Chapter Text
Mike Wheeler doesn’t understand why he feels like this.
He’s always been the loser kid who fades into the background at every school dance, standing awkwardly by the wall while everyone else pairs off under the cheap colored lights. Lucas and Max were thriving, somehow, despite breaking up at least five times since they first got together. Dustin and Eleven were still technically in their “talking stage,” but everyone already knew they were perfect for each other. Nerdy guy obsessed with science and superheroes plus a super badass girl with literal powers? It wasn’t exactly rocket science.
Mike has never had a problem with his friends’ relationships. Sure, he dated Eleven for a few years, but their breakup had been mutual. Eleven knew that being with Mike, or being in a relationship at all, wasn’t the best idea, especially after everything they’d been through. After saving the world, she deserved space to figure out who she was.
Mike, however, wasn’t exactly sure what he felt.
He loved El. Of course he did. Just… not like that. Not anymore. Looking back, their entire relationship felt rushed somehow, like they had both been clinging to something because they didn’t know what else to hold onto.
At first, Mike thought he had simply fallen out of love.
But lately he’d been wondering if maybe those feelings hadn’t disappeared at all.
Maybe they had just… shifted. Maybe they had landed somewhere else. Maybe on someone else.
And that was the problem.
Because these past few weeks had been absolute hell for Mike Wheeler.
And the reason was his best friend.
Will Byers.
It started small. Subtle enough that Mike almost ignored it.
Whenever Will sat too close to him on the basement couch, Mike suddenly became aware of everything. The warmth of Will’s shoulder brushing against his arm. The quiet way Will laughed at something Dustin said. The way his hair fell into his eyes when he leaned over the D&D board, completely focused on the game.
Mike told himself it was normal.
They were best friends. Of course he was comfortable around Will.
Except… he wasn’t.
Because sometimes Will looked at him, really looked at him, and Mike’s chest tightened in a way that made absolutely no sense. And that thought terrified him.
So Mike did what Mike Wheeler did best whenever he was confused.
He overcorrected.
The party was hanging out in Mike’s basement, as usual.
Lucas and Max were curled up together on the couch, Lucas’s arm slung casually around Max’s shoulders while they watched some random fantasy show Will had insisted on putting on. Dustin and El were sprawled out on the floor, Dustin enthusiastically explaining a science concept he probably shouldn’t even understand at his age while El nodded along, clearly confused but still determined to follow.
Mike sat beside Will on the other end of the couch. There wasn’t much space between them, and their legs overlapped slightly because of it. Mike tried not to think about how warm Will felt next to him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the faint blush creeping up the back of Will’s neck, spreading slowly across his cheeks.
He’s just not used to the closeness, Mike told himself.
That had to be it.
Still, this kept happening.
Will would smile at him… that stupid, soft, adorable smile and suddenly Mike would forget what he was saying halfway through a sentence. Will would bump his elbow against Mike’s by accident and Mike’s stomach would do this ridiculous little flip.
It made absolutely no sense. He was straight.
Totally. One hundred percent straight.
…Right?
“Did you see that girl in math class?” Mike suddenly blurts out.
The words come out before he can stop them, and his face immediately heats up with embarrassment.
Lucas glances over. “What girl?”
“The one with the… uh- hair.”
Dustin snorts loudly. “Mike, half the girls in Hawkins have hair.”
Mike pointedly ignores him, leaning back in his chair like he suddenly couldn’t care less about the conversation.
“She’s pretty,” he adds casually.
Beside him, Will goes quiet. Not just quiet. Painfully quiet. Mike notices immediately. The guilt hits him like a brick to the chest.
But he keeps talking anyway.
Because if he keeps talking about girls, keeps proving it out loud, then maybe the weird twisting feeling in his chest will finally go away.
Maybe it’ll prove something.
To Will. To himself.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mike sees Will shift slightly. Slowly, almost carefully, Will scoots a few inches to the side, creating a little more space between them.
It shouldn’t bother Mike. But it does. A lot more than it should.
Will’s attention turns back to the TV, his expression carefully neutral as he focuses on the movie.
Meanwhile, Mike finds himself staring at him instead.
At his profile. On the way his curls fall messily across his forehead. At the faint crease between his eyebrows when he concentrates.
“Beautiful…” Mike murmured before he could stop himself.
The word slipped out quietly, almost swallowed by the sound of the television.
Unfortunately, not quiet enough.
“What was that, Mike?” Max said immediately, her head snapping toward him. A slow, mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. “Did you just call Will beautiful?”
Mike froze.
For a moment, the entire basement seemed to go silent.
Lucas turned his head. Dustin looked up from the floor. Even Eleven glanced over curiously.
And Will…
Will looked like he might spontaneously combust.
“What? No- I didn’t- ” Mike stammered, his face flushing a deep red as he straightened up in his seat. “I wasn’t talking about Will.”
Max raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” Mike said quickly, nodding way too fast. “I meant the show. The… uh… cinematography. It’s… beautiful.”
Dustin slowly turned toward the television. The screen currently showed a badly animated dragon flying across a very obvious green screen background.
Dustin looked back at Mike.
“Dude.”
Mike sank further into the couch. Lucas was wheezing, clearly having trouble breathing. Max, on the other hand, looked delighted.
“Mhm,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, Wheeler. The cinematography.”
Mike shot her a desperate look that basically screamed please shut up. Max only grinned wider. Beside him, Will hadn’t moved.
Mike risked a glance in his direction and immediately regretted it.
Will’s face was bright red, his gaze firmly fixed on the television like it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.
Mike’s stomach twisted.
Great.
Now he’d made things weird.
Again.
“Anyway,” Mike said quickly, clearing his throat and forcing his eyes back to the TV. “What even is happening in this show?”
“Honestly?” Dustin said. “I have no idea.”
Max stretched her arms over her head, still clearly amused.
“Maybe we should rewind,” she said casually. “Since someone was too busy admiring Will’s beautiful face to pay attention.”
Mike groaned, dropping his head back against the couch.
“Max.”
“Yes, Mike?”
“Please stop talking.”
Lucas laughed.
Dustin started making exaggerated kissing noises.
And somewhere beside him, Will quietly shifted again, just a little closer this time.
Mike noticed immediately. He tried very hard not to smile.
Eventually the teasing dies down.
The show continues playing in the background, though no one is really paying attention anymore. Lucas and Max start quietly arguing about something that happened in the plot. Dustin is explaining some ridiculous theory about how the dragon’s wings are “scientifically inaccurate.” Eleven is listening politely, like she usually does.
Mike tries to focus on the TV. He really does. But his brain keeps replaying the same moment over and over again.
Beautiful.
God.
He actually said that.
Out loud. About Will. Mike sinks deeper into the couch, rubbing his face with both hands. This is bad. Really bad.
Because the worst part isn’t that everyone heard him. The worst part is that it was true. He glances sideways.
Will is still watching the screen, but Mike notices the faint pink tint on his cheeks hasn’t faded. His fingers are fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater, tugging the fabric over his hands.
Mike’s chest does that weird, tight thing again. He quickly looks away. Okay. New plan.
He just needs proof.
Proof that he’s normal.
Proof that he likes girls.
Proof that he’s completely, definitely straight.
Because if he likes girls, then everything will make sense again.
Later that night, after everyone goes home, Mike sits alone in his room. The house is quiet. His parents are asleep, the hallway lights are off, and the only thing illuminating the room is the faint glow of his computer screen.
Mike stares at it for a long moment. Then he sighs and rubs the back of his neck.
“This is stupid,” he mutters to himself.
Still, his fingers move across the keyboard anyway. The internet isn’t exactly new anymore, but chatrooms are still… weird. Random people talking to each other from who-knows-where.
Mike scrolls through usernames, half ready to close the browser and forget the whole thing. Then one name catches his eye.
stargirl88
The username is simple. Nothing special. But something about it makes Mike pause. The chat window opens.
A few messages appear from different users. Then..
stargirl88: hi
stargirl88: anyone here?
Mike hesitates. His fingers hover over the keyboard. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t even know this person.
But… maybe that’s the point.
Someone who doesn’t know him.
Someone who doesn’t know Will.
Someone who can prove that everything is normal.
Mike types before he can overthink it.
MikeW: yeah
The reply comes almost instantly.
stargirl88: oh hi
Mike stares at the screen, unsure what to say next.
This feels strangely awkward.
Like the first day of school when you’re forced to sit next to someone you don’t know.
He types again.
MikeW: what are you doing up this late
A pause.
Then the typing bubble appears.
stargirl88: couldnt sleep
what about you
Mike leans back in his chair.
He thinks for a second before answering.
MikeW: same i guess
The conversation should end there.
It probably would with anyone else.
But somehow it doesn’t.
They keep talking. At first, it’s nothing important. Just small things.
Favorite movies. Music. School. Complaints about teachers. Dumb stories about classmates. The kind of meaningless conversations people have when they don’t really know each other yet.
Normal stuff.
But the more they talk, the easier it becomes.
Mike stops staring at the keyboard so much. His replies come faster. The awkward pauses between messages slowly disappear, replaced with easy back-and-forth conversation that stretches later and later into the night.
He learns that she likes music he’s never heard of. That she hates mornings. That she likes drawing but doesn’t think she’s very good at it.
Mike finds himself telling her things, too.
About Hawkins. About his friends. About the stupid arguments they have over D&D campaigns and movies and who would survive longest in a zombie apocalypse.
At some point, he realizes he’s smiling. Actually smiling. At a computer screen. At a.. girl.
He doesn’t even notice when it starts happening. It just… does.
Whoever this girl is, she’s easy to talk to. Easier than Mike expected someone online to be. She asks questions that make him stop and think before answering. She laughs at his dumb jokes.
And somehow, somehow, she always seems to understand exactly what he means, even when he doesn’t explain it very well.
It’s strange.
But it’s also…
Nice.
Really nice.
Nicer than Mike expected something like this to be.
The conversation keeps going long past when he should probably log off. The clock on his desk creeps closer to midnight, then past it, but neither of them mentions it.
And slowly, the tight knot of anxiety that’s been sitting in Mike’s chest for weeks begins to loosen.
Because this proves something.
Doesn’t it?
He likes talking to her.
He likes the way their conversations flow.
He likes waiting for her messages to pop up on the screen.
Which means he likes girls.
Which means everything is fine.
Totally fine.
Mike leans back in his chair, staring at the glowing chat window, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
For the first time in weeks, his thoughts finally feel quiet.
Normal.
Simple.
And that had to mean something.