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Will fidgeted with his sleeves, rehearsing in his head what he was going to say.
He was finally going to do it.
They’re going to see you differently.
Vecna’s voice rang, a reminder of the stuff he’d said to Will earlier, the things he’d shown to Will earlier.
Tears threatened to start falling before Will even made it out to where his mom was. She watched while everyone loaded the truck with weapons and utilities they would need.
“Hey, mom?” Will murmured.
“What’s going on, Will?” Joyce scanned the boy’s face, sensing his distress.
“Can we talk? Jonathan should hear too.”
Joyce nodded, she walked over to Jonathan, telling him something out of Will’s earshot. They all walked into the building.
Will sat in the armchair, Joyce and Jonathan sat on the couch, looking expectantly toward Will.
“So, uhm.” Will’s voice wavered, he took a breath then continued. “Earlier, when I was in Vecna’s mind, I- left out some parts.”
Joyce’s eyebrows furrowed, Jonathan nodded as if telling Will to continue.
“When Vecna attacks, he weakens you by turning your own mind against you. Your thoughts, your memories, and- and your secrets. I tried to fight back by doing the same to him, but it didn’t work. He was able to- overcome it.” Will looked down at his shaking hands.
“I just- I uhm. I think I need to overcome it too. And I can do that by… by telling you guys the truth.”
“Will, you can tell us anything. We’re always here for you.” Joyce reassured, her hand finding Will’s, rubbing small circles into his knuckles — grounding him.
“I know. It’s just- It’s hard to say. I haven’t told… anyone. Not- not yet. I do think I’ve known for a while. I’ve known I was different from everyone else. And Vecna… he- he showed me what it would look like, how you guys would act towards me if you knew. And he’s using it against me. I just think that if you knew, maybe he wouldn’t have anything to use and we might be able to defeat him. He knows I fear being alone. He showed me a future where we all drift apart and you guys feel worried about me and I just- I don't want you to see me differently or treat me in any other way. It’s hard to accept myself because accepting myself means accepting the stuff everyone used to say.”
Will started to tear up, Joyce’s grip tightened.
“I… I don’t like girls. I’m gay.” A sob broke his words before he could continue.
“And I- I uhm… had this crush on someone who I know- I know he’s not like me. But he’s just my Tammy. And by Tammy I just mean that it was never about him, it was always… always about me. And I- I uhm… needed you guys to know that.”
Will’s red, puffy eyes met Jonathan’s as he looked up.
“Will.” He whispered, standing up to go hug his brother.
Will stood as well, Joyce joined them a second later.
“Hey, Mike. Can you go tell Joyce, Jonathan, and Will that Hopper’s gonna be here in 15?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah of course.”
Mike walked inside of the station, leaving the door open behind him; he was going to be quick, why close it and make extra noise?
“It’s hard to accept myself because accepting myself means accepting the stuff everyone used to say.”
Mike froze, Will sounded like he was crying.
He wanted to turn the corner, see Will. But he didn’t. He stood on the other side of the wall, his back against it — listening to the words.
“I… I don’t like girls. I’m gay.”
Will was definitely crying now. Mike’s breath caught in his throat. He tried to stay quiet. He definitely wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. But why not? Will told Mike everything, why not this? Mike got reminded of the summer before the Byers’ left for California. When they were half as tall, and twice as close.
It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!
Mike mentally slapped himself. How could he say such a thing? Especially now knowing Will actually didn’t like girls.
“And I- I uhm… had this crush on someone who I know- I know he’s not like me. But he’s just my Tammy. And by Tammy I just mean that it was never about him, it was always… always about me. And I- I uhm… needed you guys to know that.”
Mike paused, his eyes going wide. Who was Will’s crush? Well, it had to be one of their friends. Will probably wouldn’t like anyone he wasn’t close to. Not Lucas, he’s with Max. Not Dustin. Maybe-
Oh.
Oh.
No, no it couldn’t be.
The drawings, the painting, the fights.
It kind of made sense.
No, there’s no way Will likes Mike.
Not a chance.
They’re best friends.
But why did Mike not hate the thought?
Spending all of his time with Will, hugging Will, kiss-
No, friends don’t think about friends in that kind of way.
Mike knew he always felt differently towards Will. Drawn to him in a way he was with no one else. Not like El.
The idea of dating Will didn't disgust Mike. Not at all. It felt… right, in a way.
Like maybe he was meant to be with Will.
Even if it was Mike, Will said ‘was’. Past tense. Implying that he no longer likes this person.
But it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?
Mike heard shuffling and the squeak of the old couch. He flinched at the noise, running back outside, slamming the door closed without a second thought.
“You alright. Wheeler?” Steve patted Mike on the back.
“Yeah, fine…” Mike replied absentmindedly, trying to escape Steve’s grasp.
“So, are they on their way out? Or…”
“Oh. I uhm- I couldn’t find them.” Mike shook his head at the stupid lie.
“Well, I can just go find them.” Robin walked over to the door, shutting it behind her.
“No! Wait- ugh.” Mike threw his head back with a groan, accepting his defeat.
“What’s up with you?” Dustin made his way over to Mike.
“Nothing. Let’s just go kill this mouth-breather.” Mike walked over to the truck, helping to load everything in.
The wind is louder up here than Will expected.
It hums through the tower, low and constant, like it’s filling in the silence neither of them want to touch.
Mike climbed up the tower first, Will followed. Now they're both standing on a platform, side by side, not talking, like they’re waiting for something.
Or avoiding it.
Will leans his elbows against the railing, looking out instead of over. The trees stretch on forever, dark and familiar, the kind of view that used to make everything feel simple.
It doesn’t now.
“You ever think about how small everything looks from up here?” Will says finally, just to break the silence. “Like– like none of it really matters that much.”
It’s a dumb thing to say. He knows it the second it’s out.
Mike doesn’t answer right away.
Will glances over, half-expecting him to shrug it off or make a joke, but-
Mike’s already looking at him.
Not confused. Not distracted. Focused.
Will’s stomach twists.
“Forget it,” he mutters, turning back toward the horizon. “It was stupid.”
“Will.”
He shouldn’t look again.
He does.
Mike hadn’t meant to bring it up.
Not really.
But the tower felt like the only place where he could actually say it — out loud.
Will has no clue.
The thought keeps hitting him over and over.
He doesn’t know what Mike heard. He doesn’t know why Mike can’t stop thinking about it — Mike barely even knows why he can’t stop thinking about it. But there’s one thing Mike knows, he loves Will.
That’s all that mattered.
And now he's standing here, acting like none of it means anything.
Like he doesn’t mean anything.
Mike’s chest tightens.
“Will, I’m not talking about that,” he says, softer this time.
Will hesitates, thrown. “Then what are you talking about?”
Mike steps closer.
Will doesn’t move.
“I don’t wanna be your Tammy,” Mike says, words steadier now, like he's finally found where he’s been trying to get to. “Whatever that means, I know I don’t wanna be it.”
Will’s staring at him, completely lost.
Mike doesn’t stop.
“I wanna be your Mike.”
“Mike, what’re y-”
Mike doesn’t give him a chance to finish, he closes the distance between them.
For a second, Will forgets how to breathe — his arms stuck to his sides, Mike’s hands on his face.
It’s not like anything he imagined — years of picturing this very boy, pressing his lips to Will’s.
And then it’s over.
Will pulls back fast, like the air’s suddenly too thin.
He stares at Mike, wide-eyed, trying to catch up to something that already happened.
“What-” His voice comes out wrong. “What was that?”
Mike doesn’t answer right away. He’s still standing close, like he hasn’t decided whether to step back or not.
Will’s heart is racing now, too fast, too loud.
“Mike–”
“I meant it,” He interrupts.
That doesn’t help.
Will lets out a short, shaky laugh, more panic than anything. “Meant what? You just– you can’t just—”
He gestures between them, like that explains anything.
Mike’s expression doesn’t change. If anything, it settles.
“I meant what I said.”
Will’s stomach drops.
“I don’t wanna be your Tammy,” Mike continues, quieter now, but his words land heavier than the first time. “I wanna be your Mike.”
The words land differently.
Not confusing. Familiar.
Too familiar
Will’s breath catches.
“...why would you say that?” he asks, but it comes out barely above a whisper, like he’s already afraid of the answer.
Mike frowns a little. “Because it’s true.”
“No,” Will says quickly, shaking his head. “No, I mean– why would you even–”
He stopped.
Because there’s only one reason.
The realization creeps in slowly at first, then all at once.
The station. The couch. The way he’d tried to not be too loud. The door slamming but no one coming in–
Will’s chest tightened.
“You–” He swallowed hard. “You heard that.”
It’s not really a question, there’s no answer other than ‘yes’.
Mike doesn’t look away.
Will feels like the ground just dropped out from under him. Now would be a great time for the sky to fall, to take him with.
“How much?” he asked, he hated how small his voice sounded, how exposed each word and breath felt. “Mike, how much did you hear?”
Mike hesitates, a second too long.
Will closes his eyes for a second. That’s enough of an answer.
“Great,” he mutters, stepping back now, putting space between them like that might fix it, like it might shove everything back where it was before. “Thats really great.”
“Will–”
“No, it’s fine,” Will cuts in quickly, even though it’s obviously not. “It’s fine, I just— really wish you hadn’t—”
He stopped again, because there’s no version of that sentence that doesn’t make this worse.
Mike takes a step forward.
Will doesn’t move this time, but he doesn’t look at him either.
“I wasn’t supposed to hear it,” Mike says. “I know that. But I did.”
Will let out a shaky breath
“And you weren’t supposed to do… that,” Will replies, softer now.
“I know.”
There’s a pause. Then–
“But I meant it.”
Will finally looks at him again.
And this time, Mike doesn’t look uncertain. He doesn’t look confused. He just looks… sure.
That’s the part that gets to Will the most.
“You don’t— you don’t have to say that just because you heard me,” Will says, his voice unsteady. “You don’t have to, like, fix it or– make it less weird or whatever.”
“I’m not.” Mike says immediately.
Will shakes his head. “Mike–”
“I’m not.” He repeats, more firmly now. “I’m not saying it because I heard you. I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Will goes still.
“I didn’t know,” Mike says quietly. “Not until you said it.”
Will blinks, confused again.
Mike’s voice drops, softer but more certain. “I didn’t realize what it meant until you said it.”
That lands differently.
Will’s chest tightens, but not from confusion this time — something else.
Mike exhales like he’s forcing himself to keep going.
“I just– I thought…” he shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud. “I thought you didn’t feel the same.”
Will’s breath catches.
“No.” He says quickly, like the idea physically hurts. “No, I– Mike, I do. I did. I just– Why didn't you say anything?”
Mike huffs a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “You didn’t.”
“That’s different.”
“Yeah,” Mike says. “It is.”
Mike watches him like he’s trying to memorize every second of this.
And for the first time, he looks a little less scared.
“You do? Because earlier you said you ‘had’ a crush.” Mike asks, quieter now.
Will nods once, small but certain. “I may still like said person.” He replies with a hint of sarcasm in his tone, a small chuckle breaking through.
That’s all it takes.
Something in Mike’s expression shifts — like the last jigsaw piece finally fell into place.
“Okay,” Mike murmured.
A pause.
“Okay.” Will echoed, softer.
And this time, when Mike steps forward again, Will doesn’t pull away.
This kiss is different.
Slower. Less like a shock, more like a decision.
Like Mike is trying to say everything he doesn’t know how to put into words.
Will doesn’t move at first. He just stands there, frozen in it, like his brain has stopped catching up entirely.
And then it’s over.
Mike pulls back first, just enough to breathe, and glances at him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Alright,” Mike says, a little breathless but calm. “Come on, we’ve got a planet to catch.”
He turns, beginning to continue their climb up the ladder.
Like this is normal.
Like Will isn’t standing there completely shattered in the best way possible.
He doesn’t move, not right away.
The wind feels louder now that Mike isn’t standing inches apart.
Like it’s trying to fill the space he left behind.
He just stands there, staring at where Mike had been a second ago, trying to understand how their world might become upside down if he doesn’t join everyone else.
His fingers are still tingling.
His chest feels too full and too empty at the same time.
Mike’s footsteps are already on the next platform.
“Will?” Mike calls back, like it only just occurs to him that Will might not be following yet.
A familiar blush spreads across Will’s face, a small grin accompanying it.
“...yeah, I’m coming.”
He takes a step forward.
Then another.
And follows up the ladder.