Chapter Text
Mike wakes up in a sweat. This isn't anything unusual, but he doesn't remember having a nightmare. His shirt also mysteriously vanished, presumably because he hates the feeling of wet clothes clinging to his skin.
He groans and rolls over to check the time. His alarm clock reads 1:27 P.M. How did I sleep 14 hours? Will always makes sure I'm up for class, he thinks to himself. A knock on his door snaps him out of his thoughts.
"Mike?" Will asks softly. The door creaks as Will pushes it open. Mike sits up to greet him and realizes this feels way harder than it should. His bones ache as a shiver ripples through his body.
"Oh, good, you're up!" Will gives a soft smile. Mike's face aches as he attempts to smile back. "I tried to wake you up earlier but you barely moved. I figured you needed the rest so I just went to class."
The bed dips as Will sits down next to Mike. Mike leans over, placing his head on Will's shoulder. He's not usually this touchy with anyone anymore, but he has this weird urge to be on Will right now. He used to be attached to Will at the hip when they were little, always holding hands or cuddling. They had to be touching in some way at all times. Even just being joined at the pinky was enough to make them giddy, but their dads quickly put a stop to that once they saw it. Said some bullshit about their sons not being a bunch of fairies. He hated being forcibly ripped from his best friend, but what could he do? He was seven and knew better than to question Lonnie for Will's safety.
"My bones hurt," he mumbles into Will's shoulder.
Will presses a hand to Mike's forehead. Mike flinches away from Will's freezing cold hand. He always ran cold, especially after he was possessed by the Mind Flayer. Mike, however, has always been a human furnace.
"Mike, you're burning up!" Will exclaims, his tone oddly reminiscent of his mother's. His eyes are wide with concern as he brings his hand down to Mike's shoulder. "Does anything else hurt? I can make some tea if your throat hurts."
Mike is suddenly aware of the fact that his throat burns every time he swallows. Will somehow always seems to know him better than he knows himself.
"'M fine. Don't worry about me," he buries his face into the crook of Will's neck.
"You're visibly sweaty and clinging to me like a koala. You're sick, Mike," Will nudges him off of him. Mike groans at the loss of contact, falling back down onto his pillows. "I'm gonna grab some Tylenol and make you some tea, try to rest."
Mike tries to listen and rest for about two minutes, but the warmth from where Will was sitting has gone cold. His bare skin now has no protection from the cold air that comes from living in New York in February. The logical solution is to just grab a blanket, but there's something different about the warmth of a human. It's comforting. He decides to go to the kitchen, at least the stove will be warm. And Will is there.
Will sees him and sighs, turning on the kettle. "Michael," he warns.
It makes Mike feel like a little kid getting in trouble. Only his parents called him Michael, and Will if he thinks he's acting like an idiot. There's not a hint of anger on Will's face, though. He's just trying to look out for Mike and knows he's more inclined to listen if he hears his full name.
"I know, I know. I did try to rest but I got cold," he whines. He stands beside Will and leans against the counter. He feels the urge to lean his head on Will's shoulder again but decides against it. He doesn't want to be too needy when Will is already graciously making him tea.
"Then go get a blanket, it'll warm you up until the tea is ready."
Will grabs a cutting board and pulls a lemon out of the fridge. He starts to cut it into slices and says something else, but Mike doesn't hear. He's for some reason laser focused on staring at Will's arms. The way his biceps flex as he's using the knife is captivating. They swell as Will uses force to slice through, and the veins in his right arm twitch slightly as his grip on the knife tightens. He's by no means muscular, but he's filled out a bit since they graduated. Surely this is just some fever-ridden insanity, nothing else. No other reason to be ogling Will's biceps.
The kettle lets out a grating, high-pitched whistle, steam blowing against him and Will. Mike snaps out of his trance and covers his ears. Will gives him an apologetic look and takes it off the stove. He pours the tea into Mike's favorite cup, a blue and white striped mug Holly got him when he moved out. Her reasoning was that he's an adult now, so he'll probably need a lot of coffee. Will squeezes a few slices of lemon into the tea and drizzles some honey on top. He hands Mike the mug and gently grabs him by the wrist, guiding him to the couch. His hand stays for a second longer than it should.
After drinking the tea, Mike lays down as Will drapes a blanket over him. The weight of the blanket makes him feel warm and fuzzy, and the tea has soothed his throat enough to get comfortable. Whatever illness he's fighting has him fatigued. His bones feel heavy and he can't really keep his eyes open anymore. He quickly drifts off, basking in the warmth the blanket and tea provide.
He wakes up to the sound of Super Mario Bros music. The living room is now dark, minus the faint glow of the TV. There's a second blanket on him and the other side of the couch dips under the weight of Will.
He rolls onto his back and asks, "How long have I been out?"
Will glances over, pausing the game. His hair is slightly damp and he's changed into an old band t-shirt and basketball shorts. Mike is still a sweaty mess, his pajama pants now clinging to his skin. Somehow he's a bit cold, though.
"About eight hours. Once I gave you the tea you were out," Will says softly.
Mike rubs his eyes and sits up, "I don't even remember having it."
He feels that urge to get close to Will again, pulling him across the couch like a magnet. There's really no logical reason for this, but he's in no state to ignore his instincts. His bones still ache and his fever clearly hasn't broken yet. He shivers as he places his head on Will's shoulder and throws his legs across his best friend's lap.
Will looks down at him. "I'm worried about you. The last time I saw you like this was when you had the flu when we were in second grade."
Mike has a very sudden realization. They were seven when he had the flu. His dad had come in to give him medicine and caught them cuddling. Their limbs were entangled, clinging to each other like lovers who've been separated for a long time. That's what prompted the argument that forced them to be physically separated.
The feeling of Will's skin against his starts to burn, as if he had just been sent straight to hell. He knows there's nothing wrong with touching Will, but his body is screaming that he's a dirty sinner. That he's sick like the homophobic "AIDS awareness" commercials he sees on TV. Will is pure, and he is absolutely filthy. Will doesn't deserve this. His eyes flood as he scrambles to get off the couch and lock himself in his room.
I will not have you slander the Wheeler name with this behavior, Michael. No son of mine will be seen with another boy like that. If I catch you again, me and Mr. Byers won't let you two see each other.
He slides down his door, hugging his knees like a scared little kid. As he got older, he just viewed Ted Wheeler as an ignorant asshole and didn't give a fuck about him. When he was that age though, being yelled at by his dad was the end of the world. That he failed as a son. Maybe he has. Maybe he's as gross as his dad acted like he was in that moment.
His thoughts make him want to rip his skin off. He shivers as sobs rip through him. He has no idea why this hurts so damn bad. They're almost 20 now, they live in the same apartment and are still best friends. But somehow he feels like his childhood self losing Will all over again. He knows that he's safe, far away from his dad, but his body hasn't seemed to catch the message yet. He forces himself to take a deep breath.
As his breathing starts to even out, Will gently knocks on the door.
"Mike?"
Mike gulps and winces at the burn that follows, his illness showing no signs of improvement. He scoots over so Will can open the door.
"It's open."
Will sinks to the floor beside him. He looks at Mike with kind eyes, the way he always looks at people.
"What happened, Mike? You haven't cried like this in, well, I don't even know how long."
He sniffles, hugging his knees tighter. "It's stupid, don't worry about it."
"I highly doubt that. Try me."
He shakily inhales. If he tells Will, he might look at him like he's crazy. However, his mouth always moves faster than his brain does. Having a fever isn't helping his case. "Do you… do you not remember what happened? When my dad caught us?" His eyes start to water again.
"Oh," Will says softly. He stares at the wall for a minute before speaking again.
"I didn't mean it like that, I just meant I haven't seen you sick like this since then. I don't mind you wanting to be close to me, Mike."
Mike sighs, pulling his legs even closer to his chest. He feels his inner child trying to escape, trying to cling onto Will like he did before their parents put distance between them. He's too tired to fight it. All the thoughts he's suppressed for years start to spill out.
"It felt like they ripped me from you, Will. I don't know why it bothers me so much," he says, voice quivering. A sob escapes his throat. He covers his mouth, resting his head on his knees. Will places a hand across Mike's back, rubbing little circles into his shoulder.
"Mike, you never lost me. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
He sniffles and glances over at Will. "Then why does it hurt so bad?"
Will's hand stills. He looks at Mike like he knows something Mike doesn't. "I can't answer that for you, Mike."
"I mean, you're my best friend. I was just trying to show you love the way I thought adults did. We weren't doing anything wrong." He lets out a choked sob. "We aren't."
"Mike," Will whispers tearfully. He pulls Mike against his chest, wrapping his arms around the taller boy. Nothing is said. There doesn't need to be, not right now. Mike is grateful for Will's innate ability to know what he needs at any given moment.
Will knows Mike needs space to process everything. He hasn't shown emotion like this in years. It's like he stopped having the ability after he watched the world almost end. He certainly hasn't tried to tell Will that he loves him since they started middle school. It was pushed down like most memories and emotions he's had throughout the years. He feels like he's suffocating with all these newfound memories. The hurt crushes him all over again, and he realizes why he made himself forget to begin with.
Mike was once just as kind and sensitive as Will, feeling everything all the time. Then the bullying started. He had to be strong for both him and Will. That's what leaders do. They protect their loved ones and don't wear their heart on their sleeve, because that's how the enemies find your weakness. If you guard yourself, they can't hurt you.
A few minutes pass before Mike speaks again. "I don't know why I feel like this. It's not like this with Dustin and Lucas. My dad just put some bullshit in my head, acting like we were doing something wrong. Now, it just feels like… I don't know."
"Like it burns?" Will answers. Mike nods, resting his head against Will's collarbone. An unsettling thought hits him and he blurts it out before he can stop himself.
"Before you overthink it, it's not because you're gay. I don't have a problem with it! You know that, right?" He perks up and looks at Will. He catches himself glancing down at Will's lips. They look soft and warm, kissable even. What is he thinking? He wouldn't want to kiss his best friend. Would Will even want to kiss him back? Will is far too pretty for a frogface loser like him. His thoughts are reeling. What the fuck is his problem?
Will lets out a small laugh. "Mike, I know you're not homophobic. Relax."
Mike sighs in relief and settles back onto Will. Will's heartbeat is steady in comparison to his own erratic heartbeat. He can't even chalk it up to his fever anymore, something is seriously wrong with him. Somehow he's been possessed by some sort of spirit that makes him want to be close to Will. Although, close might be an understatement. Kissing is a little more intimate than what he usually considers to be "close" to someone. He hasn't kissed anyone since El, but honestly he didn't even really like doing it then. Maybe he's just not cut out to be the romantic type and will end up in a loveless marriage like his parents.
"Mike?" Will asks, pulling him out of his spiral. "We need to get you to bed, you're still super out of it. I don't think your fever's broken yet." Mike just stares at him for a second, starting to feel dizzy between the fever and his mind having about a million things bouncing around at once. He rests his head on Will's shoulder.
"Don't wanna get up," he mumbles into Will's shoulder.
Will sighs and scoops him up seemingly with no struggle. He holds Mike bridal style, like he's the most precious thing in the world. Mike lets his arms hang for a second before he wraps them around Will's neck. The walk from Mike's bedroom door to his bed isn't even that far. Maybe seven steps at most. He could've walked, but this is nice. He feels weightless.
"What the fuck?" Mike questions aloud.
Will laughs as he places Mike on the bed. He grabs a pillow, tucking it under Mike's head while Mike snuggles into his blanket. Once Will determines Mike's settled, he starts to leave. Mike feels a hole in his gut as Will walks out the door. He can't lose him again.
"Wait!" Mike exclaims, sitting up. "Stay with me?"
He looks at Will with those big brown puppy dog eyes, knowing Will can never say no to that. This little trick has had a 100% success rate their whole lives. Will hesitates for a moment, mouth agape as he stares at Mike. Mike knows his request isn't exactly normal but he doesn't care right now.
Will turns around and joins him. He settles above the blanket while turning to face Mike. Mike frowns, clearly not satisfied with this arrangement. Will sighs and complies with Mike's unspoken request to join him under the blanket.
Mike, feeling bold, scoots a little closer to him. He looks a little nervous, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Will looks back at him with a similar expression. They search each other's faces for any signs of discomfort but don't find any. They're both quite content despite how weird this arrangement is.
Mike releases his bottom lip, eyes flicking between Will's eyes and lips. "You know you really are magical, Sorcerer."
Will rolls his eyes and covers his face with his hands. "You're never letting that go, are you?"
"Never," Mike grins. "You're like my own personal superhero."
Will's eyebrow twitches and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but decides against it. He sheepishly smiles at Mike as his face turns pink.
"Shut up and go to sleep, Mike," Will retorts with a hint of amusement in his voice. Mike responds by throwing his leg over Will's and tucking his head under Will's chin. He feels like he's home, like this is where he's meant to be. Safe and snuggled against his best friend. Will wraps his arms around Mike as they both drift off.
Mike wakes up the next day in a daze. He has no recollection of how he got on his bed, the last thing he remembers is falling asleep on the couch. His shirt is on and he's not drenched in sweat, so he assumes his fever broke overnight. However, when did he put a shirt on? Last he remembers, he fell asleep on the couch shirtless.
He stands up and walks to Will's door. It's wide open, his door is never open unless he's not home. That habit started after they came home to Will's door being covered in scratch marks, courtesy of their cat Rocky, named after the Rocky Horror Picture Show, of course. It was the first movie him and Will watched when they moved in together.
Will doesn't have class or work today, so he should be home right now. But he's nowhere to be found. Mike grabs the phone and dials the only person who will give him a straight answer without being a dick about it.
It rings three times before she picks up.
"Hello?"
"El! Hey, can I ask you something?" He twirls the cord around his finger, leaning against the wall.
"He is with Max," El replies.
"You don't know what I was gonna ask!" He scoffs.
"Mike," she sighs. A paw scratches at Mike's leg and he sinks to the floor to greet Rocky. "Will has been your entire world since the day I met you. You also don't call unless you need something."
Mike winces at the accusation, well, the truth. He really should reach out to her more. They spent a whole year and a half thinking she was dead. She managed to get in contact with Dustin without alerting the government a week after they graduated, using a secret code they made up during the crawls. Turns out she had been in hiding with the help of Dr. Owens.
After El came back, she moved in with Joyce and Hopper in Montauk. Mike and Will visited them almost every day that summer despite the nearly three hour train ride. They had a lot of lost time to make up for. Mike had a lot of guilt he was overcompensating for. He and El had technically not gotten back together after Lenora. Their relationship status was still a bit ambiguous, though. They didn't actually sit down and talk about it until she was settled in Montauk.
"You do not love me, Mike. I'm not upset about it anymore. I don't think I ever loved you like that either. We were kids who didn't know any better. There was pressure on us to be like that, so we just went with it. Dr. Owens says it was something called conformity," El said with the same gentle tone Will has.
Mike's chest tightened. He felt like he was being crushed by guilt. It shouldn't hurt, she was telling the truth. They had their first kiss before she could even know what it meant to have a boyfriend. Max had to explain to her that she could break up with him. She had also described the love she felt for Lucas, something Mike and El never felt.
El continues, "I was so excited to be a real person outside of the lab that I rushed into a relationship with you because that's what everyone else does. I went to school with Will because that's what people our age did. But I'm not like everyone else, and neither are you."
The guilt rips out of his chest. He pushed them both to be normal. To act like they were every other couple on the street. He was making out with her instead of helping her learn who she is outside of the lab. He just made her feel like more of a freak. His lip quivered as his eyes flooded.
"El, I'm so sor—"
"It's not a bad thing, Mike. To be different. You don't have to feel bad about this. You don't have to be the person that everyone thinks you are. You just have to be yourself. Find what you like, who you love." She smiled at him and pulled him into a hug.
Be myself? Find who I love? Where the hell did that come from?
"I know I haven't called much, I'm sorry. Should I wait for him to come home or just come over?" Rocky settles down in Mike's lap and nudges his hand, a silent request for being pet. Mike runs his hands down her orange fur.
"Wait, did he say anything to you when he came in?" He asks worriedly.
Will and El were like twins separated at birth. Their stories mirrored each other and they understood each other in a way Mike will never understand them. They tell each other everything.
"Just wait for Will. Be calm or you're going to stress him out more." There's a noise and some muffled voices on her end. "They just got back, I should go."
He groans and rolls his eyes. Why is she being so weird? What stressed Will out so bad? They've been best friends for 15 years come this September. He should be able to come to Mike instead of running to Max and El. Sure, he was a prick as a teenager, but he's changed since being in college.
"Okay, can you just tell Will to come home?" Mike pleads.
"Yes. Bye, Mike."
"Bye, El."
The call drops and Mike lets the phone hang, dangling close to the floor. He leans his head back against the wall. Rocky purrs and snuggles against his hand, which is still petting her. He's thankful that it's Saturday. No classes, no responsibilities, plenty of time to figure out what the hell is wrong with Will before they have to go back to their busy schedules come Monday.
His stomach growls, causing Rocky to scurry away. She's just as dramatic as her father. He decides to order Chinese food, getting Will some extra egg rolls as a peace offering. Mike didn't like egg rolls that much, but they were Will's favorite item on the menu. Will probably got food with Max but it's worth a shot.
The food arrives in about twenty minutes, and Mike plops down on the couch to turn on the TV while he eats his lo mein. He finds himself missing Will more than he usually would. The space beside him on the couch feels oddly cold and empty. He just stares at the place where Will always sits, where the sun comes through the window just right during the day, making his skin glow. He looks majestic in a way.
After another 15 minutes, the door finally swings open. Mike mumbles a greeting and almost chokes on his food. Will looks at him with an expression Mike can't quite place. He doesn't look angry or upset, maybe confused? But his face isn't scrunched up like it is when he's confused. His jaw is slightly clenched and his eyebrows are furrowed. Mike silently offers an egg roll and Will's face finally returns to normal. He gives Mike a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Thanks, Mike. You know you didn't have to get me anything," he almost whispers.
Always so humble. Mike finds it endearing most of the time, but he also wishes Will would just let him treat his best friend. Will hates feeling like a charity case, but this isn't what Mike is trying to do. He just wants Will to be happy.
"I just went to that new cafe with Max," he explains, tossing his keys and wallet in the catch-all tray by the front door.
"Oh," Mike says quietly. His gaze drops to the floor. Maybe the peace offering isn't enough. What the hell did he do wrong anyways? How is this not enough to make things better? It always works.
Will sighs and walks over. He lifts Mike's feet off the couch and sits down in his spot. Mike tucks his feet under Will's thighs. Will basks in the sunlight pouring in the room, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the couch. He looks content, his face now free of whatever was bothering him earlier.
He lifts his head and looks over at Mike. "Are you feeling any better?"
Okay, so we're not getting into it. Whatever. It's fine. At least he sat down.
"Yeah, I think my fever broke last night. My throat is still kinda sore but nothing some Tylenol and cough drops can't fix. Basically back to normal," he says, turning some noodles around on his fork. His throat actually felt fine until he had talked to El, the talking must've irritated it.
Rocky jumps into Will's lap, walking in circles a few times before she lays down. He immediately starts petting her without needing to be nudged. He's always so in tune with everyone else's needs like the little people (and in this case cat) pleaser he is.
Will exhales, "Good, I'm glad you feel better. You weren't acting like yourself last night."
What the hell could he have possibly done for Will to say that? Sure he leaned on Will's shoulder once, but that's not super weird, right? Or did he make Will uncomfortable with that?
He decides to bite the bullet. "I don't even remember last night, last thing I remember is falling asleep on the couch. Where did I get this shirt? I never put one on after I got up."
Will stares at him, mouth agape. It's like he'd grown a second head or something. His eyebrows furrow and he blinks a few times.
"You don't remember?" Mike shakes his head and Will sighs. "Not even saying, 'You're like my own personal superhero'? That rings no bells?"
Mike tilts his head like a dog trying to listen to a human. Honestly that does kind of sound like something he'd say, but he genuinely cannot recall a thing.
"Should it ring a bell?"
"It's the last thing you said to me before you fell asleep," Will says sheepishly. His face is slightly flushed.
"Oh, well that's not too weird. Anything actually note-worthy?" He jokes with a slight smile.
"Nothing I can think of."
Will's face starts to falter before he forces a smile. The flush from before is gone, and he almost looks like he's seen a ghost. He grabs the box of egg rolls and focuses on the random commercial on the TV. Clearly he doesn't want to talk about whatever happened. Maybe it had nothing to do with Mike anyways.
Mike is determined to let this conversation continue, even if he has to change the subject. He can feel Will starting to shut down and that scares him. Something about Will's demeanor has felt off since Mike told him he didn't remember last night. It rubs Mike the wrong way, and he can't help but feel guilty.
He eases into the next topic. "Okay, well, how was the cafe with Max?"
"It was amazing! I had a blueberry muffin, but they had this chocolate croissant you'd like. Max let me try a bite of hers." Will's face lights up. There's a warmth in his eyes that wasn't there before. It relieves some of the guilt settling in Mike's gut.
Mike grins. "Well then we'll have to go back sometime."
Will genuinely smiles this time. "Yeah, we should."