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The silence stretches between them, the only sound left being the sludge pouring into the small room. Will’s eyes burn. They're going to die here. They aren’t making it out this time. Mike and him had been through so much, Demogorons, government attacks, possession, Vecna, and now they're going to be killed by some fucking goo.
“I hate The Clash,” Mike says softly, his voice hardly being heard over the liquid crashing down.
“What?” Out of all things he could have said, this is his final confession?
“I hate The Clash. Every time you would turn them on I would want to cut off my ears and throw the radio out the window.” Mike finally looks up at him sheepishly. His laugh echoes over the rushing sound of the slime at Will's shocked face.
“So every time I would make you listen to Should I Stay or Should I Go, you were plotting my radio's death?” he shouts back. A smile of his own spreading across his face.
“No! No, it’s every other song but that one.”
“Oh, is that one not ear ripping material?” Mike goes quiet, his laughter ebbing away completely.
“No,” he says slowly, “it’s not actually. That's my favorite song.”
Confusion snakes through Will. “If it’s your favorite song then how…”
“You would always sing it. All the time. I don’t even think you knew you were doing it half the time.” He pauses and looks down at the table. “It became my favorite when I heard your voice singing it over the walkie. Everyone thought you were dead and there you were, singing over that damn thing. That was the best thing I have ever heard, Will. The best thing I ever will.”
Emotion tears through his chest, tears welling up in his eyes. The newfound silence between them is deafening. “Yeah, well I threw away that outfit you showed up at the airport in. The one with the yellow button up and stupid hat.”
His attempt to break the tension works, Mike loudly gasping at the admission. “That was you?” he yells, shocked. “I thought that was El!”
“I hated that outfit. It wasn’t you! You were trying to be Jane’s boyfriend and not Mike. Every time I saw a piece of that outfit it reminded me how you were trying so hard to be someone else. Someone who wasn’t my best friend and hardly knew me.”
“Will—”
“No, let me say my peace before we die,” Will snaps. “When you got there you couldn’t even give me a real hug, just some weird little pat on the shoulder. I thought I meant more than that to you. I get things might have changed, and I should have assumed that after you never wrote me any letters, but I was your best friend. You couldn't even be there for Jane! At the rink you practically avoided both of us and treated her like shit. She wasn’t okay and that was so obvious but you didn't even notice!”
Mike stays quiet for a second, making sure Will’s done. “I wrote you letters.”
His heart stops. “What?”
Teary eyes meet Will’s. “I wrote you everyday. I wrote to you more than her. Every single day you were in California, I wrote you a letter. Multiple pages too.”
“Why didn't you send me them?” he asks quietly. “I thought you didn’t care about me enough to write.”
“I cared too much. With El it didn’t matter as much. I was her boyfriend and boyfriends are supposed to write letters to their girlfriend and say certain things. With you it’s different. I didn’t have a script to follow. It was always too real. I didn’t want to scare you. To hurt you somehow.”
The words circle around in Will’s head. “You did that anyway.” Tears streak down his cheek, his emotions finally becoming too much for him. He wants to reach out to Mike, to be held by him, but he can't so instead he wraps his arms around himself. “Sorry,” he automatically apologizes as more tears come out.
“Hey, hey, hey, no,” Mike says, crawling across the table, “it’s okay. You don't need to say sorry. You don't have any reason to apologize.” He grabs Will by his arms and pulls him to his chest. “I wasn’t here before but I’m here now. I’m never going to leave. I’ll be here ‘till the end of time. No matter how close it is.”
“You don’t know that,” Will says, burrowing his face further into Mike.
“I do.”
“No, Mike, you don’t. You don’t know. You would hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Will.”
“You don't know that,” he fights, his voice breaking.
“Then tell me.”
Another sob rakes through him as he tries to catch his breath. “Mike, I’m gay. I’m a dirty queer. I like boys. Everyone who would yell those things at me were right. My father was right about it. Every time he would scream and hit me, he was right. His son is nothing but a fucking fairy.”
Mike’s arms tighten around him. “They weren't. I mean they were right about you being gay but they were wrong about everything else, Will. You are an amazing person and deserve love. You should have been able to find someone that you could love and have a life with. Did you think this would change things? I’m your best friend. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me.” Mike lowers his head down onto Will’s and he realizes that Mike’s crying too.
“You want to know something else? About something that happened when you were gone.” Will shakily nods against his shoulder. “I haven't ever told anyone. The only people who know are Dustin and El.” Mike takes a breath to try and compose himself before whispering in a small voice, “I jumped off the quarry. It was after your body was found. Troy and James were threatening Dustin and said if I jumped they would let him go. I did it without hesitation. I—” he breaks into Will’s shoulder.
He shakes, sobbing quietly into the fabric. Will squeezes him, equally as torn apart. “I didn’t even do it for Dustin. It was just an excuse. I wanted to. I wanted to die so badly after they found you, Will. I would have anyway.”
They hold each other, crying over the pain they held too close to themselves, the secrets they never shared, the time they lost. Will’s heart breaks, shatters, into small, unfixable pieces at every tear that slips through, every whimper from Mike.
The sludge is right underneath the table, with no signs of slowing down. They were going to die here. This was the end.
“Mike,” Will whispers, “tell me one more thing. Please. I want to die listening to you. My life started when you asked me to be your friend on the swings. I want it to end the same way. Please, Mike. The best thing you ever heard was me over the walkie, the best thing I’ve heard is you asking if you want to be friends. Please.”
He sniffles and pulls his head away from Will. His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. His hands slip from Will’s back to his waist. Mike’s fingers trace over his arms before settling on his hands. “El and I broke up.” His eyes dart away from Will’s and down to their hands.
Will’s breath catches in his throat. So many thoughts rush and spiral in him. He wishes he knew so he could have consoled his sister. Wishes he could have known so he would know why they did. Anything else he could have felt, hope maybe, doesn’t matter anymore because there's nothing he can do about it now.
“I made the painting. She didn’t commission it,” Will says just as softly. “All of it came from me.”
“I know,” he squeezes Will’s hands, “that's why we broke up.”
More tears spill out of him unashamedly. “I never said it.”
“You didn’t have too.”
The sludge leaks onto the table and starts creeping towards them. Mike immediately garbs for Will, pulling him as close as he can. Will reaches a hand up to cup his cheek and knock their foreheads together gently. “I love you, Michael Wheeler.”
“And I love you, William Byers.”
Their tears mix together as they fall into their laps. The regret from not talking sooner, for not admitting anything until it was too late burning into them. They could have had that life Mike was talking about earlier. They could have run someplace far away where they could live and be happy together. Where they could wake up in the same bed every morning. Where they could openly love one another.
“Will,” he says quietly. Mike pulls his head away from Will and grabs his face with both hands. “Will!”
He opens his eyes and sees Mike smiling wide. Will looks around and realizes that the slime has stopped moving, stopped flowing entirely. He reaches a timid hand out and feels solid ground beneath him. “Mike, we’re alive.” He scrambles up, pulling Mike with him, and runs onto the now hardened sludge. “Mike, we’re alive!”
Before he can react, Mike grabs his face and crashes his lips to Will’s. It’s not soft or romantic like Will would always imagine it. Their teeth clacked together and they kissed like they were still moments away from death. Will breathed Mike in, adrenaline pumping through his veins as Mike moved a hand to his waist and pulled him in even closer.
They only pulled apart when they both were gasping for air, smiling like kids in a candy store. “I love you,” Mike says, full hearted and with adoration in his eyes.
“I love you too.”