Chapter Text
It was a late afternoon and the sun filtered through the leaves of the old oak tree in the Wheeler backyard, casting dappled shadows across the grass where Mike and Will sat side by side on the weathered wooden bench.
It had been one of those quiet days in Hawkins, the kind that stretched out endlessly, heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts. Mike's hand rested casually near Will's on the bench, their fingers not quite touching but close enough that the warmth from one seemed to reach the other. They had come out there after lunch, away from the house where Mrs. Wheeler's cheerful chatter about college applications could be heard faintly through the open kitchen window.
The air smelled of freshly cut grass and distant rain, a scent that always reminded Mike of simpler times, before everything had unraveled with Eleven's... Disappearance. He glanced at Will, whose gaze was fixed on a distant point in the yard and he could see how his expression was soft but shadowed, as if he were replaying memories in his mind.
Will shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against Mike's in a way that felt accidental but lingered just a second too long. He had been quieter than usual lately.
"I can't stop thinking." Will started, his voice was low and measured, as if testing the waters on what he wanted to talk about. "I– I mean, I've been thinking about what Nancy said the other day at the mall. About leaving it all behind, starting fresh somewhere new."
He turned his head to meet Mike's eyes.
Mike nodded in response trying to make him feel safe to speak, feeling that familiar pull in his chest. The mix of hope and hesitation that had been building for weeks since their talk. They were both set to head off to college in a few months, their applications were already submitted to schools out of state, places far from Hawkins' narrow streets and judgmental whispers.
But talking about it made it real, and it being real meant confronting the ghosts they carried.
Mike leaned back against the bench, his arm stretching along the top rail behind Will, not quite draping over his shoulders but near enough to offer him that silent comfort.
"Yeah, she did have a point. Hawkins... It's suffocating sometimes. All the memories that are tied up here."
He paused his words as he could sense where all that was taking them. The name hanging in the air unspoken because they didn't need to name her to know she felt like a fragile topic.
But Mike reminded Lucas and Dustin's words. You need to talk about her.
Eleven. Her loss had carved a deep hollow in both of them, a grief that twisted into guilt for Will who had always felt like he hadn't done enough to protect her, and into a quiet fear for Mike, who wondered if holding onto the past was just another way of avoiding his own truths. Will's eyes softened at that moment, and he looked down at his hands where his fingers twisted together in his lap.
"I keep thinking about her, you know? I know we've... Talked. How she deserved so much more than this town, more than anyone. And I know I said I wouldn't feel guilty anymore, Mike, but... Like, I think if I'd been stronger, maybe things would've turned out different. And honestly... I– I want to move on, for her sake. For us." His voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed hard trying to steady himself.
Because, beneath the guilt, was this growing resolve to let go. To finally been able to embrace what he felt for Mike without the shadows of doubt clouding it.
Mike's heart ached at the vulnerability in Will's tone, and he turned his body slightly toward him until their knees were brushing in the confined space of the bench. He reached out, his hand covering Will's briefly in a gentle squeeze that spoke of shared pain before pulling back, not wanting to push too far in the open yard.
"I get it. God, Will, I do. El was... She was so important to me, and losing her felt like part of me was gone too. But staying here won't bring her back, I know that now." He sighed, feeling those words heavily over his chest. "It'll just keep us stuck and pretending, and... I really don't want to have any more regrets."
Mike's own words stirred the fear he'd been burying.
The terror of what it meant to discover he was queer in a world that didn't always understand, especially in a family like his where expectations loomed large. He felt a coward for it, for not being able to stand up and say it outright, for letting that fear hold him back from giving Will the full life they both craved.
Tears pricked at his eyes, unbidden, and he blinked them away but Will noticed, like he always did, and he could feel his hand moving to rest on Mike's arm on a subtle anchor trying to protect him in the rising tide of all their emotions.
The conversation deepened as the sun went lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.
Will opened up more, his words tumbling out in a slow and halting rhythm, describing the guilt that gnawed at him not just for Jane, but for the way it made him hesitate. "I don't want to feel like her memory stops me from loving you completely, Mike. Sometimes I still feel like I don't deserve it yet."
He described the nights where he'd lie awake, replaying every moment with her wondering if his own hidden feelings had somehow contributed to the chaos that took her away. Mike listened, his face etched with empathy, occasionally interjecting with soft affirmations while his free hand tapped over his own thigh.
"I'm scared, too." His voice dropped to a whisper as he admitted. "And... I feel sorry, for being too scared to come out." He felt that aching feeling in his chest for dragging Will into that limbo where every touch had to be measured, every glance loaded with caution. "I'm such a coward." He murmured really weakly, taking his time to take a long breath only to try and find his voice again.
He could feel a tear finally escaping to trace down his cheek, and he wiped it away as fast as his trembling hands let him.
"I want to tell them– Mom, even my Dad, everyone... But what if it breaks us? What if it ruins everything?"
Will shook his head immediately, his own eyes glistening now, and he leaned in closer to Mike even though he knew that was a dangerous move to do, but the air between them thickened anyway with the unspoken affection.
They sat like that for what felt like hours, though it was only minutes. The world narrowed to just the two of them on that bench. Their tears flowed freely then, Will's shoulders shaking as he let out a quiet sob and even though Mike knew how scared and nervous he felt about touching Will with no wall to keep their secret safe from the cruelty of reality, he pulled him into a loose embrace passing one arm around his back while the other stroked his hair in slow, trying to smooth the tension in his body. They talked through it all, voices overlapping in a gentle back-and-forth, unpacking the layers of pain from Jane's loss. The way it had shattered their sense of safety, how it amplified Will's guilt into a constant whisper of unworthiness, and Mike's fear into a paralyzing grip on his identity.
"I'm trying, Mike. I swear I'm truly trying, to set the guilt aside, to see myself as worthy of your love... I want to see myself building a life with you without thinking it'll fall apart."
Of course, beyond Hawkins' confines.
Mike nodded at his words, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
The crying ebbed gradually, replaced by their exhausted sniffles and shared silences and their hands finding each other again, fingers intertwining properly this time, a quiet promise in the clasp. Mike didn't know where that boldness was coming from, but he really thought that if his parents appeared to go outside at that right moment, he wouldn't back off. Maybe it would be what they needed.
But as the emotions settled, Mike lifted his head, his eyes still red-rimmed but holding a spark of lightness. He brushed a stray tear from Will's cheek with his thumb and his touch lingered over his skin softly, almost tenderly, before he pulled back with a watery smile.
"Hey, Will." He said, his voice hoarse but playful. "If we're gonna cry like this every time we talk about the future, we might need to pack a full suitcase of tissues for college."
The joke was light, self-deprecating, aimed at easing the heaviness and Will's laugh bubbled up unexpectedly in a soft and genuine sound that broke through the remnants of his tears.
But it quickly turned emotional again. Maybe he was too sensitive in the end because Will's eyes welling up anew as he realized what Mike was doing.
He was, again, pushing his own struggles aside. His fears about his parents, with his sexuality, the very words they'd just unpacked, just to make him feel better.
"No, Mike." Will whispered, his voice thick with affection. "You don't have to do that. To... Pretend it's okay when it's not– I... I know how hard this is for you." He squeezed Mike's hand tighter, the subtle scolding in the way his gaze held Mike's, warm and unwavering. "And I'll always be here for you too, no matter what."
After hearing him, Mike felt something inside him tremble with the feeling that no matter how much he wanted to hide or make himself dissappear, Will would always find him.
Will would always validate him. He would always make him feel like he truly meant something.
He truly meant something to Will.
In that moment, with the evening light fading around them, Mike leaned in closing the small distance between them.
Their lips met in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first, tasting of salt from shared tears, but deepening slowly as Mike's hands cupped Will's face and their breaths mingled together. Will felt the thrill all over his body but he couldn't really help it, kissing him back just in a fraction of a second. It was a kiss born of catharsis. It didn't matter if there was someone in the corner waiting for the exact moment to hurt them, if they were together, sliding their lips over each other so gently.
And Mike never thought that a kiss could say I love you so loud without words until that moment, because he could really feel that Will was saying it to him. He tried to say it back.
When they pulled apart, the world felt a little less daunting. Will's heart swelled with the depth of Mike's care, the way he navigated his own fears to offer comfort, and he pressed another light kiss to Mike's temple like a silent thank you that needed no real words.
They stayed there as the sun settled with their hands subtly linked over the bench, the path ahead between college, a new life, and their freedom felt just a bit more attainable, woven together by the threads of their enduring bond.
The bench creaked softly under their weight, and Will glanced toward the house where the kitchen light spilled out like a watchful eye through the window. His hand, still intertwined with Mike's, tightened for a moment before he gently disentangled their fingers, though the reluctance was evident in the slow drag of his skin against Mike's.
"Okay..." Will murmured, his voice a hushed mix of affection and caution. "We really shouldn't be kissing here. Your mom could be outside at any moment." He didn't even want to mention his dad like, never. He shifted on the bench creating a fraction of more space between them while his eyes kept darting to the back door as if expecting it to swing open right then.
The subtle way he leaned away wasn't rejection, but protection. He really wanted to keep Mike safe in his own house.
A quiet reminder of the risks they navigated in Mike's family home, where every moment of closeness felt borrowed.
Mike's gaze followed Will's to the house, but he shook his head almost immediately with a defiant spark in his eyes that belied the flicker of unease beneath. He scooted closer again the few inches Will made with his knee pressing lightly against Will's in a wordless reassurance, the contact warm and insistent.
"Honestly... I don't think I care." He said, his tone low and fervent, as if willing it to be true. "Like– right now, all I can think about is you. How good you make me feel, how much I like you. Everything else is just... Background noise." His hand reached out as he moved his hand near him again with his fingers brushing the back of Will's wrist in a soft touch that sent a subtle shiver through both of them, a flirtation hidden in the guise of comfort.
But Will knew him too well.
He could see the way Mike's jaw tightened just a bit, the quick glance he threw toward the window, betraying the lie. Mike might dismiss his father's opinions with ease, the man's gruff indifference was like a shield he'd long grown accustomed to, but his mother was something else. She tried to be there for him despite her husband's slurring words, he knew that. Her warmth, her expectations, that was different for Mike.
She mattered to him. The thought of disappointing her, of upending the image she held of her son.
Will's expression softened with understanding, and he placed his hand over Mike's, squeezing gently to ground him.
"You say that, but I can tell you're thinking about it. About what she'd say if she saw. And that's okay– she means something to you. I know that it makes this scarier."
As he knew Will could always be aware of his true thoughts, Mike nodded slowly.
His shoulders slumped in his reluctant agreement, the playful defiance giving way to a more honest vulnerability. He ran a hand through his hair tousling it further, and let his arm drape loosely along the bench back again, close enough to Will that their shoulders touched.
"Yeah, you're right. I do care." His voice carried a quiet resolve, the words sealing an unspoken pact. "Like, a lot. The last thing I want is for her to walk out here and... I don't know. I don't want to hurt you, or her. I know I want to tell her... I just don't know– how. Maybe not now."
And Will felt a rush of warmth at how Mike was trying, navigating his fears with the same care he extended to their relationship.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the evening breeze rustling the leaves overhead, carrying the faint scent of Karen Wheeler's baking from inside. A reminder of the normalcy they were tiptoeing around. Will's thumb traced a small, absent circle on the back of Mike's hand in a subtle gesture of solidarity that spoke to the depth of their connection without needing any more elaboration.
But as the tension eased, Mike's thoughts shifted. His expression turning thoughtful as he turned to face Will more fully, their knees now aligned in the fading light.
"Speaking of being ready... We should talk about it to your mom. We kind of bailed on that chance we had a couple weeks ago, remember? Um, before we head off to college, we have to tell her." His eyes lit up with a genuine excitement, the kind that had been absent just months earlier, when grief and uncertainty had clouded everything. "She– she's always been there for us, and I trust her. Like, more than anyone else in this town besides you, honestly."
Back then, the idea of opening up had felt impossible and almost tangled in the fresh wounds of loss, but now, with the future looming brighter, Mike seemed eager with his voice gaining a hopeful lilt as he leaned in slightly, the proximity a quiet flirtation in itself.
And Will's heart swelled at that change, all his emotion prickling once again behind his eyes as he realized how far Mike had come from being too hesitant whispering about not being sure to this quiet advocacy, placing faith in Joyce's unwavering support.
It was a testament to their growth together.
"Mike..." Will blinked rapidly, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "Um, yeah, you're right. It means a lot that you feel that way about her now. I mean... It's everything to me. Really."
But even if he felt a little emotional over Mike trusting his mother, Will's lips quirked into a mischievous smile while gave it a little more thought. There was something else they were leaving out their equation... And a spark of humor cut him through the heaviness in the air.
He tilted his head, his shoulder nudging Mike's in a playful bump that lingered just a beat too long.
"And, well, telling Mom also means... Telling Hopper, right?"
Will's tone was teasing and light-hearted, but laced with the truth of Hopper's longstanding grudge. The burly chief's protectiveness over Jane had always extended to glares and gruff warnings aimed at Mike. Not that he hated Mike for real, he was sure no one could actuallt hate him. Will watched in silence as the realization dawned on Mike's face and how his eyes widened comically in the soft light, and he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him, the sound bubbling up from the endearing panic he knew was coming.
Mike's reaction was immediate and dorky, in something like his mouth dropping open as he processed the implication and his hands flying up to cover his face in exaggerated horror before dropping them to gesture wildly.
"Shit. Shit, shit, it's true! Hopper and your mom are together. Oh my god, what?! If we tell Joyce, that's basically telling him too? Like, he'll be sitting there with his shotgun, giving me that death stare all over again!" He leaned forward, his words kept coming out in silent shouting like half whispered and half exalted with his elbows on his knees rocking slightly as if the weight of it was too much, his voice pitching higher in that nervous whine that always made Will's heart flip.
It wasn't real terror, not quite, but a flustered unraveling that was pure Mike... Panicky and awkward, his cheeks reddening as he rambled on.
"Okay– no, not okay. This doesn't sound right at all! Telling Joyce is one thing, I mean, she's amazing and she'd get it– I know she would, but Hopper? Will he locked me in his car and I was a goddamn child! I can already hear him growling about how I'm not good enough for you, or worse. What if he tells me to stop seeing you?" Mike's hands flailed again while he kept talking nonstop and even one of them accidentally pushing Will's arm in his agitation, the touch fleeting but charged with that underlying affection, even in his mock breakdown.
But Will burst into laughter then, echoing softly in the quiet yard as he clutched his sides, tears of mirth gathering at the corners of his eyes. "And would you listen to him if he tells you that?"
"Of course not!"
"So?"
"So?!"
It was impossible not to laugh.
The way Mike's face scrunched up in over-the-top worry and his usual confidence crumbled into that adorably neurotic spiral... It made the whole thing feel endearingly funny rather than daunting. Will couldn't really believe how one minute they were so emotionally crying and the next one he could feel his cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.
He reached out, placing a steadying hand on Mike's shoulder and his fingers squeezed him gently to pull him back from the edge of his panic. "Come on, Mike. It's... It's not that bad. And who knows, maybe he'll warm up to you once he sees how happy you make me?"
Will's voice was warm, still teasing but his gaze held a subtle softness in that kind that hinted at deeper reassurances without spelling them out. Mike paused in his whining by being caught off guard by his laughter, just noticing that Will was actually teasing him and not trying to scare him for real, and as soon as he realized he was chuckling too, the sound reluctant at first but growing as he shook his head in defeat.
"You're enjoying this way too much." He grumbled, but there was no heat in it, just a fond exasperation as he nudged Will's leg with his own, and the contact felt like a quiet anchor amid the humor.
They dissolved into shared giggles, the tension from earlier fully diffused, leaving behind a lightness that wrapped around them like the encroaching night, making the prospect of confessions, to Joyce, to Hopper, to the world, feel a little less impossible, buoyed by their unbreakable, teasing bond.
As their laughter faded into the soft hush of the evening, Mike's expression shifted from amusement to a more earnest plea, his eyes locking onto Will's with that familiar intensity that always made the world narrow to just the two of them.
He straightened up on the bench, the wood groaning faintly under the movement, and reached for Will's hand again, his fingers curling around it with a gentle but insistent grip. The fireflies danced lazily around them now, casting fleeting glows on their faces, but Mike's focus was unwavering, the earlier panic lingering just enough to color his voice with a touch of vulnerability.
"Hey, seriously though." He said, his thumb stroking the back of Will's hand in slow, soothing circles, a subtle caress that spoke of the trust building between them. "Promise me something. If we do this– if we tell Joyce and, by extension, Hopper... You won't let him corner me for a talk alone. No matter how much he insists or glares or whatever. I know he's your family now, but the thought of facing him one-on-one... It freaks me out, like, for real."
His words tumbled out with a mix of humor and genuine nerves with his free hand gesturing vaguely toward the imagined confrontation, but his gaze held Will's steadily, seeking that reassurance that had become their anchor in moments like this. The breeze picked up slightly, rustling the oak leaves above, and Mike leaned in a fraction closer, their shoulders brushing in a quiet affirmation of closeness and the contact was light.
Will's heart softened at the request, seeing the flicker of real apprehension behind Mike's dorky facade. The way his brow furrowed just so, the slight tension in his shoulders that he tried to play off with a half-smile. He squeezed Mike's hand in response with his own fingers intertwining more fully, and nodded without hesitation, the truth behind his promise being as naturally as breathing.
"I promise." Will replied, his voice sounding warm and steady for Mike, laced with that quiet devotion that always seemed to ease Mike's worries.
To seal it, he extended his pinky over and hooked it around Mike's in a childish yet profoundly intimate gesture that no one could ever break, their smallest fingers locking together amid the larger weave of their hands. He held the pinky promise for a lingering moment while his eyes sparkled with affection in the dim light.
It was also a vow born of their shared history, a small ritual that carried the weight of all the secrets they'd kept and the futures they dreamed of, and Will watched as Mike's expression melted, the tension draining from his features like ice under sun. Mike's eyes softened, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he gazed at their joined pinkies, the vulnerability giving way to something tender and unguarded, his chest rising and falling a bit quicker as the intimacy of the moment washed over him.
The promise hung in the air between them, sweet and binding, and Mike finally released a soft exhale, with his pinky lingering against Will's before he pulled back just enough to speak, though his hand stayed clasped in Will's.
"God, you have no idea what this does to my heart." He murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that carried a hint of the desire simmering beneath the surface, his gaze tracing Will's face with a subtle hunger that wasn't overt but impossible to miss. "We should go to my room."
The words were simple, but the way he said them in the most earnest, almost urgent way, betrayed the pull he felt. His free hand reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Will's ear and he just blinked with a curious tilt to his head as he searched Mike's eyes, the evening shadows playing across his features and highlighting the flush creeping up his cheeks.
"Why? You got bored of being here?" He asked, his tone playful yet intrigued though he made no move to pull away, his body leaning subtly into the space Mike occupied being drawn by the magnetic pull of his presence.
Mike's smile turned a shade more mischievous, though his cheeks warmed with a blush because he couldn't quite hide the vulnerability from moments ago blending seamlessly into this newfound boldness. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing over Will's ear in a whisper that sent a shiver down Will's spine, the proximity intimate without crossing into overt territory.
"Because I can't wait anymore." Mike confessed, his voice low and rough with want, then he took just a little distance to see his face from up close. "I want to kiss you so badly."
The admission was raw, stripped of pretense, and it hung there like an invitation, Mike's hand tightening around Will's as if to emphasize the urgency building between them. Will's response was immediate in a soft, endearing laugh that bubbled up from his chest, light and affectionate and had his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled back just enough to meet Mike's gaze, the sound warm and inviting in the cooling night air.
"Is that so?" Will teased, his voice laced with flirtation, a playful glint in his eyes as he traced his thumb along Mike's palm in a slow, deliberate stroke. "Well, if you're that desperate, who am I to make you suffer out here, Wheeler? Lead the way." The words meant to keep teasing him, but the way Will's gaze lingered on Mike's lips and the subtle arch of his brow, added a layer of invitation that made the air between them hum with anticipation.
Mike's heart stuttered at the flirtatious retort, the sound of Will's laugh and the teasing challenge in his eyes unraveling him completely in a rush of affection flooding through him that made standing up feel like the most natural response he could do.
So he stood up from the bench first, tugging gently on Will's hand to pull him up with him, their fingers still intertwined as he glanced toward the house, the windows glowing softly in the soft light.
"Come on." Mike said, his voice a mix of eagerness and that dorky nervousness that always endeared him to Will, leading the way across the yard with purposeful strides careful to keep their pace casual as if they were just heading inside for the evening.
The grass felt crunchy under their shoes, the scent of impending rain growing stronger and Mike steered them toward the back door, his body angled slightly to shield Will from any prying eyes that might glance out. Inside, the house was alive with the low hum of family life with Karen's voice drifting from the kitchen, Nancy's laughter echoing faintly from the living room where she and the others were gathered, but Mike moved with quiet efficiency.
They didn't want to stop by, not even for a nod.
He guided Will up the stairs, their steps muffled on the carpeted treads and their shoulders brushing with every rise, the subtle contact a thread of connection that kept that electric feeling between them alive without drawing attention. At the top, he veered toward his room, pushing the door open with his shoulder and pulling Will inside before anyone could intercept them.
Once inside, Mike released Will's hand only long enough to turn and lock the door with a decisive click, the sound echoing softly in the space and sealing them away from the world beyond. He leaned back against the wood for a moment with his chest heaving slightly from the hurried ascent and the thrill of it all and his eyes finding Will's in the soft lamp-light outside that filtered through the curtains.
The room felt smaller now, charged with the privacy they'd craved, and Mike's expression softened into a smile that was equal parts relief and longing.
His hand reached out again to draw Will closer, the promise from the yard evolving into their intimate haven where they could finally let go.