Archive of Our Own

Will isn't sure when exactly it started. Maybe it had always been this way and he'd just noticed late. He'd always known conceptually that Mike liked giving him things. Most of the toys in Will's room had been "accidentally" left there by Mike, who somehow always forgot to take them home.

But he never thought it would go this far. He stared at the shirt on his bed in awe. The black and white fabric was a sharp contrast against the muted earth tones of his sheets. The shirt didn't look like it belonged in this world at all.

Will trailed his fingers across the cotton, tracing the design at the center and the block letters above it. Mike had given this to him. To Will. Not to his girlfriend, who was in the room next door adding another letter from Mike to her shrine.

This thing must have started innocently, although Will could admit it hadn't been innocent in a while.

It definitely started small.

The first time Will really noticed it was when he was nine and quarters mysteriously found their way into his pocket at the arcade.

He had left Mike alone with his jacket and returned from the bathroom with two whole dollars more than he'd started with in his jacket pocket. Will had looked at Mike suspiciously, but his friend had insisted that he didn't know what Will was talking about.

The next time they were at the arcade, Will was prepared. He had counted his money three times before he left his house and kept track throughout the day. Then, during an intense round of Space Invaders, Will had felt Mike bump his arm. He hadn't thought anything of it in the moment, distracted by the game. But the next time that Will shoved his hand into his pocket, he found seven new quarters waiting for him.

He was sure then: Mike was secretly slipping him quarters.

He'd tried to give the money back, but Mike had flat out refused to take it.

"I won't take your money," Mike insisted, hands on his hips. He was pouting and trying to look severe, but it didn't work on his little round face. He ended up mostly adorable.

"It's not my money," Will scowled. "But you know that."

Mike grabbed his hand, begging plaintively. "Is it so bad, having some extra quarters?"

"It's not bad, but they're not mine."

"They are now."

Will arched an eyebrow. "So you admit it? That you gave them to me?"

Mike gently rubbed the back of his hand. Will looked down at their hands. He felt like his heart was beating like a jackrabbit and felt like it was going to leap out of his chest. "Please, Will. I just want you to have fun like all the rest of us."

Will felt his cheeks flush with shame.

It wasn't a secret that Will's family was poorer than all his friends. The Byers had never been as well off as the Wheelers or Sinclairs, and Dustin's family owned all the liquor stores in Hawkins. It had only gotten more pronounced after Will's dad left. His mom picked up all the shifts she could at Melvalds, but it wasn't the same as his friends' situations.

Still, Will was proud of his mom. She kept them afloat even when everyone in town told her she couldn't.

Accepting charity from Mike felt a little like betraying her, but Will had never been good at turning down Mike Wheeler. Especially when he said "please" like that: soft and serious and with his chocolate-brown eyes wide. Practically begging.

"Okay," he conceded, cheeks flushing. "Thanks, Mike."

He thought Mike's blinding grin was probably worth his embarrassment.

It didn't end there. Mike, seemingly emboldened by Will's acceptance of the quarters, started to do other small things for Will.

When they went to get ice cream, Mike had Will grab a table while he went to the counter. When he returned with Will's peanut butter chocolate chip cone, he flatly refused to accept Will's money. He just gave Will those eyes and said "please" in that soft voice, and Will folded like a deck chair. He hated that Mike had discovered his kryptonite. He also kind of loved it.

Eventually, this became the new normal. Will would still have moments of embarrassment whenever Mike pushed the boundaries, but Mike assured him that it really was very normal for him to buy Will new crayons or markers or a toy when Will couldn't afford one. He insisted that it was so normal that Will should never have to pay for a meal when they went out with the Party. That's what best friends did for each other, apparently.

Will thought it was over when Mike and El got together. Mike had a new fascination. A new star that he orbited around, and Will felt his own star dimming.

It made him sad, even if he could acknowledge truthfully that he didn't deserve to be. He had never earned this special attention. But sue him, he'd still miss it. He'd had this version of Mike for years, and he'd grown used to it. This outward manifestation of Mike's care for Will got him through the tough times. When he woke from a nightmare of vines and cold, he could snuggle with the stuffed tiger that Mike had bought him, and he wouldn't be alone anymore.

Surprisingly, it didn't end. In the moments that Mike couldn't hang out with El, he was the same Mike. Their arcade hangouts grew rarer, but Mike still brought quarters for Will. When they went out to eat, Mike still paid for Will's meal. When they went to the movies with Lucas and Max, Mike still bought the snacks that he shoved into Will's bag.

"You're the cutest," Mike explained matter-of-factly, when Will asked why he bothered to put the snacks in Will's bag if he bought them. "No one would think you were up to no good. You're an angel."

If Will replayed those words to himself constantly in the privacy of his own bedroom, blushing as red as a cherry, that was no one's business.

Will definitely thought it was over when he moved to California. Mike had always been casual about his gifts for Will, and there was no way to casually send anything 2,000 miles. Plus, he and Jane had been dating for almost a year now. They loved each other. That was going to take precedence over whatever weird, unspoken thing Mike and Will had going on. He knew this.

Knowing doesn't make it feel any better though, Will thought, laying on his bed and staring absently at his ceiling. He couldn't even enjoy his glow in the dark ceiling stars, which were just little bits of off-white plastic in the afternoon sunlight. He cursed the Sun. He wished it was dark.

He wasn't sulking though. Definitely not. Maybe a tiny bit.

"Will, there is a package for you," Jane called up the stairs.

Will perked up. A package for him? Why? He wasn't expecting anything.

He bounded down the stairs. Jane had a thick letter in one hand, and Will tried not to wince as he spied the familiar handwriting on the envelope.

It was November, just over a month since he moved, and he hadn't received a single letter from Mike. All his other friends in the Party—Lucas, Dustin, and Max—had written.

Max, in particular, wrote to him a lot. She clearly needed someone to talk to who really understood the mark that the Upside Down could leave on a person. When she asked him about Bob, Will could tell that she was really asking about Billy. How do you move on? When does the guilt go away? Why does it make you angry when people tell you it's not your fault? Why can't you just act normal like everyone else? Will didn't have any easy answers. He hadn't moved on. Not really. He could still hear the crunch of bones as he watched soldiers and scientists die underneath him. The now-memories never left him. They were as fresh now as they were when they appeared, as if they had been branded into his brain.

He didn't tell Max all that. Everyone just assumed that they went away when the piece of the Mindflayer left his body, and Will didn't correct them. He couldn't burden them like that.

The only person he had considered telling about his now-memories was Mike. Mike, who hadn't written to him but had written Jane at least a half dozen letters in a month.

The thought put a damper on him, weighing him down as it usually did when his thoughts turned to Mike. He slowed to a trot as he entered the kitchen, trying and failing not to look at Jane's letter. "You said there was package?"

Jane hummed affirmatively, waving her hand at the dining table as she used a paring knife to carefully unseal Mike's letter without ripping the envelope. Will felt his lips twitch up as he watched her. She was just so gentle. So delicate even with scrap paper. Growing up, Will's father had made his own gentleness feel like weakness, but Jane made gentleness and strength seem like things that could coexist together.

A long, flat box sat on the table, wrapped in tough, brown paper. It was nondescript, nothing giving away what it was or who sent it, until Will saw his address scrawled in a familiar, uneven hand. He would know that handwriting anywhere. Had grown up reading stories written in that hand. It was Mike's.

And the direction clearly read "Will Byers." Not Jane Hopper.

Mike definitely hadn't wrapped it. Every Christmas gift Will had received from Mike was sloppily wrapped at best. Maybe his mom had wrapped it for him?

Will tore into the paper and gasped at what laid underneath.

"What is it?" Jane asked, coming up behind him to peer over his shoulder.

"Ohhh," she murmured. "They're beautiful."

She was right. A beautiful, expensive set of watercolor paints laid on their dining table, courtesy of Mike Wheeler. And they were for Will.

Will felt hot, and if Jane hadn't been right there, peering around him, he would have fanned himself. He was sure that his face was blotchy mess: embarrassed and pleased the way he always was when Mike did something like this.

"Did you tell Mike that you were almost out of watercolors?" Jane asked.

The question brought him up short. He hadn't told Mike, and it sounded like Jane hadn't either. The only one Will had told was Lucas, in his last letter.

Will couldn't stop the thrill as his mind made connections all on its own. Mike wasn't talking to Will but he still took note when Lucas told him that Will was almost out of his paints? Or, and he shivered as the thought settled in his head, had Mike read Lucas's letter from Will? Had Lucas shared it or did Mike steal a look at it in Lucas's bedroom while Lucas used the bathroom? The idea of Mike hungrily devouring his words made Will's stomach flip pleasantly.

Mike had seen Will's throwaway note that he needed new watercolors and rushed to provide. This was proof he still cared. Mike cared that Will was sad and bought him the Cadillac of watercolor paints just to make him happy.

The Debbie Downer part of his brain that always downplayed Mike's behavior chewed over the new information. Maybe it was a one off? Maybe it was a coincidence? Or an early Christmas present?

Well, Will thought. That can be tested.

Will casually mentioned in his next letter to Lucas that the comic shop in Lenora sucked—which wasn't a lie, it did—and that Will couldn't find the newest Spider-Man issue anywhere. Then he waited.

Two weeks later, another brown-wrapped package arrived on the Byers's doorstop in Lenora Hills, a brand new copy of "Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man #107" inside.

Like any good scientist on a curiosity voyage, Will kept testing this phenomenon.

Maybe Lucas was just very loose with Will's letters? So this time he dropped the nugget that he had broken one of his paintbrushes in his next letter to Dustin. Like clockwork, he had a new, gorgeous set of sable paint brushes sitting on his desk two weeks later.

He didn't dare try with Max. First of all, he knew she would rather eat glass than let Mike Wheeler read one of her letters. Second, Max was too perceptive and talked to Jane too much. Will was sure she would immediately sniff him out and tell Jane.

And Will was self-aware enough to know that he did not want Jane to find out what he was doing. The first time was an accident, but now he was doing it deliberately. Will did sometimes feel bad about it: both what he was doing and what he was enabling his sister's boyfriend to do, but he couldn't stop. Why should you stop, his brain would whisper to him. You had this Mike first.

He knew how it looked. Mike was sending Will gifts every few weeks and none to his girlfriend. He knew that Jane had noticed too and was hurt, but hiding it from her would have looked even worse. It would have made it look nefarious.

"How do you get him to send you gifts?" Jane straight up asked him one night. She was curled on his bed, reading a magazine while Will worked at his easel. They spent a lot of evenings like this, holed up in one of their rooms and chatting lightly as they did other things. They fit together well, he and Jane. They were so similar. Like two sides of a coin. Conversation usually flowed easily, but, tonight, Will had been a little distracted when he looked down and realized he was dipping the paint brush from Mike into the watercolor paints from Mike. It was a heady feeling, having so much Mike around, even here in California.

Jane didn't sound angry, and, when he looked at her, she didn't look angry either. Her eyes were also trained on the paint brush, as if she'd had the same realization as Will. Will cleaned the brush and moved to the bed, sitting cross-legged as he faced her. Jane preferred direct eye contact for serious discussions.

"He's always taken care of me," Will said honestly. He held his hand out, and she took it, fingers drawing small circles on the back of his hand. "I didn't even realize it at first. By the time I caught on, he'd already filled half my room with his old toys. He used to say that it stopped his parents from nagging him to sell them at garage sales, but I think he knew that mom couldn't always afford much."

He looked around his room, eyeing the new 8 track player and record player in the cabinet. They had been gifts from his mom when they moved to Lenora. "We never lived like this before mom's new job and Dr. Owens's help. Mike got used to helping me out I think."

"So, he does not send me gifts because he does not think I need them?" Jane summarized.

"I don't know," Will shrugged. His lips curled up into a grin. "I think Max would say no one knows why Mike Wheeler does anything, including Mike."

"It is a question for the philosophers," Jane grinned back, quoting Max word-for-word about Mike.

Will squeezed Jane's hand and gave her his best reassuring smile. "Try not to worry, it's almost Christmas, and I'm sure Mike will send you an amazing gift."

Will, thankfully, did not overestimate Mike's Christmas gift giving abilities. It had felt like a safe promise to make. Mike had always been an amazing gift giver to his friends. His girlfriend was no exception. Jane received a gorgeous silver bracelet with an embedded purple gemstone. She also got a letter. Her eyes, which had sparkled so beautifully when she unwrapped the bracelet, dimmed slightly by the time she got to the end of her letter. However, she didn't comment on it, simply folding the letter back into the envelope and putting it gently onto her pile of gifts.

"What did Mike get you?" She asked, peering at Will's package. As usual, there was no letter for him. Inside was the latest record from The Cure: The Head on the Door. It was a good gift. It showed he knew Will's favorite band and that he'd probably questioned Jane to make sure that Will hadn't already bought it. It was a perfect gift for a good friend.

But Will couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed seeing the shiny new bracelet on his sister's wrist.

"Is that it?" Jane echoed Will's own thoughts, peering down at Will's box again. "I think there is something else in there. In the paper."

She was right. The tissue paper wasn't just to protect the record. There was something else wrapped in the thin paper. Will pulled it free of the wrapping.

It was a shirt. A black graphic t shirt with the cover art for Boys Don't Cry, the iconic black and white image of Robert Smith and his guitar, emblazoned on the front.

"I knew it," Jane said smugly. "He asked me what size shirt you wear now."

And, oh, that was new information that Will had no idea how to deal with. Mike knew Will's size? Asked specifically about it? His head felt like it was about to float away.

"Go try it on!" Jane encouraged. "I want to know if I got it right."

Will didn't need to be told twice. He escaped to the bathroom and immediately shed his sleep shirt before pulling on the shirt from Mike.

Shirt from Mike. The words made Will flush pink.

It fit him like a glove. Probably a little too tight, objectively. He was going through a growth spurt, and, even if Jane had accurately passed along his size a few weeks before, it was out of date by now. Mike hadn't thought to buy him a size up, and the cotton clung slightly to Will's chest.

He came back to the living room, and Jane tutted. "He should have gotten a size larger. Are you uncomfortable?"

"No," Will replied. He was the exact opposite of uncomfortable. It made his head spin a bit, imagining that the cotton pulling at his waist was actually hands claiming him in a bruising grip. Mike's hands. Not that he could tell his sister that. He simply said, "It feels great."

Will practically lived in the shirt from Mike for weeks after Christmas. The feeling of being claimed never went away. If Will thought that having a room full of art supplies from Mike was a heady feeling, he had never considered wearing clothes from Mike. It felt like he was surrounded by Mike at all times.

He made sure to mention Mike's gift in his next letter to Dustin under the cover of describing all his Christmas gifts.

"Thank you so much for the new sketchbooks! Lucas got me new charcoal and pencils so it felt like you two collaborated. Mike got me a record and a t shirt for The Cure. It was a bit of a tight fit, but I love it," Will wrote.

Will wanted to see how far he could push this, but he had no idea how to move it forward.

In lieu of any real inspiration, he mentioned needing acrylic paints for his new art class in the letter to Dustin. A few weeks later, he received a new set of paints in a gorgeous wooden box. It was high end and the lid of the box functioned as a table-top easel. Perfect to use when he didn't feel like standing in front of an easel at home or school.

It was undeniably gorgeous and expensive. Will still got a thrill when it arrived, but it wasn't the same as when he got the watercolors. Back then, the paints were a lifeline: proof that Mike still cared, even if he didn't talk to Will. However, now they had ventured into a more dangerous territory. Art supplies felt like a step back after receiving clothes from Mike.

It wasn't until Lucas made a comment about Hellfire in one of his letters that Will got a truly devious idea. Will had heard tons about the Hawkins High DnD club. At first, it had torn him up how his friends had immediately fallen back into DnD as soon as Will left, but Will had reassured them that he still wanted to hear about it. It was clear that his friends still felt guilty though. They apologized every time it came up in their letters.

Still, they talked it about it, so Will knew that everyone in Hellfire had matching shirts.

Will paused over his reply to Lucas, tapping his fingers nervously against the wood of his desk. Am I really going to do this? He thought. His eyes slipped to the wooden box of acrylic paints. That should be enough, he thought. But he knew it wasn't. Not if something more was on the table. He brought his pen back down to the paper.

"I'm sorry that it's been hard to balance Hellfire and your team." Will wrote back. "I'm sure that Mike and Dustin will understand. I'm happy that you've found multiple places you feel like you belong. Since you're a big shot athlete now, does that mean you have a letterman jacket to give to your girlfriend? I think most girls would prefer that to a Hellfire shirt (they're wrong!)."

It was a little subtle—there was just enough plausible deniability, but Will was confident that Mike could read between the lines: give me your Hellfire shirt like a jock gives his girlfriend his letterman jacket. The question was if Mike was willing to go this far.

The next few weeks were excruciating. Will was a bundle of nerves. He could barely eat. He could barely sleep. Sometimes he would space out in class just thinking of the letter. Why did he send it? There was no way that Mike was going to send him his Hellfire shirt. In his gut, Will knew that he had probably just destroyed his closest friendship. Although, how close were they really if they didn't even talk anymore?

He still wore the shirt from Mike, but mostly at night in the privacy of his own room. Surrounding himself with Mike was the only way he could get a good night's sleep.

Lucas's reply arrived with no sign of a package from Mike. At least Lucas didn't seem to realize what Will had implied. There was always the chance that his friends would realize what Will was doing with his letters to them, and he couldn't even imagine the mortification he'd feel if they actually caught onto his game. He might need to run away and beg Dr. Owens for a new identity.

Will gave up the last of his hope after Lucas's letter arrived. He just had to pray that maybe Mike would let him down easy.

Which brought Will to today.

He had been hiding in his room after school—as he usually did these days—when Jane called up the stairs. "Will, package from Mike."

Will's heart immediately began racing. He felt physically winded all of a sudden, like he'd just run a mile. He had given up when Lucas's reply arrived. He was happy enough with no response from Mike. The fact that Mike seemed willing to ignore Will's overstep was gracious enough. He just wanted to be left alone to lick his wounds.

Now Mike had thrown a grenade into Will's pity party.

He walked down the stairs gingerly, like he didn't know if he was walking into heaven or his execution. A small box wrapped in that familiar brown paper sat innocuously on the dining table. Jane stood at the counter, reading her letter.

Will carefully ripped into the paper, as if the whole thing would explode if he made any sudden movements. Finally he got the brown paper removed and took a breath as he opened the box, prepared for anything.

He was wrong. Because the Spider-Man comic staring up at him was completely unexpected. He had told himself to expect the worst: something mean, something to tell him that he'd overstepped. But deep down, in his heart of hearts, he had hoped for the best. That tiny spark of hope that Mike might actually send Will his Hellfire shirt had turned into a blaze the second Jane had announced that there was a package for him. Will hadn't wanted to get his expectations too high, but he couldn't help it; he was a glutton for punishment.

Will stared down at the box, as if the Spider-Man comic would somehow morph into something else. It didn't make any sense. Will hadn't mentioned needing any comics, and, in fact, he already owned the comic staring back up at him. He gingerly picked it up and startled as he realized it was actually a small stack of comics in the box. However, that's not what shocked him. There was an envelope underneath the Spider-Man comic, with Will's name scrawled in Mike's messy hand.

He realized he was trembling as he picked up the envelope, and it took him longer than it should have to open it. It was short. Just a few words.

Your real gift is under the comics. Open it in your room.

Will's mouth went dry, and he stuffed the note into his pocket.

"What is it?" Jane asked, done with her letter.

"Some comics." Will flashed the Spider-Man comic at her. "He's lost his touch. I already have this one."

It wasn't a lie, technically. He didn't know for sure what hid beneath the comics, even if he had a pretty good idea.

He somehow made it to his room without blurting out the truth or bursting into flame, which he considered an absolute win. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he was pulling out the comics, throwing them haphazardly onto the bed. Finally, he pulled out a bundle wrapped in thick layers of tissue paper. A post-it note was stuck to the tissue paper. It read: Keep it private.

Will had no doubt now and, when he tore off the paper, he was right. Mike's Hellfire shirt lay on his bed in Lenora Hills.

Will just stared at it. He had asked for this, known what it probably was since Jane has announced there was a package for him, but he still couldn't believe it. Mike's Hellfire shirt was laying on his bed.

He reached down with trembling hands. He traced the devil head, the sword, and the mace.

Holy shit. This shirt had been on Mike's body. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed slowly. He almost moaned. It still smelled like Mike. He hadn't even washed it.

And he had given it to Will, not his girlfriend.

Will shrugged off his flannel and undershirt. He couldn't wait another second to get Mike's shirt on. He was practically giggling as he pulled it over his head. He paused for a second with his head in the shirt, just breathing in. His whole head was surrounded by Mike and his vision almost whited out for a second.

After pulling it the rest of the way on, he trotted over to the mirror to admire himself. It was slightly long on him. Mike must have hit a growth spurt too, but, honestly, Will liked that Mike had always been taller than him.

It was perfect.

He wished there was something he could do for Mike. Will had already had the idea for a painting, but that would take weeks at best. He wanted something more immediate to show Mike how much he appreciated this.

He glanced around his room for inspiration before his eyes fell on his Polaroid. He licked his lips. He could do it. No one else would know. Just Mike. And what better way to show his appreciation than his literal reaction to getting the gift.

He picked up the camera and took a photo in the mirror before he could overthink it. A minute later, he had a photo in hand. Photo-Will's face was split into a blinding grin, looking as happy as he felt. The shirt clung nicely to his body, and it didn't hurt that he'd taken the photo at a slight angle that showed off the swell of his ass underneath the hem of Mike's shirt.

It was a flattering photo if he did say so himself.

Moving almost on autopilot, he sat down at his desk, wrapped the photo in paper, and slid it into an envelope. Mike had given him a gift. It was only fitting that he pay him back.

Things kind of settled into a status quo after the Hellfire shirt.

Will didn't ask for anything else. When he had come down from his high, the guilt had hit him in full. Will had asked Mike to cross a line, and Mike had done it. Jane didn't deserve this, and she'd be a wreck if she ever found out.

Besides, he couldn't even imagine what to ask for now that he had Mike's Hellfire shirt stuffed deep in his closet. Sometimes he'd drag it out and just stare at it in disbelief that Mike had really sent it to him.

The gifts did not stop, however. Mike had started sending them without Will even asking. Every couple weeks, Will would have a new package from Mike waiting for him on the doorstep in Lenora Hills. He didn't send any more clothing, but he sent Will new art supplies, a new watch, and new sunglasses.

And the guilt didn't stop Will from sending more Polaroids back. He'd take a picture with every new gift from Mike, showing how much he enjoyed it and send it off to Hawkins. No note. Just a picture to show Mike how much he loved it.

It was messed up. It was toxic. And it was all set to come to a head in a few weeks when Mike visited for Spring Break.

Finally, we can talk about this, Will thought.

They did not talk about it. The Mike who arrived in California acted like a devoted boyfriend to Jane and barely acknowledged Will's existence.

More cutting, he didn't appear to even have a birthday gift for Will. That fucking hurt. So Will stuffed his feelings down and scrapped his planned confession.

Then the world fell apart, and Will didn't have time to worry about Mike Wheeler and his confusing behavior.

He still worried about it.

Will thought it was definitely over by the time he moved into the Wheeler house. For most of Will's life, living with Mike would have been a dream come true. Now, it was his own personal hell.

Will was still licking his wounds after Mike's disastrous visit to Lenora Hills and what he needed most was space from Mike, something increasingly difficult to come by after Will moved into Mike's house.

It didn't help that Mike had done another 180 and decided to try to glue himself to Will's side ever since they got back to Hawkins. He was getting whiplash from Mike's abrupt personality pivots. Will thanked whatever deity was looking out for him that Karen had at least put the kibosh on Mike's plan to have Will move into Mike's own room.

The basement became his sanctuary. Jonathan barely spent any time there, sneaking up to Nancy's room as much as he could. The only problem was that the basement had always been Mike's sanctuary too, and he had no problem barging in without knocking, despite the fact that this was now supposed to be Will's room.

Which is how Will found himself in this predicament: Mike Wheeler, frozen at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Will wearing Mike's Hellfire shirt. Because Will was still wearing the shirt sometimes, like an idiot.

Mike gulped, eyes roving up and down Will's form. "Hey." Mike sounded almost breathless. "Lucas called. I just wanted to see if you wanted to go see Max."

Will wrapped his arms around himself. "Uh yeah," he replied. "Let me just change and then we can go."

"Cool," Mike breathed, eyes glassy.

"Cool," Will replied, waiting for Mike to leave. To give him space to change. Mike didn't move an inch. "Mike."

"Uh huh," Mike murmmured, still looking distracted.

"Can I have some space? To change?"

Mike seemed to snap out of it, eyes focusing on Will's face. "Of course. Of course!" And then he fled the basement like he had a demodog chasing him.

Will groaned into his hands as the basement door slammed shut. He was so fucked.

A few days later, Will came back from visiting Jane at the cabin to find a box waiting for him in the basement. As he got closer, he saw a post-it note written in Mike's messy scrawl affixed to the top of the box.

I thought you could use some more clothes since most of yours got left in Lenora. Sorry that they are mostly mine.

Will pinched the bridge of his nose. He thought he was done with this. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't let himself get back onto this rollercoaster.

But a box full of Mike's clothes. All for Will. Jesus, he used to dream about this in California.

Will opened the box. He was a weak boy, sue him.

The next day, he wore one of Mike's old shirts to breakfast.

It's just about having more than four shirts, Will thought, trying to psych himself up to walk into the kitchen. It doesn't mean anything.

It was just Karen in the kitchen, working at the stove. There was already a platter of bacon on the dining table, and Karen was flipping pancakes. She turned when she heard him come in. "Oh, hi Will, honey. You are the first one down. Well, besides Ted, but he just grabbed his coffee and took it to the living room."

"Can I help with anything?" Will asked, desperate for a task to get him out of his own head.

Karen smiled at him. "That's so nice of you. Could you set the table?"

"Of course." Will hurried over to the cutlery drawer and started setting out utensils and napkins on the table.

"That's a nice shirt." Karen's voice floated over from the stove. Will froze for a moment before he continued his task. "Mike has one just like it."

Will cleared his throat. "It is Mike's, actually." He was proud of himself for keeping his tone light and casual. "He brought down a box of old clothes for me, since most of mine are still in California."

"Oh. That was so thoughtful of him," she replied. She didn't sound weirded out. She just sounded proud of her normal son for the very normal but thoughtful gesture.

See, Will thought. It doesn't have to mean anything.

Will had almost managed to convince himself by the time Mike barreled his way into the kitchen, took one look at Will, and promptly froze. His eyes roved over the shirt Will wore. "Oh, you got the clothes."

"Mhm," Will murmured. Mike's dark eyes were still stuck on him, and Will felt pinned by the gaze. His dark eyes roved over Will's form. They were drinking him in, consuming him. Mike's pink tongue slipped out, running over his lips.

"It looks good—it fits well," he said finally.

Will smiled shyly. "Thanks."

"Boys!" Karen interrupted, still at the stove. They both jumped. "When you finish setting the table, I need you to help me carry these over, and then, Mike, you need to go get your father and tell him it's time to eat."

"He could be in here helping," Mike grumbled under his breath so only Will could hear.

Will snorted. "Good luck with that. He's already at the end of his rope dealing with the 'freeloaders,'" he whispered back. "And now we're even stealing the clothes off your back. Where will the madness end?"

"I doubt my dad knows a single shirt I own," Mike laughed.

"Your mom did." Will kept his tone nonchalant. "She is very proud of you for thoughtfully sharing your clothes with the less fortunate."

Mike flushed for some reason, averting his eyes as he put down the butter dish. "I'm a very thoughtful young man."

Will was sure he was blushing too, but he couldn't let Mike win. He pitched his voice lower. "How does seeing it in person compare to the pictures?"

Mike knocked over the salt.

"Boys! Hurry up and come get these plates."

Will laid the last fork down on the table and winked at Mike as he left to go help.

Things mostly settled down after that. There weren't many opportunities for gifting at the end of the world, especially when the military took over your town and shut down all the stores, but Mike still found his ways where he could.

He mostly just bugged Murray until he agreed to bring Will's favorite snacks and a constant stream of art supplies. It still felt a little luxurious for Will to have fresh paints and canvases in the apocalypse, but, as usual, he wasn't complaining about Mike's generosity.

Still, despite the gifts, Mike hadn't made a single move. In fact, he seemed determined to preserve the status quo between them. If Will heard him call them "best friends" one more time, he was going to scream.

Best friends, Will scoffed. Very best friends of you to stare at me every time I wear one of your shirts. Very best friends of you to drool over my ass ever time I wear those brown pants, Michael.

It was infuriating.

It wasn't even a Jane thing. Her relationship with Mike had never recovered from the Lenora disaster, and they'd officially agreed to break it off shortly after getting back to Hawkins.

He wasn't the only who had noticed Mike's odd behavior.

"Dude, why do you carry over Will's lunch every day?" Lucas asked, when Mike arrived at their table, balancing two trays in his arms.

A great question. Please enlighten us, Michael, Will thought. They didn't even pay for school lunches anymore. The military's control of all the food going in and out of Hawkins meant that they took control of school lunches too. Everyone got free lunch. So Mike wasn't even paying for Will's meal. He just wouldn't let Will carry it over himself.

Their first day back at school, he'd shooed Will over to their lunch table and appeared a few minutes later carrying both their trays. He'd done the same thing every day since then.

Mike slid Will's tray over to him across the table. It was pizza day. Will's tray had a sad rectangle of pizza, a scoop of tater tots, and some fruit salad that had definitely come from a can. At least Mike had gotten Will a corner piece that had crust on two sides. As if in apology for the food quality, Mike had also added his own chocolate chip cookie to Will's tray on top of Will's.

"Just being nice." Mike said, munching on one of his tots.

"Shit. Why aren't you ever nice to me?" Lucas asked.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Why aren't you ever nice to me?" He shot back. "Don't pretend you wouldn't get Max's lunch if she was here. It's nothing."

Will froze, staring at Mike. His mouth parted and his stomach erupted in butterflies. Did Mike know what he just implied? Was this the breakthrough moment?

Lucas arched an eyebrow, speaking very slowly. "That's because Max is my girlfriend, Mike."

Mike stared at Lucas for a long moment. "And Will's my best friend. I don't see the problem."

Will wanted to bang his head into the table. Maybe he could put himself into a coma too.

"Why does Will look like he wants to die?" Dustin asked, plopping down his own tray and sliding into the seat next to him.

Lucas sighed. "Man, you do not want to know."

By the time Will found out Robin was dating a girl, he was well and truly desperate. He'd never had another queer person to share his struggles with. Let alone a queer person who actually managed to date her crush.

Maybe bringing it up during a side mission to collect sleeping pills at the hospital to knock out and kidnap a family wasn't the best timing, but when was a good time at the end of the world? He had to mine this singular girl for every bit of advice she had.

"How did you know that Vickie wanted to—," Will paused, turning the forbidden words over in his mouth.

"To make out?" Robin asked.

"To date?" Will finished.

"Oh." Robin paused. "There were, like, signals. You know?"

"Signals?" Will asked.

"Yeah, you know, like a brush of the knee, a bump of the elbow, a shared look," she explained. "It all just kind of accrued, like a snowball rolling down a hill until it was obvious.

Will thought about it for a second. Obvious? "What if, hypothetically, he has never let you pay for anything in seven years and when you moved away he started sending you gifts every few weeks when he didn't send any to his girlfriend. Oh, and he sent you his unwashed shirt to wear, and then gave you a ton more of his clothes. Also he won't let you carry anything and usually looks at you like he wants to eat you. Is that obvious?"

Robin stared at him. "Dude. What the fuck."

"Welcome to my life."

They defeated Vecna and destroyed the Upside Down. Miraculously, they all made it out alive.

For a brief moment at the end of the world, Will had considered coming out to whole roomful of people before he realized that was the stupidest idea ever. He blamed the thought on temporary insanity on account of being mentally tortured by an extradimensional monster.

Instead, Will came out in pieces. He came out to his mom and Jonathan first. He planned it meticulously. He sat them down very formally around the dining table and made sure there was tea and coffee. The planning gave him a sense of control. There were lots of tears and hugs involved. Lots of acceptance and love too.

His coming out to the Party was unplanned. They were all lazing in the sun, enjoying that perfect Spring weather where you could bask in the rays like a turtle but still wear a sweater at the same time. Will had his head in Jane's lap and his legs pressed up against Mike. Everyone else was similarly tangled.

Lucas was bickering with Dustin about something that Will wasn't paying attention to while Max and Jane murmured quietly to one another.

Will felt almost perfect. There was just one thing missing. One secret weighing him down.

It could be today, he thought. He'd been meaning to tell them for a while, but he hadn't figured out what the right moment would be.

Eventually, the conversation lulled. Will cleared his throat, keeping his eyes shut as Jane raked her fingers through his hair. "I wanted to tell you guys something. I have news."

"What's up?" Mike asked.

"I don't know if this is going to come as a surprise. Probably not. But I wanted to say it out loud because it's been weighing me down." Will took a deep breath. "I'm gay. I like boys."

He was proud of the way he didn't stutter. He had been a mess with his mom and Jonathan. Robin had told him that it got easier every time, and she had been right. Not that he wasn't still nervous, but it was easier.

Jane's fingers didn't even pause, just raking through his brown locks. Grounding him. He felt a hand gently squeeze his leg. Mike.

"Hey Will," Mike said. "Can you open your eyes for me? Please?"

Will didn't really want to. He was afraid of what he might see on his friend's faces. He wasn't sure he could handle disgust or disappointment. But, once again, Will was horrible about denying Mike anything, and Mike had even brought out the big guns. He'd said "please."

He cracked one eye open, wincing in the sunlight before he turned to Mike, blinking as his eyes focused on his face.

Mike was smiling. A full smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes. "Thanks for telling us. We love you and nothing is going to change that."

All his friends were smiling. Not a single hint of disgust or hesitation on any of their faces.

Will blinked away tears that formed against his will. "I'd been so scared. I knew in my head that you guys would be cool, but I couldn't help but fear the worst."

"You couldn't lose me if you tried, Byers." Dustin grinned at him.

"Or me," Lucas piped up before Max smacked him in the arm.

"Don't be a dork. This isn't the fucking Council of Elrond. You don't need to volunteer yourself like a loser," she groaned.

Dustin's eyes glittered. "Oho, but you know about the Council of Elrond, Maxine? Who's the dork now?"

She rolled her eyes. "I had no choice in what books were read to me while I was in a coma, you dolt."

"If we are claiming Lord of the Rings characters, I choose Sam," Mike piped up. His hand was still on Will's leg. It was just resting there, but Will was constantly aware of it.

"Sam??" Dustin cried. "He can't be your first pick."

"Why not? He's the best character!" Mike argued. "The real heart of the story."

Will tuned out the bickering and closed his eyes again. Now the day was perfect.

Mike continued to give him gifts after Will came out.

He felt like he was back in Lenora. Mike could spoil him rotten, but he couldn't talk to him.

Except, Will had been brave this time. Will had found the words to express his sexuality, and he had stupidly thought that Mike would follow. He thought he would get a confession. Instead, all he got was more gifts. The gifts that used to make him feel warm and loved now felt like a wall Mike was putting up. A way to keep Will at arm's length.

Will was over it.

So the next time Mike presented him with a familiar package wrapped in brown paper, Will just set it down on his desk.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Mike asked. He was sitting on Will's bed, eyes flitting from Will to the package.

"It's not what I want." Will replied dully.

Mike frowned. "How do you know unless you open it?"

Will scoffed and ripped the paper off. Conté à Paris pastels. Objectively beautiful. Extremely hard to find in Hawkins, Indiana. The best of the best.

"It's not what I wanted," Will confirmed, dropping the box on his desk. It hit with a thud that seemed to echo in the silent room.

"Then what do you want?" Mike asked. He sounded almost frantic. "Name it, and I'll get it for you."

Will sighed. He wanted to bury his face in his hands. To press his heels to his eyes until he saw white. "I want the same thing I've always wanted."

Mike scooted to the edge of the bed. "And what is that, Will?"

"I just want you!" Will shouted. "That's all I've ever wanted. Your gifts used to feel like you were giving me a part of yourself, and that was enough. But I'm out now Mike, and I know that you know how I feel about you. So stop giving me bits and pieces. I want all of you or nothing."

Mike slowly rose off the bed and walked over to Will's desk. "I can't give you that."

Will's head dropped, tears forming in his eyes. He'd considered it when Mike didn't confess. He'd considered that he'd read this whole situation wrong from the start. Maybe Mike was straight and just had a really fucked up view of friendship and boundaries.

"I understand—," Will hiccupped. He needed Mike to be gone. He needed to mourn in private.

"Hey hey," Mike whispered, gently cupping Will's jaw and angling his face up again so their eyes met. For some reason, Mike was smiling. "You didn't let me finish. I can't give you something you already have, and I've always belonged to you Will."

New, fresh tears flooded Will's eyes and his vision swam before he felt Mike gently wipe them away with his thumb. "I need you to mean it, Mike. Don't say that unless you're serious about it. I can't take it."

"I'm so serious baby. You've always been it for me." Mike crowded Will's space, pulling Will flush against him. Their knees knocked, but Will didn't care. "Why do you think I sent you gifts and not my girlfriend when you moved away? I was going crazy without you. I couldn't even write you a letter without it all just spilling out onto the page. I almost died when you stopped writing to me. I stole every letter you wrote to Lucas and Dustin just to see how you were doing. Sending you things you needed was the only way I could cope. I couldn't breathe when I realized you were writing to me through their letters."

"I couldn't help it." Will whined. His whole body was buzzing with energy that he had no idea what to do with. "I'm only so strong, Mike. I wanted you so bad."

"It was so hot, Will. When you asked me for my Hellfire shirt. When you sent me that picture, looking so pretty in my shirt," Mike growled into the shell of his ear.

Will shivered, thinking of the day he got Mike's Hellfire shirt. When he pulled it over his head and just left it there for a moment, breathing in Mike's scent. "Mike, please. Kiss me."

Mike didn't need to be told twice. He crashed their lips together. They were both so eager that their teeth bumped uncomfortably at first, but Mike's hand came up to cradle Will's jaw again, steadying him. Will froze under the soft pressure from Mike's hand. Then Mike moved.

It was perfect. Mike's lips ghosted over Will's, taking him slow. It felt like Mike was intent on memorizing each square centimeter of Will's lips. Then the pressure of Mike's hand lessened. It still rested on his face, but Mike was telling him to move.

Kissing wasn't as hard as Will had feared. Or maybe everything was easy when it was with Mike. Will's eyes fluttered closed as he copied the motions of Mike's lips. After that, they fell into an easy rhythm.

He had no idea how long he stood there in his room, just getting lost in kissing Mike. Eventually, Mike deepened the kiss, nibbling softly on Will's lower lip in a way that made Will gasp. Mike's tongue took full advantage of his open mouth, licking into Will's mouth.

Will moaned as their tongues connected and began to dance. Mike swallowed the sound greedily, and his free hand flew to Will's waist. Will had made a point of studying every one of Mike's features, including his hands. He'd sketched these hands a dozen times, dreamt of them.

His dreams had nothing on this reality. Mike's massive hand wrapped all the way around the side of Will's waist. It felt like a claim.

I wonder if both his hands can fully circle my waist, Will thought idly. Then, giddily, I'm allowed to test that now.

He smiled into the kiss, unable to stop himself.

"What?" Mike murmured, feeling Will's lips twitch into a grin.

Will giggled. "Just really happy," he said as Mike took the chance to pepper his face with kisses. His nose, his cheeks, his neck.

"Me too, baby." Mike chuckled.

Later that day, they lay in Will's bed, lazily trading kisses in the golden glow of the afternoon light.

Will broke their current kiss, and Mike immediately latched onto his neck. Will sighed happily. This was everything he'd dreamed of when Mike was sending him gifts to California.

"I have a question," Will asked breathlessly as Mike sucked a mark into his neck. Mike hummed to show he was listening but did not stop his very important work.

"How did you afford all the stuff you bought me. I know your allowance is good, but it's not that good."

Mike detached himself from Will's neck and laid his head down on Will's pillow. His curls were completely disheveled and his lips were red and swollen from all the kissing. Will didn't think he'd ever looked better.

"Do you promise not to laugh at me?" Mike pouted.

Will grinned. "Mhm, I want to know."

Mike buried his face into the pillow and muttered something inaudible.

"Miiiiike," Will laughed, pulling his head up. "C'mon. Tell me. It can't be that bad."

Mike's cheeks were glowing red and his eyes were shifty. "I said that my mom helped me out. My allowance covered most of it, but I couldn't pay for all the fancy art supplies myself. My mom weaseled it out of me. Once she knew I needed the money to send you something, she gave it to me. She even drove me to that fancy art store a couple towns over."

"Oh." Will felt his own cheeks heat up. "So, when your mom saw me wearing your shirt…"

Mike nodded jerkily. "Yeah, she definitely knew what it meant, at least for me. Luckily, she loves you. Almost as much as I do."

Mike pressed his forehead against Will's, his dark eyes staring into Will's green ones. "You know that right? That I love you?"

Will beamed at him. His whole body was warm from head to toe as he basked in Mike's love. "I think I got that a hundred kisses ago, but it's nice to have it confirmed. Now Karen is a bit more of a surprise."

Mike laughed. "Please, you've always been her favorite. She's going to be thrilled." He kissed Will's nose. "In terms of favorite children, it's going to be you and Holly."

"Hard to beat the baby," Will acknowledged.

"Says the baby of the family! I remember when I was the baby. I got all the attention," Mike said with a fake pout.

"Aww, does my baby need a kiss to feel better?" Will cooed. Mike's cheeks turned pink at the pet name, which Will noted with glee. But experimenting with pet names could wait. Mike was nodding vigorously, and Will captured his lips again in another kiss.

As they lay back on the bed, Will turned to Mike. "Just in case it wasn't obvious, I love you too."

He'd never imagined that things could turn out this well. He sent up a thank you to Past-Will who had the harebrained idea to ask Mike for his Hellfire shirt. This was all he'd ever need.

If Will had thought that maybe Mike would buy him fewer gifts when he could communicate his feelings with words like a normal human, that had not come to pass. Will was currently seated in the library of his art college in New York City, dressed head to toe by Mike.

He wore one of Mike's oversized knit sweaters—the rush of wearing his boyfriend's clothes had never worn off—and new, dark wash jeans that hugged his ass in that way that made Mike absolutely feral.

Max snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Earth to Byers. Focus up. Stop thinking about your puppy of a boyfriend and start thinking more about art history or you're going to flunk out of art school."

Will scrunched his nose. "How do you even know I was thinking about Mike?"

Max gave him a withering look. "You always play with your stupid lock necklace when you're thinking about him. Which is like all the time, by the way." The "you idiot" went unsaid but Will heard it loud and clear.

Will hadn't even realized he was playing with his necklace until she said it. Suddenly, he could feel the cool metal running through his fingers and dropped it like he was scalded. Mike had given him the necklace with the silver lock pendant as a graduation gift for surviving Hawkins High. Mike wore a matching silver key around his own neck. It was fully functional and unlocked Will's lock.

"A lock can only be opened by one key and vice versa. They are created to fit together. That's who you are to me, Will. You are my person. The only one I will ever fit with, and I think I was made to fit with you." Mike had said as he clasped the lock necklace around Will's neck.

It was so romantic that Will turned into a pile of goo every time he thought about it, which was basically all the time.

"I just miss him, Max." Will whined, pouting sympathetically.

"It's been four hours since you saw him," Max replied, completely unsympathetically. "And you will see him in another four hours. Or sooner if he shows up here to bring you a sandwich or a jacket or a car. Who knows with him. He's even more gone for you than you are for him. Jesus, you guys are disgusting."

"That's homophobic," Will shot back. "We're gay so you have to be nice to us now."

"I don't remember agreeing to that. Doesn't sound like me at all, actually."

Will grinned. He was so glad that Max had come to his college too.

All his friends and family were scattered around the East Coast and only a train ride away. Mike, Max, and Jonathan were here in the city. Lucas was playing basketball and studying at UConn, although he spent every other weekend in the city with Max and she spent the rest of the weekends in Stoors with him. Jane was finishing high school out in Montauk with his mom and Hop. And, finally, Dustin was in Boston. "Cambridge, Byers, and no it's not the same thing!" He could practically hear Dustin complaining.

"You're spacing out again," Max chided. "Is your plan to flunk out and become Mike's fulltime sugar baby?"

"I am not a sugar baby," Will scoffed. "Mike just likes buying me things sometimes. It's romantic."

"Puh-leaze," Max laughed, looking him from head to toe. "The only thing you're wearing that Mike didn't buy you is your underwear."

Will froze and color rushed to his face. His cheeks glowed a deep red. Almost as red as the delicate, red lace stretched across his ass. "Well, actually," he laughed nervously.

Max's eyes widened. "No way. No fucking way."

"Yeah, Mike surprised me this weekend with some," he dropped his voice to a whisper, "lace panties."

Max waved her arm. "Please stop talking. I'm going to try very hard to forget the last few minutes and, if unsuccessful, throw myself into oncoming traffic. But I rest my case, sugar baby."

"Shut up," Will muttered, finally turning back to his work.

Max's words stuck with him for the rest of the day: "Mike's fulltime sugar baby." It wasn't possible. Both he and Mike were artists. One of them needed to hit at least decently to support them when Mike stopped getting financial assistance from his parents, and the arts were a crapshoot, no matter how talented they were.

But the idea of Mike paying for everything and Will just being his pretty princess to be taken care of was almost unbearably hot. Maybe they'd have to do a role play? Play up Mike's gift giving?

By the time Will made it to their East Village loft, he had worked himself into a frenzy.

"Mike," Will called. "I'm home."

"Welcome home baby." Mike called from the direction of the bedroom. "I have something for you."

Will grinned, licking his lips. "And I have an idea I think you're going to like."