Chapter Text
“One triple-scoop chocolate-vanilla swirl sundae with crushed pretzel pieces, caramel drizzle, hot fudge, and exactly four gummy bears, and a maraschino cherry without the stem — for one Will Byers.”
Mike lifts the monstrosity in his hands with the bravado of a waiter presenting a five-star meal.
“Jesus, this one’s huge today.” Will immediately laughs at the sight of the giant ice cream cup. He takes it from Mike's hands and flashes him a grateful smile. “You got rid of the stem.”
Mike leans against the counter of Surfer Boy’s Pizza, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “I know your standards.”
“You do,” Will agrees, then slides a pizza box across the counter. Mike opens it immediately.
As his eyes roam over the food, Will commentates, “Alfredo sauce subbed for tomato, pineapple on one half with jalapeños on other. Oh, and extra mushrooms.”
Mike raises his eyebrows at the last part, and Will shakes his head. “You’ve gotta try mushrooms, Mike, they won’t kill you.”
They exchange creations and settle into their usual spots near the end of the counter. Mike holds up a slice of his pizza, while Will scoops up a spoonful of ice cream. They raise their food in the air in a toast, and take their bites.
For a few moments, neither speaks, both concentrating with exaggerated seriousness.
His eyes drift to Will's mouth as Will's tongue darts out to catch a streak of caramel from the spoon. Finally, Mike asks, “Thoughts?”
Will hums thoughtfully. “The pretzels are a surprisingly good addition.”
Mike pumps his fist. “Knew it!”
“But the gummy bears are confusing. It’s messing with the general chocolate flavor profile.”
“Harsh critic,” Mike groans dramatically, which draws a grin out of Will. Will raises his eyebrows at Mike in a silent urge to tell him his thoughts about the pizza.
Mike takes another bite of pizza and chews thoughtfully. He tilts his head. “Pineapple with alfredo is an interesting choice, but it works. The jalapeños complement it perfectly, obviously.”
“Oh, obviously,” Will repeats.
Mike tastes a hint of something else in the next bite he takes, something Will hadn’t told him about. He narrows his eyes, then points at the pizza, “Did you add garlic?”
“Bingo! You got it!” Will’s face lights up instantly, and he points at Mike. “You’re getting scary good at this.”
Mike laughs at the sheer excitement in Will’s expression. “Learned from the best.”
The smile that crosses Will’s face is small but pleased, and Mike is strangely proud of causing it.
Truthfully, the whole thing had started accidentally.
Will had been working at Surfer Boy’s Pizza for longer, already knowing half the menu by heart by the time Mike got hired at Scoops Ahoy alongside Max. Every time they were on the same shift, Mike would visit the pizza place. Or, Will would drop by Scoops Ahoy.
But what started as Mike stealing a few minutes of conversation during his breaks gradually evolved into an unspoken trade agreement. Ice cream for pizza. Pizza for ice cream. Somewhere along the way, it became expected.
Eventually, simply exchanging food wasn't enough. They started making up orders specifically for the other person to try. The goal was ostensibly to unearth as many combinations as possible for pizza and ice cream. In practice, it mostly gave them an excuse to spend half their break arguing. Neither trusted the other's judgment in the slightest, which only made the game more fun, a language only they understood.
“You alone today?” Mike asks Will, reaching over for a slice.
He nods his head and scoops another bite of ice cream. “It’s been light, though. No one’s really in the mood for pizza, I guess.”
“You can always count on me, I’m starving.” Mike shrugs. “Max has restricted the amount of ice cream I’m allowed to eat.”
“Allowed?” Will snorts. “You’re really letting her set your dietary restrictions?”
Mike shakes his head, chewing his bite faster to explain. “Don’t tell her, but I actually need her to. I threw up once.”
“Ew!” Will exclaims, laughing. His hair is tucked beneath his visor, and Mike can see the slight dust of flour on his wrist since his sleeves are rolled up.
Mike grins, and the sound of Will’s laughter eggs him on. “No, Will, it was disgusting. I ate like three pounds of straight cotton candy, and the throw-up was blue.”
“Mike!” Will leans against the counter and ducks his head, shoulders shaking with his loud laughter. He half-heartedly shoves the ice cream cup toward Mike. “We’re eating!”
Mike is about to make another joke, maybe about the particular shade of bright blue his vomit was, just to really push Will’s laughter over the edge, but the shop’s phone rings.
Will straightens and wipes his eyes as he picks up the receiver, still grinning. “Surfer Boy’s Pizza, how can I—”
His expression shifts into a teasing smile, and his eyes brighten. “I’ll pass the message. Bye, Max.”
Mike groans loudly as Will hangs up the phone. “Oh, come on, I just got here!”
“She wants you back ASAP,” Will informs him, grabbing the ice cream cup and crunching on the remaining pretzel sticks. “She says she can’t handle the shop alone right now.”
Sighing, Mike grabs the last slice and stuff it in his mouth as he talks. “She’s just extra pissy today because her and Lucas are broken up.”
“Again?” Will blinks, raising his eyebrows. “I thought they got back together two weeks ago.”
“Thought so too,” Mike tells him, dusting his hands off as he makes to leave. “She told me she likes to keep him on his toes.” He pauses, then frowns. “Hey, do all girls do that?”
Will immediately wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t know. It sounds depressing, though.”
“It’s even more depressing being the one who has to hear about it,” complains Mike. “I get it from both sides, Will. I listen to Lucas plot to get her back, and then I come here and hear Max go on and on—”
The phone rings again. They both snap their head toward it, and Will gives him a sly smile. He reaches over for the receiver, but before he picks it up, he warns Mike, “Listen, this is either Max calling again or a customer.”
Mike huffs in annoyance.
“Either way,” Will continues with a fond smile. “It’s time, Mike. Go back to work.”
Accepting defeat, Mike heads toward the exit, walking backwards. He watches Will pick up the receiver, then yells out, “See you tonight at my place?”
Will has the phone pressed to his ear, but he still smiles and nods at Mike, who grins and finally leaves.
As he’s sucked back into the whirlwind of the mall, he grabs his Scoops Ahoy hat from his pocket and shoves it on his already unruly hair. A large breath escapes him as he starts the trek back toward the ice cream shop.
Two months working here, and he's gotten a sort of rhythm to it now. He knows exactly how to get from Surfer Boy’s Pizza to Scoops Ahoy in the most efficient way possible.
Dodge the crowd usually clustered around the pretzel, cut behind the fountain instead of through the center walkway, and take the escalator near the entrance instead of the one in the middle.
By the time Mike reaches Scoops Ahoy, he can already tell it's bad.
The line is practically spilling out of the storefront. Kids are pressed against the glass display case, pointing at flavors while their parents stand there, exhausted.
Mike stops at the entrance, bracing himself for a moment, then slips behind the counter. The second Max spots him, she rolls her eyes.
“Well, look who showed up.”
Mike scoffs. “I was on break!”
Max doesn't bother responding. Instead she shoves the scooper into his chest. “I'll talk, you scoop.”
Mike catches it automatically. He knows that Max thinks scooping is the shorter end of the stick, because she hates it, but Mike quite likes this aspect of his job.
There’s less room for interacting with other people, which means a lesser need for making aimless conversation and straining his ears over the volume to hear a feeble voice’s order. With the scoop, all Mike has to do is plunge and plop.
And that’s how it goes for the rest of the rush. He hears Max's words and before the receipt is even rung up, Mike has the ice cream in hand.
“Double chocolate chip, single vanilla.”
Plunge and plop.
“Strawberry, one scoop with syrup.”
Plunge and plop.
“Double mint chocolate chip with a waffle cone.”
Plunge and plop.
The rush blurs together after a while, as it always does at a certain point. After a long hour of blurred faces and impatient voices, Mike finally leans against the counter and stretches his sore shoulder. Scooping really does take a lot out of a person, now that he thinks about it.
Max groans dramatically. “My feet are killing me.”
“Sit down, then.”
She rolls her eyes as she reaches over for the lights and switches them off. Mike reaches up and flips the sign as Scoops Ahoy officially closes for the day.
Max is at the register, counting up the money under her breath while Mike wipes down the tables. Behind him, he hears her huff and yank off her sailor hat. A moment later, she ruffles her hair aggressively.
“This stupid thing completely flattens my hair,” she complains. Mike glances over, and her red hair is sticking up all over from the way she’d run her hands through it just now.
“Who do you need to look good for anyway?” He looks back down at the table he’s wiping. “We’re just doing a campaign tonight.”
“No one,” Max says quickly.
Mike hums, unconvinced.
“I told you,” she retorts, pulling off her uniform overshirt. “I’m done with Lucas.”
Mike looks up with a smirk. “Hey, I didn’t even mention Lucas.”
Max groans and immediately throws the hat at his head. Mike ducks and watches as it lands on the table. “I just wiped that!”
“Whatever,” she continues. “I think relationships are out, anyway.”
“Oh?” Mike raises an eyebrow, plucking her hat off the table. “Is that so?”
Max nods as she gathers her hair into a ponytail. “Lucas and I are done. Dustin and Suzie broke up, and then there’s you and El.”
Mike’s hand stills, just for a second. The breakup isn’t exactly new. It had been nearly two months, long enough that most of their friends have stopped asking questions, but the mention of it still summons a pang of emotion.
“How’s Dustin doing with that, anyway?” Max asks.
Mike blinks. “With what?”
She stares at him. “The breakup? Honestly, Mike, keep up.”
“Oh,” Mike slings the rag over his shoulder as he thinks. Dustin had broken up with his girlfriend from camp, Suzie, over two weeks ago. As far as Mike knows, the breakup had been surprisingly good-natured.
“I dunno,” he tells her. “He hasn’t mentioned anything.”
Max frowns. “That’s gotta mean he’s upset. He hasn’t talked to you at all?”
Mike shakes his head. “No, and if he’s upset about the breakup, he would’ve mentioned it. I don’t think it’s a big deal to him, Max.”
Max gives him one of her looks, the kind that says she thinks he’s missing something glaringly obvious. She says in her annoyingly sing-song voice, “If you say so.”
“I do say so.”
“All I'm saying,” Max continues, “is you three guys love keeping all those thoughts and feelings to yourselves.”
Mike rolls his eyes. “Here we go.”
“It's true,” Max insists. “It’s why me and Lucas broke up.”
“What, this time?”
Max chooses to ignore his jibe and continues, ““It's why me and El broke up with you—”
“I broke up with her.”
“—it's exhausting! I mean, how much can a girl handle?”
Mike hums absentmindedly. Experience has taught him that interrupting one of Max's rants only makes it longer. The safest strategy is usually to let her tire herself out.
Max disappears into the back room to change into her normal clothes. Her voice continues uninterrupted, “To be fair, I think we’re all terrible communicators.”
“Probably.” Mike starts cleaning one of the booths, and scrubs hard at a particularly dirty spot. Really, how messy could you get with ice cream?
“I mean, you definitely are.”
“Thanks, Max.”
“And Lucas. And apparently, Dustin too.” Max goes on. She shuts the lights off in the storage room and comes out with a thoughtful expression on her face. “I think we all just need a clean slate. No more petty arguments or breakups.”
She starts gathering her things, still talking. “We’re all best friends, you know? I think it’s time we start acting like it.”
At that, Mike glances up and immediately points toward her. “Yes.”
Max pauses, a little confused about Mike’s sudden enthusiasm. “...Yes?”
“Yes,” Mike emphasizes. ‘Please, yes. I’m sick of hearing about you and Lucas. I get it from both sides, Max, it’s annoying.”
Max glares, a frown tugging on her face as she runs a hand through her ponytail again. “That’s not fair. I listen to you whine all the time.”
“Not about feelings.” Mike tosses the rag onto the counter. He pulls off his hat. “My whining is strictly confined to general topics.”
“Right,” Max rolls her eyes. She turns around to lock the storage room, then slowly turns back. “Hey, when does Will get off work today?”
Mike groans immediately. “Nine. I still don’t understand why they’re keeping him so late.”
Max smirks. “Mm.”
“I mean, the world is awake, Max.” He exclaims, tossing his own hat off.
“Oh, that’s tragic.”
He ducks under the counter to quickly change out of his uniform. “Now Will’s gonna miss out on the beginning of the campaign.”
“The horror.”
Mike suddenly makes note of the sarcasm dripping from her voice, and he pokes his head above the counter to give her a withering look.
Max looks entirely too pleased with herself as she begins to walk out, muttering, “General topics, he says.”
Mike hurriedly shuts the gates to the shop and jogs up to her as she steps on the escalator. “Hey,” he calls. “I’m opening tomorrow. I’ll need the keys.”
She turns around as she steps off and tosses them to him. Mike barely catches them, and the metal jingles loudly in his hands as he follows her outside. “Jesus— you couldn’t have handed them to me?”
Max just laughs as she starts unlocking her bike from the stand. Mike shakes his head, then yells after her. “My house in an hour, Max!”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, hitching herself onto the bike. “See you, Wheeler.”
Mike shakes his head as Max pedals away into the evening. For a second, he just stands there in the parking lot behind Starcourt, keys jingling in one hand.
Then he heads for the bike rack. His own bicycle is wedged between two others, and it takes a minute of wrestling before he finally gets it free. By then, the sun is hanging low in the sky, painting everything gold and orange.
Mike swings onto the seat and immediately starts pedaling. He’s tired. His shoulders ache, his hands smell faintly like waffle cones, and he can’t get the scent of gummy bears out his nostrils.
Despite this all, he finds himself smiling as he makes his way home. Because tonight is campaign night.
Every week, Mike hosts a campaign in his basement. It used to be almost every other day, back when they felt as if they had all the time in the world. But now with school, jobs, and everything else, everyone was busier than they used to be. Getting six people into the same room felt like coordinating a military operation.
The campaigns shifted into a weekly occurrence instead, which is what makes these nights even more special. It’s one full night of morphing into someone else entirely.
During these nights, he’s not Mike Wheeler. He’s the Dungeon Master, the decider of everyone’s fates. He commands the dice, he manipulates monsters, he keeps the secrets.
For a few hours every week, entire worlds exist because he says they do. Maybe that’s childish, but Mike doesn’t care. He loves it– the feeling of being the brave one who takes charge and knows exactly what’s coming.
Mike rides that feeling every week to get himself to the next campaign. The thought alone is enough to make him pedal faster. By the time he reaches home, his mood has improved considerably. He practically jogs the bicycle into the garage.
He dumps his work stuff in his room and immediately starts gathering everything they need. Books, character sheets, miniatures, dice– the familiar ritual is almost calming. After all, a campaign doesn’t just happen, it’s built piece by piece.
Mike is halfway through arranging seats when the doorbell rings. He glances at the clock, and it’s early. Way too early for any of his friends to be here already.
He opens the door and is surprised to find Will is standing on the porch in jeans and a faded t-shirt, his Surfer Boy’s Pizza visor nowhere in sight. He looks slightly tired from work, and his hair is a little flattened from the visor.
“You’re…early,” Mike notes, dumbly.
“Carlton offered to cover the last part of my shift,” Will shrugs with a smile. “Thought you’d want me here on time.”
Mike grins and opens the door wider, and Will steps inside. They both head downstairs, and Mike hands Will a stack of character sheets to start sorting through.
They’ve done this enough times over the years that most of the setup happens automatically. Soon enough, the books are arranged, the DM screen is set up, and they’re ready.
Eventually, Mike glances toward the window. “Hey, is El coming today?”
Will glances up briefly from what he’s doing. “Yeah, Mom’s dropping her off soon.”
Mike nods. “Cool.”
For a minute, only the sounds of rustling paper fills the room. Then, Will speaks again. “You don’t feel too awkward around El, do you?”
Mike pauses, the question catching him off guard. He looks over, and Will isn’t even looking at him. He’s too absorbed in his task of organizing the miniatures.
But Mike can tell he’s paying attention by the way his shoulders seem tense and his movements have smoothed.
Mike waves a hand in dismissal. “S’fine, really. I love El.” The words leave his mouth before his brain catches up. His stomach immediately drops, and a cough bursts out of him. “...being here! I love her being here, I mean.”
He winces internally as his eyes dart toward Will, who’s looking at him warily. “Okay.”
Desperate to change the topic, Mike scrambles his brain for something to say. He pulls out his chair and says, “Max was talking about wanting a fresh start for us. You know, clean slate and all.”
Will frowns, looking over. “What does that even mean?”
“Dunno. She wants to stop all the petty arguments, apparently,” Mike tells him. He shrugs. “I think it’s just a coping tactic for her and Lucas.”
“Right,” Will laughs. “Besides, I think it’s impossible for us to even bother with a clean slate, what with everything that’s happened.”
Mike huffs at Will’s reference to their years of fighting demogorgons and interdimensional monsters. Years where their group had been more divided than ever, both geographically and emotionally.
Mike doesn’t want to stay stuck there.
“No,” he argues immediately. “I think we could do it.”
Will looks amused as he leans back in his seat. “We could?”
“Yeah!” Mike points emphatically. “Leave all the negativity in the past. Let go.”
“You sound like a hippie,” Will snorts.
“Come on, you don’t want that?” Mike asks, half-teasing, half-serious.
Will meets his eyes, and his expression flickers. He sighs. “No, I do.”
Something in his voice sounds genuine. Tired, even. “A fresh start sounds great,” he muses. “Trust me. I would love a fresh start.”
For some reason, that sentence sticks with Mike. He nudges Will with his foot, “We’re already one step closer now that we don’t have to deal with all the crazy Upside Down stuff.”
Will shakes his head. “No, I mean…I just mean with all the history in our group,” he gestures vaguely. “It’s kinda difficult to forget everything.”
“Huh?” Mike furrows his brows, trying to figure out what he means by history– and then, it hits him. “Oh!”
“What, all the dating?” Mike waves a hand dismissively. “Forgotten.”
Will raises an eyebrow, and a smile tugs at Will’s mouth. It’s one of those small, fond smiles of his that makes Mike feel like he’s being perceived in a way he can’t quite understand.
He tries to fight it by insisting, “No, really!” Will’s smile grows, and Mike points at him. “Come on, I’ll prove it to you.”
That finally draws a laugh out of Will. “How?”
Mike opens his mouth and blanks completely. “Uh…I don’t know yet.” He holds his hands up. “But I’ll find a way!”
Will shakes his head, still smiling. “Whatever you say, Mike.”
The rest of the party arrives in pieces. Lucas and Dustin show up first, carrying enough snacks to feed an army. Max arrives shortly after, pointedly sitting in the farthest seat away from Lucas. El arrives not long after with Joyce, who stays just long enough to say hello before disappearing back to the car.
Soon enough, Mike lowers himself into the chair, ready for DM’ing. He unfolds the campaign book in front of him, and a familiar thrill runs through his chest. Looking around the table at his friends, watching them settle in with character sheets and dice and snacks, Mike feels a strange surge of excitement.
He clears his throat dramatically.
"The tavern is full of merchants, sailors, and travelers trying to escape an early autumn storm," he begins, looking up at his friends. “The tavern is host to the five brave figures seated near the back.”
At their mention, everyone leans forward slightly.
The campaign unfolds exactly the way Mike had hoped it would. The party followed clues through ancient forests, nearly got themselves arrested after Dustin attempted to scam a nobleman, and somehow managed to unearth treasure before reaching the mountain pass where the next stage of the adventure awaited them.
The outside world seems to vanish entirely. There’s only the story, the dice, and the sound of the party arguing over their next move.
By the time the party discovers the cave, everyone is deeply invested.
"The entrance is carved directly into the mountainside," Mike narrates, lowering his voice. "Ancient symbols cover the stone walls surrounding it, worn down by centuries of wind and rain. Some of them have almost disappeared entirely, but others remain perfectly preserved, glowing faintly beneath your torchlight."
Will immediately narrows his eyes. "Can Will The Wise read them?"
Mike grins. He's been waiting for that question. "Roll for investigation."
Will rolls. The die clatters across the table.
Seventeen.
Mike consults his notes and has to stifle his laughter at his findings. “Your wizard recognizes the markings almost immediately. They're curse symbols."
An immediate chorus of groans erupt around the table.
"Oh, come on."
"Absolutely not."
"Dude, we're doomed."
“What kind of curse?” Max asks suspiciously.
Mike bites back his grin. “A love curse.”
The reaction is instantaneous. Half the table groans while the other half bursts out laughing. Considering the current state of everyone's relationships, it was probably the worst curse he could've picked.
"You're evil," Lucas informs him quietly.
According to the story, the curse could only affect two members of the party. Which means it was time to roll.
For some reason, the atmosphere shifts the moment Mike reaches for the die. Everyone sits up a little straighter, eager to see the curse’s victims.
The die bounces across the table. It spins, wobbles, then stops. Mike leans over, and blinks.
"Oh."
Immediately everyone starts yelling.
"What?"
"Who is it?"
Mike looks up. "The first person hit by the curse is Lady Jane."
El lets out an embarrassed shriek and immediately buries her face in her hands. The table explodes with laughter. Then Mike reaches for the die again.
He glances up before he rolls. Across the table, Will is watching him. His expression is impossible to read as he waits for Mike to roll, almost challenging him.
Mike holds his gaze for a second before finally rolling.
The die bounces. It spins, slows, and stops.
"Dustin."
Max is grinning ear-to-ear and Lucas claps Dustin on the back, who’s folded in half laughing. Mike locks eyes with Will, who leans back in his chair with what looks suspiciously like satisfaction crossing his face.
And from that point onward, the campaign practically writes itself. Mike continues narrating, but something strange keeps happening.
Usually, when he's behind the DM screen, the rest of the world disappears. He gets lost in the rhythm of storytelling, in keeping track of monsters and maps and plot threads, in watching his players stumble directly into traps he'd spent weeks designing. Tonight, though, his focus keeps slipping.
Every few minutes, his eyes drift toward Dustin and El.
The curse had transformed their characters into hopeless lovers, and both of them have immediately committed to the bit with alarming enthusiasm.
"The court mage announces that destiny itself has united two legendary souls," Mike narrates, trying to keep a straight face.
Mike sees that across the table, Dustin grins at El, who gives a sweet smile back.
"Sir Dustin trips over his own armor while attempting to impress Lady Jane,” Mike tells the party after a mission.
El giggles, and Mike notices that a deep red color has started creeping steadily up her neck.
Further into the campaign, the love curse’s effects are still obvious, and Mike continues, "Lady Jane cannot stop gazing at her beloved."
El buries her face in her hands again while Dustin takes a ridiculous bow from his seat, earning a bout of laughter.
The thing is, none of this feels strange. All of their dramatics about Dustin and El’s cursed love seems to fit in.
The thought catches him off guard enough that he nearly loses his place in his notes. Because it should feel strange, shouldn't it?
El is his ex-girlfriend. Dustin is one of his best friends.
It doesn’t feel strange. Maybe this was what Max wanted by a fresh start, letting go of old arguments and old baggage and whatever lingering awkwardness still exists between them.
Mike had mostly dismissed it as another one of her attempts to cope with her latest breakup, but now, watching Dustin and El laugh together over a fictional love curse, he starts wondering if maybe she'd stumbled onto something.
Mike's eyes drift back toward Dustin and El, and suddenly, the idea arrives so quickly and so completely that Mike almost misses an entire section of narration.
By the time the campaign reaches its conclusion, Mike is barely paying attention to the final battle. Everyone cheers as they celebrate their victory, but Mike’s mind is occupied by a completely different mission.
The second people start gathering their things, he begins looking for Will.
He finally catches him near the basement stairs while everyone else is busy arguing over loot distribution.
"Will," he says, grabbing his arm before he can leave. "I've got it."
Will looks immediately concerned, which Mike thinks is mildly unfair considering he hasn't even explained anything yet.
"You've got what?"
"The proof."
Will blinks. “For what?”
“How to do it– fresh start. The clean slate. The thing we were talking about earlier.” Mike can barely contain his excitement now that he's figured it out. “I know how to prove it.”
Will crosses his arms. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Get Dustin and El together.”
For a moment, Will simply stares. Then, he starts laughing, hard enough that he bends forward slightly as he covers his face.
Mike waits patiently for him to finish. Eventually Will straightens again, still smiling. “You’re joking.”
A few seconds pass while Will studies his face, and Mike can practically see the exact moment he realizes this isn't a joke. “Oh.”
“See?”
“No,” Will shakes his head slowly. “No, I don’t see.”
Mike throws his hands up. "It proves everything."
Will looks genuinely bewildered. "How?"
“If they can forget all the dating history in their group and ignore all the feelings, it’ll do it,” Mike tells him, a gleam in his eye now. “It’ll show that all of us can really start over with a clean slate.”
The confusion on Will’s face deepens slightly. “Dating history. You mean, El’s dating history…with you.”
Mike shrugs. “Sure.”
Will’s eyes don’t leave his face, and Mike grows defensive. Mike says, “I don’t get why that matters.”
Will immediately looks away. “It doesn’t.”
“Then why bring it up?”
Will opens his mouth, then closes it again. He looks oddly frustrated. Finally, he shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m being stupid.”
The answer doesn't really answer anything, but before Mike can press further, Will rubs a hand over his face and lets out a laugh that sounds equal parts amused and resigned.
"You know this plan is insane, right?"
Mike waits for him to say more. It’s sounding a lot like Will is becoming more and more on board.
For a few moments Will just stands there thinking, and Mike can practically see him weighing all the reasons this idea is terrible. Eventually, though, the resistance begins to crack.
"Honestly," Will says at last, shaking his head, "I guess there's nothing to lose."
Mike immediately brightens. "Exactly."
"If this goes horribly wrong, I'm blaming you."
"That's fair."
"And if Dustin finds out we're meddling in his love life, or El—"
"They won't."
Will gives him a look, and Mike grins. A moment later, he thrusts out his hand.
“Are you in?”
Will stares at it for several seconds before hesitantly reaching forward. Their hands clasp together. Will’s hand is warm beneath Mike’s fingers.
“I’m in.”
And with the confidence of two people who have absolutely no idea what they're doing, Mike Wheeler and Will Byers shake on their newly-formed plan.