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Will has been avoiding him.
Now, contrary to popular belief, Mike isn’t an idiot (of course, in the few hours Max has been out of her coma, she has reminded him several times that he is, in fact, the dumbest person she’s met).
Another noteworthy point: Mike has never denied that he is dramatic. You have to have a certain flair for theatricals to DM campaigns after all, and Mike has spent many, many hours across his 16 years of life cultivating said skill.
He is not being dramatic when he says that in the span of roughly 48 hours, everything went to complete shit.
Not only were his parents attacked and hospitalized, his sister taken by Vecna, and all the eleven other kids kidnapped, but his best friend of 10 years also somehow unlocked an apparently innate ability to snap demo limbs with his mind.
Don’t get him wrong; with the way things are going, Mike is ecstatic for Will. The problem, however, is that while said best friend was saving his life, he happened to (objectively!) look incredibly good.
He tried to forget about it, really he did, but since That Day, he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head. His mind replays it over and over until Mike is sure he’s committed it to memory.
(Will with his hand outstretched. Will saving his life. Will wiping the blood from his nose. Will on his knees—)
If his father wakes up from his coma, Mike will have to remember to thank him, because the only thing standing between Mike combusting every time he breathes the same air as Will is Ted Wheeler’s thinly disguised threats against all those not "normal."
Which brings him to the current dilemma occupying his mind.
And okay, look. Realistically, Mike knows the world is sort of maybe ending, and he should be focused on that… but his entire worldview just shifted.
Will doesn’t like girls.
You’re not a girl, the traitorous part of his brain thinks.
Now that alone isn’t the confusing part. Growing up in a small town in Indiana happened to do wonders for his perspective. Mike himself had been on the receiving end of quite a few taunts. But despite his best efforts to shield his best friend, Will managed to end up somewhat of a town pariah.
No. What’s really throwing Mike for a loop is the fact Will confessed to having a crush on someone… while staring directly at him.
He didn’t mean it like that. Or maybe he did. Oh my god, he did.
Mike felt hot and dizzy and weirdly guilty. His stomach twisted itself into knots. The longer he thinks about it, replaying it over and over, the more he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks.
Upset. You’re upset he said it was just ‘a crush.' "Shut up," he told himself.
He’s ashamed to admit his first instinct was panic. This changes things. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to stay a secret.
He thought about El, about how he was supposed to feel. He didn’t feel it. They were better off as friends; both of them agreed that when they broke up after they got back from Lenora.
—•—•——•—•—
“I need space, Mike. Space to figure out who I am again, without having to worry about who you want me to be. Besides, I think there’s someone you like more than me, and I don’t want that. I don’t want us both to be miserable.”
Mike spluttered, his mind racing to form a response to that. “Eleven, you’re the most amazing girl in the world; you’re my superhero! I don’t understand—"
“That’s just it, Mike. I don’t want to be a superhero. I want to be normal. Be me.”
The silence that followed that was one Mike will never forget. “We can still be friends though… right? Because I love you, El. Maybe not the way I should, not romantically, but you’re one of my best friends.”
“Of course, Mike. I love you too, but it is—it is better this way.”
“Wait! I just—what about the painting?”
“Mike. What painting?”
—•—•——•—•—
None of it lined up.
Surely Mike would have noticed if his best friend in the entire world had a crush on him. There would have been signals after all.
What lined up instead were memories he’d never questioned. How Will’s opinion always matters more and mattered the most. How El dumping him outside the mall for all the world to see hadn’t hurt nearly as much as when he and Will fought in his garage.
How in those early years, when El’s hair was short enough that he could comfortably run his fingers through it, he imagined a bowl cut instead.
Max was right. He is an idiot.
The SQWK below them was almost unrecognizable. The building was the same, even if the bricks were crumbling and the paint was peeling in most places. From way up here, Mike could make out the tilt of the radio station's neon sign. It crackled on and off, and he thought it might’ve just been the only electricity still working in the Upside Down.
While Mike had never claimed to be athletic, it was still embarrassing how out of breath he was from the climb. The others ahead of him hadn’t needed to stop at the rest platform, yet here Mike was bent over the railing while he tried desperately to fill his lungs with air. When he was convinced he wasn’t in imminent danger of suffocating, Mike began to down half of his bottle of water, rationing be damned.
In a twisted sort of way, it was almost peaceful, this high up off the ground. If he squinted, Mike swore he would be able to see a pack of demo-dogs tracking some poor creature below.
The rattle of boots against metal pulled him from his thoughts. Mike lifted his head as a figure joined his own. Will.
The older boy beside him clutched at the rails like a lifeline, and though Mike would like to think Will was struggling as much as he was, he couldn’t deny it. Will had gotten buff in California. Gone was the small, skinny fourteen-year-old Mike had said goodbye to all those years ago. Instead, in his place, this Will was tan from his time spent under the West Coast sun, and look, Mike has eyes, so even he can recognize Will’s broader shoulders.
He offered what was left of his water to Will, determinedly shifting his gaze away from his best friend while he gulped greedily, head tipped back enough that Mike saw a bead of water run down his chin and neck.
"Hey, uh,” he started, casting his gaze over to Will. Mike was met with hazel eyes shrouded in shadow, the occasional flash of red lightning ricocheting across the sky.
“What you said at the SQWK…” The inside of his cheek bore the brunt of his anxiety, his already pale hands gripping the railing of the radio tower. “I’m sorry—I mean, not sorry about what you said. That came out wrong,” he retorted, shaking his head despite the vertigo threatening to tip him off of the tiny platform they stood on. Panic flared in him as he realized how insensitive that must have sounded. “Or not came out wrong, Jesus Christ—“
Mike’s heart was in his throat as Will laughed his botched apology off.
“It’s okay, Mike,” and Mike thinks he might just fall off of this tower after all, because how is it fair that Will can say his name like that? Like it’s something worth the effort.
“No, it’s not, it’s not. I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t.” The tower shook dangerously under the weight of their climbing group, mirroring Mike’s racing heart.
“And I guess I was just so self-absorbed that I couldn’t see it. I just… I feel like an idiot, and I—“
“You don't have to be sorry. And you are not an idiot. you're not."
There is a small shake of his head before Will continues. "It's just…”
"I didn't even understand it myself for the longest time. And I just—I think it needed to happen the way it happened.” They lock eyes.
"I needed to find my own way. But what matters is that you're still here, and you still think we can be friends."
If Will wants to be friends, he could do that. He can find a way to rid himself of these feelings. If it means he can keep Will in his life, he’d make any sacrifice.
Who is he kidding?
“Actually—Will. Boyfriends sounds better to me.”
Any objection died in Will’s throat as Mike closed the distance, cutting off his words as he crashed their lips together. There was no hesitation, only the desperate, frantic hunger of months spent pretending he didn't want this. He felt Will’s hands tangled blindly in his hair, pulling him closer as if he could bridge the gap between their skin. Mike was sure his grip on Will’s waist was bruising. It was messy and breathless and everything Mike had ever dreamed kissing would be.
And Will kissed him back, like he was drowning. Like Mike gave him all the oxygen he needed, like it was all that would keep him alive. The two slotted together almost as if the universe had wished it so. It was dizzying, and Mike struggled to keep up.
All he knew was that he wanted to kiss Will until they could remember nothing but each other. Mike never wanted to be anywhere else.
They pulled apart, gasping for air but still tangled together all the same. Mike bent down to press their foreheads together, taking in Will’s widened eyes and swollen lips.
“Mike—“
“No, listen, Will, please. El might be able to make things fly and kill demos with her mind, but Will. She can’t make me feel the way I do when I look at you. Not anymore.”
He inhaled. Years spent in the privacy of his room scrubbing at his skin until it was raw, wishing it was enough to rid himself of the desire simmering in his chest, had all amounted to this.
“I love you, Will. I do.” He punctuated his sentences with small kisses, his lips ghosting over the sun-kissed skin of Will’s neck. “I love the way your face lights up when you talk about line work in comics,” he leaned down to place a kiss behind Will’s ear.
“And the way you flick your pencil to the beat of that one Clash song when you’re sketching.” A kiss on his cheek.
“I love the way your hair sticks up when you get out of bed,” a kiss upon his nose, “and the color your eyes turn when they catch the sun.” Mike pressed his lips to the mole beside Will’s mouth, relishing in the sharp hitch of his breath. “The way you hold the cuffs on your jacket when you’re nervous, because otherwise you’d pick at the skin around your nails. I love every part of you, Will Byers.”
Mike brought his hands up to cup the brunette's face in his hands, trailing his thumb carefully along his cheekbones.
“If you’ll still have me.”
“Michael. You’re such an idiot.”
It is all the warning he is given before Will tugs on his jacket, bringing them impossibly close and pressing their lips together again. Mike let a hand stay cupped against Will’s jaw, while his other slid beneath the shorter boy's shirt. He hummed into the kiss as he felt Will melt into him. It was clumsy, but there was nowhere else they would rather be.
There is so much left for them to discuss, once they finish saving the world that is, but right now, wrapped in Will’s arms he cannot bring himself to care. He is filthy, but Mike had never felt so free. After all, in his kiss, Mike was finally home.