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Mike Wheeler is a jerk. Obviously.
Of course, Will already knew this, always knew this, and Mike made sure that certainty was cemented every time he continued to be a huge jerk over the years.
Which makes Will feel very stupid. Because he lets it slide and goes back and forgives every damn time.
He knows it's going to happen again this time. In fact, Will kind of regrets arguing the exact moment they're arguing.
Mike is standing next to his bed at his parents' house, arms crossed over his chest and a strange expression that's a mixture of indignation and pain, which Will finds cute, but won't admit anytime soon.
Will, on the other hand, is on the other side, staring at him, hands on his hips, tapping his foot in a sign of impatience, which is petulant and childish, but which he can't help.
"You do this every time. Every single time, Mike."
Mike makes an indignant sound.
“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” he says, and yep. Okay. Will already regretted regretting the argument. Mike deserves them to argue. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal!”
“It’s not. It’s not.” Mike paces back and forth, not looking at Will. “Everyone who’s important knows. Our family, our friends. What’s your problem with wanting to tell the whole town?”
Will visibly winces. It hurts, but the fire in his chest is so intense that it burns away the pain and turns it into fuel.
“What’s your problem with other people knowing? Is it shame? Are you ashamed of me, Michael? Of us?”
Now it’s Mike’s turn to wince. He stops and raises his head toward Will, his eyes so dark, his jaw so clenched, his nostrils flared, and Will thinks, that’s it. He hates me.
“What? That’s absurd. You’re being absurd. I'm not!” he shouts and takes a few steps forward. “I'm not. It’s just… it’s just… It’s not important.”
Breaking. Everything is breaking. Will feels this in every fight he has with Mike, as if this time, this time, it's impossible to fix.
“It’s not—” Will begins, but he doesn’t have the strength to continue in the same tone of voice. He finishes in an almost whisper, as if speaking louder would hurt. “Important.”
Mike closes his eyes. He violently wipes his face. Another step forward. “Will…”
“You know what?” Will raises his hand toward him, as if that would make him stop. It kind of does. “Nope. I don’t want to have this conversation right now. I’m going home.”
Mike’s shoulders slump as if all his energy has been drained. He starts taking steps forward again, while Will steps back, reaching the door.
“Will, let’s just—”
“No!” Will says, more firmly now. The doorknob is so cold in his warm hand that he feels his skin tingle. “And don’t come after me, Mike!”
Then he leaves. He slams the door behind him. He stomps down the hall, rushes down the stairs, half expecting to trip and tumble down and not have to think.
Downstairs, Ted Wheeler, of course, is sitting in his armchair, watching TV, and Will veers off to the kitchen because, oh no, not today, Satan.
He stops, leans with both hands on the sink, inhaling slowly, exhaling, eyes closed, trying not to think.
But it's impossible. The thoughts are already there, swirling in his head, multiplying, strengthening, transforming from innocent fears into absolute terror because, suddenly, it's not important.
Mike doesn't think what they have is important enough for the whole town to know.
And it wasn't even the whole damn town! It was Mr. Clarke, for God's sake.
They met downtown and the professor made some joke, something like “you two really don't let go of each other, even years later,” and Will was going to tell, because it was Mr. Clarke. For God's sake!
Mike, as if sensing the words forming inside Will's frontal lobe, was faster.
"That's what happens when you're best friends."
Honestly, Will thinks that if he hears that damn words again, he's capable of committing mass murder.
He hates best friends. He and Mike aren't best friends. Unless best friends kiss on the mouth. Unless best friends sleep in the same bed every night after tracing every inch of each other's bodies with their bare hands and saying they'll never leave that bed again, which they eventually do because they have college, work, grocery shopping, and laundry to do.
They aren't best friends.
Will is so lost in his own harmful thoughts that he doesn't notice the footsteps approaching behind him.
A throat is cleared.
He slowly lifts his head, turns his back to the sink, and sees Ted Wheeler standing in the doorway, holding the remote, looking at him as if the gates of hell had been opened in the living room and he had nowhere else to go.
“Hm,” Ted says. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh,” Will tries to compose himself. He straightens the hem of his shirt, runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Everything… alright.”
Ted grimaces. His eyes dart from the kitchen to the living room behind him. He ponders. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Will isn’t sure if he could just run away.
Ted’s gaze returns to him again, freezing him in place “Something… happened?”
He seems to be in pain. Will could swear there’s sweat pooling on his forehead.
“Mm. No. I was just…”
Will can’t find the answer. He doesn’t even try. Ted grimaces again, tugging at his own collar, tense.
It's as if some entity is forcing him to be there, looking at the boyfriend (who's indeed a man) of his son (who's also indeed a man), and this is the worst thing that could have happened to Ted all day.
Suddenly, Will is so uncomfortable that all the anger has drained from his system. He only feels that emptiness that always comes after a great discharge of emotions, and he is so, so tired.
“You know…” Ted is talking again. “Mike is… Mike.” He raises his eyebrows and nods, as if that makes perfect sense. “But he has… good intentions.”
Where is Karen when you need her? Holly? A Demogorgon? Anyone?
Will looks around, searching for an escape route, but there’s no excuse for him to run away now. It wouldn’t be polite.
“Yeah,” Will says, when the silence becomes as uncomfortable as wearing tight jeans without underwear.
“What I mean is that he always apologizes. He was educated that way.” Ted is looking directly at Will now, as if he’s managed to gather all the courage he needs and now can’t waste it. “Whatever he did, he’ll fix it.”
Will feels a tightness in his chest, a lump in his throat, and it's overwhelming. He thought he'd already humiliated himself enough in his life, but apparently not, because he starts crying in front of Ted Wheeler.
Ted also seems to find it all horrifying, his worst nightmare, and he looks back at the living room, then at the stairs, the floor, the ceiling, the remote control (which he probably didn't even realize was there) in his hand, and wrinkles his nose.
He lets out a long, irritated sigh, as if Will were forcing him to be there, having this conversation. And Will hates loving Mike so much that he's sitting there, waiting, preparing himself for whatever Ted Wheeler is trying to say.
Which Will, obviously, still doesn't quite understand.
“Look, kid… I have no idea how… this whole thing, um, works.” He closes his eyes. “If it’s the same thing… You know? If advice is valid… in the same way. I’m not sure who—which of you…” Suddenly, Ted seems older. More tired. He has no idea what he’s saying. Will certainly doesn’t. “But I can—I want to…”
He doesn’t finish. Will is confused.
Ted sighs. “Do you need to?”
“Need what?”
“Um, I don’t know, help? My help. Advice or… I can talk to Michael.”
Oh my God. No.
“Oh my God, no.” Will didn't even realize he was still clinging to the sink as if his life depended on it. “It’s okay. Seriously, Mr. Wheeler. I just need…”
Again, he feels unable to finish. Now that things have cooled down, he feels kind of silly about the whole situation.
It’s as if the reason for the argument wasn’t strong enough to summon Ted Wheeler from his permanent spot in front of the TV to give… what? Advice? Relationship advice? To Will. Who, in this case, is dating his son. His gay son. With whom he, most likely, isn’t happy with.
In fact, if Will thinks about it, he has no idea what Ted's opinion is on the matter. Mike never talked about it, and Will thought it was a very delicate matter, that perhaps Ted hated the situation so much that talking about it would hurt Mike even more.
But maybe that's not the case? Is that what Ted is trying to say?
“You know I've never seen that boy so disturbed, and mind you we're talking about Mike, as when you disappeared.” Ted seems somewhat lost in thought, not looking directly at Will. His voice remains in the same drawn-out tone as always. “I think that's when I was sure. Because, of course, I always knew and always told Karen that there was something…” He interrupts himself before saying the word. Will knows exactly what the word would be. “That there was something. With you. I always knew.”
Will swallows hard.
“Mr. Wheeler, back then we were just friends. Just best friends. I didn’t even—I didn’t have anything…”
Ted waves the remote control at him as if he could assault those words. As if knowing they exist is one thing, but having to hear them is physically impossible.
“I know. I know. I’m not saying—for God’s sake, you were kids. I’m just saying that… it was already there. All… of this… was already there. You understand? What Michael—” Ted stops. He closes his eyes, maybe counts to ten, opens them. He furrows his brow as he looks at Will, as if he’s seeing him for the first time. “Everything that Michael…" A beat. "Feels? For… you?”
Will feels like he's going to throw up. Panic rises in his throat, and he feels tears streaming down his face.
He's going to throw up in front of Ted Wheeler, who just accepted him as his gay son's boyfriend, and Will knows this is too much. And then Ted will go back to hating him because, as if all the transgressions weren't enough, he also had to throw up in his kitchen?
He swallows whatever is trying to come out and takes a deep breath. Once. Twice. He wipes the ridiculous tears from his cheek. He sniffs again so nothing disgusting drips from his nose.
“Thank you. Mr. Wheeler.” That's all he says.
Ted agrees. “You're a good boy, Will.”
This can't be happening. It can't be real. Is this real?
Will hates the fact that he fought with Mike and made a triumphant exit because now he has no one to talk to about this moment, which is possibly the most absurd of his life.
He hears a door opening upstairs, footsteps in the hallway, and then the urge to run away returns with a vengeance.
Judging by Ted's expression, he doesn't want to be caught talking to Will either, and they stare at each other for a split second before…
“I think I’ll go now—”
“I better—”
They speak at the same time. Silence. More cautious footsteps upstairs.
“Can I… you know… go?” Will asks, feeling like he’s eleven again.
“Yeah, go.”
Then he goes. Will doesn’t even look back, but he knows Mike is coming down the stairs as soon as he slams the door behind him.
He goes down the porch, through the front yard, reaches the sidewalk and walks down the street without a specific destination, just aiming to get away from the Wheeler house.
Will doesn’t even know why. It’s okay. Ted was… alright. His fight with Mike seems so insignificant that he could resolve it in a minute.
It’s just that… it’s a lot.
It was the longest conversation Will has ever had with Ted. It wasn’t a disaster. But he feels like a truck ran him over, making him fall onto the train tracks at the exact moment the train passed over him.
His breath is ragged, as if he were running from something, his fists clenched at his sides, his head down.
“Will.”
He stops. He straightens his shoulders. He turns slowly.
It's always a shock. Seeing Mike Wheeler, I mean.
Just a few feet away, with the sun setting in the background and the wind ruffling his hair in just the right way.
He grew his hair out in college. According to him, it's because Will likes to wash it in the shower, so that moment lasts longer.
Will doesn't say anything. He waits for Mike to cross the space to him. Mike looks annoyed, his eyebrows furrowed.
This time, it's not with Will.
“What happened? What did he say to you?”
Will blinks a few times.
“Um. Nothing.” He laughs through his nose. “Actually, he was pretty… nice?”
That startles Mike. His expression goes from irritation to confusion in seconds.
“He… what?”
“Well, he asked if I was okay. And assumed you were the one in the wrong without me having to say anything, which is actually pretty cool of him. Or he just knows you well enough—”.
“Wait. He was… nice? To you?”
Will feels his shoulders relax. A soft smile spreads across his face.
“Yeah, Mike. He was… nice.”
Mike lets out an incredulous laugh. “That’s new.”
“He didn’t… tell you? What we talked about.”
“No, he just…” Mike runs a hand through his hair, looks towards his house. “He just told me to come after you.”
Will raises his eyebrows, shocked, and Mike nods, equally shocked.
“Okay, then.”
“Are you still going to… leave?” Mike asks, his voice lower than before. His cheeks are flushed.
Will sighs. “I…”
“I’m sorry, Will.” Mike takes another step forward and takes Will’s hands in his, stroking his knuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”
“You are…”
“I am! And of course it’s important… you’re the most important thing in my life, and I…” He seems so helpless. And so beautiful. “It’s a reflex. I don’t know why I just can’t… and I’m not trying to make an excuse, I just…”
“Mike, stop! Stop. It’s okay. I know. I’m being selfish.” Will wrinkles his nose. When Mike tries to interrupt, Will continues. “I know everyone has their own timing. You have a right to that, Mike, it’s your life too. It’s our life and, honestly, nobody needs to know.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. You’re mine. That’s what’s important.”
Mike smiles, and it doesn’t seem fair how much a simple smile can melt Will, and he imagines his liquid self running down the sidewalk, spreading through the gardens, watering the plants and making them grow with just the strength of the love he feels for Mike Wheeler.
“I am. And I’m going to get better. I’m going to be… brave.” He grimaces at the last word.
“I know.”
Without realizing it, they are walking back down the street, to the house Will so desperately wanted to escape just a few minutes ago.
“Your father said you always apologize.”
“Well, he’s right about that.”
“That’s a kind of courage too, I guess.”
“Oh, is it?”
“Mm-mm.” Will replies, needing all his willpower not to intertwine his fingers with Mike’s. “But I still want to tell Mr. Clarke.”
Mike laughs.
“Okay, he’ll be the first outsider to know. I’ll practice in front of the mirror every day, and then I’ll knock on his door and say: Mr. Clarke, remember that day you said that Will and I wouldn’t let go of each other, even after all these years? Well, that’s because I’m completely in love with him and, at this point, I’d probably keep him captive if he didn’t want to be with me anymore.”
Now it's Will who's laughing, nudging Mike's chest with his shoulder. They're making their way through the driveway to the porch.
“Come to think of it, he's not such an outsider after all. He helped us with the Upside Down.”
“Oh yeah, how could I forget. He's one of us.” Mike is joking as they enter the house, then they hear the TV, and then silence.
As they're heading towards the stairs, Ted Wheeler raises his head toward them, with an expression that can only be described as disgust.
Mike clears his throat.
“Mm… we're just going to…” He doesn't finish.
Ted grumbles. “Yeah, yeah. I'm not even here.” And then looks at the TV again.
Mike chuckles and Will bites his lip to keep from bursting into laughter, and they run upstairs to Mike's room, closing the door behind them, ignoring the fact that Ted continues to grumble.
Something about “those boys” and “my own house” and also “Jesus Christ.”
They’ll spend a few minutes talking about Ted Wheeler and how absurd he is, but after that they’ll have better things to do.
Like, kissing. And apologizing. And silently falling onto Mike’s bed with arms and legs intertwined and giggling, and Mike probably making some ridiculous pickup line while running his hands over Will’s body, and Will will have to bury his face in the pillow so Ted doesn’t hear them downstairs.
You know? Best friend stuff.
You wouldn’t understand.