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A summer job at Scoops Ahoy was already stupid — entitled teenagers, mothers that were infuriated about prices, Erica who kept coming for samples — and the fact it was the town that tortured Will from the age of 12 to 16, but he needed the money and the experience before continuing onto his second year of college. What was more stupid though was putting up a sign that said "out of order" on the bathroom's door and taking edibles with Mike post shift, then vomiting it all.
And now he was getting a bit emotional. Shit, maybe the edibles were still in his system. But that gives an opportunity to Will because — after much reflection during and post high — maybe he could trust Mike Wheeler with one more secret.
You see, living in a small town where different almost always automatically meant you were ostracized from a good majority, but being specifically queer (or "appearing" queer to others) in a small town? That was outright dangerous for any individual, if they weren't careful. So, Will Byers, who suffered through this exact scenario at home from the moment he was born (until Lonnie fucked off to god knows where) and at school, he just… never came out to anyone. Will never felt comfortable to, especially with monsters to face and fear almost every day since the age of 12 to 16. It felt incredibly unimportant.
Will always wished that he discovered he likes men by having time to think about it, to fall in love like any other person, but instead it was ultimately thrown at Will like it was an unthinkable fate.
Of course, those around Will always knew he was target for such insults, but no one ever asked him directly if he was or not. Not that Will expected them to, he was certain they would be afraid of the answer, or afraid to make things more awkward for Will.
But by God, he wanted Mike to ask. It was stupid, Mike had been straight for as long as they could understand the concept of man and woman being a couple; he was no different from Lucas or Dustin. However, even if he never reciprocated said feelings, Will wanted to reach out for Mike anyway and feel like he could talk freely about boyfriends too. Will wanted to date, to be loved, too, was that a lot to ask?
It's not my fault you don't like girls!
What did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?
That would've been nice. The ignorance to the real world, narrowed down to a stuffy and damp basement that had been his home for longer than Will would ever admit. Mike was his home, so anything with him for the rest of their lives would've been amazing.
Now, feeling the disgusting colorful and cold tiles from the public bathroom (after long minutes of vomiting into the toilet) underneath him were making him shiver, and the loudness inside his mind made Will want to cry. Was he ever going to be able to say the word gay without flinching? Was he ever going to turn on the news to hear that parliament declared homophobia illegal? Was he ever going to get married?
Was he ever going to be happy?
With his forehead to his knees, Will let out a quiet sob, but it echoed so loudly in the empty bathroom that he genuinely startled. Part of his brain refused to acknowledge Will sounded this pathetic when he was supposed to be having fun.
Speaking of, although the bathroom's silence was deafening and one could mistakenly think Will was the only one there…
He was not alone.
"Will? You okay there?" Mike's voice came from the stall parallel to Will's, as soft as ever, albeit a little hoarse from throwing up.
Will cleared his throat. "I'm- okay."
"I don't believe you." Mike said.
Will then heard shuffling sounds, and long hairy legs came out from underneath the stall — though struggling a little to let the rest of his upper body through. Will couldn't help but chuckle at the view.
"Don't laugh at me!" Mike exclaimed, a smile betraying him from appearing actually mad.
Finally, now next to Will and sat upright, concern replaced Mike's smile as soon as he noticed Will's red and puffy eyes. "What's going on? Was it the edible? We don't have to do it ever again, if you don't want to."
"No," Will let out a wet laugh. "It's not about the edible."
"Oh," Mike cleared his throat, shifting a little. "Then… what is it? You can talk to me."
Will stared at the dark blood red of the stall, deeply considering it. Will could lie. A part of him had become good at dodging questions about his love life or any of his troubles with Mike; it was just too vulnerable, too much at once that Will would shut down immediately.
But today — as Will looked back at those brown doe eyes and the most earnest look that Will had grown accustomed to, but could never get enough of —, something felt different. Something about the way Mike carried himself around Will, the way Mike went out of his way to not only be in the same job as him, but also small things that he just… didn't have to do, but Mike wanted to (according to the man himself):
Buying things for Will (paints, brushes, pencils, charcoal, clothes, books), took Will to multiple places to eat and "familiarize themselves" with the big city, and made his birthday last year make it seem like it was the fucking fourth of July — full feast in the morning, brought friends and family to this restaurant around the corner of their dorm, and a movie night at the end.
It was… too perfect, it was too much for Will's already lingering feelings for Mike. Will swore that he would get over Mike, but how could he? Attentive, sweet, endearingly and infuriatingly stubborn, nerdy, tall, paid attention to details…
So, sue him, Will felt an ugly impulsive hope that maybe, maybe it was worth a try.
Will sniffled as he looked back at the stall, before whispering, "There's someone I like."
"Oh," Mike seemed to need a few seconds to let that information sink in. "I- wait, that's good, no? Unless they- they did something to you, then I'll beat them up myself."
Will laughed harder.
"I'm serious! I can throw a punch, you know?" Mike was smiling, flexing his right arm dramatically for a second.
"Sure you can," Will shook his head and looked away. "In theory, it's a good thing. The problem is, um… I'm not like they think I am. I'm- honestly? Disgusting. Wrong, and everyone just inherently knows that because this fucking town," Will started crying again, "made sure I knew. Everyone made sure that I knew I was a mistake because I was different."
Will took a deep breath, trying to stop his voice from shaking. It didn't work.
"It was really nice at the beginning — liking this person, I mean — because they made me feel like it was a good thing to be different, that it somehow made our friendship better, in a way? But I feel like such a liar, I'm afraid that- that I will lose them if I'm completely honest about my feelings."
Will finally looked at Mike, and he could see different emotions flash on Mike's face — shock, confusion, eyebrows tight knit like he was in deep thought, maybe connecting the loose ends — and how he kept looking all over Will to check if he was lying. Technically he was, but now he was hiding behind a hypothetical person.
"But I figured," he continued, more intimately. "I should just rip off the Band-Aid, right? Because then I'll at least no longer be in this… limbo of what ifs. It will just be, whether they reject me or…"
Will couldn't say it, but he needed to.
"Or love me the way I've selfishly always wanted them to."
It was insanely cryptic and a total shot in the dark. There was no telling if Mike would storm out right now because Will was a queer or if Mike was okay with Will being gay, but had no feelings for him or maybe… maybe all of those small things meant something more. Or Mike would also keep it vague in his response, leading Will right back to square one.
There was no way of knowing for sure, all Will knew was that his gaze was unwavering.
"Will, you're not disgusting, wrong, or a mistake," Mike began softly, but completely serious. "Fuck what this town has to say, it's a shithole anyway. You are the most amazing person I know. You're kind to literally everyone, you're smart, you're talented, you're compassionate and you literally saved my life multiple times and gained powers in the process. I know you don't have powers anymore, but you're still Will the Wise to me regardless."
Will's chest felt full, a warmth blooming from it and spreading across his limbs and his head, making him slightly dizzy. A lonely tear slid down his cheek. "Thank you."
"And I don't know how to ask this without sounding strange, so bear with me. If I'm wrong this is going to be embarrassing," Mike nervously laughed, Will waited patiently. "You… talked about feeling like a mistake, and it reminded me of that day in the van and just- Jane never knew anything about D&D and she never brought up the painting while she was still alive, but Jane did tell me you were painting a lot and that there was someone you liked before spring break. Point is, are you saying… I'm the one you like?"
Will's shoulders tightened, but his voice remained soft and calmer than he felt.
"Yes. You are."
Mike's eyes widened. "Okay, okay…" Mike mumbled to himself, looking around the bathroom for a moment, back to Will. "How long have you… liked me?"
Will looked away. "I don't know. I guess it's just… I've liked you for so long I've forgotten what it was like to not. Like is a gross understatement too."
Will was about to be rejected, he could feel it coming like the lump inside his throat. Until Mike reached out for one of his hands, holding his fingers lightly enough for Will to pull away if he wanted — he did not. Instead, Will's head snapped towards Mike, but he was looking at their connected hands.
"I'm sorry for making you think you would lose me if you confessed to me, I genuinely never meant to cause harm — I would never want to hurt you," Mike caressed his knuckles, then made eye contact again. "I wasn't completely honest with you either. I- um, I wanted to be normal so badly. Summer of '85 up until Jane's death were horrible because I felt that I should have a girlfriend, but I didn't truly want one and it was so confusing, Will," Mike started crying but persisted on, "like we fought monsters before, but that feeling specifically was terrifying. I lashed out on you and I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry. You're not a mistake, there's nothing wrong with liking boys instead of girls, I... also prefer boys over girls. A boy."
Will was dreaming, there was no way that reality was: Mike Wheeler — his straight best friend, his everything — was also gay. Not only that, but Mike also initiated hand holding and just told him he liked a guy too.
Wait.
Will wiped his face dry with his free hand. "Wait, you like… a boy? Who?"
Mike chuckled.
"Who else but you?" He lifted their now intertwined fingers, making a point. "Why did you tell me the painting was from Jane?"
He didn't ask unkindly or accuse Will of anything. Will let a breath out.
"You needed to hear those words from Jane then, not me," Will rubbed his thumb on Mike's. "I also didn't know if we were on the same page. No letters and a rare call through the year, then you wouldn't hug me normally. It was- confusing."
"I'm sorry, Will, I really am," Mike sniffled, wiping tears away with his other hand, then smiled. "The painting would've meant the world to me though if you told me it was from you. It does mean the world to me."
"Really?" Will breathed out, a weight finally off his shoulders.
"Yeah," Mike's eyes glassy, but oh so full of love. "I'm not gonna complain if you paint me more though. I'll fill our dorm with your work like a museum."
Will laughed, suddenly feeling shy. "I'll make sure they're all museum worthy then."
"They always are! Are you kidding?" Mike started using his hands to emphasize his point, but never letting go of Will. "Your drawings are like- like, so alive, you know? Even when you had to go abstract for that last assignment, you can convey emotions in the paint and it's so cool."
"Okay," Will felt his face grow warmer, his cheeks hurting from smiling. "Thank you."
Mike bit his bottom lip, looked down at their intertwined hands then back at Will.
"Can I kiss you?" Mike asked bashfully, then quickly added, "If you're not comfortable, that's okay. We have time, I just- I needed to ask."
Maybe Will could be happy, maybe one day he would have a ring on his fingers and speak vows to the man in front of him — whether it was legally recognized then or not. Maybe Will wasn't so disgusting for having these feelings because Mike had them too and he was the bravest, fiercest, and kindest man he knew, so how could he be disgusting?
"You can. Just, you know," Will shrugged, but his smile did not falter. "I haven't had the opportunity to brush my teeth yet."
"I don't care," Mike let go of Will's hand to move towards him, placing both of his hands on each side of Will's face. "Because me neither."
Their lips sealed and Will felt like he was at the top of the world. Mike's lips were so soft against his, the satisfied sigh Mike let out sent full body goosebumps on Will's body. They were in no rush to end it, instead they were exploring each other's rhythm in that narrowed down version of the universe, where the only thing that mattered to them was this very moment — the connection of soul and body finally being fulfilled.
"I love you." Mike whispered when they separated for a moment, foreheads still touching.
And oh, Will could cry happy tears. No late night scenario, no dream, no drawing, nothing could compare to hearing Mike saying three words.
"I love you too."
And nothing could compare to the euphoria of saying it back.