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The world was ending. There was no other way to put it. No euphemism to lighten the blow was provided to anyone but the youngest Wheeler. No specific details on the ‘how’ or the ‘why’ would help this fact register in Will’s brain. Maybe Mike, with his seemingly endless vocabulary and god-given ability to present campaigns in ways that could both captivate and terrify Will at the exact same time, could enunciate that statement in a more eloquent way. But he wasn’t, nor would he ever be, the enigma that is Mike Wheeler.
It had been one month since they had arrived back to Hawkins. One month since he and his brother had temporarily moved in with the Wheelers, much to the bane of Mike’s father. One month to ponder over that one grim fact. In a way, he guessed, the world was always ending. He just hadn’t noticed yet.
But maybe he should have.
Between getting sucked into the hellscape known as the Upside Down at only twelve and suffering near-constant shivers in the back of his neck, it was naive for Will to believe it wouldn’t, couldn’t, end like this. To presume that whatever god watching over him (which was a reach in itself) would put him out of his misery in any other way.
“Will?”
A concerned voice brought him back to his senses. ‘Right, of course,’ Will thought passive-aggressively as he glanced around the Wheelers’ frankly beautiful kitchen and met the equally concerned dark brown eyes that belonged to said voice.
“Yes?” he replied, silently chiding himself. ‘No having existential crisis’ at dinner.’ Although Will wasn’t sure if ‘dinner’ was the right word for this meal. In actuality it was just Mike and Will, with Jonathan hiding out in the basement to prevent bumping into his girlfriend and rocking their already bumpy relationship (which was fair considering Nancy was doing the same thing, just in her room) and the other Wheelers out visiting a family friend, hovering over opposite sides of the bamboo countertops and sharing a plate of waffles.
“I asked if you were okay. You kinda spaced out there for a minute,” was Mike’s, slightly sheepish, reply.
“Oh, um yeah? I was just thinking,” Will answered with a shrug. It was only then that Will realized his eyes hadn’t left Mike’s gentle ones since the boy first called out his name. He quickly averted his eyes to the plate of food placed beneath him. Well, the plate of food that was supposed to be placed beneath him, but his tired stare was only met with Mrs Wheeler’s shiny countertop wallpaper. The confusion on his face was apparent enough for Mike to comment.
“We finished a while ago,” Mike stated easily, although he phrased it more like a question. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Oh,” is the brilliant response the brown-haired boy came up with. When Will lifted his head back up to try and get a read on the other, he’s met with what is often referred to as ‘that face’. Yes, that poetic mix of both understanding and a need to understand graced Mike’s intense features enough to prompt Will to give it a name. (What else was he going to title the binder full of paintings dedicated to that expression?) As Will digests this look that he hasn’t been blessed with in months, the rest of the house, no, the rest of the world, seems to fade away. For a second, it’s just Mike and Will. Mike and Will who could have entire conversations with just a glance. Mike and Will who had a special bond that adults would refer to as ‘heartwarming’ (or at least when they were kids). Mike and Will who used to think it was just them against the world. For just a second, Will’s subconscious forgot that they weren’t just ‘Mike and Will’ anymore. They haven’t been for a while.
“Will?” Mike called out in that voice he always uses with Will. That voice Will used to think meant something. “Will, what’s wrong?”
And wasn’t that the question? Wasn’t that the question Will had been asking himself since he was 6-7 goddamn years old. Since his father had made it clear there was something wrong. Since he came back from that place and felt like a part of himself was stuck. Since he realized that the monster was him in him. Since the party slowly started to move on without him. Since he realized he had to move on too, or he’d be left behind. Since his mother took that notion too literally and moved them halfway across the country. Since his letters and phone calls were met with static and he realized that getting left behind (at least for him) was inevitable. But the truth was he didn’t know. Not the why, not the how and certainly not the when.
Will shrugged.
“Jesus Christ!” Mike exclaimed too loud for Will’s liking. “Will, you’ve been in your head for the past twenty minutes. I know I haven’t been the best friend lately but you can still talk to me. You’re not the only one stressed out about what’s going on and I’ve been trying to make things better so pl-”
“Have you now?” Will interrupted quietly before he could think better of it, voice laced with venom.
After two weeks of receiving nothing but life altering information Will had begun questioning everything he believed to know. One thing he knew for sure was that it took a lot to tip him over the edge. Sure, every now and then his bottled up rage spilled out a little, but he needed to be really overwhelmed for that to happen. So imagine his surprise when what induced his anger was Mike Wheeler, the first and maybe only boy he’d ever fall for, claiming to be a good friend. ‘Shit,’ Will thought when the weight of his words finally hit him, but he was already in too deep.
“Please enlighten me Michael, how exactly have you been trying to make things better? By sitting next to me at dinner? By asking me how I am a couple times a week? By making plans to hang out without actually following through? By ignoring everything wrong between us instead of just having a fucking conversation? By pretending that you actually care about our friendship and aren’t just using this to distract yourself from your failing relationship?”
As Will stared back at Mike’s hurt face he realized that they had both gradually moved away from the counter and were standing inside the kitchen, bodies opposite each other about 10 inches apart. After taking in Mike’s pained expression he momentarily thought that the other boy’s features should never look that wretched. From his curly black hair sticking to his slightly flushed, down-turned face to his damp warm brown eyes Will observed that he resembled a kicked puppy. ‘I made him look like that,’ Will thought and all at once he wanted to take back everything he said. He wanted to sit down and hold Mike tight until he cracked a smile out of the boy. As quick as it appeared, Mike’s expression changed and Will noticed his wet, disheartened eyes narrow as his face took on a look of determination.
Will thought he was going to get punched.
Bracing himself for impact, Will screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw but he wasn't met with a fist. What met him instead was warmth, a slow steady heart beating against his own and firm lanky arms wrapping around him tightly. Will cautiously opened his eyes only to be met with Mike’s body pressed softly against his own. He closed his eyes carefully and let himself exist in this moment, even if it was only temporary.
“I’m sorry,” a muffled voice spoke into his shoulder, and for a second, Will believed it.
Until it hit him. Abruptly, everything came to a halt. His shoulders tensed and his heart thumped hard against his chest. ‘This is too much,’ Will reasoned. The world was ending. His sister was literally training herself for war and what was Will doing? Seeking comfort from her boyfriend over a stupid fight. Quickly, Will pulled away and used the palms of his hands to push away Mike as if his body was covered in hot acid. Faster than he’d ever ran before, Will darted out of the kitchen, swiftly ignoring Mike’s protests. When he reached the front door he made the grave mistake of looking back. Seeing Mike’s dejected frame standing in the corridor with tears running down his face was almost enough to make Will stay. Almost.
“Will?” His sister called out in confusion as she walked over to her bedroom window, ushering him inside and fretting over the cold he’s now ‘bound’ to get in a manner that just screams ‘Joyce’.
“Hey,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Sorry about the…,” he continued, gesturing to the window he was knocking at in explanation, “I just didn’t want to wake up Mom or Hop’.”
El nodded in that incredulous way that begs you to get to the point.
“Uhm, I can leave if you wan-” he stopped himself before his sister could slap him. They’ve had this conversation before, it was almost nostalgic.
It’s only then that El took in his dishevelled, sweaty state.
“Will, did you run here?” she asked in clear disapproval. His lack of response spoke for itself. El rolled her eyes half-heartedly and dragged him down onto the carpet to sit by her bed. She nudged his shoulder. A beat passed.
“El, I’m sorry,” Will revealed in the silence. She gave him a look.
“Will, how many times do we have to go over this? You’re welcome here at any time.”
“No that’s not what this is ab- well yes kind of, but it’s also bec-” he stopped himself, as if it’d pain him to continue. He stared back at his sister for a second just to take it all in. Her warm face etched with concern. The slight furrow of her eyebrows. Her shoulder-length honey brown hair that was slightly tousled but made her look put together nonetheless. He took in her stature and the relaxed yet elegant way she’d sat cross-legged opposing him. Finally, he took in her round, gentle eyes, filled with a comfortable mix of concern and acceptance. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever see the latter again.
“El, I have a confession to make,” Will admitted seriously.
If the younger girl was shocked, she did not show it in her face. While her expression remained fairly neutral, the hand that reached out to clutch her brother’s shaky one spoke numbers. Will sighed and looked down into his lap, more and more guilt seeping in by the minute.
“El this isn’t- this is a really bad confession,”
El nodded with understanding but the confusion in her eyes was naturally replaced with worry.
“I don’t know how to start, jeez okay, I kind of didn’t think I’d ever tell you this so it’s a little hard but I’ll try my best.
I… El I’m gay.” By this point Will already had tears falling down into his lap. He braced himself for the worst possible reaction. The immediate disgust. The screaming. The look of betrayal. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind was a voice telling him that El wasn’t capable of that reaction. That she didn’t have that level of hatred in her heart, at least not at him. But that part of Will’s brain was logical, and Will couldn’t be logical. Not now.
“What is gay?”
Will’s head turned up abruptly. Out of all the possible reactions he pictured for his sister discovering his secret this was not one that popped up in his head. ‘Jesus Will, did you forget she grew up in a fucking lab?’ He asked himself.
“Uhm, you know how you like boys right? Like, different from how you like girls?”
“Yes.” But she didn’t sound certain. Either she was confused by this conversation or she was confused by- never mind.
“So that’s normal, okay? Because you like a different gender. But some people in the world are… queer” Will choked on the word.
“They’re different because it’s not normal to like the same gender the way you’re supposed to like the opposite gender, and they like the same gender. I am one of them.” His voice breaks. Tears run down his face, not stopping even when he sees the distraught look on his sister’s face.
“I’m gay.”
El’s hand squeezed his. It was clear from her face that she didn’t know why he was crying and thus didn't really know what to say. Yet she still had the most perfect response anyway.
“Why is that confession bad?”
Will’s silent cry turned into a sob. He took his hand from El’s to cover his mouth. El used that opportunity to lean closer and wrap her arms around the boy tightly. ‘Wow,’ Will thought, ‘two hugs in one day, you’re on a roll.’
After a minute or two Will’s tears ran dry and El slowly pulled back. El raised her eyebrows as if to ask ‘are you okay now?’ To which Will honestly wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyway.
“Will, since people can like the same gender, why don’t I see people like that in public? Like boyfriends or,” she added after a second to ponder “girlfriends?”
Will blinked. He didn’t want El to have to deal with the knowledge of how truly fucked-up the world was, but she had to know.
“I don’t think you understand just how different these people are. How different I am. People think it’s wrong.
So, I guess, it just wouldn’t be safe for people to be like that in public. It’s dangerous.”
“Why do people think it’s wrong?”
Will shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to explain, like there’s this book called the Bible and- I’ll explain that stuff later. It’s just that…
Sometimes people are afraid of things they don’t understand. And sometimes those people find it easier to just hate than try to understand.”
El reached over to rest her hand on Will’s knee. “Those people are mouth-breathers.”
Will smiled softly. “Yeah, mouth-breathers.”
Suddenly, El’s face turned serious. “I think Mike is gay.”
The new-found tension in the room was as cold as ice.
“El, you can’t just, you can’t just say that.”
“I’m not just saying it. I think it. I really do.”
“El, he’s not like that. He’s not like me, and besides, he’s your boyfriend.”
“Was.”
Will’s heart dropped. “What?”
“We broke up.” El said with a shrug, as if this was just any other conversation. As if that one sentence didn’t just shift Will’s entire perspective on the last couple weeks. “A while ago, actually. Sometime last month. It’s weird Mike didn’t tell you. I assumed you knew.”
Will sets this aside in the part of his brain allocated to ‘things he’s only allowed to think about at 2AM’ and gets back to the matter at hand.
“Well, regardless of if you guys are together or not- shit, El are you okay?”
El stares at him. Hard. Almost as if to say ‘no duh’.
“Yes, I’m okay,” she said after a moment. “I mean, I was the one who broke up with him.”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Will stammered cause now he’s confused. “If you’re the one who broke up with him then,” he whispered the last part, “why do you think he’s gay?”
El adjusted how she was sitting to tuck her feet below her body and move her face closer to Will’s. “Because,” she emphasised, jabbing her index finger into Will’s chest, “he didn’t care.”
Will took a minute to piece it all together. “That you broke up with him?”
El nodded.
“What do you mean? He loves you.”
“I know that. And I love him. But I don’t think we love each other in the way we’re supposed to love each other, the way you’re supposed to love the opposite gender.”
“Right. Okay, so you’re like, friends?”
Again, El nodded.
“Okay, sure I guess that makes sense. But that doesn’t mean he’s gay. You can be friends with the opposite gender and still not be gay.”
El rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed at Will’s line of thinking. “I know that. I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t mean it li-“
El stopped him with the raise of a hand. “I do not think he’s gay because we broke up, I think he is gay because of what happened when we broke up.”
Will made a ‘go on’ gesture with his wrist.
“Don’t get me wrong, he was upset. But, it didn’t seem like he was upset at the idea of us not being together, he was more upset at not having a girlfriend.”
El took a pause, as if she had something to hesitate about.
“And not just upset, he seemed scared.”
‘Huh. That was. Something.’ Will thought. He had to admit he didn’t see Mike scared very often, or at least scared about something non-upside down related.
“Okay.” Will replied, taking in her words like a malnourished baby bird being fed by its mother. “Is that the only reason why you think he’s gay?”
“Nope,” El popped out the p and embraced a very smug smile.
Will exhaled good-naturedly. “El, why else do you think Michael Wheeler, whom you dated for 2 years, is gay?”
“The way he looks at you.”
The front door to the Wheelers’s home opened with the slightest squeak. Will hadn’t officially been given a key but he knew which house plant they hid their spare one underneath.
“Will?” A soft, tired voice called out. Will lifted his eyes to the sight of Mike Wheeler, his best friend of 10 years, sitting on the bottom of the Wheelers’ staircase, looking more crestfallen than any 16 year old boy should, staring up at Will, eyes half-closed yet still filled with a notable level of gentle tenderness.
“Hey,” Will murmured loud enough for the other boy to hear but quiet enough for the sound of his voice to not escape the entryway. He mustered a small, sheepish smile.
“I was going to go out and look for you but El called to say you were with her,” Mike confessed, not as if he were trying to make Will feel guilty, but in a manner that implied he needed to get that out. He needed to make sure Will knew he was still there. “But I still wanted to wait to make sure you made it home safe. And..” he added after standing up so he was eye-to-eye with Will “see if you wanted to talk?”
For a moment (or two) all Will could really do was stare in awe. Here, standing in front of him, was Michael Wheeler, his best friend since the age of 5, making his heart skip over two too many beats per second without even trying.
Unfortunately, Mike took this fleeting silence as refusal and began to backtrack. “I mean, you don’t have to of course I just wanted to.”
“Yes, Mike,” Will replied softly, voice exhibiting a sense of confidence that contrasted his own emotions. “We can talk.”
Will watched silently as the black haired boy sitting across from readjusted his sitting position for what felt like the 80th time. They were both sitting on Mike’s stiffly made bed (kudos to Karen), Mike with his back resting against the bed frame and Will sitting on the opposite side of him, legs crossed and patiently waiting for Mike to begin this so-called ‘chat’.
Mike stammered for a couple of seconds before starting. “I just wanted to finish our conversation from before you left,” Mike admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “And ask why you ran out.”
“Mike, I-” Will mumbled, remaining pointedly fixated in the intricate designs etched into the quilt below him, “I’m sorry.”
“Stop.” Mike objected, not loud but firm. Firm enough for Will to look up. Mike exhaled slowly. “Will,” he drew out softly. “Don’t apologize, just talk to me.”
“Right.”
Mike’s eyes bore into Will’s patiently.
“I guess I just panicked.”
Mike nodded.
“It was a lot, you know?”
Mike nodded. After a minute of waiting he realized Will was done.
“Will, we both know there was more to it than that.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you and El broke up?” Will questioned suddenly.
“What?” Mike asked, clearly confused at this sudden change of conversation.
“Why didn’t you tell me you and El broke up?” Will repeated.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“I just don’t see how it’s fair that you expect me to share my every waking thought with you if you can’t even bother to tell me anything important about your life ever”
“That’s just not true!”
“Oh yeah? When were you gonna tell me about you and El?”
“That’s different, I had reasons for that.”
“But it’s not just that now, is it? When were you gonna tell me you started learning how to drive? Or that you’ve been flunking math? Or that Holly’s been getting into fights? Or, I don’t know, opened up ever about the things that are so clearly bothering you?”
“Don’t act like you don’t do the exact same thing. Since when do you smoke pot? Why haven’t you painted in a while? Why’d I have to find out through El that you liked someone?”
Will’s heart dropped.
“What?”
“Back when you guys were in California, El told me you were painting a lot for a girl you liked.”
‘God, if he knew even half of it,’ Will thought sardonically.
“Well it’s not like we talked much back then, did we?”
“No, but you could’ve still told me. I mean me, Lucas and Dustin talk about that kind of stuff all the time.”
“That’s different,” Will whispered, choking on his words.
Mike’s thoughts stopped abruptly and he zeroed in on Will. “What?” he asked tentatively.
“Nevermind,” Will quipped, loud enough for Mike to hear this time, “look, I’m actually kind of tired.” He stood up from the bed. “I think I’m gonna head down.” He turned towards the door, set on making an exit.
“Wait!” Mike quickly reached out and grabbed Will’s wrist, not tight but firm. Will turned his head back around to see Mike give him those pleading eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day. “Look,” the taller boy sighed, “if we don’t deal with it now, then we’re never gonna fix things.”
Will stayed quiet for a moment, not thinking, just pausing.
“Will,” Mike started carefully, “you’re my best friend, okay? And we both know that Vecna, or Henry or whatever is still out there. We keep going on these crawls every other night and it really feels like we’re going to find him, but I don’t know what’s going to happen to us then. What I do know,” he paused, “is that I don’t want us to be distant. But we are right now. And that’s mainly my fault! But I really want us to go back to how things were before, or at least try. Because…”
Mike closed his eyes for a second and took in a breath. “I don’t know if I can make it through this if you’re not next to me.”
He slowly opened his eyes and braced himself for a look of disgust. ‘God,’ Michael thought to himself, annoyed, ‘way to ruin a good thing.’ There was no way Will didn’t know his secret after that.
“Will?” Mike tried, seeing Will’s completely blank stare. “Will, say something.”
Eventually, the tiniest smile formed on the boy’s face.
“Okay,” the brunette spoke definitively.
“What?” Mike unconsciously voiced aloud.
The boy sat himself back down on Mike’s bed.
“Let’s talk.”
“Oh,” Mike sounded, clearly confused at the lack of rejection, “right.”
“So,” Will drew out emphatically, “What were your ‘reasons’ for not telling me about El?”
Mike sighed. He knew this conversation had to happen eventually, he was just hoping he’d have a little more time.
“I don’t know if you’re going to like my answer.”
“Well then tell me and we can find out together.”
“I didn’t want to tell you about me and El breaking up because then you’d probably want to talk about it. You’d probably ask why it happened. You’d probably expect me to be heartbroken and crying and all sad and stuff.
But the thing is, I wasn't. I guess I was almost relieved. I didn’t want you to see me like that because you’d ask why I wasn’t sad that the girl I’d been dating since I was 13 broke up with me. And then I’d have to tell you. Or, I would avoid it and just make things worse.”
For a stretch, all Will could do was stare. Sure, this rant cleared up one of his questions but it gave him 10 more. Finally, he replied.
“Did you love her?”
Mike gave a down-cast, ashamed shook of the head.
“Not in that way.”
The prospect of brightening Mike’s somber mood, even just a smidge, was enough for Will to try to steer elsewhere.
“Well,” Will started, perking up a little, “you answered my question. What do you want to know?”
Mike slightly grinned, eyes slowly lighting up.
“Was my painting better?”
“Huh?” Will was genuinely lost.
“I mean, I know all your art is good, but you spent more time on my painting right? More than this mystery girl?”
“Mike,” Will chuckled a little bit, “I spent all my time on your painting”
At this Mike beamed. “What did you paint her?”
Will’s smile faltered. He couldn’t hide this any longer. It would be wrong, considering what Mike had just confessed.
“Mike,” Will spoke softly, “there was no girl.”
“What?” Mike was now the confused one.
“El was wrong. She probably saw me painting a lot and assumed. But there was no girl.”
“Oh.” Mike’s stomach twisted. Even though it’s been happening more often recently, the thought of Will lying to him still makes him sick. Things would be so much more simple if they were just honest with each other. Well, if Will was honest with him. His secret was far too complicated, Mike reasoned.
“The painting she saw me make was for a boy.”
Now he was conflicted. On one hand, Mike was glad that Will didn’t spend all his time painting for a girl he liked, even if it was selfish of him. But on the other, Mike was the only friend Will was supposed to be painting for! Sure, Will painted for Lucas, Dustin and Max sometimes and Mike was more than okay with that. But it was a well known fact that he made the most paintings for Mike. That was their thing. So, yeah it was a little annoying that Will spent so much time painting for some random friend he made in California to the point where El thought he was painting for a girl!
Who was this stupid guy anyway? He probably didn’t even know Will’s birthday.
“Well, what did you paint him?” Mike inquired, trying to mask his distrust of this boy.
Will tilted his head so that the two boys weren’t making eye contact anymore.
“An homage to a DnD Campaign”
“What?” Mike blurted out loudly.
Will shrunk back, closing his eyes tightly, practically on accident.
“Sorry, it’s just that you said you wouldn’t join another party. I mean you literally said that it wasn’t possible. It’s fine though, honestly. I joined another party too so obviously I should’ve expected that you would as well, I was just surprised.”
Will reopened his eyes to peer back at Mike curiously. After a beat he responded.
“Mike, I didn’t join a new party.”
“Did you watch a campaign he made? What, he didn’t let you play or something? Did you seriously make a painting for some douche that-”
“Mike,’ Will interrupted softly.
“Yeah?”
Instead of answering Will gave him a pointed look and made a little gesture with his hands like ‘how the hell do you not know what I’m getting at’. Which, admittedly, disappointed Mike a little. He used to be able to understand Will better than anyone. When they were younger, they could have entire conversations with simple glances, much to the annoyance of the other party members.
“Dude, just spit it out.”
“There was only one painting!” Will blurted.
Mike was now confused again. But he stayed quiet, sensing that it wasn’t the right time to voice this confusion.
“There was no girl in California. There was no boy in California. The only painting I made was the one I made for you.”
“Oh,” was the astute response that Mike Wheeler was able to give in regards to this exciting revelation. But could you blame him? He had just discovered that the painting from El’s letters, the irrational focus of his excessive jealousy these past 2 years, had never existed. That this painting El occasionally mentioned was the one he had received.
Huh.
“I thought El commissioned that painting? Told you what to draw, or something like that?”
Will paused, seemingly lost in thought.
“She did.” He eventually replied, although not too convincingly.
“Will, we both know you suck at lying,” Mike huffed, “and besides, she told me that you wouldn’t show her the painting you were working on. That she barely knew about it.”
The boys stared at each other hopelessly. Whenever they seemed to be getting somewhere yet another lie would unravel itself, and they’d be back where they started.
“I lied.” Will spoke expressionlessly.
“Yeah, I know.” Mike retorted harshly. Urgh, not again. He didn’t want to get mad at Will, but that painting meant so much to him. Even though that whole ‘El needs you speech’ was dead wrong, feeling like Will thought that someone could need him made everything okay. And now what, Will lied about El commissioning the painting? Did he think Mike was so pathetic that he needed a little painting of comfort?
“The painting was all me. All of it was me. All of it.”
Mike sighed. “It’s not about the painting. Well, yes, it is a little bit about the painting, I mean I’m happy that you made it for me, but why did you have to lie? Obviously, I’m well aware El doesn’t need me, but I genuinely thought that you thought that. That you really believed that someone needed me.”
“I do believe that.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“No, Mike. I believe that. Me.” Will peered up at him, chestnut eyes damp, startlingly still, simply waiting.
Then it clicked. The painting. The speech. God, he was oblivious. And confused.
Mike had spent months convincing himself that Will wasn’t like that. That he should just forget about his stupid little crush, and focus on being Will’s friend, so forgive him if he was a little shell-shocked.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” Will chuckled. They made eye-contact, and suddenly the air in the room was far too thick. Will quickly stood up from his place on the bed and began for the door.
“I should go. You need some time to deal with this.”
Before he could say anything, Will had left. Mike was alone. Again.
God, why had he done that? Will restlessly lay in bed, stuck in his thoughts. The world was ending for god’s sake, and he decided to just add that to Mike’s already growing pile of problems. He was the biggest douche ever. He should just go back up there and take it back, say it was a prank or something. Yeah, that was what he was going to do.
Will emphatically leapt out of bed and made his way to the basement door. Suddenly, it opened. Will’s blood ran cold. Could demogorgons open doors? He couldn’t remember now. Will braced himself for an attack, but as the door slowly creaked open, inch by inch as if the intruder was all too aware of himself, the boy was met with the endearing sight of Mike Wheeler standing incredibly still in his Star Wars pajamas, conflictingly wary.
“Will?” Mike spoke softly, confusion laced with his tone.
“What are you doing here Mike?”
Mike recoiled, cheeks flushing the slightest bit pink, then answered slowly.
“I didn’t like how we left things. I wanted to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Will bit out defensively, as if his body was acting on auto-pilot, putting up walls of protection.
“We both know that’s not true,” Mike commented, speaking much softer and kinder than he should have been at that moment.
“Will,” Mike whispered, reaching his arm out to the boy.
Will stepped back, out of reach.
“Look, I’m really tired.” Will responded, cautiously keeping any sense of emotion out of his voice. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“But this is important.” Mike defiantly spoke.
“And it can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“I just need to tell you something.” The boy answered, his assured demeanor slightly wavering. In response, Will made a little ‘go on’ gesture with his right hand, still standing in the doorway preventing Mike from getting in and lengthening the inevitable, but haunting conversation Will presumed they were going to have.
Mike took in a deep breath, stabilizing his posture and preparing himself.
“I love you.”
Huh? Out of all the responses Mike could’ve had to Will’s coming out this was not one of the contenders. Obviously, Will knew that Mike loved him, as well as all the members of the party (yes, including Max), but he wasn’t one to say it much. Still, it was sweet. Mike was softening the blow for when he eventually tells Will that they need some space from their friendship. That it was too weird.
“I love you too.” Will instinctively spoke, attempting his best ‘this is platonic’ voice. “Is that all you had to say? ‘Cause I feel like that could have waited ‘till the morning.”
Mike sighed and muttered something akin to ‘you’re not getting it’, quietly.
“I’m in love with you, Will.”
Will’s eyes widened.
“Oh.”
Mike paled.
“Shit! I’m so sorry Will. I read this so wro-”
“Mike!” Will whispered abruptly, cutting the boy off. “Just stop, okay? Calm down.”
Complying, Mike breathed in slowly.
“Are you okay?”
Mike nodded.
“Good.” Will moved his body slightly, giving Mike the space to walk in.
After Mike walked in he shut the door and walked them over to his mattress. Instead of sitting down, they just stood, staring at each other for what felt like hours.
Will reached his arm out gradually, inching his palm up to Mike’s cheek, simply resting it there. His stomach flipped, but he knew that if he didn’t do this now, he never would.
Measuredly, the boy leaned up and shut his eyes tight not wanting to get a look on Mike’s expression. It was honestly funny how even after Mike had confessed, Will was still terrified at the prospect of the ravenette knowing his true feelings.
Reopening his eyes, Will gently ran a finger along Mike’s hair, which was falling down his face, framing it messily.
Mike just stared back, not wanting to ruin the moment with an awkward attempt at conversation.
But, wanting something isn’t always enough.
“Will?” Mike asked, trying to come up with a question.
“Yeah?” Will looked up at the boy, hazel eyes now a honey-brown from the warm string lights hung around the basement. Mike tried to ignore the warmth flooding into his face due to the hand, Will’s hand, that was still grasping his face. Instead, he shifted his focus (even more) onto Will’s face. The low light casted an opaque cloak over his face, making the boy’s cheeks seem lucent. ‘Oh fuck it.’ Mike thought before making either the worst or best decision of his life.
Leaving no time to second guess, Mike immediately leaned down, and met Will’s damp lips with his own. It was a quick (probably terrible), spur of the moment kiss, but it unleashed a dam of exhilaration that Mike had never felt with El.
Coming to realization, Mike pulled his head back, the tiniest bit, only for Will to close the distance once again. This kiss was faster, less cautious. What was once a soft, careful field of ardor, was now a speedy racetrack; both contestants mindlessly rushing, with no real alertness of anything but each other.
After a few minutes of this heated, disgusting mess, the two boys finally broke apart from each other. Eyes unmoving from the other’s piercing gaze, Will spoke, voice croaking in the silence.
“I love you too, Mike.”