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It's a warm beautiful summer night, ironically. Mike's life is falling apart at the seems, heart hollowed out and crushed while the moon shines down a beautiful glow on Hawkins, surrounded by twinkling stars.
Mike sighs, eyes closed, while sitting—truthfully, slumping—over the playground swing. With his arms looped over the rusted iron chains, Mike's legs give out under him and he sways forwards feet scraping the mulchy ground. He feels like he's floating. And considering he's currently drunk and sat idly on a squeaky childhood playground's swingset—he might as well be.
The light breeze dries the tear streaks on his cheeks into something cold and stiff and he sniffles, wiping at his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his sweater.
God, Mike feels like such an idiot, and like such an asshole. He wants to be mad, truthfully—at Max, for instigating, and not minding her business. At Will, for being beautiful and radiant, and moving on, blossoming in a city all on his own and no longer needing or depending on Mike. At the world, for dealing them such harsh childhoods, and stealing their youth, their time. But honestly, he was mostly just mad at himself. For being a coward, and doing absolutely nothing when he had the chance. And for being an asshole, and a selfish prick.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
He'd only needed to make it through the week, that's how long Will had agreed to stay in Hawkins for with the Party.
Then Max, damn sly little meddlesome ginger, had gone and started harassingMike about Will.
"Did you even hear him?"
"Yes, Maxine—we all heard him" Mike had sighed, already feeling a headache coming on.
"Here we go" Dustin quips, grinning from ear to ear, always one to enjoy Mike's misery—he was funny like than.
"Babe I don't1—"
"No, shut up Lucas, you know I'm right. Mike, sack up, dude! You—you and Will—you're"
"Max—Will and I are friends. Just friends. He—he's moved on, he's thriving in New Yoir. Clearly, a plethora of people are interested in him" Mike looks up to find his best friends staring at him with sympathy, and he cringes. He wrings his hands on his lap and looks down. "I understand you think, Will and I—you said he had feelings for me. Had, as in past tense, wether that's true or not—it doesn't matter, okay. He's—he's everything you know? And he deserves so much better, he deserves the world—so it doesn't matter that I am head over heels for him because"
"What?"
The group's heads swivel back towards where Will now stands, eyes wide and curious, and they watch him try to catch Mike's eyes.
Mike who had gone eerily still, staring down at his white knuckled fisted hands because—what had Will heard? No one had heard him approach. Mike's heart drops to the pit of his stomach and the anxiety starts to roll out through his body, making the blood rushing in his veins pound loudly in his ears.
"Uh, what?" Max says, eyes wide in panic.
"What uhm—what did I miss" Will says, voice soft as ever, aiming to sound nonchalant but everyone could see right through him.
Lucas nudges Mike under the table and looks at Will.
"Mike was just telling us—"
"That I uh—uhm" Mike clears his throat, hoping to sound normal as he says, "mom actually needed help clearing out some stuff, back uh back at the house. Totally forgot—I'll—I uh—see you later? Okay?"
He chances a look at Will, and he looks a little hurt, brows furrowed in confusion. Mike's an asshole. And a chicken shit at that. Max was right.
But—Mike thinks he's right too So he makes a haste exit and releases a shuddering breath as he leaves the diner.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Obviously, Mike was a liar, and his mom didn't actually need help with anything back home. But he'd panicked and well—here he was now. Wallowing in self pity, smuggled bottle of whiskey from his father's personal cabinet clutched tightly between his chest and left forearm.
He took a swig from the bottle and hissed.
He just needed to think—he needed to like come up with some plausible elaborate lie and…
"Where. The Hell. Have. You. Been!"
Mike shoots up and out of the swaying swing, whirling around to face an angry, sweaty panting Will. He swallows thickly, furiously wiping at his face with his free hand, wincing as the hard plastic seat of the swing slams back into the side of his knee.
"Just uh—hanging around" Mike laughed a little listlessly.
"Your mom said you hadn't been home since you left this morning" Will accused, and Mike shrugged. Fuck, he was screwed. He hadn't planned on seeing Will until he'd figured out what to say in case he did ask what that whole situation had been about.
Will walked towards him, shoes crunching on the mulch as the distance between them shortened.
"You talked to my mom"
"I was worried, you left so quickly and I—Mike, you're drinking?" Will questions, snatching the bottle of whiskey from his hand. "You've been crying" he whispers, hesitating—thinking over his actions before clearly deciding, what the hell. The hand not holding the bottle of whiskey cradles Mike's warm cheek. Thumb brushing away a stray tear from under Mike's bottom lashes.
Mike shook his head, eyes falling shut before they could well up with any more tears. He reached his hand up to Will's wrist and held it against his face, pressing into the warmth of his palm.
"Just allergies"
"Michael" Will said sternly, and Mike opened his eyes to stare into his best friend's own fierce ones.
"I want to be brave" Mike whispers, taking a minuscule step towards Will. "But I'm scared—I'm scared of ruining everything, I'm scared of—Will…I"
Mike's lips tremble, and he bites at them to keep himself from crying.
"Mike, it's okay" Will assures him, but Mike shakes his head because how could anything be okay. He tosses the bottle aside, uncaring that it'll probably waste on the floor. Ted Wheeler can afford it. He takes Mike's face between both his hands and holds it there. Squishing it a little, playfully, until Mike laughs broken with tears running down his face.
"Did you—uh, did you hear me? Back there…"
"Did you want me to?" Will questions, brow raised.
"Would definitely make this a whole lot easier" Mike mumbles once again using his sleeve to swipe at his runny nose. Will wipes away the tear streaks on his cheeks and levels him with a look.
"Then no, I didn't hear anything"
And there it was. An olive branch. Will was giving him the chance to either be brave, or…
"I uh—you're my best friend" Mike starts, a shaky breath expanding his lungs, he reaches up and takes Will's hands in his and begins to softly rub soothing circles into his palms. "You're one of the most important people in my life and I—god, I've been stupid. And selfish, and cowardly and—but you make me want to be brave and if there's even a chance that—that you"
Mike breathes harshly and looks up at Will. His beautiful Will, with his windswept hair, and rosy cheeks. His big brown eyes, wide and attentive, glossed over with unshed tears.
"I love you, Will" Mike admits, softly—the confession rolling off his lips with ease, landing right across into Will's chest. His lips part in a silent gasp and he stares at Mike in bewilderment. "I've loved you, probably my whole life—and"
Mike's words get trapped in his throat as Will reels him in for a slippery, wet kiss. Their faces a teary, snotty mess.
"I love you too, Michael James Wheeler" Will mumbles against him, arms wrapping around his neck. Mike makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat before hiding his face in the crook of Will's neck. "Do you need a moment, baby?"
And Mike squirms, hugging Will tightly by the waist and mouthing at the exposed flesh of his collar bones. Will chuckles, carding his fingers through Mike's tangled curls.
"I think I'm so drunk i'm hallucinating" Mike admits.
"Tell you what—let's get you home into a warm shower, and into bed—I'll uh, I'll stay if you want. We can talk in the morning?"
"Okay" Mike whispers, and in the morning when he wakes up with Will in his arms, his hair tickling his nose, Mike thinks he can be brave so long as Will is by his side.