Chapter Text
Mike paced around his room. He had tried over and over to convince himself everything was fine, that there was absolutely nothing to worry about. Nancy passed by the open door, pausing to roll her eyes.
“If you keep walking like that, you’ll run a hole in the floor, Mike.” He flinched, not expecting the sudden talking after the silence. “Seriously, what are you so nervous about?” She asked, walking in uninvited and sitting on his bed.
“First of all, you're supposed to ask before coming in here-“ Mike started to say before being cut off by Nancy shooting back “You never do when you come in to steal my money.” He, of course, ignored the comment, continuing to talk. “Second of all, Will's birthday is this week and I don't know what to get him. Like at all. I tried making him like a painting or something but my drawings all suck.” Mike flopped down on the bed next to his sister, grabbing a pillow and shoving it against his face. Nancy heard a muffled, “This is stupid— it was never this hard when we were little.”
Nancy huffed and it almost sounded like a laugh. She took the pillow Mike was clutching and hit him with it. “Why dont you make him something else then? I dunno, like a card? You could write a bunch of nice stuff about him. Jonathan told me he’s been a little self conscious after—“
“Yup. Got it. No need to continue.” Mike cut her off, throwing the other pillow at her. Mike did know what she had been referring to. On their way back to Hawkins after California, Will had given him a painting. It was wonderful, Mike kept it up on his wall, stared at it when he knew Will was asleep and wanted to talk to him. But he had been so stupid. So, so stupid. He hesitated a little too long, pulled away just slightly— movements he hadn't even meant to do. But Will had taken it the wrong way— his face had dropped, mumbling something about El wanting him to draw it which he knew was bullshit because El had made it very clear that she had ‘dumped his ass’.
“Y’know, i dont think ive ever seen someone fumble that bad. I mean, you. Michael Wheeler. Trying to make things right with someone. Never thought I'd see the day.” Mike could hear the smirk in Nancy’s voice.
“Alright, alright. Out.” Mike pushed Nancy out, shutting the door behind her and locking it. When he hears her footsteps descend the stairs, he finally sighs. Mike walks back over to his bed, sliding down to the floor. He sat there for a couple seconds before shooting up.
He had an idea.
Mike tried to yank open his door, forgetting he locked it. He groaned, fumbling with it for a second before running down the stairs to the basement. Back when Will and Jonathan stayed down here, Will left a bunch of unpainted DnD figurines down there. Mike grabbed the bag of them, searching for a jar of some kind and paint. After he found what he was looking for, Mike ran back up the stairs, much to the annoyance of Ted who had yelled at him (admittedly uninterested) to slow down.
Mike’s door clicked shut again and he threw everything onto his desk. He winced at the noise it made, realizing that throwing clay onto a wooden table wasn't the best idea. He sighed, sinking into the chair across from his desk.
Mike pulled his chair up to the desk, running his thumb over the painted jar. Mike had remembered making these with Will when they were little. No older than 6. Will had been over after a bad episode with Lonnie, sobbing. Will hadn’t wanted to talk about it, he never did. Mike just brought him inside down to the basement, keeping an arm around his best friend’s shoulder. He figured that art would distract Will, so he got out two clay pots. Brought out paint, watched his best friend sniffle before picking up the brush. Mike had been content to just stare at Will while he painted, never really understanding why. Eventually, Will had caught on at the staring and asked if Mike was ever going to finish his jar. He did end up finishing it and Will had stayed at his house.
Mike wondered if Will remembered that. Mike shook his head. If he did, it would mean even more. If he didn’t, it was still a cool jar. A win-win, really. But that wasn’t the main thing Mike wanted to give him. He dumped out the figures, finding a wizard. Mike sighed. Really, Will was more of a sorcerer but he wouldn’t be able to find a figure specifically for a sorcerer. Mike mixed colour after colour, trying to remember exactly what Will the Wise had looked like without having to use his walkie to call Will. That would ruin the surprise.
5 hours. It took 5 whole hours to get the stupid mini painted. And it didnt even look good. Mike sighed. He didn’t know how Will spent so much time painting all of them minis. While he never had before, he definitely wouldn't complain about the colours being off. Mike glanced over at his alarm. 11:42 PM blinks back at him. Mocking him. Spending hours working on a stupid figure for a boy he—.. . Cared for. A boy he cared for.
Mike didn’t know what he felt. Yeah, he knew that deep down, he would never do all of this for Dustin or Lucas. Hell, he didn’t even think he could do this for El. Yeah, he loved Will. But he didn’t know if that love stopped at platonic affection. And if it didn’t, how was he supposed to just assume that Will would like him back?
He glanced at his walkie. He could call someone. Dustin, Lucas, Max, even El if he was really desperate. Anyone to talk to. Talk him through these feelings. His chest hurt , blinking back tears. He still had a present to make.
Mike stared at the jar he had made. His eyes practically burned a hole in it. A jar was a lame gift, he had to put something in it. He thought for a second, looking around his room for anything that would be worthy. Then Nancy's words rang in his ears. “Write a bunch of nice stuff about him”. He groaned. Hated when Nancy had a good idea.
By the end of the week, Mike was exhausted. Late night after late night did not fare well with his sleep schedule. Like now, the day before Will's birthday. Will had noticed that Mike was repeatedly dozing off during movie nights and hangouts with the party. So, being the courteous friend he is, Will invites him over to stay the night. Mike hated having to say no, he couldn't stay the night. Seeing Will's obvious hurt, he quickly had added that he could stay for a while though. Mike hated how easy he folded for Will. He always had. He would never admit it, but Will was definitely his favourite. When he was planning campaigns, he would let Will peek at them as long as he promised to act surprised.
Thats how he found himself in Will’s room. It was familiar. The same lights, same posters, same smell. Will was sitting against the headboard, flipping through one of his sketchbooks. Mike was lying across from him, sneaking glances at him.
“Youre staring, Wheeler.” Will spoke, breaking the comfortable silence. He didn’t even look up. Just staring and analyzing the drawings in front of him like Mike wasn't even worth his time.
“Oh. Sorry.” Mike turned his head away, staring very intensely at a ‘Jaws’ poster nearby. Will huffed, shaking his head. “‘S fine. You can come look if you want.” Mike took the invitation, crawling over to Will and flopping down next to him. It was comfortable. Mike heard the steady breathing of his best friend, the pages rustling and the hum of the lamp still on even though it was light outside. Mike felt safe. He dozed, head falling forward before snapping back up. If Will noticed, he pretended not to. In Mike's weakened state, he turned into Will more, his head resting on Will's shoulder as his eyelids grew too heavy to hold open anymore. Will just let him, a hand coming up to comb through the long, dark curls there. Mike didn't even think twice before passing out on Will's shoulder.
Mike woke up to something solid underneath his cheek. Something warm and soft and familiar. He sighed softly, letting his arms curl tighter around whatever he was holding on to. As consciousness returned, Mike heard a muffled voice.
“.. .”
“mi.. . ke”
“Mike.” The voice spoke, soft, soothing, like it almost hurt to wake him up. Mike barely registers the voice, content to stay in the warmth of whatever is around him. He hums back just to let whoever's speaking to him know he's somewhat conscious. “Mike, it's late. You said you had to leave early.” A hand came up to run through Mike's hair. He groaned, eyes finally opening more than a crack. In the dark room, he could barely make out the shape of this person's face. Will, Mike saw, when his eyes finally adjusted.
Once Mike's brain finally caught up, he shot up out of Will's arms. His face completely flushed, Mike turned to face the opposite direction. Will could see the flush travel down his neck and ears. “I— I should probably go. I'll see you tomorrow. For your birthday.” Mike said, well, squeaked out, slipping on his shoes as quickly as possible. “Bye.” Mike said softly, slamming the door a lot louder than his voice. “Bye—.. . Mike.” Will sighed. He hated getting his hopes up. Really, it was going to kill him one day.
Mike slammed his door shut, flinging himself onto his bed. He grabbed a pillow, screaming into it. How could he be so stupid? Sure, there wasn’t much he could do about falling asleep on Will— he was tired, there wasn't an excuse for that, but he didn’t have to run out like that! He could've said anything, literally anything and that would've been better than what he did.
Mike reached over to grab his walkie, listening to the silence of nobody on the receiving end. He hesitated before putting it back down and walking out of his room towards Nancy’s. Mike didn’t know when he got comfortable enough to just talk to his sister, I mean, they had never been close. But still, he stood at the closed door, knocking softly.
“.. . Nance?” Mike asked softly, hoping she hadn't snuck out to see Jonathan. Just as he was about to give up, he heard the door unlock and open just a crack.
“Come in. My piggy bank is hidden though, don't even try it.” Mike heard through the door, pushing it open to sit on Nancy's floor by the bed. “.. . Y’know you can sit up here right? I don’t mind.”
“Yeah. Yeah I figured. Just—.. . I dunno. I needed to talk to someone and I guess you were just the easiest one.” Mike said, hating how weak the confession made him sound. While Mike could give less of a shit about what his dad thought about him, hearing ‘Boys don’t cry. Toughen up or people will start thinking you're a queer.’ since practically birth didn’t help with vulnerability.
“Ooookay. What did you need to talk about?” Nancy asked. A valid question, really, but Mike couldn't answer right away. There were a thousand things he could talk to Nancy about. He could talk to her about his nap at the Byers earlier. Could talk to her about the hours he spent making a birthday gift for a boy he ‘didn't like’. Could tell her about how much he just wanted to hold Will and keep him in a bubble to keep him safe. He opted with the safest option.
“I went over to Will’s today. .. . It uh. It was nice”
“Was that all, Mike?” Mike could practically hear the smirk on her face.
“No. No, I'm getting there. I went over there and like.. . fell asleep on Will. Like he was looking through his drawings and it got really comfortable and I just.. . fell asleep.”
“Oh. Ok.. . I mean. Did you.. . like it? Like being so close to him, I mean.” Nancy leaned against her bookcase, arms crossed.
“Yes? No? I-.. . I don’t know, Nance. It was nice, felt like we were small again but it felt.. . bad too. Like I wasn’t supposed to like it. It was stupid. I don’t remember ever being that awkward around Will before.. .” Mike groans, pulling his knees up to his head. He gave a pitiful glance to Nancy, practically begging her to give him an answer. Tell him he wasn’t crazy. Anything to say he wasn’t weird. Well, weirder.
Instead, Nancy just snorted. Mike had finally opened up to someone and she had the audacity to laugh at him. Frankly it pissed Mike off a little. “And uh. Have you considered your feelings for Will may have uh. Changed? Maybe you've thought about him more, though about touching him more, holding his hands, hugging him, getting jealous whenever someone else does those things? Any of that at all?”
Mike was frozen. All of those, every single statement hit. Yeah, he had been thinking about Will more. He had just assumed it was because of his birthday but he figured Nancy would know what she was talking about. So instead of an answer, he kept silent, letting her keep talking.
“Alright moving on. I’m assuming you did something elaborate for his birthday but you're not sure if it’ll be taken the ‘wrong way’ even though you, Michael Wheeler, have never cared about being perceived. Am I right?” Mike's face flushed. He nodded.
“Ok, now I need you to be completely honest with me. Ignore everything Dad’s ever told you, forget everything else but how you feel right now. Do you love Will?” Nancy prodded gently, walking over to sit on the bed Mike was leaned against. Her hand patted his head softly, waiting for a response.
“I mean, yeah I love Will. He’s one of my best friends. I love Dustin and Lucas too but I would still never do any of this for them.”
“No. Mike.. . do you love love Will?” Mike paused at the words. Yeah, he knew what she meant the first time. Deflecting and hoping she wouldn't prod apparently had stopped working. Mike couldn’t meet her eyes. He looked almost ashamed. But nonetheless, he nodded. Just barely.
Nancy smiled the same smile she used when she got a lead. “Well there you go. That's your problem. No, sorry, not problem. Fine by me, anyway, I figured, Will’s always been your favourite.” Mike flushed more if possible. He hated being this easy to read. If Nancy had figured it out, who else might’ve? “Alright, no moping. I'm tired of it. You're gonna give Will your fantastic, awesome gifts you've been working on, and tell him how you feel.”
That snapped Mike out of his embarrassment. “Wha— Nance, I can't just tell him. I mean, I could, nothing's really stopping me but it’s not that simple.” Mike shook his head, staring at his sister like she had finally lost her mind from whatever was in the air in the Upside Down.
“Ok then.. . Just write him a letter then or something. You write campaigns all the time. It’s like that,” Seeing Mike deep in thought, Nancy sighed, getting up from the bed. She hoisted Mike up, shoving him out of her room through his many protests. “As entertaining as this was, I’ve honestly heard enough. It's up to you, but I'd tell him.” She shut the door in Mike's face, leaving him there with thoughts he didn’t really want to deal with.
Mike walked back to his room, shutting and locking the door as soon as he was safely behind it. He grabbed his walkie, shifting the dial til it was on Lucas’ frequency. He took a deep breath, hoping that he was at least close enough to hear him. “Lucas? Lucas, this is Mike. You there?”
A crack of static, then— “Yeah. What's up dude?” Mike let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in.
“Hey. Yeah sorry to bother. This is gonna sound really weird and I need you to not question me and just answer. How did you know that like.. . Max liked you back?” Mike chewed on his nail, hoping Lucas wouldn’t question it that much.
“Uh. Ok. Yeah, really weird question thanks for the heads up I guess. And if I ask who this might be ab—“
“No. No questions. Just answer it.”
“Alright then. I guess it was more of a gamble than anything. But we spent more time around each other, got close, y'know?"
“Okay, but what if we’ve been close?”
“Dude. Stop interrupting me. But that would be a little harder to guess, sorry. Shoot your shot, really. What's the worst that could happen?”
Mike huffed. The worst that could happen. The worst would be his best friend since practically birth hating him for feelings he didn’t know would ever die down. Losing Will might actually kill him. “Uh, I dunno man. A lot could be the worst possible thing. You're so much help. Thanks.”
“Uh huh. Was that all?”
“Yup. See ya tomorrow.”
A snort from the other end “Whatever you say, Wheeler.”
Mike groaned loudly as soon as the walkie clicked off. He felt like the only person that could possibly talk him through this would be Will and he couldn’t talk to will because at the moment his options were; Talk about this to Will, risk him either finding out or thinking Mike was talking about someone else and neither of those would accomplish his goal.
‘Fuck it. Im going over there.’ He grabbed the walkie again, changing the frequency to Wills.
“Will? You there?”
“Yeah whats up? Wasn’t expecting a call this late.”
“Would I be able to come over?” Mike held his breath. He knew the answer was probably yes but that didn’t stop the regret of even asking from settling in his chest.
“.. . I mean, yeah, but why?”
“I—.. .” Mike didnt really know how to respond. The pause quickly got awkward so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I miss you. But I’m starting to realize how stupid this is and I really regret asking so im probably just gonna ha—“ Mike was cut off by the sound of Will laughing. It made Mike's face grow hot again, unable to form solid sentences at the moment.
“Y’know you’ll see me tomorrow, right?” Another laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, Mike, you can come over.”
“Great. See you soon then.”
Mike wanted to scream. He grabbed the gift bag that sat on his desk, slipping on shoes and walking out of his room. He padded softly down the stairs, trying to not wake anybody. He got to the front door before a voice rang out in the dark.
“Where are you off to this late, Michael.” His dad. Fucking Ted Wheeler. Mike swore internationally. He could talk his way through everybody but his dad.
“Round Will’s.” He didn't turn around, hand still on the doorknob.
“At.. .” Mike heard a pause, probaly his dad checking the time. “11 at night?”
Mike winced. Was it really that late? “Yeah. So?”
“So, it's weird. You boys are too close anyway. It's not normal for two men to be that dependent on each other. I raised you better than to be a—“
“A what?” Mike’s voice grew hard, grip on the bag tightening.
“A fag.” Mike tensed. Hated how his father could call Will that. Hated his dad.
“Yeah.” Mike opened the door and slammed it shut behind him, ignoring his fathers protests. He honestly preferred it when his dad was too busy to notice him.
Tears pricked at Mike's eyes. He couldn’t cry. Not now. Couldn’t let his father get to him like that. He grabbed his bike, rolling off the driveway.
Mike pulled up on Will’s house 10 minutes later. He hesitated, not wanting to be questioned again. Mike walked around towards Will’s window. He looked through the glass, seeing Will painting at his desk, faced away from the window. Mike stood there staring for a couple seconds, trying to imprint this in his memory. Then he shook his head and knocked on the window. Will jumped, turning around quickly. He glaced around the room till his eyes landed on Mike. Mike waved shyly, looking away from Will.
Will opened the window, pulling Mike through. “What the hell, Michael? Why would you not go through the front door?” Will whisper-shouted, squeezing Mike's shoulder subconsciously. Mike stood still for a second, then two, then tears filled his eyes. Will stopped, loosening his grip immediately.
“Woah— hey. Mike.” Will took the present from Mike's hand, putting it on his desk before pulling Mike with him to sit on his bed. Mike lets himself be pulled before just giving up and falling into Will's arms. A sob tore itself from his throat. “Mike. Hey. Whats— whats wrong?”
Mike couldn’t answer, just burrowing his face in Will’s neck. He couldn't stop the tears, hot and heavy rolling down his face. “I— I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Will.” His voice cracked, eyes squeezing shut. “I— I don't know what's wrong with me— everything, everything’s wrong. I'm not— I'm not normal, Will. I hate this.” He croaked, squeezed harder as Will’s hand came up to run his fingers through Mike's hair.
“It's ok. It's ok, Mike. It'll be ok.” Mike kept himself tucked tight against Will till his sobs started to slow into sniffles. He still didn’t let go, clinging to Will even as he shifted to rest against the headboard. Now, they were like earlier. Mike on Will's chest, head tucked under Will's chin, curled up tightly against him. Will laid completely still, hand tangled in Mike's hair. “.. . D'you wanna talk about it?”
Mike shook his head, arm squeezing Will tighter. “Not right now.”
“Alright. That's alright.” Will moved more onto his side, arm wrapping around Mike's shoulder while the hand in his hair moved slowly. Mike moved the hand wrapped around Will’s midsection to Will's hand on his arm. Mike laced their fingers together, moving their joined hands in front of Mike's face. Will stilled his movements for a second before resuming the gentle petting of Mike's hair.
Mike closed his eyes, trying to forget his father. Trying to forget everything but the warmth around him. But it felt so wrong. So, so wrong. And Mike hated it. He wanted to just be normal and be able to love Will. Mike squeezed his eyes tighter. He couldn't let tears fall. Not again. Not when he had just gotten Will to stop worrying about him. It didn't end up working. Will noticed, of course he did, and squeezed Mike's hand.
That did it for him, a single tear sliding down his cheek onto Will’s shirt. Even though Will could see it, Mike refused to make a sound. Mike looked at the clock. Midnight. Will's birthday.
“Happy birthday, Will.” Mike spoke softly. Will wanted to cry with how watery Mike sounded. Will just squeezed Mike harder. His arm rubbed up and down Mike's spine gently.
Mike woke up slowly, shuffling around with his eyes shut for several minutes. He groaned, squeezing the mass underneath him. It was still dark outside, couldn't be earlier than 4 in the morning.
“Good morning, Mikey”
Mike hummed something unintelligible, keeping his eyes shut. Will’s hand ran through Mike's hair for a second before pulling it back. Mike opened his eyes just a crack, seeing a sketchpad propped up in front of his face. Mike watched as the pencil moved across the page, drawing whatever was nearby. Mike shut his eyes again, not wanting to wake up completely from the warmth.
Then Mike shot up, knocking the pencil out of Will’s hand. “Shit. Sorry. Fuck, Will, I— This was a mistake, my dad’s gonna be so pissed—“ Will pressed a finger to Mikes mouth, cutting off his rambling.
“Hey. Quiet, Mike. Calm down. Just.. . Relax and let me listen.” Will squeezed Mike's hand, calming down Mike.
“I—.. . I can’t be here. This is wrong. This is so wrong.” Mike could look at Will but he didn’t move. Sat there with a tight grip on Will’s hand. Mike let out a shaky breath, tears pricking at his eyes. “I like you. I really do but it’s— it's wrong, Will. I can’t— My dad I mean, he— he would kill me if he found out.” Will sat there listening, finger rubbing over Mike's knuckles as he talked. Will doesn’t think he’s ever seen Mike cry so much.
“Well.. . what do you want?” Mike looked up, meeting Will’s eyes. Will forced a smile, trying to calm down Mike. The knot in his stomach grew tighter and tighter the longer Mike took to respond.
“I.. . what I want is wro—“
“Thats not what I asked. I don't care what everyone else thinks, ok? What do you want? Just you.” Will sat there, across from the boy he had loved since he was a child. The only person he had recognized under the Mind Flayers influence. The only person Will had ever felt completely comfortable around. Mike stared. His face flushed prettily, hand subconsciously squeezing Wills tighter.
“.. . You. I want you, Will.”
“Then, that’s that.”
“But Will— they already bully you for being— gay.. . I don't want to make it worse by proving them right.” Mike stuttered over the word ‘gay’ for a second before his brain caught up with all of his fears hitting him at once.
“Mike. When have we ever cared what other people thought?” They had always been bullied— not just Mike and Will, but the whole party. For one reason or another. They had always been outcasts. Freaks.
“Yeah. Yeah, no, I know. I know.” Mike sat there, his palm feeling exceptionally sweaty at the moment.
“.. . Are you gonna tell me what's in the bag?” Will nodded towards the brightly coloured birthday bag sitting on Will's desk. Mike flushed, even though the distraction was a welcome one.
“‘S for your birthday. I didn’t know what to get you so it's a bunch of stuff I made.” Mike mumbled, watching Will stand up to walk towards the desk. Mike hated how cold his hand felt without Will’s in it. It wasn’t for long, though, Will coming back over and slotting himself between Mike's legs. Will leaned back, resting his weight on Mike's chest. Mike just let Will get comfortable before his arms wrapped around Will's middle. His chin rested on Will's shoulder, peering at whatever he did.
“You mind if I open it?” Mike shook his head. Will opened the bag, pulling the first thing out with care. It was a small box. “Wow. present inside of a present, Michael.” Will teased bumping his head with Mikes. He opened the box, finding two painted figures. His brain stalled for a second as it clicked what the painted figures were.
Mike the Brave and Will the Wise.
Will's smile threatened to break his face. “It's a necklace. Dunno. Figured you’d like it.” Mike mumbled, resting his head deep into the crook of Will’s neck.
“I do like it” Will held up the wizard— sorry, sorcerer, figure, watching as the purple caught in the light of his lamp. “Help me put it on?” Mike hummed, lifting his head up and unwrapping his arms from Will's waist to grab the necklace from Will's hand. Mike sat back slightly, fumbling with the clasp for a second before getting it. Will leaned back again, grabbing Mike's arms to wrap back around his waist.
Will reaches back in the bag, grabbing a card. Mike flushes, snatching it from Will's hands before he can open it. “Not uhm.. . Not that. Yet.” Will huffed a laugh. “Ooookay then.” He reached back in, grabbing a small painted jar filled with paper scraps. Will froze. He recognized the jar. At least, he thinked he did.
“Is this—?” Will grinned, running his thumb over the painted books. Mike was completely flushed, returning to his spot in the crook of Will's neck. He nodded slightly, unwilling to look up. “You wanna tell me what's inside?” Will tapped the side of the jar, leaning more of his weight onto Mike. Predictably, Mike shook his head. Will smiled. He grabbed the first paper scrap he could reach in the jar, pulling it out and unfolding it.
‘You’re my heart’ was written in careful handwriting, nothing like Mike’s normal scribbles when he’s in a rush. Will read it twice before putting it back in the jar. He turned into Mike, practically throwing himself deeper into Mike's arms. They fell back on the bed, tangled together.
Mike couldn’t breathe. Couldn't think. Will was on top of him, cupping his face, looking at Mike with absolute adoration. Like Mike was the only person in the world.
“Happy birthday?”
“Best birthday I’ve ever had.” Will pressed a gentle kiss to Mike's lips, rubbing his thumb under Mike's eyes.