lot more to say with Mike.

However, as much as it makes him feel like a bad friend, Mike isn’t listening.

He wants to listen, he really does. He thinks that whatever Will’s talking about is probably interesting and funny, and most likely kind of cute.

But everything that Will says goes in one ear and out the other, because Mike simply can't stop staring.

Every interesting anecdote just blends into a mix of proper name, place name, backstory stuff. Mike is completely zoned out from the real world, mapping out every feature of Will’s face in his mind.

Will’s voice is in the background of everything, but Mike can’t make out any of his words.

He loves Will’s voice, he’s thought of it as his favorite song. Will’s voice is his favorite song and it’s calm and it’s gentle and he never grows tired of it, he simply tunes out of the real world with it playing in the background as the one thing that makes everything feel complete.

But the words that Will is saying are the least of his concern. His concern is looking at Will’s face. He’s absolutely in love with Will’s face, everything about it. His drop-dead gorgeous eyes are the star of the show. Mike isn’t a poet or anything, but they’re like galaxies or something super cool like that. Whatever they’re like, they’re something Mike could stare into for eternity.

He’s hyper aware of every single detail of his face, the way the skin in between his eyebrows creases whenever he tries to recall a detail, the way his cheeks are always slightly pink. Though he doesn’t have a clue what Will’s talking about, it’s like he can clearly read every single emotion on his face.

Sure, Mike’s admired Will’s face before— a lot, actually. But today’s different. He gets completely lost in it, until the basement around them practically disappears. And for some reason, something clicks in his brain.

Something at a moment so mundane, a moment when Will’s explaining the backstory behind a drawing he did, everything suddenly makes sense to Mike.

Everything that hasn’t made sense for years, all fits together.

Will’s insanely pretty face. Mike has known how beautiful he is, and some have said he has a slight staring problem, but this time doesn’t feel like he’s simply staring, for some reason.

Every time a shared look turns into laughter when nothing’s funny. Every touch of the hand that lingers. Every random act of kindness that feels strangely intimate. Every time they try to sit and stand as close to each other as humanly possible. The way that Mike can link any topic in the universe back to Will and the way Will barely has to lift a finger to convince Mike to do anything.

The constant physical touch that isn’t done nearly as much with anyone else, or the way everything feels comfortable between them. The content feeling Mike was overwhelmed with when they played that game of footsie. How defensive Mike gets whenever someone mentions him dating Will. The way Mike is so much more emotionally vulnerable with Will than anyone else.

The constant butterflies. The word love feeling like it means something more when Mike says it to Will.

The way Mike just won’t stop staring.

It takes a second for every thought that floods into his brain at once to fit together and form one huge realization.

Fuck.

Perhaps it took him way too long to realize, and perhaps this moment is a strange time to have a romantic epiphany, but Mike is totally, absolutely, head over heels in love with Will. As far as he’s aware, he probably has been for a while now.

“Mike? Mike.” Will snaps him out of his trance, looking slightly confused. “Is there something on my face? You’re staring.”

“I love you.”

He says it quickly, breathlessly, and he doesn’t even know he’s saying it until after it leaves his mouth. But here they are, sitting in Mike’s basement, and Mike has just come to what’s possibly the biggest realization of his life. For some reason, he thinks he’d have imploded if he didn’t say it.

“What?” Will looks stunned, and seems to be positive he misheard that.

The reality of what Mike said hits him really fast, how that was a super risky and stupid thing to say. He wants to take it back, cover it up with some dumb lie, act like he never just said something so huge without even thinking about it.

But he can’t take it back. It feels like a disservice to Will to act like he didn’t mean it. So, instead, he doubles down.

He doubles down in a stupid way. Before his brain can send those signals that he’s about to do something very dumb, his body takes control, leaning in and kissing Will.

The kiss is brief, as Mike pulls away the second he regains control of his body and realizes exactly what the hell he’s doing. Will looks shocked.

“Oh my god,” a pit of regret digs into his chest, “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking and I— my brain just disconnected from my body for a moment and I did that. I’m sorry and I should’ve said something and—”

Mike’s mindless rambling is cut off when Will laughs. It’s a full laugh, more than just an amused exhale or a light chuckle. Joy radiates from Will’s voice and Mike blinks in confusion.

“Mike, it’s okay,” Will smiles, and, before Mike can say or do anything else, it’s Will that leans in this time.

It takes maybe a second for Mike to process what’s happening. Will Byers is kissing him. On the mouth. Right now. It’s a crazy reality, but he melts right into it.

Mike moves his hands up to cup Will’s face, just as he imagined he would, but he can’t keep his hands still for long. He moves around, slipping one hand down to Will’s neck and moving one up into his hair, running his fingers through it and making Will let out a tiny gasp at the contact.

The sensation is electrifying. Sparks fly in every single direction as Will moves his hands to firmly grip Mike’s waist, anchoring him to the couch. Mike leans in as far forward as he can, ending up in a position where he’s sort of on top of Will, but not fully.

The entire world around them fades to black, as if they live in their own little bubble where it’s just Will and Mike, their faces pressed together and the cold weather that Mike’s been complaining about so much morphs into hot air between their bodies.

Mike hadn’t realized how much this is something he had craved until just now. He hadn’t known how much he longed to twirl Will’s hair around his fingers as Will’s hands travel up to Mike’s face, softly brushing his cheek and making him feel a sense of calm and content that he thinks only Will could make him feel. He just realized that this is something he’s wanted for who knows how long, and Will’s kissing him back like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Will Byers, the coolest, kindest, most intelligent person Mike has ever met, who Mike would have thought is surely way out of his league, is kissing him back like he’s been waiting for this moment.

How long the kiss lasted before they eventually pulled away, Mike has no clue. Their breathing is heavy, and it’s all that can be heard for a few seconds while Mike tries to process what just happened. He feels drunk on the pure amount of joy he’s feeling right now. He stares deep into Will’s eyes, shimmering with something that Mike can finally read. Love, with a little bit of disbelief.

“Dude,” Will breaks the silence between heavy breaths, “I’m the admirer.”

“What?” Mike sits up slightly, but he doesn’t fully pull away from Will’s touch.

“Well, it’s sort of a whole thing,” Will’s laugh sounds breathless, “the first thing you need to know is that I’ve been in love with you since middle school.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, and even though I wasn’t the best at hiding it, you were so oblivious to my feelings.” Will begins to explain. “And I thought I would get over my feelings eventually, but they only got worse and I got sick of not doing anything about it. So, last week I thought, hey, it’s Valentine’s day soon, and Mike hates Valentine’s day. And I thought I could do something romantic and confess my love and whatever. I asked Max what to do about it, and she came up with the idea of writing you a secret admirer note, and trying to arrange a meet up for today so I could surprise you and tell you it was actually me. And I’d be doing that all while you’re going out of your mind trying to figure out who's writing these notes, not knowing that I’m right here. She mainly liked the idea because we could use it to mess with you.”

“So you did write your “k”s differently to throw me off!” Mike hadn’t realized he technically guessed it from the very beginning, even if it didn’t click in his head.

“Yup. And then we left those hints that applied exactly to me, and I left you candy canes from a pack I keep in my closet because I know how much you like them, but of course, the idea of me being the admirer is insane, so your default was to look way harder than you needed to. Max also advised me to flirt with you the whole week, which is the funniest part because you’re so dumb about it.”

“You’ve been flirting with me?” Mike thinks back to everything Will’s done this week that could be classified as flirting, but he can’t come up with anything.

“I haven’t been subtle,” Will laughs, “the hand-grabbing? The “date”? When you asked me what spell I was casting on you in my comic and I said a love spell? That game of footsie that I initiated? Dude, when you said that Nancy was dating my brother and I said, “what if I wanted to date her brother”? I could not have been more obvious. You’re dense as rocks, man.”

“Well I feel dumb about it now,” Mike rolls his eyes, because Will really was quite obvious.

“And I mean, you didn’t seem bothered by me hitting on you, but I was pretty sure it’s because you didn’t know I was hitting on you. Which is insane because I was spelling it out for you.”

“Oh come on,” Mike leans in and plays with Will’s hair, “you’re making me stupid.”

“Don’t flirt with me right now,” Will grins, “you don’t need me to be dumb.”

“Rude.”

“But the point is, Max and I had this whole plan to mess with you on the letters while providing massive clues that I wrote them and while I was blatantly flirting with you, and then we would meet at Lover’s Lake today and I’d do the big reveal. I just wasn’t expecting you to do…” Will gestures to nothing in particular. “That.”

“I know,” Mike chuckles, “but I had no idea I had feelings for you before, like, five minutes ago, and then all of a sudden it just hit me. And I couldn’t live with the knowledge that I’m super in love with you without telling you, so the second it clicked in my brain it just slipped out of my mouth.”

“Your impatience is cute,” Will laughs, “honestly I’m just glad this worked. The whole idea was crazy, it’s not something I could have ever pictured myself doing. I guess they do say that love makes you crazy.”

“I think love made me stupid,” Mike admits, “I don’t even know why I did that. Hell, I don’t even know how good of a kisser I am.”

“You’re pretty good,” Will smirks.

“Nice,” Mike waits a second before speaking again, “can I kiss you again?”

“What kind of question is that?” Will parrots Mike’s earlier sarcastic response, looking smug about it.

Mike leans in again, sliding one of his hands down to Will’s waist as the other stays in his hair, still twirling it around his fingers. Mike squeezes his eyes shut, willing everything around them to evaporate, as if he fears he might be dreaming.

The kiss is slower this time, more like one of the gentle and elegant kisses seen in movies rather than a rapid makeout-style kiss. Mike is wasted on the feeling, the honey-sweet taste filling his mouth as Will’s warm hand softly traces circles into Mike’s cheek, and the only thought present in Mike’s mind is how he’s lucky enough to be kissing Will Byers for the third time in one day.

His brain switches off. All he can do is lean impossibly further until he physically can’t be any closer to Will, and move his hands around in an effort to find a comfortable place for them to stay. On Will’s hips, on his back, on his neck, Mike can’t keep still. He shifts a hand to pull Will in further by tugging on the collar of his shirt, trying to press them as close together as possible. Will lightly tugs a few strands of Mike’s hair, causing a hitch in Mike’s breath, and an amused smile on Will’s stupid, beautiful face.

“Do you still hate Valentine’s day?” Will asks, not bothering to hide that he’s staring directly at Mike’s mouth.

“It’s not forgettable or boring, I’ll give it that,” Mike smirks, “but it’s still stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“And that’s your fault.”

Mike leans in for one last brief kiss, and he has never felt happier.

“We’re here!” Will calls as he enters his house, and Mike’s hand isn’t gloved because it’s, rather unashamedly, intertwined with Will‘s.

“You guys are early,” El observes, pausing the movie she’s watching with Dustin, Lucas and Max.

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees, “did nothing interesting happen?”

“So much happened. Like I can barely process it,” Mike says sort of smugly, feeling very proud and still on cloud nine from whatever’s just happened to him, he’s still unsure whether or not he’s dreaming.

“Max! I did it!” Will runs up to Max and gives her a high-five. “The sucker kissed me before we even left his basement.”

“Nice!” Max looks like a proud mother, “we’re still gonna need every single detail, though.”

“Wait, what?” Dustin and Lucas say in unison, confused but not necessarily surprised by what’s happening.

“Will was the admirer.” Mike explains. “He and Max set this whole thing up to mess with us. He was gonna use the Skull Rock thing to confess to me, but I beat him to it.”

El doesn’t look all too shocked, and that doesn’t surprise Mike because she probably caught onto Will somewhere down the line, being his sister and and honestly quite perceptive when it comes to these kinds of things.

“Jane, did you know about this?” Dustin turns to El. “You don’t look surprised.”

“I suspected as much,” she shrugs, “Will’s usually a lot more subtle with his flirting. And all the clues in the letters did line up.”

“Yeah, apparently Mike was super stupid about it though,” Max laughs, “the footsie thing at the diner should’ve been a dead giveaway.”

“And you know that wasn’t even the most obvious thing I did.” Will grins.

“Okay, let’s not gang up on me.” Mike throws his hands up. “It’s not my fault.”

“Yes it is,” Will states, failing to control a smile, “you’re stupid.”

“You’re crazy.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

When Will says it, “stupid” feels like a compliment.