Archive of Our Own

Mike Wheeler has a huge, huge, huge dilemma.

At the beginning of the school year, his mom had pressured him into doing an extracurricular activity that would “enhance his learning” and make him more “proactive” and “productive” or whatever. Mike wasn’t exactly listening when she gave her spiel on why he should join a school club.

He was ready to do it just to get his mom off of his back, though he had no real interest in doing it. He already, like, writes and stuff, and he gets good grades. That should be productive enough, but, again, whatever.

So, when sixth grade started, he made the executive decision to join the cast for his school’s winter musical — a relatively low-quality production of Annie — with the only catch that Dustin, Lucas and Will had to join with him. None of them were opposed to the idea, but he still prepared a written presentation on why they should, just in case.

Either way, they all joined. The musical itself was fun, admittedly. He found himself thinking that he might join it again, next year. But the musical itself isn’t the problem.

Dustin had ended up auditioning for Warbucks, which he got (and did really well in, actually). Meanwhile Lucas, Mike and Will just joined the ensemble and called it a day.

This is where the problem arises: the ensemble.

At the end of the show, the entire cast has to do bows. Everyone knows the type — everyone in the show has to get into lines and join hands and do an up-down-up kind of bow while the audience claps and cheers for a production that’s mediocre at best.

Mike spent most of the rehearsals goofing off with Lucas, Will, and Dustin when he was with the ensemble, but his priority was making sure that he was glued to Will’s side the entire time.

Because, well, they’ve always been like that. He finds a lot of people in their classes make jokes about it. They’re Will and Mike, and one is never seen without the other. They’re Will and Mike, and they might as well be surgically attached at the hip. If Mike’s name is ever brought up then it’s likely that Will’s will follow.

Mike doesn’t have any problems with it, whatsoever. In fact, he’s more on the end of saying that he likes it, because Will says he thinks it’s cute that they’re associated with each other. Mike likes when Will uses the word “cute”. It’s a cute word, even cuter when Will says it.

But the whole point is, Mike made a point to be next to Will for the entire show (plus Lucas, but he wasn’t first priority).

So, for those who are putting two and two together, this means that Mike obviously made a conscious effort to have Will end up next to him for the bows.

And, for those putting two and two and two together, Mike also mentioned everyone in a line joining hands for bows.

Yesterday was the night of the show, and it was really fun. However, the huge, huge, huge dilemma is caused when it’s time for the bows.

It’s currently the middle of December. This is a pretty good time of year for Mike, because school goes out for Christmas a week from now, and also, Christmas, but the very obvious disadvantage is that it’s cold.

Mike considers himself one of those people with a “cold body”. Typically, any kind of skin-on-skin contact with Mike is met with “oh, your hands are so cold”. He doesn’t know if it’s an insult or what, but it’s something he’s been told a handful of times, so he concludes that he just has naturally cold hands.

So, at the end of the show, Mike wasn’t freezing because he had been (very poorly) dancing, but he wasn’t hot either. Whatever his temperature was like, the thing he remembers the most vividly about yesterday is when he lined up next to Will to do the bows, and Will took his hand.

Usually, people avoid joining hands during bows, even though it’s something you’re supposed to do. It’s awkward to hold hands with a stranger, and Mike can’t say he’s fond of it, but he does think that eleven-year-olds make a bigger deal of hand-holding than is necessary.

But trust him, he is not making a bigger deal of this situation than is necessary.

Will is normal, and he isn’t weird about joining hands, so he gleefully took Mike’s hand without a second thought. And Mike was prepared to think nothing of it, because they’re best friends and they’re supposed to join hands, but Mike could swear that his heart stopped at that moment.

Mike has never held Will’s hand before. He’d be lying if he were to say that he hasn’t thought about it, but for guys, that’s not exactly something that friends do. Everyone knows that. After all, holding hands is on the romantic end of gestures, isn’t it? Girls and girls can do it fine, but guys don’t really normally hold hands, ever.

And, as a regular pair of guy best friends, they have never had a reason to hold hands. Until now. Well, it could have been earlier, but they only ever rehearsed the bows once and Will somehow got separated from Mike in that rehearsal process.

So — mark the day — December 10th 1982, the day Will and Mike held hands for the first time ever.

Now, since they have never really had that kind of physical contact, Mike has spent years being unaware of the fact that Will has warm hands.

Like, very warm. Will was only really holding Mike’s hand for about seven seconds, but Mike’s heart ceased beating in those seven seconds, because Will has warm hands.

After all this, Mike’s dilemma comes down to one thing: he has absolutely no idea why he feels so strongly about this. Like, okay. Will has warm hands. That should be the end of the story. Mike shouldn’t have had such a reaction. He shouldn’t still be thinking about this.

Plus, it’s not surprising. Will is the personification of sunshine. The fact that his hands are warm is totally unsurprising and expected. However, Mike can still recall the rush he felt when Will gripped his hand, his hold far firmer than it needed to be, and Will’s hand was just about as warm and comforting as the rest of him.

It’s nothing. It’s just joining hands. For a musical. They had to do it. It’s nothing. Normal.

But the way Mike’s face feels all hot at the mere thought is saying otherwise.

So, this one big dilemma branches out into several smaller dilemmas. First of all, is this saying something about Mike’s feelings? That’s a question he’s avoiding desperately, because he’s afraid of what might pop into his head if he tries to come up with a reason as to why he reacted in such a way about some hand-touching with his best friend.

Is that how friends react? Maybe. Probably. Well, he has just established that he’s never done that before, so maybe it was just, like, surprise. Surprise from doing something new and unfamiliar, because the only hand he’s ever really held is his mom’s.

It’s like his first kiss, except Mike perhaps shouldn’t compare it to such a romantic gesture, so it’s just a first handhold.

And his other sub-dilemma is that he really, really wants to hold Will’s hand again.

It’s strange, it really is, but all he can think about is the sunshine that poured from Will’s presence and the way it transferred into Mike’s body for a few seconds. He can’t rid himself of the tight feeling in his chest, and he doesn’t like how romantic this probably sounds for someone he feels normally about, but he really wants to take Will’s hand and swing their arms and walk around all cute. For warmth.

Because Will’s hands are warm. So, he simply wants to also make his hands warm. Nothing weird about that.

Unfortunately, this has made up most of Mike’s thoughts since yesterday night.

It’s now twelve in the afternoon on a Saturday, and Mike’s sitting on his bed, taking his hands and lacing his fingers together to see if he can replicate the potential feeling of Will’s own warm hands.

Like an idiot.

He wishes he wasn’t so obsessed with this, because he keeps questioning himself on it. Surely, he should be able to normally hold Will’s hand, and it doesn’t have to say anything extra about their friendship.

Because they’re friends. Best friends. And all Mike wants to do is warm his hands up, by holding the hand of his best friend. Normal. But it’s quite literally all he can think about. So, not normal? Mike isn’t sure.

Mike might only ever be sure about one thing in life, and it’s that he would die to hold Will’s hand again, normally.

And the need is boiling him alive.

It has since been about two days since Mike’s dilemma arose, and it’s a very cold Sunday afternoon.

Mike is hanging out with Will, Dustin and Lucas today, and Mike is thinking of the perfect time to put his super top-secret plan, Operation Hand-Holding into action.

Since his mind has only been on one thing recently, he’s decided that the best course of action is to act on it, to (normally) find a way to touch Will’s hands. His very warm hands. Because they’re warm.

He doesn’t really know what his plan consists of, he just thought that giving it a snazzy name would give him more motivation, and so far he has nothing. His basic idea is just to wait until no one’s looking and then grab Will’s hand all sneaky and it will be totally awesome.

Oh — or he could pass something to Will and make sure their hands brush or something. He’s seen that one a lot in movies.

Romance movies.

Okay, maybe not that one, though the idea is still giving him butterflies.

It’s fine. He has other things he can do.

So, while he’s in his basement and hanging out with his friends, Mike makes multiple attempts to initiate hand-holding between him and Will, and he hopes that Dustin and Lucas won’t see and think anything weird.

However, his attempts don’t quite go to plan, because apparently this type of thing is nerve wracking.

Mike’s first attempt is during a game of Dungeons and Dragons, when the dice rolls off of the table, and Will moves to pick it up off the ground.

Mike thinks this to be his big chance, and he immediately springs up and goes after Will to try and pick up the dice as well.

His objective — to look like he’s trying to pick up the dice just as Will grabs it, but make it seem like his reaction time is just slow as his try is blocked by Will’s hand, causing direct contact and instant warmth for life.

This plan is foolproof. But, apparently, it’s not, because Mike is a fool and his stupid plan does not work.

Everything’s going to plan until Will crouches down to pick up the dice, and Mike follows.

“Got it!” Will calls as he grabs the dice from the floor, and this is Mike’s exact moment.

And he doesn’t.

That’s right — Mike crouches next to Will, mentally prepares himself to go in for the kill, and his hand refuses to move. For whatever reason, he just stops working in the moment, and Will jumps to his feet and holds the dice up in triumph, returning to his seat as Mike stares and wonders what just happened.

To put it short, Mike totally threw away his shot.

For obvious reasons, this sucks. But, have no fear, there are other opportunities for the operation to succeed, and one setback will not deter Mike.

It’s not actually the setback that’s preparing to deter Mike, it’s the knot his brain ties itself into as he goes about the rest of the campaign trying to act normal while also trying to figure out why he froze up at his big moment.

Surely, this should have been easy. They’ve been best friends for years. Will has held Mike’s hand before. That’s why Mike’s doing this in the first place. So, he doesn’t understand why the wires were suddenly ripped out of his head when he was presented with an opportunity.

He’s nervous. Is he nervous? No — should he be nervous?

He shouldn’t be. Because it’s normal. Holding hands with a best friend is normal.

Well, he’s officially thinking in circles now, because he’s pretty sure he’s had this exact thought about seven times within the past two days.

It’s almost as if he has to keep thinking that to convince himself it’s the truth, which would be crazy.

Mike has a few more hours to make this work, and with his strange and sort of weird and hopefully not romantic desperation to have some kind of hand-to-hand contact with Will, he needs to come up with something else, and fast.

So, attempt two comes at dinner.

Perfectly timed with the ending of their surprisingly short (five hour) campaign, Mike’s mom is ready with the lasagna.

Mike thinks it’s nice when his friends stay for dinner. It’s less awkward, because a typical Wheeler family dinner is fifty percent silence with an argument between Mike and Nancy or an insensitive comment from Mike’s dad peppered in there.

Plus, Mike likes lasagna. Everyone likes lasagna.

With this, he begins to formulate a second plan, because not even a five-hour campaign is about to make him less invested in this idea, which should probably be saying something about him.

But it’s not. It’s not saying anything about him. Ever. Why would you even think that?

Mike’s mom is setting the table when he and his friends make their way upstairs from the basement, still high-fiving and celebrating and whatnot. Mike is too focused on his objective to concentrate on that, and in the back of his mind he’s sort of worried that someone will catch onto how spacey he is.

Because, believe him, he doesn’t really want anyone to know the sole thought in his mind right now.

“So, boys, how was your campaign?” Mike’s mom asks out of pure politeness as she places plates on every spot in the table and gestures for the four to sit down.

“It was totally awesome!” Lucas grins, pulling a seat at the table and gesturing wildly to nothing in particular.

It’s critical for this plan to work that Will sits next to Mike, which Mike achieves by getting in his own seat, smiling and saying “Will, come sit next to me!” as if he’s not plotting something totally devious.

That phase of the plan works, and the four are all sitting down now, as everyone but Mike tells Mike’s mom about their super awesome campaign, half the details of which Mike has already forgotten, despite having written it.

Mike’s mom just smiles and nods and calls Nancy downstairs as she moves an oven dish to the table, and it looks great, but Mike is hardly hungry right now.

All he can really do is sneak a couple glances at Will, who’s beaming as he joins in with whatever Dustin and Lucas are talking about, and Mike doesn’t think he quite likes the feeling in his chest that rises when just looking at Will.

Nancy’s in the room now, still scowling for some reason or other, so Mike thinks it’s about time he shares his objective for this attempt, which he’s confident will work.

In all fairness, this one’s a little dependent on timing, because most hands will be above the table for the majority of dinner, but the idea is that, in a moment when they’re not, Mike will move his hand a little and “accidentally” make his hand meet Will’s under the table, while everyone’s hopefully chatting and having a good time and no one will suspect a thing.

Now that he’s thinking about it, the chances of the circumstances for this one lining up is lower than Mike would hope, but he thinks he can make it work, maybe.

What no one told him is that his chances are really low. It takes many minutes of small talk and undeniably amazing lasagna for Will to drop his hands under the table, much to Mike’s dismay.

Because of this, he isn’t focused on his food or very much contributing to his friends’ conversation and he quite frankly worries that he’s very fidgety the whole dinner.

He probably is, actually.

“Mike,” his mom says at some point during dinner, when Mike is halfway through his lasagna. “Are you okay? You haven’t eaten as much as I thought you would.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mike replies, because, realistically, what the hell is he supposed to say? “Sorry guys, I’m just way too consumed by the idea of holding my best friend’s hand to focus on food”?

He’s going to sound like a lunatic. Even though he knows that it’s completely normal, his family likely won’t think that. His mom’s going to look at him weird and his dad is going to say something that makes everyone uncomfortable and Nancy’s going to start blowing the situation out of proportion as little Holly tries to ask what gay means and all three of Mike’s hard-earned friends are totally never going to want to talk to him again.

So, he plasters on a smile — a small smile, not too exaggerated as to not cause suspicion — and blurts the first thing that pops into his head.

“I’m just not super hungry right now,” he tries, knowing it’s an overused excuse but it’s one that doesn’t leave room for too many follow-up questions.

“Okay,” his mom nods, sounding the slightest bit skeptical but it gets her off of Mike’s back.

Conversation starts again when Dustin says something. Or Lucas. Mike doesn’t really know, or care. What he does catch is Will’s gaze in his peripherals, a glint of concern in his eyes.

Mike hates that. He hates that Will looks just a little concerned over something so mundane, and how Mike would rather keel over and die than tell him the truth. He hates how much Will cares.

But, it’s fine. Because, after he achieves his objective today, he’ll stop thinking about the ordeal entirely, and fifteen years down the line when he and Will are sharing an apartment and doing “remember when”s, Mike will bring up the time when they were eleven that he went a little insane trying to hold Will’s hand for a couple of days, and Will will be all cute and like “wow I had no idea” and they’ll be laughing and everything will be normal.

So, totally, fantastically normal.

That’s what this is. Normal. The normalest. Ordinary, even.

Though he hates how much he loves how much Will cares (strange sentence, he knows), this is actually the gateway to everything good that has ever happened in his life.

Dustin and Lucas are talking about something. Mike still doesn’t care. He’s too busy trying not to stare at Will, who’s looking forward and is in the process of dropping his hands below the table.

Today is Mike’s lucky day.

Turns out, Will’s hand is reaching for Mike’s jacket, and Mike probably should have seen this coming. Will grips the end of Mike’s jacket and tugs it twice, the same expression riddling his face.

This, friends, is the Will-Mike code for “are you okay”. Mike invented it when they were about seven, because of Will’s troubles at home.

Mike had learned to read the patterns of Will’s face early. Usually, he knows when something’s off, when Will’s quieter than usual, or when Will just seems a little bummed out. So, whenever the two were in a place with other people and needed a way to check in quietly, Mike would tug on Will’s shirt twice to check if he’s alright.

Then, Will started doing it when Mike was off, and it’s just their thing now. Mike likes it. He thinks it’s nice that they have something like that. Very intimate. In a normal way.

“Don’t worry,” Mike responds, his voice barely a whisper. He smiles, this one with a little more sincerity because he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he gave Will Byers a fake smile. “I’m alright, really.”

Will nods, his face looking a little more relaxed, but he’s also a bit skeptical. Mike seriously worries he’s not selling this lie.

Just like Mike had hoped, Will pulls his hand from Mike’s jacket, but it lingers under the table a moment longer.

This is Mike’s big moment. The one that will solve all of his life’s problems.

Mike tries his best to be discreet as he moves his arm, attempting to eat his pretty much cold lasagna with one hand as the other one moves closer to Will’s.

In an ideal world, Mike stops screwing around and takes Will’s hand, and then time slows down and sparks fly and flower petals float and Will looks at him with wonder in his eyes and it’s all super perfect and normal.

However, this isn’t an ideal world, because his hand is inching closer to Will’s by the second, and their knuckles are almost touching, and Mike can’t do it.

He freezes and is overcome by a wave of nerves just when Will brings his hand back up and goes back to interacting with Lucas and Dustin.

For some reason, he got nervous again. This was supposed to be, like, his big break. Instead, he looks and feels like an idiot, because he had another opportunity right in front of his face and then he disassembled it.

He seriously has no idea why this is such a big deal to him. The whole big deal of this situation is that it’s not supposed to be a big deal. It’s supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be normal. So, he doesn’t know why he keeps malfunctioning whenever a chance tackles him to the ground.

If he wasn’t hungry before, he definitely isn’t hungry now.

It’s a little embarrassing, but in the end, he has to ask his mom to save his food, in front of all his friends, because “it’s great but I’m just not hungry”.

The good news is, this excuse seems to be getting a little more believable, because Dustin and Lucas don’t suspect anything weird and his mom just says it must be “one of those days” and it’s “okay to not feel up to it sometimes”, which is good.

That’s just about the only thing that’s good, however.

Mike Wheeler, Hawkins’ biggest fumbler. He does nothing but fumble, all the time. He has fumbled two whole chances in the space of one day, for no valid reason. He feels so stupid.

He spends the rest of dinner feeling stupid, before helping his mom with the dishes as Nancy goes back to her room, Will completes a coloring sheet with Holly and Lucas and Dustin sit with them and watch.

What’s good is that Mike has the rest of the evening to pace his bedroom floor and scold himself out loud about this situation, because his friends have to leave after dinner.

On any day, Mike would be wishing that they could hang out just a little longer, but he might spontaneously combust if he looks at Will’s face again. He’s just about deterred from Operation Hand-Holding, which sucks because he still can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s only about five, but the sun has long since set. That’s the weird thing about winter. The sun setting early throws everything totally out of whack in Mike’s opinion.

Dustin and Lucas are still smiling and talking about whatever Mike would usually be talking about with them as they hop on their bikes.

Now, Mike knows he said he was deterred from his plan, but he also only said “just about”, as he thinks he has one last opportunity for this to work.

“Bye, Mike!” Dustin calls, speeding away on his bike.

“See you!” Lucas follows, biking out of Mike’s garage.

Commence phase three. Will is always the last one to leave Mike’s house. Usually, he stays behind to say something or sometimes he just leaves a little late.

Mike’s objective — he’s seen this a lot in media — to grab Will’s hand before he leaves and tell him something quick and witty like it was urgent. This is his chance.

After a few long seconds of waiting, Will finally moves from Mike’s side to his own bike, and Mike uses his genius planning method to make his final, absolutely foolproof move.

“Will, wait.” He reaches his hand to catch Will’s, and he ends up grabbing his wrist.

Maybe his aim was askew, or something, because rather than grabbing Will’s hand like he had planned, he goes for the wrist instead. He just can’t do it. Something is wrong with him.

Will looks back at him expectantly, and he realizes he doesn’t exactly have anything quick and witty to say. Curse him and his lack of forward-thinking.

“Uh, good night.” Mike spits out, his face suddenly flushing and his grip on Will’s wrist loosening. “Stay safe? Forget it.”

Feeling very awkward and very much like a loser, Mike decides the least humiliating thing he can do right now is let go of Will, turn around and go back into his house.

“Wait.” Will says, grabbing Mike’s wrist in retaliation. Suddenly, the tables have turned. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting kind of off today.”

Will’s gaze is filled with that same concern, and Mike can’t tell if he wants to cry or melt where he stands as Will latches onto Mike’s wrist. Mike doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s just— sorry, I know I had already asked, and I don’t wanna pry but you just seemed a bit… stressed.” Will explains. “I don’t know.”

Unfortunately, Will can read Mike all too well, because Mike isn’t necessarily the best at hiding anything from Will.

So, now, he has to come up with a lie that would explain why he’s been acting off today.

“No, no, don’t worry.” Mike starts, still a little jittery from what Will’s doing and how he’s looking at him. “I don’t know why, I’ve just been a little sad recently. I’m not sure. I think they call it post-show depression?”

Mike smiles nervously, hoping that Will will buy it. People can just feel sad, can’t they? They don’t need a reason. And even if there is a reason, it might look weird on them and they don’t need to tell anyone this reason.

“I see,” Will’s face softens into a smile, and Mike silently thanks God. He much prefers this expression, and he thinks he successfully sold his lie. “I guess that makes sense. The show was really fun. I was just a little worried today, you know? You weren’t acting like yourself.”

“I guess,” Mike agrees, “sorry for worrying you.”

A pause. Neither of them move, because Will looks like he wants to say something more. His face reddens. Mike doesn’t know why, but it looks like Will wants to do something, but he’s nervous about it.

“Well,” Will begins after a moment, “I’m not sure about this, but I had the idea that maybe this’ll cheer you up.”

Mike has no clue what Will is doing, but Will’s hand slips down from Mike’s wrist to his hand, and Mike’s heart stops.

It’s cold outside, but Will’s hands are still warm. Really warm. Mike wants to melt into a puddle, because what Mike has been trying to do the whole day, Will did so easily, and Mike’s brain is going haywire.

Because, Will is holding Mike’s hand right now, and his hands are soft and warm and everything nice and he’s wearing the shyest smile and—

Oh, god. He’s moving in closer. Why’s he moving in closer? Mike is frozen where he stands as Will squeezes Mike’s hand, leans in and presses a light kiss to Mike’s cheek.

Time stops. Mike’s brain chemistry has officially been altered. His face feels like it’s about two hundred degrees. Celsius. Everything is on fire.

Will moves away, and his face looks just about as red as Mike’s feels. He lets go of Mike’s hand, and practically sprints over to his bike.

“See you!” He calls, climbing onto his bike and peddling off into the night, as all Mike can do is mumble a “bye” and lightly touch the spot on his cheek that Will just kissed.

There is something totally not normal about Mike Wheeler.

Mike is spiraling.

It’s only been a day since what he’s calling The Incident, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the world ends tomorrow.

Call him dramatic, but all he can do is think about yesterday and try not to burst into flames, or whatever the natural human reaction to this kind of thing is.

So, first of all, he can’t initiate hand-holding. Whatsoever. He always finds a way to freeze up or get nervous and chicken out, which sucks. However, Will can do it just fine. For some reason, it seems like Will wants to.

And, even though he ultimately achieved his objective yesterday, that didn’t make everything go away in exchange for sunshine and rainbows like he thought it would. Turns out, holding Will’s hand is always followed by the want to hold Will’s hand again.

Which means, this has not solved anything. In fact, it has made it ten times worse.

Plus, Mike doesn’t even want to mention the main event of The Incident. Will said the gesture might “cheer Mike up”. It has done anything but that. Mike appreciates Will for trying, but he is completely going insane over the implications that a kiss on the cheek might have between two eleven-year-old boys.

That entire thing felt kind of romantic-ish. Like, that’s a moment between the main character and his love interest right in the middle of season two. But, at the same time, why would Will do that if it was romantic?

Surely, he wouldn’t— no, that’s unthinkable. Will doesn’t like Mike like that. He can’t.

So is this normal? Mike hasn’t exactly heard it to be normal, but he also kind of lives under a rock, so maybe he just missed a few things. Maybe Will saw it in a movie. Is kissing guy friends on the cheek a cool and new thing done between guy friends in all the blockbusters now? Judas kissed Jesus on the cheek, right? That’s probably a bad example.

It can be done normally, can’t it? It wasn’t, like, a kiss or anything, though the thought of that with Will Byers is making him twist in his seat, but it was some form of a kiss regardless.

It’s normal. For Will. Not for Mike.

Mike needs to cut the crap with all this “normal” stuff when he talks about himself, because he must have realized at that moment that it’s not true.

Just to recap, Mike Wheeler had a chronic desire to hold his best friend’s hand, he achieved it and it only got worse, and then said friend started towing the tightrope of normal and romantic, giving no real elaboration.

And, to top that, Mike knows now that he is one hundred percent not normal about Will.

While Will probably thinks all of this is normal, Mike is plagued with the possibilities of his stupid situation meaning something more than just friendship, because he wants it to mean something more.

To put it short, Mike has feelings for Will. Romantic-styles.

He probably should have realized that sooner, considering literally every single one of his recent actions, which does admittedly make him feel kind of stupid.

But, Mike doesn’t know what to do with all these feelings, especially not on a mid-December Monday afternoon in the middle of class. He doesn’t even know what subject he’s in right now.

Mike is panicking, but part of him also kind of wants to smile and kick his feet over his movie-esque romantic fantasy with Will Byers.

However, at the same time, he knows that Will definitely doesn’t feel the same way, which sucks.

Before anyone says that he doesn’t know that for sure — he definitely does. Will’s so pretty and kind and smart and funny and every other positive adjective and his hands are warm meanwhile Mike is Mike. His stupid hands are cold. They yearn for Will.

Will is so out of Mike’s league it’s almost funny.

Mike doesn’t even know what will happen to him the next time he looks at Will today. He might explode. His massive dilemma branched out into smaller dilemmas, which then grew into a plethora of more massive dilemmas.

More than anything — he still wants to hold Will’s hand, desperately. All of this has been Mike walking in one giant circle and picking up problems on the way.

Unfortunately, he can’t help himself. After The Incident, he knows that Will is not against some touching of the hand, he even initiated it. Given this, it should be safe to say that Operation Hand-Holding is back on?

God, he feels like a loser. All of this over holding hands.

Mike wishes he could be normal about this, but alas, he can’t. The “normal” ship sailed long ago, and Mike had been waiting for it at the dock for years.

Maybe it’s not exactly all this over holding hands, but all this over having his stupid feelings.

Perhaps it’s a good thing, perhaps it’s absolutely egregious, but Mike’s mom tells him after school that Will’s mom had invited him over.

School was okay. He talked to Will a little, and he mostly just stumbled over his words and looked like an idiot, but it was nothing too tragic. Lucas and Dustin got him through the day as his buffers.

Hanging out with Will one-to-one, though, is a totally different story.

Of course, he isn’t about to say no. That’s unimaginable. Will has been Mike’s best friend for years. They’re comfortable with each other. This should be natural.

It’s cold today. It’s been cold the whole month, but today is a little colder than usual. The type of cold where if Mike smiles with his teeth for too long they’ll start getting really sensitive. Mike thinks he might even be able to see his breath. Can he? Yeah, he definitely can.

Mike’s mom pressures him to wrap up warm before biking off to Will’s house, and maybe the scarf and the gloves go nicely with the coat, but scarfs aren’t really his thing and he thinks his nerves alone might help to raise his body temperature a little.

He’s just about sick of this cold when he arrives at Will’s, and he’s just about sick from nerves about trying to commence his operation without accidentally saying something romantic or projectile vomiting, whichever comes first.

After an embarrassingly long time of waiting around and stalling, he finally brings up a hand to knock on the Byers’ door.

It’s Jonathan who answers, which kind of takes Mike by surprise.

“Hey, Jonathan.” Mike offers a wave, and Jonathan wears a small smile.

“Hi, Mike.” Jonathan looks behind him, before stepping aside and opening the door wider. “Are you here for Will? Come in.”

Mike steps into the house, and the air is thankfully much warmer than that of the outside. He carefully peels off all of his extra winter clothing and shoves his gloves into his pocket.

It takes a greeting from Mrs Byers and a second of waiting around for Will to show up in the living room, and Mike is already nervous.

He hates how little of a right he has to feel nervous, but Will’s face kind of lights up when he sees Mike and Mike thinks that’s adorable.

“Mike!” Will appears from his room, his smile and his eyes brightening and Mike might faint.

Will has the new issue of a comic that they’re both into. Mike was planning to get it tomorrow, but Will has it now and he invited Mike over to read it together. Obviously. Because they’re best friends.

Which is fine. It’s always fine. They do this all the time. It’s nothing. It’s nothing but them sitting against the wall on Will’s bed, touching shoulders and checking with each other to see when it’s okay to turn the page.

Mike thinks might die.

This has always been normal between them, but it’s different now. All Mike does is read between the lines in their interactions now, with the hope that there’s something romantic hidden somewhere. It causes a lot of overthinking. He’s not a fan. His feelings make everything a lot more complicated.

There’s that, and the fact that he has to resist trying to take Will’s hand as they go over to his room, because his hand is right there and probably still warm.

Mike knows it’s stupid that he’s still on about the hand-holding thing. He should be way over that by now. He should be panicking about how acceptable it would be for cheek kissing to become a regular thing between them, or how to find out if this is a crush he’s due to get over or if he’s, like, in love.

And while those are two very valid things to have his head spinning about, he still wants to hold Will’s hand as much as ever and he’s still worried about it.

Will has initiated touch of the hand twice, once because he had to and once without any prompting. The fact that he did it once without prompting shows that he wants that, right? So is Mike in his right to try and hold his hand again? Or is it, like, a special occasion thing, that isn’t to be done casually but only every once in a while when it’s called for?

Even if Mike was in his right to hold Will’s hand again, he doesn’t think he can. He has tried and gotten too nervous to go through with it an embarrassing amount of times.

The only way to find out the answer to the variety of questions within his first of three dilemmas, is for Will to hold Mike’s hand again.

And, unfortunately, Mike wants that desperately.

“Do you want to go out somewhere?” Will presses his shoulder further into Mike’s, leaning against his bedroom wall as his fingers hover over the corner of page twenty-nine.

“In this weather?” Mike is a little skeptical, because he practically had to trek through the Antarctic to get here, but he wouldn’t say no to Will. And, it’s not like what he’s doing now is any more interesting, because he loves this comic but he’s been staring at Will far more than the pages and all he’s really doing is thinking about his three huge dilemmas.

None of his dilemmas are being fixed by the proximity in which he and Will are sitting, by the way. About five minutes ago, Will's head was resting on Mike’s shoulder for a little while. Mike didn’t process a word on about four pages after that.

“Well… yeah.” Will sort of fidgets with his hands, and Mike forces himself to look away. “I don’t know. I just thought— we could go for a walk or whatever. The quarry, or something like that. I don’t know why, I was just thinking about it. It’s— forget it.”

Mike doesn’t usually go on walks, especially not in forty-five degree weather, but he can’t blame Will for wanting to. Walks are nice, the quarry is nice, Will is nice. Mike knows that Will finds walks relaxing.

So, does Will need to relax right now? Is Will also panicking?

No, that’s stupid. You don’t need to be stressed to go on a walk. Especially if you enjoy walks. Mike is the panicked one right now, and he’s simply trying to project that onto Will. Will is fine. Will is normal.

Maybe a walk in the quarry, alone, with only the cold weather and the sunshine that Will seems to radiate, is kind of romantic? That’s definitely a reach. But it could be. In theory.

“No, it’s fine.” Mike looks back at Will for a second. He looks kind of nervous. “I would love to.”

“Okay,” Will averts his gaze, “cool.”

“Cool.”

Mike is many things. He’s a loser, and he’s also stupid, but at the same time he’s a genius.

So, with this, Operation Hand-Holding is back and ready to be put in action.

Of course, Mike has come to his realization that this only works when initiated by Will, which kind of makes his job a lot harder, so he figures he needs to come up with an opening for Will to take Mike’s hand.

This is to everyone’s benefit, because not only does Mike get to see how acceptable this should be between them, they also get to hold hands.

Mike gets to cooking on a plan. The one reason he convinced himself to start the whole thing in the first place is because Will’s hands are warm.

And, when two people hold hands, something happens with body heat transferred and both of their hands become warm.

Since they’re about to go outside, they might need to keep their hands warm, right?

Gloves.

They can already keep their hands warm because they have gloves.

Okay. Mike can evade this. Just— take gloves out of the equation. Perfect.

“We can go in second,” Mike stands up, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Mike walks out of the room, trying his absolute best not to rub his hands together and grin maniacally at his devious planning skills.

There’s a box full of winter items near the house’s front door. If Mike gets to that and takes Will’s gloves, he can hopefully play it off to make it seem like he lost or forgot them.

Evil, he knows, but this problem will be solved when Mike conveniently also forgets his gloves, and the optimal solution will be to join hands for warmth.

Both Jonathan and Mrs Byers are out of the house right now, and the sun is already starting to set, so Mike doesn’t have to come up with any excuses or make small talk on the way to execute his plan, which works out in his favor.

There’s only one pair of gloves in the box — a small pair of yellow gloves, which Will has been seen wearing.

Mike looks around as an extra precaution and quickly stuffs the gloves into his jacket, feeling very much like he has just committed a felony. Is he going to give Will, like, frostbite? Is that possible to obtain in Indiana?

He hears Will leaving his room, so he throws on his coat from where he left it and zips it up so Will doesn’t see the gloves in his pocket. He needs a getaway driver right about now.

“Are you ready?” Will asks, and Mike is suddenly nervous because he’s about to go on a walk, for no apparent reason, in the middle of December as the sun sets, armed with nothing but his absolutely humiliating feelings.

Mike nods and hands Will his coat, waiting as Will retrieves a house key from the pocket of his shirt.

“Do you want this scarf?” Mike asks idly, picking up the green scarf that his mom had forced on him and trying to distract Will from the idea of any missing gloves. “My mom made me wear it here, but I’m not a scarf guy.”

“Sure,” Will shrugs his shoulders, but he isn’t exactly taking the scarf, so Mike takes the liberty of wrapping it around Will’s neck himself. Romantic? Maybe. Hopefully. He thinks he’s just grasping at straws at this point.

“There. You warm now?” Mike asks, grinning.

“Very.” Will laughs, and Mike likes that. He likes when Will laughs.

Will unlocks the door and opens it, letting a gust of cold air into the room, before it looks like a miniature lightbulb goes off in his head.

He leans over towards the winter items box, before his face contorts into an expression of confusion.

“That’s weird.”

“What?” Mike feigns innocence, stepping outside, and he can already feel his fingertips going red.

“I could have sworn my gloves were in there.” Will follows Mike outside, locking the door behind him. “I don’t want to waste time looking for them because the sun’s almost set and I don’t wanna be out too late, but that sucks.”

“Yeah,” Mike agrees absently, “I mean, I’d offer you mine, but I actually forgot mine at home.”

That was a devious fib.

“So we’re both gloveless, huh?” Will chuckles, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

“I guess we’ll just have to be gloveless together.” Mike shrugs, biting back a grin.

Will gives Mike a light nudge on the shoulder, and Mike feels a little warmer.

There’s a light conversation on the walk to the quarry, and Mike makes sure to throw in a complaint about how cold his hands are every once in a while.

His inter-conversation comments range from anywhere between “man I wish I had my gloves right now” or “my hands are so cold” or “I’m freezing right now”, the like. Anything that will drive the point the Mike kind of maybe wants to hold Will’s hand.

Often these are met with an agreement, and a facial expression that Mike can’t quite read, looking kind of as if Will wants to say something but is deciding against it.

The quarry is the nice part. The sun's really setting now, and it’s one of the nice sunsets that fills the sky with oranges and pinks and purples. It’s very pretty.

“I like pretty sunsets,” Will starts, coming to a stop and looking up at the sky. “Walks at this time are nice because the sky’s really cool.”

It is nice. There’s not another person in sight, and Mike notices that Will steps a little closer to him. The only bad part is that Mike’s fingertips are moments away from falling clean off, all of them. Was this a bad idea? Should he fess up and put his gloves on?

“Yeah.” Mike agrees. He glances at Will. “Pretty.”

“I kind of really wanted you to come with me so I could see the sunset with you.” Will scratches the back of his head. Is that romantic? “I really like it.”

“Me too.” Mike glances at Will again.

They kind of just stand there for a moment, before Will starts walking again.

“I think we can just take a walk for a little,” Will observes, “but I want to get home before it gets dark.”

Mike hums in agreement, and his operation is back on. This time, he decides to make his complaining a little more obvious, because his hands are freezing and he really needs Will’s warmth right now.

“My hands are cold,” Mike complains, even making sure to force a shiver for dramatic effect. He isn’t sure whether or not Will is going to take the hint this time. “You know, since I forgot my gloves.”

“And I think I lost mine,” Will sighs, and he sort of looks like he’s hyping himself up to do something. “Do you want to hold my hand?” He offers, his voice suddenly going soft and his face turning seven shades redder. “For, uh — for warmth.”

Yes. Mike has to hold back his grin, because Will took the hint and he made the offer, and Mike’s plan worked flawlessly, for once.

Will has come to another stop, holding out his fairly red hand and unable to look Mike directly in the eye. Mike can’t tell if Will’s face is so red as a result of the weather or if he’s blushing, but he seriously hopes it’s the latter.

All of a sudden, Mike is nervous. Mike is really super nervous, something which he should have definitely expected. Holding Will’s hand is always far more anxiety inducing than it has any right to be.

“Uh, yes. Of course. I would love to.” Mike worries he may seem weird if he’s a bit too eager, so he quickly tries to backtrack. “For warmth.”

“Great.” Will nods.

Mike doesn’t even realize that he spaces out for a second and leaves Will hanging for a moment, but he quickly recovers and takes Will’s extended hand.

Shocks. Sparks. Whatever. It feels like all of Mike’s problems are solved and simultaneously made ten times worse at Will’s touch.

Though they’re probably both cold, Will’s hands are still warmer, and it’s making Mike feel things.

Mike tries his best not to act like an idiot and blow it, because he is currently taking an evening stroll, hand-in-hand with Will Byers.

After a moment, Will’s hand shifts, and— sound the alarms, everyone, because they are officially interlocking fingers.

That has to mean something. Is Mike delusional? Interlocking fingers is the romantic way to hold hands.

For someone who was just complaining about being cold twenty seconds ago, Mike’s entire body is somehow on fire. His face is hot and his free hand is numb but he can feel Will melting his other hand, in the best way possible.

He glances at Will. For whatever reason, Will is grinning wide. Mike likes it. He looks really happy.

So, this does lend credibility to the theory that Will does enjoy holding Mike’s hand, right?

The orange in the sky is beginning to fade out in place of more pinks and purples, and Mike can see the hints of blue coming in. It still looks pretty, but it reminds Mike that they should be heading back soon.

“I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but…” Will begins, and Mike quickly zones back into reality to give his undivided attention as they walk around aimlessly. “I kind of wish we would hold hands more. It’s nice.”

Okay. So Mike’s theory is completely credible, and actually true.

That’s crazy. Something that Mike thought he would get crucified for even implying, Will said so casually. Will thinks that holding Mike’s hand is nice.

Mike’s just about crazy over it, but Will thinks it’s nice. That’s awesome.

With this, Mike’s first dilemma, the dilemma to start all dilemmas, has technically been solved, hasn’t it? Will initiates hand-holding because he likes it, and he wishes they would do it more. Mike feels the same.

Granted, Mike doesn’t know where Will sits on what this says about his feelings for Mike, but a win is a win, and this is a win he will take.

This is good on many levels, because Mike actually feels really bad about taking Will’s gloves. He seriously underestimated how cold it would be.

“I took your gloves.” Mike blurts, before he can stop himself.

Maybe just saying it like that without a proper response to Will’s first statement isn’t exactly the way to go, but Mike can’t always say that he makes the wisest decisions.

“What?”

“I took your gloves so I would have an excuse to hold your hand,” Mike fumbles around with his coat zipper with his free hand, unzipping his coat and taking Will’s gloves out of his jacket pocket. “And I feel bad about it.”

Will blinks. He looks at the pair of gloves, and back at Mike. Then, he starts laughing.

“You did?” Will asks, his smile bright. “So, you’ve also wanted to—?”

“Yeah.” Mike interrupts, and Will’s use of “also” should imply that Mike isn’t quite as insane as he thought. “Ever since we did those stupid bows in the show.”

“I also got it from the bows.” Will admits, his face flushing. “But, I mean, I had been wanting to before that.”

Mike stares. Will fidgets.

Will stares. Mike looks away.

“I’ve just— really wanted to, I guess…” Mike tries to explain, his heartbeat accelerating to a concerning rate. “Your hands are warm. It’s nice.”

The two come to a halt. There’s a strange expression on Will’s face. He moves from beside Mike to in front of him, and looks around quickly before leaning in and kissing Mike.

Not on the cheek this time.

It’s only a short second, but Mike looks down and Will’s face is red and he looks just a little bit anxious about it, as if he might have made a horrible mistake and there’s any world that Mike wouldn’t be totally swooning over getting kissed on the mouth by Will Byers.

“I’ve really wanted to do that, as well.” Will says, his voice barely a whisper, and Mike is still kind of in shock.

“I think—” Mike tries to gather his words, his voice soft, “I’ve really wanted you to do that too.”

“Cool.” Will’s smile looks more at ease now.

“Cool.” Mike agrees, and he is embarrassingly happy at this moment in time.

There’s a second of silence. The blue in the sky is starting to get a little darker, while Will and Mike are still frozen in place, hand-in-hand.

Mike clears his throat.

“So, just to clarify,” Mike starts, “this does mean that you like me back, right?”

“Yes,” Will laughs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I do.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with making sure we’re on the same page,” Mike defends himself to another laugh from Will as they start moving again.

“Sure,” Will sounds just a little sarcastic, “come on, we should head back. It’s getting dark.”

Mike can only nod as Will smiles and pulls Mike by the hand in the direction of Will’s house, seemingly entirely unbothered by his lack of gloves.

Mike thinks that he might not have such a dilemma anymore.