Archive of Our Own

Will didn’t think he’d ever go to a high school party. For one, despite calling themselves “the Party,” his friends were not the party type. They were nerds who liked to play D&D and watch horror movies and go to the arcade. And other than Lucas, none of them were even remotely popular. They didn’t stand a chance of getting invited.

Plus, there was that whole trying-to-save-the-world-from-interdimensional-monsters extracurricular they had on the side. No time for parties anyway.

But technically, this is a high school party. Will, Mike, El, Max, Lucas, and Dustin, sitting in a circle in the Wheeler’s basement. A mixtape Will made specifically for the occasion plays in the background, a blend of Talking Heads, Prince, and Bowie. There’s multiple bowls of chips scattered throughout the room. Two bottles of Vodka Dustin somehow convinced Steve to buy for them sit in the middle, and red solo cups are in the Partys hands. There’s also a box containing a drinking card game, also courtesy of Steve.

Will can’t remember the last time all six of them have been in the same room. Between Max’s coma and El being in hiding, opportunities for old-school Party hangouts have been scant. But Max woke up from her coma three months ago to the day, and the Party was able to convince Hopper to let El come over for a get-together to celebrate.

So here they are, cross-legged on the basement floor. Mike is to the right of Will, Dustin on his left. El sits on the other side of her boyfriend, and Lucas is as close to Max’s wheelchair as he can be without getting caught in the spokes.

The doctors were optimistic that Max would eventually regain use of her legs with physical therapy, but she would most likely need crutches or a cane for the rest of her life. This devastated the sporty, athletic Max, and she was still clearly sad about it despite her boyfriend's assurances that wheelchairs are just skateboards you sit in, anyway.

Will has never played a drinking game, but neither has the rest of the Party. They filled their solo cups with the vodka, all pretending not to wince at the burn when they sipped it. Will chose not to partake. Growing up with an alcoholic dad kind of turned him off the whole drinking thing for good.

Instead, his solo cup is filled with coke, and he’s very proud of the mixtape he made, and he is also trying not to sneak glances at his unfortunately very pretty best friend. He’s had worse Saturday nights.

The Party is a few rounds into their drinking game. The rules are simple: someone pulls a card, reads what it says, you drink if you’ve done it. The trick is that all the questions are very common things anyone can do, so everyone ends up getting very drunk very fast.

Will feels a little weird being the only sober one here. His friends are all giggly, starting to stutter over their words a bit. They haven’t even drunk that much-barely four inches of the vodka bottle split between five people. Will’s not sure if they’re actually tipsy or just getting placeboed.

“My turn,” Dustin says, grabbing a card from the pile and flipping it over. “Ohh, this one’s good. Drink if you’ve ever been in a fist fight.”

“Do powers count?” asks El. Dustin thinks for a minute. “Sure. Why not?”

Everyone in the room takes a sip. Except for Will.

“You’ve never been in a fight?” Max asks. Will shakes his head.

“I’m not that type of person,” he says, and it’s true. Will doesn’t fight. He just pushes everything deep inside of himself and tries to forget about it.

Lucas grabs the next card. “Drink if you have a tattoo.” El drinks, obviously, her fingers lightly brushing the blue scrunchie that hides the ugly numbers etched into her skin. Will feels bad for his sister. He knows she doesn’t like being reminded of what happened to her. He’s told her several times that once she turns eighteen, he’ll design a cover up tattoo for her. Butterflies, maybe. Or flowers.

He figured El would be the only one to drink on that card, but surprisingly, Lucas and Max flash each other a grin before drinking at the same time.

“You guys?!!!” Dustin yells.

Max smiles. “I gave Lucas a stick’n’poke a while back. And I've given myself a few too.”

“Of what?” Mike asks.

Lucas looks down. “A Hawkins High tiger paw. Look, I know it’s stupid, but I was really proud of winning the championship.”

“Dude, you’re such a jock,” Dustin teases.

“I was proud of myself!”

“You should have your nerd card revoked for that.”

“Wait, Max, what are yours?” El asks.

“A few stars here and there. They’re easy to do.” She picks at one of the glittery stickers plastered onto her wheelchair—courtesy of El, who decided the steel grey needed to be snazzed up. “Anyway. is it my turn or what?”

“Uh, no, I want to keep talking about this tattoo thing. Wait, do you guys have matching ones?” says Dustin.

Now Dustin, Max, Lucas, and El are off on some tangent, talking about how matching tattoos are like planning your breakup in advance but Lucas apparently wants one and now they’re fighting over it.

Mike locks eyes with Will. Doing okay? He mouths. Will nods and gives him a thumbs up. Will is as fine as he can be with his best friend turned secret crush of God-knows-how-long just inches away from him.

He thought he would get over this. Will realized his feelings for Mike went deeper than friendship during one very shitty summer. And then he found out his family would be moving to California, so he decided to use that time to get over him. And he thought he was, until Mike showed up in the stupidest outfit known to mankind, his hair flowing over his shoulders and having finally grown into his long limbs, and Will’s little gay lizard brain broke. If the banana yellow button up and fucking flip-flops couldn’t snap Will put of his crush, nothing could.

That week wasn't the best. Some things were said. Some silent confessions were given. But that was in the past, and Mike and Will are closer than ever—literally. They’ve been rooming together for almost a year. Will wears Mike’s clothes since all of his are left in California. He’s doing it right now, wearing a blue and red sweater. Mike is freakishly tall, but Will is buff and wide, so all of his shirts stretch just a little too tight over Will’s torso.

The first time he tried on one of Mike’s shirts, Mike stared furiously. In a rare moment of confidence, Will made a joke about it—something about being jealous I wear it better. Mike had just stared and nodded.

Mike smiles at Will’s reassurance. Mike only ever smiles around Will, a fact he’s very proud of. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of seeing Mike’s smile.

The argument has finally finished up, El levitating a card over to Max for her to read. Max has to bring the card super close to her face—in addition to her limbs, her sight was also affected by Vecna’s curse. She now has a pair of black, cat’s eye glasses to help compensate for her lack of perfect vision.

“Drink if you’ve had a first kiss.”

Will brings his solo cup to his lip, swallowing a sip of his coke. “Your turn, El,” he says, but finds the rest of the party staring at him. “What?” he asks.

“You’ve…been kissed?” Lucas asks.

“I mean, I’m sixteen.”

“You never told us?!” Dustin shouts.

Will shrugs. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Max rolls her eyes. “A first kiss is a big deal. It’s a John Hughes coming-of-age moment.” She points her finger at Mike. “Wait, did you know this?”

Well, duh. He was there.

But Mike shakes his head. “This is news to me,” he says, before turning to look at Will. “You didn’t tell me you had your first kiss.”

Will mouths at him. What are you doing? He asks. Mike only raises his eyebrows in return. What are you doing? He mouths back.

Then it hits Will. Mike is pretending not to remember because El is here, and he probably doesn’t want his girlfriend to find out Mike’s first kiss was with her brother.

Will brushes it off. Nevermind, he mouths, now that he knows what’s going on. “It was so long ago. Didn’t think to tell you because nothing serious came out of it.”

“Uh, I want to know who,” Dustin says. “Was it Jennifer Hayes?”

“Or that girl at the Snow Ball?” Lucas asks.

“Or that girl in California?” El says.

Will shakes his head. “Guys, I don’t kiss and tell. Let’s just move on.”

“But-” Mike asks, and Will puts a hand on his knee in a moment of boldness that surprises him.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ve had my first kiss, it was fine, let’s keep playing the game.”

It was a little more than fine, considering Will's first kiss was with the boy he’s been in love with for probably half his life. It’s definitely more than fine, considering Will stays up late replaying the kiss in his mind as a reminder that he did something with Mike once. Even if it’s the only thing that’ll ever happen between the two of them, he has the memory to keep him warm at night.

El blushes reading the next card out. “Drink if you’ve ever kissed someone in the room.”

Everyone except for Dustin drinks.

Will doesn’t realize what he did for a second. You drink if you’ve done it. Will’s done it. Whatever.

But he forgot that the rest of the Party wasn’t aware of that fact.

“What???” the Party yells in unison.

“Dude, when did you kiss Max?” asks Dustin

“Yeah, we’ve been together since eighth grade, so want to tell me when you kissed my girlfriend?” Lucas says sternly. “Because I swear if it was during one of our breaks-”

Max and Will look at each other briefly before protesting. “We didn’t kiss!” says Max.

“Yeah, I promise!” Will backs her up.

“Oh really?” Dustin tilts an eyebrow. “Because there’s only two girls in the Party, and I would be very concerned if you kissed El considering she’s basically your sister-”

And my best friend's girlfriend, thinks Will, before returning to defending himself and the bad decision he made.

“Guys, I swear. Me and Max never kissed. And obviously I did not kiss my sister.” El nods in agreement.

“Is he telling the truth, baby?” Lucas turns to Max.

“ Duh. Nothing ever happened between us.”

“Yeah,” says Will. “I just—forgot the rules of the game for a second. I haven’t kissed anyone in the party.”

Dustin snorts. “Bullshit. You never forget the rules of any game we play. You yell at us when we forget the rules. Plus, you’re completely sober right now.”

Will tucks himself up. “Guys, I don’t want to talk about this. Can we please just pull another card?”

“Yeah guys,” Mike says, finally adding to this conversation. “He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. Let’s move on.”

“Uh, no. Because I'm still not convinced Max and Will kissed and they’re covering their asses,” says Dustin.

“Max is telling the truth, she wouldn’t lie to her boyfriend-”

“Oh really? Because you guys have never gotten into an argument or taken a break once?”

“I believe her!”

“I don’t! Will knows the rules of the game, and again, unless he kissed his fucking sister then he kissed your girlfriend because there’s only two girls in the party—”

“Unless the person Will kissed wasn’t a girl,” Max says bluntly, and then looks to meet Will’s eyes.

Shit. Everything's really real now. Will’s heart starts to race and he begins to wish he wasn’t completely sober right now. If he was drunk he could have passed off his sip as a slipoff and actually gotten away with it. Because the party is starting to circle the truth that Will’s spent fifteen years of his life hiding, and he doesn’t want it to be spilled like this. Not like this.

He looks away from Max and towards Mike, but his expression is completely unreadable. Will realizes that they never really did talk about what happened that day. Never addressed it again.

“What?” Dustin says. “If it wasn’t a girl, then who else would he kiss?”

Lucas elbows him. “A boy, obviously.”

“Well he didn’t kiss me,” says Dustin.

“And it wasn’t me,” says Lucas.

“Which leaves—”

Dustin and Lucas turn to face Mike and Will at the exact same time.

“Mike,” Dustin says plainly.

“Holy shit, you guys kissed?” Lucas’s face lights up in a grin.

“Yes,” Will says, looking at the floor. There. It’s out now.

“No?” Mike says, at the exact same time.

Max looks between them. “Uh-oh,” she says.

Will meets Mike's eyes, his thick brows knit in confusion. “When did we kiss?” he asks, gently.

Will sighs. “It’s ok. No point in keeping up the jig. We can tell them, it’s fine. I’m sure El will understand.”

El raises her hand. “What will I understand?” she asks.

Well, this isn’t how Will imagined telling his friends about his first kiss. But the good news is, the Party is pretty tipsy. There’s a solid chance they won’t even remember this.

“Me and Mike were each other's first kiss, but it was in elementary school, before we even met you. There wasn’t any cheating or stuff like that. And we were just kids playing around. It wasn’t serious.”

(it was serious to Will, but the Party doesn’t need to know that)

Mike looks completely dumbfounded. Jaw wide, eyes open. “What?”

Shit. Maybe Mike isn’t pretending to play along. Will’s best friend is a man of many talents, but acting is not one of them.

“Are you still playing along?”

“How can I play along when I don’t have any recollection of this?”

“You don’t…you don’t remember?”

Mike shakes his head. “I think I would remember if I kissed you.”

Will glances at the floor again, his eyes running along the grooves of the wood. “We were eight, messing around in your backyard. Pretending to be in some fantasy realm. There was something about true love’s kiss….” he lets his voice trail, praying Mike will remember what happened and spare him this embarrassment. They need to face this together. It can’t only be Will’s burden.

But Mike keeps staring, face unchanged.

“You really don’t remember?” Will says. Mike shakes his head, harder this time.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

Tears start to brim at the corner of Will’s eyes. His stomach is wrenching. He stumbles up to his feet and heads to the stairs.

“Where are you going, Will?” asks his sister.

He doesn’t answer. He lets his feet run up the stairs. He needs to get away.

-

Will is very thankful the rest of the Wheelers are out of the house. Ted and Karen took Holly to a gymnastics meet and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. Technically, Nancy is in charge, but she stuck around for twenty minutes before going to hang out with Jonathan.

Be good, she said. Don’t make me regret this.

Therefore, the house is quiet as he makes his way through the kitchen, not bothering to hide his sobs. He climbs up the stairs to the second floor on autopilot, making his way to Mike’s room.

Well, Mike and Will’s room. Joyce and El went to stay at the cabin, while Jonathan and Will slept in the Wheeler’s basement on a couch and an inflatable mattress respectively. And for the first six months, that’s how their living arrangements went.

But September rolled around, and the temperatures started to get cold. Karen started to worry about it getting too cold in the basement, and came up with the idea to move the mattress up to Mike’s room. Mike was surprisingly okay with this.

The first night though, Jonathan abandoned Will and snuck into Nancy’s room. And the night after that. And that. So it was just Will and Mike, on their respective mattresses.

A few days into the new arrangement, Will had a nightmare. He had had them in the basement, waking up sweaty and gasping. Jonathan would come down from his spot on the couch, hugging him and brushing his hair, telling him it was alright. Nothing would hurt him.

But Jonathan wasn’t here that night.

Will? Mike had asked. Are you all right?

Yeah, he said, brushing his plastered hair out of his eyes. Just a nightmare.

What do you usually do when you have a nightmare?

Normally, Jonathan will hug me. Sit with me until I fall back asleep.

Do you want me to go get him?

Will shook his head. No, it’s fine.

Mike had shuffled on his bed. You can get up here, if you want. Fall back asleep here.

Will, being Will, said yes.

The first night they shared the bed, Will kept as much space between the two of them as he could. You could have fit the titanic between them, that’s how far apart Will forced himself to be.

The next night, Will had already settled onto the mattress when Mike threw of his sheets. Do you wanna sleep here again? In case you have another nightmare.

Again, Will said yes.

Will had kept that space between them, but a few days into sharing the bed, woke up with his thigh pressed against Mike’s. He had panicked at the sight—what if Mike woke up and freaked out--and tried to move away. But the motion woke Mike up.

Sorry, Will said. I got too close. Personal space and all that.

Mike rubbed his eyes. I didn’t mind, he said. You’re warm for once.

Nervously, Will let himself roll back until their thighs touched again. Mike didn’t move.

The next night, Will just pressed them both together when they fell asleep. And the next night. And then eventually, once he was certain Mike wasn’t going to run away, got bolder. Putting his head on Mike’s shoulder as they fell asleep. Then throwing one arm around him. Mike never moved. He started doing it too. Gently clasping Will’s hand as they fell asleep, tucking his face into the back of Will’s next.

It’s April now. It’s warm enough in the basement that Will can move back down, but he never did. Him and Mike still fucking snuggle each other to sleep.

Just another reason why Mike will always be so confusing to Will. he has no problems cuddling his best friend, but forgets that they kissed once.

Will makes his way through the mess of their room and pulls open the window. He needs some fresh air, but he’s too scared to go out to the Wheeler’s porch or backyard. He doesn’t like being on the ground, alone.

He reaches up and grabs the gutter with his hands, carefully maneuvering his feet onto the window sill. Still clutching the gutter, he raises himself up, puts one hand on the roof, and launches himself up. He has to practically belly-flop up, but it works, and now he’s sitting on the roof.

He lets himself cry now. How could Mike have forgotten it? He knows it didn’t mean anything, but he assumed that Mike would always remember his first kiss. Isn’t that what they always say? You never forget your first.

It was stupid, anyway. He knows the kiss was just as part of a game, but even all these years later, Will still hopes that maybe it was a prophecy of something more. That maybe that innocent childhood kiss would one day lead to something…not innocent.

Maybe it didn’t happen, his brain thinks, and he freezes.

No. it can’t have. It was years before the Upside Down.

Or maybe Vecna planted it in Will’s head. A memory that didn’t happen. Something to drive a wedge between him and Mike, make Will weak enough for Vecna to take over.

But it’s been quiet. I haven’t felt anything in months. Not since last spring.

Maybe this was all part of the plan.

Of course. Why would Mike kiss him anyway, even as kids? He’s straight. Straight boys don’t kiss their friends.

It wasn't real.

With that, the tears turn into a waterfall falling down Will’s cheeks, teardrops splashing onto the roof. How could he have been so stupid? Mike didn’t kiss him. Mike will never kiss him.

A pale hand reaches out and curls along the gutter of the roof. Will shrieks and scuttles back, shingles pressing into his palms, only stopping when Mike’s face pops into view like a meerkat popping out of its burrow.

“Mike!” Will hisses. “That’s not safe—you’re drunk! Go back inside. I’ll be in in a minute.”

“We were eight,” Mike says, meeting Will’s eyes. “And me, you, and Lucas were playing in my backyard. You were tired that day and didn’t feel like running around, so you pretended to eat some poisoned berries and fell asleep.

“I was really dramatic about it—fake sobbed on your body and everything. Then Lucas suggested that if you were under a spell, maybe true love’s kiss would break it.”

Mike smiles softly. “I was about to, but then my mom called us in for lunch. Lucas took off, but you and I stayed behind because you, stubborn as always, still pretended to be asleep. I told you that we had to go inside before my mom got mad. You still were fake asleep. So I leaned in, and my mom didn’t interrupt me that time, and I kissed you. And then you ‘woke’ up. You acted all grateful, hugging me, calling me—”

“Your hero,” Will finishes. “I said you saved me.”

“And then I said, ‘I’ll always save you.”

Mike has fully pulled himself up onto the roof by now, sitting next to Will. Will turns to look at him. “You remembered.”

“After you left, Lucas mentioned it sounding familiar, and then it all came back to me. I can’t believe I ever forgot.”

Will wipes away the last remaining bits of his tears with his sweater—Mike’s sweater—and stares into those beautiful dark eyes.

“I thought…it might have been a trick by Vecna. That he planted it in my head to mess with me.”

“Why would he put a memory of you kissing me to mess with you?” Mike says, raising an eyebrow, cheeks slightly flushed.

Will stammers, “Uh…to make me feel bad because I had never kissed anyone? I’m still the only one in the Party to have never dated someone.”

Mike nods, and thankfully doesn’t ask any further questions. God, he’s so oblivious.

“Well, it was real. It wasn’t a trick. It happened.”

Will lets out a soft chuckle. “Good to know,” he says. “It’d be awkward if I had to go back down there and tell the Party hey, I actually didn’t have my first kiss actually! It was a fun little trick of our favorite interdimensional raisin of horror.”

Mike laughs in return, then frowns. “Were you crying?”

Will glances to the side. “Just a little,” he responds.

Mike’s face falls. “Because you were scared it wasn’t real? Or because I forgot?”

“We’ve been friends for eleven years, Mike. We're bound to forget a thing here or there.”

“I still feel really bad about forgetting it,” Mike says. “We’re best friends. We’re supposed to remember everything about each other. And I do. I remember that your favorite animals are tigers. I remember that you’re scared of butterflies because one landed on your sandwich in second grade and you accidentally ate it. I remember the first movie we ever saw in the theaters on our own was The Empire Strikes Back, and I remember your favorite song is ‘Boys Don’t Cry’. And now I remember that you were my first kiss. And I was yours,” he swallows.

Will can’t tell if it’s an ew I kissed a BOY gross swallow or an I hope Will’s not mad at me because I forgot a memory of our friendship swallow.

“It’s fine. Truly.”

“No, it’s not fine! I was a shitty friend to you last year—”

“We discussed that. We’re cool now.”

“And I've been trying to be a better friend to make it up to you, and here I am forgetting a pretty big moment in our friendship.”

Will tosses his head back. Looks at the stars and prays for a comet to wish on. Wish that this whole “incident” didn’t happen and the rest of the Party still thinks of him as the inexperienced one of the group, because that is somehow less mortifying than this conversation he is having right now. “It wasn’t a big deal. We were kids. Kids do stupid shit all the time,” he says, to reassure Mike.

“I guess you’re right,” Mike says, staring out into the distance now. “We were just kids messing around. It probably didn’t even count.”

Will’s breath catches. “What?”

He shrugs. “Nancy told me once that sometimes girls will practice kissing with each other. To prepare for when they kiss guys. And that it doesn’t count. You and I were playing around. And we’re both boys. So we were just…practicing, is all.”

“Oh,” Will says, because that’s all he can’t think to say. Because it didn’t count. Of course. Because at the end of the day, girls have to like guys and guys have to like girls. So this kiss that Will's been holding on to for almost ten years, the kiss he’s replayed so many times in his mind as the only time he’ll ever know what the boy he’s in love with tasted like, didn’t fucking count.

If that’s what Mike believes, then fine. Will supposes that even if one day he does get the courage to tell Mike that he doesn’t like girls, that he likes guys in the way he’s supposed to like girls, Mike will still tell him that it doesn’t count. That even if Will meets someone like him, kisses someone like him, dates someone like him, it’ll all just be practice for girls, according to the boy he wants to kiss and date.

Whatever. It counted to Will. It’s the only thing he’ll ever have. It counts for him.

“Will?” Mike says softly, looking at him with those stupid sad puppy dog eyes he’s perfected over the years. “You’re crying, again.”

Shit. Will didn’t even realize he was. But those stupid tears are beading up at the corner of his eye, spilling over onto his cheeks.

“Is it…because I said that our kiss didn’t count?”

“No,” Will lies through his teeth.

Mike reshuffles himself on the roof. “I thought it would make you feel better. Because it didn’t count, so you can still have your first kiss with a girl.”

“I’m not going to kiss girls,” Will says sharply, and then freezes. He didn’t mean for that to slip out. But he just wants to end this stupid conversation and send Mike back inside and then maybe cry on the roof some more. Alone.

Mike raises his eyebrows. “Why don’t you? Is it because you think no one likes you? Because, dude, you get the most game out of any of us. Remember Jennifer Hayes? She cried at your funeral. And then when you were in California a lot of girls asked me where you went, and they seemed sad when I told them you moved away.”

Will shakes his head. He could just lie and say something. He wants to become a priest so he’d have to take a vow of celibacy anyway. He has impossible standards, no girl could ever be good enough for him.

“Then why? Girls are so awesome to kiss. Um, they smell nice, and,” Mike pauses for a moment, scratches a hand through his disheveled curls. “Sometimes they wear lip gloss that tastes good?”

Will snorts a little. Mike’s really struggling to think of reasons why girls are nice to kiss? If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Mike was the gay one.

Which—sometimes, before tonight, the thought crossed his mind. Because sometimes, Will swore he could see flashes of himself in Mike. In the way Mike talked about his former D.M Eddie, how excited he got and the way he blushed if he talked too much about him. And yeah, sometimes Will was positive he saw Mike look down at his lips. Once or twice. Maybe more than that.

And then there was the whole sharing-a-bed-and-cuddling thing. That wasn’t a particularly straight thing to do, no matter how close you were with your best friend.

But Mike liked girls. Mike had kissed girls and dated girls. It was an either/or thing. You either liked girls or you liked guys. Will was pretty sure there was no and.

Anyway, boys were just practice. Mike had made sure of that.

Mike was still talking about reasons girls were awesome to kiss, and he was fully grasping at straws now.

“Um, I think the fabric softener they use is different, because girls' clothes seem softer than boys. And that’s nice.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Will says without meaning to.

“What? I’m trying to make you feel better about kissing girls.”

“I told you, I don’t want to kiss girls.”

“But you won’t tell me why.”

“Because I don’t like girls!” he yells. And then it was out.

“What?” Mike says, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Like, you’re a sexist?”

Shit. Well, no way out of this. If it goes bad, I'll just…push him off the roof. Or maybe he’ll jump off the roof. Either way, this stupid conversation will be over.

Will took a breath. “No, like, I like girls, as people,” he was clenching the shingles of the roof now, the sharp edge digging into his palm. “But in the way that I’m supposed to like girls, in the way you like El and Lucas likes Max, I like… I like boys.” He gulped. “And I've tried to like girls, but I, just can’t. I never will.”

He stared out into space, looking at the shadows of the trees that surrounded Mike's house. There it was. He had said The Thing. Will’s life was now divided into before and after.

Mike just sat there, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t yelling at Will, nor was he trying to swan dive into his front lawn. But he wasn’t rushing to tell him it was okay either. Will couldn’t tell which reaction he’d prefer.

“Oh, shit,” Mike finally said, his eyes wide.

Will looks away from him. “Yeah. it’s not practice for me, it’s who I am. And if you have a problem with it, then I'll go to Hop’s cabin and you’ll never see me again.”

“No!” Mike yelled, then stiffened up. “No, God no, that’s not what I meant. I’m just…I’m an idiot.”

Now it was Will’s turn for his eyebrows to furrow. “Huh?”

Mike buried his face, blushing tomato red, in his hands. “I just said that kissing boys didn’t count. But you counted it, because you like boys. Because you kissed a boy. And I just said it was practice. That’s why you started crying again, because I had to open my stupid mouth because I thought you were crying because your first kiss was with a boy when you wanted it to be a girl. But obviously you didn’t want it to be a girl, because you don’t like girls, and-”

He bolted up. “Fuck. our argument. A few years ago, that night in the rain. I said…” and then Mike trails off, because Will remembers damn well what Mike said that night in the rain. Both of them do. There’s no need to bring it up again. 

“That’s why you pulled away from me for a while,” Mike says. “Because I made you think that I would hate you for that. God, why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut!”

“It’s ok,” Wike says quickly. “You didn’t know back then. I didn’t even really fully understand it myself until the past few years or so.”

Will lets a moment of silence cross between them. He still can’t tell what Mike thinks of this revelation—if he’s cool or terrified or disgusted or needs more time.

He summons up the courage to ask. “Do you hate me, though?”

Will can barely get the last word out before Mike engulfs him in a massive hug, squeezing tight. His chin rests on Will’s shoulder.

“Of course not!” he says. “Will, nothing you do or say or are could ever make me hate you. Hell, you could murder my entire family and I wouldn’t hate you,” he pauses for a second. “Please don’t do that though. Because I would still be mad.”

He pulls away, still keeping his hands on Will’s shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he says. “For making you think you couldn’t share that with me, for making you worried I would hate you. And for saying that two boys kissing doesn’t count.”

Will smiles, just a little. Mike doesn’t hate him. Mike’s just stupid.

Mike might hate you if he finds out the type of boys you like, goes Will’s internal monologue. Will pushes it away. Mike will never find out about that, he tells himself.

“So,” Mike says, head cocked to the side. “Have you…kissed any other boys besides me?”

Will is the one turning red now. “No!” he squeaks out, a little quicker than he expected.

“Even in California?” Mike asks. “I’ve heard people are more open minded there.”

Will shakes his head. “Nope. just the one and only.”

“Same here,” Mike says with a soft laugh.

“And, hey. Now you know.”

“Huh?” Mike asks.

Will can’t believe he’s about to say all this. “Well, when I was trying to figure out why I wasn’t excited about girls like you guys were, I thought about…well, our kiss. And if I tried to picture it happening with a girl—say, we knew Max back then, and she was the one who kissed me—it just made me feel kind of sick-“

“Well, the thought of kissing Max would make anyone sick,” interrupts Mike, and Will punches him gently.

“The thought of kissing any girl made me feel sick. But the thought of kissing guys—the memory of kissing guys,” he shrugs. “That made me feel happy. And sometimes you just…have to experience something to know you don’t like or like it. I had to kiss a boy to realize I liked it. And you’ve kissed a boy. So you know that you don’t like boys. ”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mike looks away for a second, bringing his knees up to his chest.

Will can tell he’s said something wrong, but he can’t figure out what it was.

Unless….

No. That's impossible. Mike is dating a girl. Mike likes girls.

“What if,” Mike asks, so quietly Will can barely hear him. “What if you weren’t sure if you liked it or not?”

Will looks at his best friend like he can’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. I’m hallucinating right now.

“What do you mean by that, Mike?” he asks.

Mike retreats further into himself. “I don’t know, it’s just…sometimes I think I want to kiss boys. Not as pretend, not as kids messing around. For real. And I don’t hate the idea. And I think I liked our kiss—I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn't ok with it, right? But it was so long ago so I don’t know if I actually liked it or if I’m just misremembering, but it’s you, so I'm pretty sure I liked it, and I don’t know why I want to kiss boys because I shouldn’t want to, right? But I think I really, really want to and it’s been driving me crazy for the past few months and—”

“Mike. You're spiraling.” Will reaches out and gently places his hand on Mike’s shoulder, gently like he’s still not convinced Mike is faking being ok with Will being queer and he’s gonna run off the roof to get away from him.

But Mike doesn’t snap at him, or brush his hand away. He leans into the touch, resting his head on top of Will's hand.

“Have you, maybe talked to El about this?” Will says. “If you’re having thoughts about boys, she deserves to know.”

“El and I broke up,” Mike says bluntly.

Will nearly falls off the roof with this revelation. “What? When?”

Mike shrugs. “A year ago?”

“Holy shit-and you didn’t tell anyone?” Mike shakes his head.

“But you’ve been acting the exact same as when you were dating.”

“I mean, we’ve only been in the same room like…three times since we got back to Indiana?”

Will feels he should be the one comforting Mike right now—breaking up with your first girlfriend, your first love, that has to be a painful experience, right? But Mike never showed any pain. In fact, he seems…fine.

“What happened?” Will asks.

“It was after we got back to Hawkins. She wanted to focus on herself, developing her powers, without any distractions. And, well, you saw us in California. We hadn’t been working as a couple since middle school, anyway. I couldn’t even tell her I loved her,” he laughs dryly. “Should have given it away, right?”

Will settles on giving Mike a comforting shoulder squeeze. “Why didn’t you guys tell anyone? I mean, she’s my sister, and you’re my best friend. Why didn’t you at least tell me?”

“Well,” he says, sitting up on the roof now. “There was something she said, when we broke up.

“She told me that before you guys moved to California, Max had made a joke about me to her. Said something about how ‘Mike looks at Will the way my uncle in San Francisco looks at his roommate, except they’re not really roommates’”, he says, doing air quotes around roommates. “And El didn’t really get it until later. But basically, Max was saying that I looked like I was in love. With someone else.

“I thought Max just said that to mess with me, because she’s Max. But after our breakup, I kept thinking about it. And I realized,” he takes a shaky breath. “She might have been right. Because there was someone else. Someone I looked at the way I should have looked at El, someone who made me feel all stupid and stuttery everytime,” his voice dropped lower. “He talked to me. That maybe the reason I ignored him for so long and kept choosing my girlfriend over him and was a shitty friend was because I didn’t want to think about why I felt so different around him than everyone else. That maybe….there was a reason I kissed him all those years ago without pausing to think if it was weird. That maybe the reason I forgot we ever kissed in the first place was so I would forget I wanted to do it again.”

Will’s heart is beating so fast he thinks it’s about to burst out of his chest. This isn’t happening. This is some illusion. This isn’t real.

Mike keeps talking. “That’s also probably why I tried to convince myself that it was ‘just practice’ and it ‘didn’t count’, because I wanted to pretend that it didn’t mean anything. All of this didn’t mean anything. But I don’t want to lie to myself anymore, especially if it hurts you. Now that I know you’re…like me.”

“Mike,” Will says. He desperately wants to see where this will go, because it almost sounds like Mike is admitting he might feel the same things for Will Will’s felt for him for half his life. But Mike has been drinking. He’s probably drunk. And Will cares for his friend too much to let him do something he’ll regret. “You’ve been drinking. You don’t really mean any of this.”

Mike snorts. “I’ve had, like, half a cup of vodka. I’m a little tipsy, sure, but I have all these thoughts sober. I think the alcohol is just finally giving me the courage to say it.”

He starts to scootch closer to Will, the shingles creaking under his weight. Will has forgotten how to breathe now, watching his best friend approach him. His freckles come into focus, all twenty-seven of them. Mike’s eyes are so wide, Will can see himself reflected in his pupils. He looks pretty. Will wonders if that’s how Mike sees him.

“Will", Mike says, so close now. Their faces are inches apart, and he moves his hand so that it rests right on top of Will's. A slight weight. “I—”

But then he turns, and proceeds to throw up onto the roof.

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Mike hacks up the vodka and chips, the acid splattering onto the roof with a wet splat. The smell sizzles in the air, and Will has to fight the urge to not gag himself.

Once he’s finished spilling his guts (both metaphorically and literally, apparently) he wipes his mouth with the corner of his B-52’s hoodie and turns back to face Will. “Sorry about that,” he says. “Where was I?”

Will can’t take this anymore. He reaches out for Mike’s wrist. His eyes light up when Will makes contact, and Will hates to say what he does next.

“Come on. Let’s go back inside. Get you cleaned up.”

“But…” he says, his face falling. “I wasn’t finished talking.”

Will sighs. “We can talk about it in the morning. The rest of the Party’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long anyway. Let’s get you some water and Pepto.”

Still keeping his hands on Mike's, he leads him down the roof. Mike swings into the window first, still using Will’s hand for balance as he reaches down for the gutter, and then kicks himself back into his room. Will takes a breath, trying to enjoy this last moment of solitude.

He doesn’t plan on talking about this in the morning. Because it’s not real. Mike is drunk and he will forget and they will go to bed and wake up and never talk about this again. Will will spend the rest of his life wondering what might have happened if Mike hadn’t puked. What he might have said or done.

It will just be another memory to keep himself alive. A moment that he allows himself to have because he’ll never have anything else.

—---

In Mike and Will’s absence, the Party has clearly given up on the drinking game and decided to just drink the vodka on their own, as evidenced by the truly ridiculous scene that awaits the boys when they walk back into the basement. El is curled up on the couch, eyes half-closed and her head on the arm rest. Max's wheelchair is parked right next to her, and Max rubs El’s back gently. Lucas is sitting on the floor, back against the couch, and Dustin’s head has somehow fully wound up in Lucas’s lap, of all places. The solo cups are strewn all around the room, and the party has polished off the first bottle and gotten just over halfway through the second.

“Well, well, well,” says Dustin from his spot on Lucas’s lap. “If it isn’t the paladin and the cleric.”

“You were gone for a while,” says Lucas “Did you guys kiss and make out—I mean, up about it?” Max smacks his shoulder from her chair using her free arm.

“If you must know, Mike came up to comfort me because he felt bad about forgetting one thing in our entire eleven years of friendship, and then this idiot threw up on his own roof.” Will says.

Mike smiles lopsidedly. “I did throw up on my own roof. It was awesome.”

“You just better hope your dad doesn’t find out.”

“My dad never notices anything, I’d be shocked if he knew we had a roof.”

“That makes literally no sense.”

Dustin pops his head up. “Well, you’re back now. We saved the rest of the vodka for you!” he points to the bottle. “Let’s finish it off and then….” he trails off. “What was I gonna say we should do?”

“Shots,” Lucas says.

“Yeah. We’re gonna go do shots. With Mike’s dad’s alcohol.”

Will has had enough of this nonsense. He snatches the vodka bottle from its spot on the floor. “No more. I’m cutting you off.”

The rest of the Party whines in protest. “No buts. We’re all gonna brush our teeth and put our pajamas on and go to sleep.”

“You’re not my mom,” Dustin moans.

“No, but I am the most sober person here right now, so I'm in charge. That’s the rule.”

“Is that a real rule?” El asks, and before someone else can tell her it’s not, Will nods his head.

“Yep. Pretty sure it’s a law, actually. So I'm gonna go put this in the Wheeler's liquor cabinet, and when I come back everyone better be getting ready for bed.”

He grabs the vodka bottle and trudges back upstairs, throwing it in the cabinet under the sink. While he’s up, he fills up a pitcher of water and grabs a handful of ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet in the hallway bathroom. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror-snot stains on Mike's sweatshirt, tear streaked cheeks. He looks horrible.

That’s why what Mike was saying isn’t real. Why would he like you when this is what you look like?

He goes back downstairs and is relieved to see the Party listened to him. They’re pajama clad, stuffing toothbrushes back into their duffels, sleeping bags rolled out onto the floor. Lucas is helping Max out of her chair and on the couch, tucking her under an old quilt. Will gathers up some of the empty solo cups, pours water from the pitcher into them, and gives one to each of his friends. “Drink,” he says. “Everyone needs to be hydrated.”

The Party grumbles, but does it anyway.

Will changes into his pajamas, turns out the lights, and heads to his faded yellow sleeping bag. Which is, of course, right next to Mike's midnight blue one.

He puts his head on the pillow, but doesn’t sleep. Just lays there, staring up at the glow in the dark stars plastered on the Wheeler's basement ceiling. His heart is still racing from what happened-what might have happened on the roof.

He listens in the dark, hearing steady breaths give way to soft snores. Once he’s satisfied everyone has fallen asleep, he allows his eyes to close.

But then a soft tap is on his right shoulder.

He rolls over to face a wide-eyed Mike, hair tossed and tussled. “I can’t sleep down here,” he whispers. “Floor’s too hard. Do you want to go to our room?”

Will knows he should say no. After what happened on the roof, he needs space from Mike.

But he just can’t say no to those soft freckles, sallow cheeks, and stupid puppy dog eyes.

“Sure,” he whispers back.

The two slip out of their sleeping backs and tiptoe up the stairs, careful not to wake up the rest of the Party. They make it safely back to their room, Mike throwing the covers back so Will can slip in first before following them. Will tries to leave space between them, scootching over as far to the other side of the bed. But Mike’s hands gently grab him and pull him back into him, wrapping his arms around Will’s back.

Right. Because they’ve spent the last six months fucking snuggling each other to sleep.

Will closes his eyes. A few minutes pass, but then he feels Mike talking quietly into his ear.

“Will? Are you awake?”

He grunts in response.

“Can we…can we talk?”

He opens his eyes and props himself up, facing Mike directly in the eyes. “If this is about the roof, I’d rather talk about it tomorrow.”

“Well, I want to talk about it now.”

“You’re still drunk. This is clearly an important conversation, I'd rather you have it when you’re sober.”

He snorts, again. “I threw up all the vodka. I am sober. And I want to talk.” he frowns. “Please?”

Will sighs. “You have two minutes, and then I'm going to bed.”

“Two minutes. Okay. cool.” Mike inhales. “ Okay then, I'm just gonna say it. I was going to kiss you before I…you know.”

Will’s blood runs cold. He was pretty sure that’s what was going to happen, but he didn’t expect Mike to confirm it.

Mike continues talking. “I’ve thought about kissing you every day for months. I just, I want to know what it’s like. Technically we did kiss before but I forgot it and that’s how we got ourselves in this whole conversation, but I want to do it again. I want to enjoy it.

“I want to remember it this time.”

Holy fucking shit.

Will wants nothing more than to grab Mike by his shirt collar and kiss him until their lips go numb. Now that he knows Mike wants it too.

But he’s not convinced. He thinks about the way Mike kept phrasing their conversation earlier. I think. I’m not sure. I shouldn’t want to. Boys are just practice. It doesn’t count.

He doesn't sound like he truly wants to kiss Will. He sounds like he’s bored and wants to try boys, rebound after breaking up with his girlfriend of almost two years, but the second their lips connect he’ll freak out and run away and there goes eleven years of friendship.

There’s other things Mike said though. I think I would remember if I kissed YOU. it was YOU, so I’m pretty sure I liked it? The repeated emphasis on you. Like Will kissing Mike was the most special thing that ever happened to him. Like he really means what he said when he wants to kiss him again.

“Will?” Mike asks. “What are you thinking?”

Will wants to know. But he can’t lose Mike as a friend. He can’t risk it. He’s not going to let one miscommunication send their friendship crumbling to the ground.

“I don’t want to be your experiment or whatever, Mike,” he finally says. “Because what if you realize that you were just confused and you don’t actually like me—you don’t actually like boys, and then it ruins our friendship?”

A pause. Then, a quiet voice.

“I lied. On the roof,” he says.

“Oh.” Of course. Mike didn’t mean any of this. He was drunk and confused after his girlfriend broke up with him, and got into his own head. He doesn’t actually want to kiss Will again. He never will.

“Well, goodnight,” Will says, and rolls over to face away from him. That’s that, then. Time to go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.

But Mike grabs him by the shoulder and turns him back around so they’re facing each other again, Mike's face illuminated by the glow from the streetlights outside.

“God, I just keep saying the wrong thing over and over again. What the fuck is wrong with me?” he smacks his face. “I’ve been saying the wrong thing all night, and I really want to make sure I get what I'm about to say right, so give me a second.”

Will does.

Mike takes a breath. “What I was going to say was I don’t think I want to kiss boys. I know I want to kiss boys. A boy. I know I want  to kiss you.”

“Mike,” Will says, trying to stop this train before it crashes and burns.

“I know I want to kiss you in the way I know everything about you. I know your favorite animal is tigers, and I know you're scared of butterflies because one landed on your sandwich in second grade and you accidentally ate it. I know the first movie we ever saw in the theaters on our own was The Emperor Strikes Back, and I know your favorite song is “Boys Don’t Cry”. I know that we kissed, when we were eight years old, playing pretend in my backyard.

“And I want to know everything about you, Will. I want to know how it would feel to hold your hand and go on a date with you. I want to know what your lips taste like. I want to,” and he’s blushing now, “know what your skin feels like under your clothes. I know I want this because I know you, better than anyone else.”

His gaze lowers to Will's lips. "And I know you want to know me like that too.”

“What makes you think that?” Will whispers. “That I want it too.”

Mike smiles. “That painting you gave me, in the van. I mentioned it to El because you told me she commissioned it, and she had no idea what I was talking about.

“And then, when she told me that she thought I was in love with someone else, and I was realizing I was in love with someone else, it kind of…clicked. The painting, it was a confession, right? It was what you wanted to say, in the language you know best. Art.”

Will nods. Ever so slightly. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it-nod.

Mike exhales. “Good. like, I was pretty sure, but I had to be 100% sure.”

“So….” Will asks, letting the question drip off his lips like honey. “What now?

“I want to know you, Will,” Mike shudders. “Please?”

And then Will is grabbing Mike’s shirt collar and pulling him on top of him and oh, he knows him. He knows him better than he ever has.

Mike’s lips are soft. Will doesn’t remember how their last kiss felt, only that he knew he liked it and wanted to do it again, but he assumed kissing a boy would be rougher. But Mike’s lips are pleasantly soft, tasting faintly of alcohol and mint. Will is suddenly very glad he forced everyone to brush their teeth. He thinks that if he could still taste the vomit from the Rooftop Incident, eight years of feelings would be gone in an instant.

Their kiss starts off chaste. Just lips on lips, mouths sealed like Ziploc bags. He’s not sure how far either of them want to take this—Will would be fine with a little more oomph, but that’s all up to Mike. After all, he only just admitted he liked guys a mere hour ago.

Mike seemingly reads his mind. He begins to kiss Will harder, pushing in with his lips. Will begins to push back. Soon, they’re in a contest to see who can out-kiss the other, pushing in and out and back and forth like they’re trying to force two of the same magnets together.

Will’s hands move up along Mike’s back, counting his vertebrae with each brush of his fingers. It all feels so good. So real.

Will gets a bit braver. He brings one hand up to the back of Mike’s head and sinks his fingers deep into his raven curls. He’s surprised by how soft they are—combined with the fact his hair smells faintly of lilacs, he wonders if maybe Mike steals Nancy’s shampoo and conditioner.

He winds one curl around his finger and tugs. Ever so slightly.

Mike gasps against Will’s mouth.

Emboldened, Will does it again. Harder this time.

Mike fully whines, and Will takes advantage of the moment his mouth opens, and slips his tongue in. Now it’s really real.

Mike reciprocates. Their tongues start to brush against each other, gently licking and sucking at the other's lip. Mike runs his tongue along the rim of Will’s upper mouth, following the ups and downs of Will’s bunny-like front teeth.

They stay like this for a few moments, just giving and taking and savoring until Mike pulls away, his lips rosy-red and spit-slicked, his dark eyes so wide it looks like someone put black holes where his sockets should be. Then the streetlights hit Mike’s pupils again, and the black holes turn into supernovas.

“Holy shit,” he pants. “Yeah. Yeah, you were right. ‘Sometimes you do have to experience something to know you like it’. Like, I knew I liked boys before this, but it’s like, confirmed now. Like, extra-sure.”

“You just said like a hundred times.”

“Well, I’m going to say it again,” Mike smiles wickedly. “I really, really like this. And I really, really like you.”

He kisses Will’s forehead. Compared to what they’ve been doing for the past few minutes, the forehead kiss seems practically celibate. Then he kissed the spot between his eyebrows, down the curve of Will’s nose, at the mole just above his cupids bow before returning briefly to his lips.

“God, you’re so good at this,” Mike says. “Are you sure this is only your second kiss ever?”

A surge of confidence bursts through Will at that. “Pretty sure,” he says, and moves away from Mike's lips, kissing tenderly along his jaw, his chin, his neck. He drags his tongue against the sharp muscles in his neck, sending another soft moan from Mike. He keeps moving further down, reaching down his shoulders. He brings the hand from Mike’s back down to the collar of his shirt and gingerly moves it down an inch before diving in to nip at his collarbone. Mike throws his head back at this, gasping.

“I can’t keep doing that if you move away from me,” Will says. He’s surprised by how confident he’s been through this entire encounter.

So Mike leans back in, and Will stays at his collarbone for a little bit before getting bored and moving back up to his lips.

Mike's hands find the hem of Will’s shirt, brushing gently among the fabric. “Can I?” he asks quietly, and Will nods enthusiastically. Mike's hands dive under, reaching up to Will’s waist. His fingers make small circles against the skin, his hands so warm compared to how cold Will tends to run, and Will shivers against the touch.

“You can go up further,” he gasps. “If you want to.”

“I want to stay like this. Really take this in.”

Will stays under him, leaning into Mike's hands, occasionally gasping or stuttering into Mike’s mouth.

Mike’s pinky finger reaches out and runs along the line of one of Will’s abs. “You’re so…hard,” he says, and Will squeaks.

Mike immediately turns beet red. “Shit, not like—not like that!! I meant like, muscular. Like, your chest. You’re built like a rock, dude.”

“Yeah, I started working out back in California, and kind of kept doing it when we got back,” he says. “Helps quiet my mind a little.”

But Will's confidence during this experience wavers, doubt starting to creep in. Mike still likes girls. Will is most definitely not a girl, and the muscles on his chest prove that. Mike's going to freak out any minute now and realize that he is not kissing some soft girl but rather his very male best friend.

Will breaks away from Mike’s lips. “This isn’t weird, for you?” he asks. “Because I’m not a girl.”

“Well, obviously you’re not a girl,” Mike says, brushing a finger against Will’s recently reshaved sideburns.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and get mad that I'm not a girl.”

“Will,” he says in a faux-whine. “I have been thinking about doing this for over a year. I have had plenty of chances to back out or change my mind. There’s been a lot of things that freaked me out about liking you, but I promise you not being a girl is nowhere near the top of that list.”

“Liking me freaked you out?”

“Well, yeah. Because we’re best friends. And I had convinced myself you didn’t like me, or like boys at all. I was worried if I said anything or made a move, you would hate me and run away and I would ruin our friendship. I was pretty sure something was reciprocated with that painting, but I was still so scared that I was reading wrong. Honestly, if you hadn’t told me you liked boys tonight, I don’t think I would have ever said anything.

“And also,” Mike pauses to swallow, and Will can tell what he’s about to say next is the scariest thing Mike’s had to say all night. “I’m not sure if I like girls like that.”

“Oh?” Will says.

“Like I said, I’m not sure,” he says. “I kind of realized that I didn’t love El like I was supposed to, that the things I felt for her were closer to what I feel for Dustin and Lucas.”

“And Max,” Will reminds him.

“Sure,” he says, rolling his eyes but grinning anyway.. “I do love her, but as a friend. And there’s definitely girls I think are pretty, just like there’s guys that I think are pretty, but I don’t know if I'll ever like a girl the way I like you. When I think about what I am, there's a big to be determined in its place.” he shrugs. “I know I like you, though, so that’s good enough for me right now. I’ll figure out everything else later.”

“I just don’t want you to realize you only love me as a friend.”

“William,” Mike says, clearly exasperated from reassuring him that he does like him, but still with a smile that lets Will know he thinks it’s cute. “I literally just had my tongue down your throat, what more do I need to do to convince you that I do like you as more than a friend?”

“Keep kissing me?” Will pouts. So Mike does.

Their hands are still wandering but stick it to their torsos and heads only. Will keeps threading his hand in and out of Mike’s curls. Mike brings one hand to the back of Will’s neck and rubs gently, sending chills down Will’s spine.

Will hates the back of his neck. Why wouldn't he? After all, it is where the spider-sense that connects him to an evil interdimensional wannabe dictator lurks. Any touch, any sensation on the back of his neck, no matter how banal, sends Will jumping out of his skin.

But the warmth of Mike's fingers doesn’t. Will isn’t freaking out. It’s not a Vecna trick. It’s real, just like that kiss all those years ago. This is real.

They keep kissing, and Will doesn’t know for how long. All he knows his soft lips and skin and hair. Their bodies become damp with sweat, lips sore and swollen. As much as Will likes this, he needs a time-out. He gently sits up, pushing Mike off of his body and to the side of his bed.

“Did I do something bad?” Mike frowns.

Will shakes his head. “Just need a sec,” he says. “Catch my breath.”

He moves himself across the mattress and against Mike, letting Mike’s arm wrap itself around his neck. He rests his head on Mike’s chest, quietly listening to his heartbeat. It’s rapidly pounding, and Will swells with pride. I did that, he thinks.

Another childhood memory resurfaces. Seeing Mike for the first time after his rescue from the Upside Down. Will was laying in the hospital bed, his mom bringing his friends into the room. Mike’s face had lit up, and he had rushed over and put his head onto Will's chest for a second. Like he had to hear the heartbeat to convince himself that this was real and Will was here.

Well, now Will’s the one making sure this is real. Whatever they do next, wherever this goes, he’s probably always going to be asking himself or Mike if this is real. Thankfully, Mikeis the most patient person Will knows.

A moment passes. “So, what now?” Will asks.

Mike squeezes his eyes shut. “Well, uh. I was hoping you’d want to be my….boyfriend?” He opens one eye. “If you want to. Wait, is it still called boyfriends if it’s two guys? Or is there another word for it? I’m very new to this.”

“Uh, I meant do you want to keep kissing or go to sleep?”

“Oh.” Mike is turning scarlet now. Will thinks it’s adorable, and presses two more kisses. One to each flushed cheek.

“But yeah. I’d like to be your boyfriend. I’m pretty sure it’s still called that. You forget I'm new to this too.”

Mike grins so wide now, his teeth blindingly white. Will thinks his smile could power all of Hawkins. “Cool. Then we’ll figure it out together.”

“Yeah. Together.”

Will rolls back into him, pressing their sides together and tucking his head in the spot between Mike’s shoulders and chest. Mike wraps his arms around him, lightly running his fingers just under the hem of his shirt.

“I’m glad you were my first kiss,” Mike says. “I wouldn’t have wanted it to be anyone else.”

Will smiles, snuggling further into his boyfriend(!)’s arms. “Me neither.”

One thing’s for certain. Neither of them are ever forgetting any past, present, or future kisses again.