Archive of Our Own

The airport is a cacophony of sound, buzzing with people arriving and reuniting with loved ones, family members leaving and wishing tearful goodbyes, and colleagues shaking hands at the end of a productive business trip. Sun streams in through the windows, bathing the terminal in warm, buttery light. Will stands between his siblings as they scan the crowd for a familiar face.

"There he is!" Jane says brightly. Her smile is radiant as she jogs away from them toward the lanky figure making his way over. "Mike!"

They reunite. They kiss. Mike gives her a bouquet of delicate flowers, and Will tries very hard not to feel a pang of jealousy. It isn't his place to feel jealous of his sister, not when Mike has never been his to begin with. Still, he'd been Will's best friend for as long as he can remember. Will hasn't ever known a life without Mike Wheeler—not until he moved to California and Mike refused to respond to his letters.

He's still Will's best friend, though. That has to count for something.

Mike steps within reach, and Will opens his arms. He thinks back to the hug they shared before he left Hawkins, warm and familiar and safer than anything in the world. Will thinks it'll be nice to bookend their time apart like this, a hug on either side of the distance separating them to remind them both that they're still best friends. They're still here for one another, despite the months of silence.

Except…Mike doesn't hug him.

He pats Will awkwardly on the shoulder and refuses to look into his eyes.

Will steps back, heart thundering in his chest. It's a painful rhythm, aching against his ribcage. He schools his features into the most neutral expression he can and listens as Mike halfheartedly asks about the painting he's holding. He can't give it to Mike, not now. He'd thought—hoped—it could be a peace offering of sorts, a way to bridge the gap between them, but if Mike can't even look at him, Will knows he won't see the painting for what it is, won't care about what Will's trying to tell him through his art.

He trails after Mike and Jane as they make their way out of the airport, shoulder brushing against Jonathan's as he walks. Jonathan's steady presence at his side is a balm. Will listens as Jane outlines the day she has planned for them—breakfast burritos and roller skating and a day all about them. Will knows the plan is for him to join them, to spend time with the best friend he hasn't seen for months, but he feels so unwelcome, like he's intruding on their date.

The glare his sister sends him and the slap to his chest with the bouquet she gives him when he catches on to her blatantly lying to Mike is proof enough. Today isn't about him at all. It's Jane's perfect reunion with her boyfriend, and Will doesn't have a place within it. It doesn't matter that he's missed Mike, too. It doesn't matter that today is Will's birthday. He shouldn't even be there, not when their plans are only really for Jane and Mike. He's intruding, and he knows himself well enough to know that he's not going to be able to put on a happy face and let himself be excluded without showing just how badly it hurts him. He'll only ruin their time together if he sticks around.

Will's conclusion only solidifies itself throughout breakfast. Mike doesn't talk to him, and Jane doesn't try to loop him into their conversation. She's fully wrapped up in him, starry-eyed and so blissfully happy that Will feels sick at himself for being so upset. Mike doesn't even care that Will is right there with him. It feels like last summer all over again. Will is invisible to them, so far away despite being within arm's reach. He feels a little stupid for even hoping for something different. He'd just thought Mike would be happy to see him, would've missed him at least a little bit.

"Hey, Jonathan?" Will asks as they make their way back into the sunshine after breakfast. His brother glances over, slowing to a stop before he can clamber back into Argyle's van. "I know you wanted to spend the afternoon with Argyle after dropping us off, but I don't think I'm really up for going to the roller rink today. Could you take me home before you go, please?"

"Of course, bud," Jonathan says, expression softening into something sad. "You sure? I know how much you were looking forward to today." When Will nods, Jonathan purses his lips and studies his brother. "Do you want some company? I know I told Argyle we could hang out for a while, but I'd honestly rather spend the day with you." He nudges Will's shoulder, and Will offers him a sad smile.

"You really don't have to," he says softly. "I understand."

"I want to," Jonathan replies easily. "It's your birthday, Will. You deserve to spend it with the people you love."

Will's stomach twists at Jonathan's wording. Of course, his brother always somehow manages to see into the heart of the issue. He knows Will better than anyone.

"If you're sure…" Will says, trying to hide just how badly he wants the company. He wants Jonathan to choose him. It's been too long since he's felt like anyone's priority.

"Of course I am." Jonathan slings an arm around Will's shoulder and pulls him in for a quick hug. "We can listen to the new mix tape I made for you, and maybe we can try to make you a cake before Mom does."

Will wrinkles his nose, remembering last year's cake, burnt and lopsided despite his mom's best efforts. Jonathan laughs and ruffles Will's hair. He nods toward the van, and Will climbs into the back with Jane and Mike. They don't ask him what he'd been talking to his brother about, and he doesn't tell them. Why would he? They didn't even notice, nor would they care. He shouldn't blame them for it, anyway.

The van pulls into the parking lot of Rink-O-Mania, and Will watches as Mike and Jane hop out. He doesn't move, and Jane sends him a puzzled look. Mike frowns.

"Aren't you coming?" Mike asks. Will shakes his head in reply.

"Enjoy your date," Will says. "I'll see you guys back at home."

"Come on, Mike," Jane says, tugging at his arm. Mike looks at Will for a long moment, expression unreadable, before he turns and follows her.

Will shuts the van's door and turns back toward the front of the car, locking eyes with Jonathan. His brother nods at him encouragingly, and Will offers him the best smile he can muster. He really is looking forward to a quiet afternoon with his brother. Jonathan is one of his favorite people in the world, and Will hasn't spent nearly enough time with him lately. He tries not to feel left behind by him, but it's hard not to feel a little lonely when Jonathan is always off getting high with Argyle. Even when he's there, he's absent in a way he never has been before.

At least he remembered Will's birthday, which is more than he can say for his best friend.

"Do you think Will's okay?" Mike asks, turning to look back as the van drives off, leaving them behind at the roller rink. El tugs on his hand and pulls him to the front door, and when Mike glances at her, her mouth is set into a thin line.

"I am sure he just wanted to let us spend some time together. I have been so excited for today. I missed you so much, Mike."

"He looked upset," Mike says.

Still, he follows her inside. Rink-O-Mania is a whorl of light and color and noise, and it's immediately a little overwhelming, made all the worse by the sinking worry he feels in his stomach. Will should be here. He was supposed to be here, but he backed out at the last moment. What happened? Is he okay? Mike gets distracted from his spiraling thoughts long enough to get his skates and socks, but the reprieve doesn't last long. He laces his skates up and tries to school his features into something pleasant, hiding the undercurrent of anxiety and irritation bubbling up within him.

"Mike," El says, and Mike glances up at her with a raised brow, feeling suddenly impatient. "Will is fine. I think he is just being a good brother." She reaches out and squeezes his arm, smiling prettily at him.

"But he's not being a good friend right now," Mike mutters back.

"Does that matter?" El asks with a huff. "Today is about us, Mike, not Will."

"Well, maybe it should've been about all three of us." Mike sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. He doesn't want to argue with El right now. He doesn't want to explain himself. "I guess you're right, though. It's not like there's anything we can do about it now that we're here. Let's just…try to have a nice time."

And for a while, they do. It's nice, even though Mike feels like something—someone—is missing. Mike and El skate laps around the rink, holding hands and trying not to topple over. Mike finds himself constantly looking over his shoulder, looking for someone who isn't there. Every sarcastic joke he thinks of has nowhere to go, because every time he turns to say one, he's reminded that Will isn't there to laugh at it.

Why did Will decide to go home? Why didn't he want to stay with them?

Mike knows he's been absent lately, but he'd thought Will would at least want to spend some time together after months apart—the longest they've ever gone without seeing each other. Mike knows he hasn't been great about showing Will just how much he misses him, but surely Will understands, right?

Mike and El take a break from skating and get milkshakes, sitting side by side in a booth and smiling at each other as they knock their shoulders together. Mike tries so hard to be present for her, to not be distracted. El deserves a nice day. Still, he can't help but wonder why she's so determined to make it a day just for them, with no room in it for Will. Yes, she's his girlfriend, and this is a date, but it wasn't supposed to be. Not at first. It was supposed to be a day for the three of them: Mike, his girlfriend, and his best friend.

He's missed both of them. He doesn't know why El is acting like that doesn't matter, that Will missing Mike doesn't matter, either. Mike had seen it in his hurt expression at the airport, when Mike couldn't even bring himself to hug him. He'd been awkward and uncertain, and he hates himself for upsetting Will. Everything is just so different between them, now, and it leaves Mike feeling wrong-footed and clumsy. It's a feeling he's never had with Will before.

He'd never replied to Will's letters.

I miss clouds. I miss you.

The thing is, Mike had tried. He'd written a letter four pages long in response to that letter before realizing he couldn't send a single word of it. There's too much that bleeds out from Mike's heart to the paper whenever he writes to Will. Too much he never says to El but comes as easily as breathing when it's for Will.

Love, Mike

God, what a joke.

He has a sinking suspicion as to why he can only keep things surface-level with El but dive deep with Will. Why he signed all of their letters with one distinct difference. El had asked about it in one of her letters, and Mike had carefully skirted the topic. He told her he struggles with his words sometimes, and that some things need to be said aloud, not just written. It's not quite a lie, but, well, it's not exactly the whole truth, either.

The truth is ugly. The truth sits somewhere between daydreaming about pretty hazel eyes and a distracting beauty mark right above plush lips and thinking about how little he and his girlfriend actually have to say to one another. Nothing with El feels real, the way it does with Will.

Every time he tries to involve her in something he cares about, he's met with disinterest. El doesn't care about D&D or Star Wars. She's never read any of the books Mike's recommended to her. El says she loves him, but does she even know him? She certainly doesn't love any of the things that make Mike who he is. They don't have anything in common, much less anything to really talk about. Most of their conversation today has been catching up on the months spent apart.

Mike sips his milkshake and smiles at El and laughs at her jokes and feels a little hollow. He watches as a few people their age approach their table, and El's smile thins. The girl leading the group introduces herself as Angela, one of El's friends he's heard so much about, which is strange, because El had said he wouldn't meet any of her friends today. The other teenagers drag El out of the booth to go skate with them, and Mike takes the moment of solitude to think about what Will could be doing right now, whether he's having a good afternoon without them.

Mike hears the music cut out, followed by a shout of surprise, and then roaring laughter, and the crowd parts to reveal El on the ground, covered in her chocolate milkshake. Mike shoots to his feet and stumbles over to the rink, trying to get to her as quickly as he can. He pushes past people laughing at his girlfriend and nearly knocks over a guy holding up a camera. El storms off before he can reach her. Mike tries to follow but quickly loses her in the throng of people.

He spends time looking for her, but it isn't until a scream pierces the air that he finds her. El stands over Angela, skate in her hand and fury in her eyes. Blood pours from Angela's nose in a mockery of what happens whenever El uses her powers. But she didn't use her powers; she can't, not anymore. She used brute force to hurt this girl, and for some reason, that fact settles uncomfortably under Mike's skin. His voice is high and strained when he asks her what she's done, even though they're both looking at her handiwork. They both know what she's done, what she's chosen to do, without her having to say a word. El's anger and violence feel different when they're not accompanied by a wave of psychic power. It feels worse—more real, maybe.

El storms off, and this time, Mike is able to follow her without her disappearing into the crowd of people. They make their way outside and into the sunshine before El stops and whirls on Mike, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"You did not even realize I needed help," she accuses. Her eyes narrow into a flinty glare. "You were too distracted. You have been distracted this entire time."

"What are you talking about?" Mike asks, defensive.

"You have been too concerned with Will to pay attention to me," El snaps. "You spent our date completely focused on why he stayed behind and if he is alright. You came here to visit me, Mike. I have not seen you in months, and you could not even give me one afternoon with you?"

"I'm not just here for you," Mike says, temper rising to match hers. "In case you've forgotten, Will's my best friend. I'm here to see him, too."

"Are you serious?" El says with a sardonic laugh. "That did not matter at all last summer, Mike. And you stopped talking to Will months ago. Why do you care now? What makes him more important than me?"

"That's not fair, El! You're being ridiculous right now. Besides, Will has nothing to do with this—with us. Or with you acting like a psycho and attacking that girl."

"I am not a psycho," El says coldly. "Angela has been cruel to me since we moved here."

"You told me she was your friend. Why the hell would you lie about that?"

"It does not matter. What I am more concerned about is how you noticed Will looking upset earlier but did not realize I was in trouble until I was completely humiliated in front of everyone."

"Oh come on, El," Mike says, rolling his eyes. He can't believe they're having this conversation. He wishes he'd stayed back with Will. "I wasn't expecting anything to go wrong when you were just skating around with your friends."

El shakes her head with a scoff. Mike doesn't think he's ever seen her look so frustrated with him. He doesn't understand how he could've made this any better. His earlier thoughts return to him, about how he doesn't think he and El really know each other all that well. Mike probably would've been able to tell that something was wrong had Angela dragged Will away. He's always been so attuned to Will's every emotion, practically able to have an entire conversation with just one look.

He's grateful when the pizza van rolls to a stop in front of them, ready to take them back to the Byers' house. Back to Will.

Will's actually a bit surprised at just how nice his afternoon is. He and Jonathan listen to the mix tape he'd gotten for his birthday, and they manage to bake a cake without starting any fires. It turns out a little lopsided, and the frosting isn't pretty by any means, but it smells delicious. Will manages to forget about the ache in his heart for a little while, too busy laughing at his brother's jokes and reveling in the comfort and familiarity of having him close. He's missed this.

Will retreats to his room when Argyle comes to pick Jonathan up to go back to the roller rink. He sits on his bed and picks up his new sketchbook—a birthday gift from his mom. He wants nothing more than to lose himself in the process of creating art. It's always been his favorite means of distracting himself—be it from inter-dimensional horrors or heartache. As much as he's enjoyed painting lately, he's not sure he can bring himself to bare his soul onto another piece of canvas just yet. Not so soon after Mike's disinterest in the painting Will poured his heart into for him.

He starts a new sketch of Will the Wise. This drawing is going to just be him alone, without his party. Isolated and still facing down the monsters around him with a brave face. It's a reminder for himself. Will loves his friends, and he needs them in his life, but he's strong all on his own. He's survived far worse than Mike Wheeler's absence.

He hears the front door slam, and he barely stops his hand from jolting and ruining his drawing with a stray line. Will listens, and he doesn't have to wait long before angry voices reach him. He wonders what changed between when he left the skating rink and now to make Jane and Mike sound so upset with one another.

"You have been ignoring me all day!" Jane shouts.

"And you've been lying to me, El! Whatever happened to 'friends don't lie'? Besides, I spent the whole day with you. What more do you want from me?"

"Maybe I want my boyfriend to pay attention to me after not seeing each other for so long. It was like you were hardly there, Mike. You never even noticed anything was wrong until I got a milkshake dumped all over me."

"That wasn't my fault," Mike argues back, voice thin with irritation. Will recognizes what that tone means. It sounds like pouring rain and words that can't be taken back. "Maybe I could've helped you out before then if you hadn't lied to me. Maybe you wouldn't have hurt someone if you'd just been honest, El."

Will hates raised voices, hates arguments and the thrum of danger that still sings through him whenever he hears one. His hands start shaking before he's even aware of how shallow his breath has gotten. He wants to leave, to hide, to somehow stop the argument before it can get any worse, but he's frozen in place. Jane storms toward her room and throws a glare in Will's direction when she spots him through his open door.

"You ruined the entire day," she snaps bitterly.

Will flinches back, the words landing like a slap. She slams the door and locks herself in her room before he can say a word in response. He sits there, dumbfounded. Will doesn't understand what he's done wrong. He'd tried so hard to avoid this. He'd stayed home specifically so he wouldn't put a damper on their day, but it seems Will just existing is enough to ruin things, his intentions aside. Will manages to stand up on shaky legs and cross to his door. He spots Mike in the hallway, glaring at Jane's door as if he could get it to open through sheer force of will. Mike looks up when Will moves into view.

"I'm sorry," Will murmurs, fighting to keep his voice from trembling. He's never handled being shouted at well. He shuts his own door before Mike can reply.

Will decides to stay in his room until his mom knocks and tells him dinner is ready. When he steps into the hallway, his mom presses a kiss to his forehead and smiles at him, and Will feels his guard slowly lower. His sister might be furious at him for some reason, but his mom won't let anyone hurt him, not even Jane's careless words and biting anger.

Mike and Jane don't yell at each other during dinner, but that doesn't make it any better. It's almost worse, somehow. Mike says something insensitive about what happened at the rink, about a skate attack, and Jane storms off, leaving her half-finished plate of risotto on the table. Murray Bauman, of all people, sits staring at Mike with an amused expression. Will still doesn't know why he's even here.

"Trouble in paradise?" Murray asks knowingly. Mike glowers at him.

"Well," Will's mom says, clearing her throat. She looks desperate for a change of topic. She glances over at Will and smiles at him warmly. "I think it's time for dessert. Will and Jonathan made it before I had the chance to." She stands and squeezes Will's shoulder as she moves past him.

Will didn't think this through. He really, really didn't, because his mom is bringing out the cake he and Jonathan made, and there are fifteen candles lit on top, and then she and Jonathan start singing off-key, and Mike's face drops. Will blows out the candles and pointedly avoids Mike's eyes.

"So Will," Jonathan says with a grin. Will can see his eyes shifting from Mike and back to Will again. "Have you gotten to break in your new sketchbook already?"

"Um, yeah, I started a drawing this afternoon," Will says quietly. He looks up at his mom, who beams at him. "Thanks again, Mom. It's really great."

"You liked the new mixtape Jonathan made for you, too, right?" His mom asks, still smiling. Will wants to crawl into a hole and pretend this day never happened. She doesn't know better, but from the wicked look in Jonathan's eyes, he knows they're rubbing salt in the wound with every word. Will still can't bring himself to look at Mike.

"It's super cool," Will says, and he means it. His brother still has the best taste in music of anyone he knows. "I'm glad Jon and I got to listen to it together."

"Yeah, well, my little brother deserves to be celebrated today," Jonathan says. Then, with feigned nonchalance, he asks, "Have you opened your gift from Mike yet?"

Will kicks Jonathan's shin under the table, gentle enough not to hurt but firm enough to make his point. Mike coughs awkwardly, and all Will can manage is a shake of his head. Murray guffaws.

"Double trouble in paradise," he says around a laugh. "Tough break, kid."

"Did El do anything for your birthday?" Mike asks. His voice sounds tense in a way Will has trouble placing.

"No, I only mentioned it once in passing, and she's been so excited about you coming today that I think it slipped her mind," Will says evenly.

What's your excuse, Mike? Will almost hates himself for the thought even as it rattles around in his head. Mike isn't even here for him; that much is clear. All of Will's childish hopes need to be set aside. He's another year older, after all. He can't be a kid forever. It's like Mike told him last summer: he has to grow up.

"She should've come back out of her room when she heard us singing," his mom muses, glancing down the hall with a furrowed brow.

"She's, uh, mad at me?" Will says with a shrug. "I think?" He fights the urge to fidget with his hands.

"It's not your fault," Mike says quickly. "She's mad at me and just projecting it onto you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Good to hear," Will murmurs. He takes another bite of his cake. It's tasty but not good enough to provide a proper distraction from this train wreck of a conversation.

Mike seems to feel the need to escape, too, because he stands up, mutters something about needing to talk to El, and leaves the room. Will watches him go and feels a crushing emptiness as he walks away, leaving Will behind yet again. All Mike ever seems to do anymore is leave him behind. It shouldn't feel like a choice, like a line in the sand, but it does, and it hurts. Will sighs and buries his head in his hands. He wants today to be over.

"Sorry, Will," Jonathan says softly. Will looks up at his brother and manages a nod. He appreciates the apology, even if he's not angry with Jonathan. "I shouldn't have pushed," he continues. "I didn't mean to make things worse."

"It's not your fault."

"Right, it's mostly Mike's fault, but I'll take at least a little blame."

Will rolls his eyes but can't fight back a grin. Jonathan looks a little smug about it, pleased to have coaxed a smile out of his brother. They finish dessert in relative peace, and Will quietly excuses himself to his room after he rinses off his plate. He's grateful he can't hear whatever conversation or argument Jane and Mike are having in her room.

The knock on his door comes as a surprise. Will crosses the room and opens it to reveal Mike, which is even more surprising, honestly. Will expected his mom or his brother. For a moment, Mike just looks at him, hunched a little so they're at eye level with one another. Will has spent months missing the exact shade of brown he sees in Mike's eyes. In a better world, Mike would let him recreate the color, swatch it in paint, so he could always carry it with him. In this world, Will's heart just hurts at the sight.

"Can I come in?" Mike asks, voice soft and gentle in a way Will hasn't heard from him in a long time. When Will nods and steps aside, Mike lets out a breath, like he'd been afraid Will would refuse. "Thanks."

He takes a look around Will's room and smiles at the familiar trinkets and photos. Mike reaches for a frame that Will keeps on his desk, picking it up with a wistful expression. It's the Party holding up their science fair trophy. It's a happy memory Will clings to, even though he knows he needs to let go. His friends have left him behind, through no fault of their own. Will thinks about the D&D club they all joined the moment he moved away after a summer of begging them to play with him, and he wonders what he did wrong.

"I miss this," Mike says, still holding the photo. "I miss when things were easier. Don't you?"

"Yeah, well…" Will sighs. "We all have to grow up eventually, don't we?" He tries not to let the words sound bitter. Mike glances at him, stricken. Will avoids his gaze and moves to sit down on his bed, choosing instead to stare down at his hands. Finally, he finds the courage to speak again. "What do you want, Mike?"

"I wanted to apologize," Mike says. He sets the photo down and sits beside Will. "I've been a jerk, and I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Will says. He still won't look at Mike. He can't. "You wanted to focus on your girlfriend."

"I wanted to spend the day with both of you," Mike argues gently.

"Did you?" Will asks. "After the airport, I thought I was kind of just in the way. Figured it'd be easier if you didn't have a third wheel hanging around."

"Will no, that's not it," Mike says. He pauses, and Will looks up. He's visibly struggling with his words. "I just—things have been weird, okay? And I was so wrapped up in my own head about things, and I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to go home without us."

"Weird," Will says flatly. He pushes back a wave of hurt and fights to keep his voice level. "Is this…Mike, is this because of that fight we had last summer?"

It's not my fault you don't like girls!

"No! God, no." Mike runs a hand through his hair, and despite himself, Will wonders if the dark strands are as soft as they look. "I never should've said that to you. I regretted it the moment I did. I'm really sorry, and I know I can't take the words back or anything, but I need you to know how sorry I am."

"What is it, then?" Will asks. He locks eyes with Mike and struggles to recognize the depth of emotion he sees in them. "You never wrote back to me, and today you acted like you wanted nothing to do with me, and you forgot my birthday for the first time ever, and I don't understand why." His shoulders slump as he forces himself to look away. "We used to be best friends." His words come out quiet and small.

"We are," Mike says. He rests a hand on Will's shoulder. Will hates that the touch is grounding, comforting in a way nothing else ever is. "We are. You're the most important person in my life." Mike chews on his lip for a moment, considering what to say next. "That's kind of why El and I fought earlier. Like I said, you didn't do anything wrong. It was all me. I guess I was more worried about figuring out why you decided to go home than I was about spending time with her, and she's mad at me because of it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Will replies. He genuinely feels bad for his role in their argument. He hadn't realized that hanging back and letting them have their date would backfire like this. "I didn't mean to cause any issues."

"The issues were already there anyway, and that wasn't the entire reason she got angry," Mike says with a shrug. "Trust me, El had a lot to say."

Will senses that Mike isn't done talking. He has a lot on his mind, and the best course of action is to wait him out. Even after months without talking, Will still knows him—still intrinsically understands what he needs. The two of them sit side by side in silence for a stretching moment. Mike finally heaves a sigh.

"She's mad that I know you better than her," Mike says. "I could tell earlier that you were upset about something, but with her, I had no idea anything was wrong when that girl Angela pulled her away. I mean," he rolls his eyes and continues, "El told me Angela was her friend. How was I supposed to know she'd been lying to me?"

"We've known each other a lot longer," Will says diplomatically. "You've spent as much time as you can with Jane since you met her. It's just one of those things that takes time."

"You know, something she said has been bothering me." Mike looks over at him and catches Will's raised eyebrow. He snorts softly. "Okay, bothering me more than everything else. I told her I'm here to spend time with both of you, and she asked me why. You're totally right that I've spent all my time with her since we started dating, and I've done a terrible job of balancing my time with El and everybody else important to me."

"Oh," Will says. "I, um, yeah, I noticed that."

"I was kind of a jerk last summer, wasn't I?"

"You prioritized your girlfriend, that's all."

"I left you out," Mike argues. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have made you feel unimportant. And then when you moved, I screwed things up with you even more." He shakes his head, frowning. "I keep screwing everything up." Mike stands and says, "Wait here."

He leaves the room and comes back a minute later, clutching an envelope. He looks incredibly uncomfortable, but after a moment, he steels himself and sits back down next to Will. He holds the envelope tightly enough to crinkle the paper.

"Read this," Mike says, handing it over. "It's for you."

Will opens the envelope and reaches inside, retrieving the paper waiting for him and unfolding it. Will smooths the crease with his thumb and studies the top of the page. It's a letter dated just a week after he'd moved to California. He begins to read.

Dear Will,

How did the move go? Are you settling in well? I can't wait to hear all about your new house and school. You'll have to tell me all about California and what it's like there.

Hawkins feels really strange without you here. School is weird because I keep expecting you to be there when I turn around with something stupid to say. Max, Lucas, and Dustin are all great, of course, but it's just not the same. Dustin's trying to convince me to join this D&D club, Hellfire, but I'm not sure about it. I know you said you wouldn't join another party, and I don't want to, either.

I miss D&D, though. I should've played when you asked, or at least taken it seriously. Lucas and I were jerks that day. I said some truly unforgivable things, but I hope you'll forgive me anyway. I'm sorry about all of it: ditching you all summer and making you feel stupid for caring about things. The truth is, I still care about all of it. I was just pretending I didn't because it's what I thought I needed to do to grow up. That was dumb of me. I can grow up and still enjoy the things I like, but I guess at the time it felt like I had to leave everything from childhood behind.

I never meant for that to include you.

I don't want to leave you behind, Will. I don't think I could handle living in a world where you're not my best friend. I know it's my fault things got so bad between us this summer, but I hope things can get better soon.

I miss you, Will. More than I can say.

Love, Mike

Will looks up at Mike, and he knows his eyes are glossy with tears.

"There are more letters," Mike says. "I wrote to you a lot, Will. I brought this one, the first one, because I thought maybe it'd help fix things and let you know I was thinking about you. That I never stopped caring."

"You wrote," Will breathes. "I thought you'd just ignored my letter, or it got lost in the mail, or something."

"I called a lot, too," Mike admits. "It wasn't until El wrote to me about your mom's new job that I understood why the line was always busy."

"I didn't know," Will says. He looks back down at the letter in his shaking hands. "Why didn't you send this?"

"Well," Mike says slowly. He hesitates, clearing his throat, and avoids Will's eyes. "That's kind of another thing El and I fought about. She threw a bunch of the letters I sent her at me, actually. I signed all of them with 'from'." He pauses. "From Mike. Not love."

Will looks down at the bottom of his letter and sees the problem.

"Oh," he says softly.

"Things are just easier with you. I can just be myself. I don't have to perform the role of the perfect boyfriend who never does anything wrong and always says the right thing. I don't have to be anyone else with you. I can just be me."

Mike tugs at his hair now, and Will reaches up to take his elbow to stop him from hurting himself.

"El broke up with me, and it's so stupid because I know I should be more upset about that, but all I can think about is how she doesn't need me anymore. I screwed up so badly with you, too, and I doubt you need me, either." He looks at Will, and he looks devastated. "I feel like I lost you again, and this time it's my fault."

"I'm right here, Mike," Will says softly. "You can just…come back."

"You deserve better," Mike admits, voice breaking. Will's heart aches for the both of them. Months of silence between each of their fears, and for what? Will has to meet Mike where he's at. He has a peace offering to give, as well.

"Can I show you something?" He waits for Mike's nod and stands up to fetch the painting. Now feels like as good a time as any. "I made this for you," Will says, sitting back down beside Mike. "It's a gift."

"Give it to me tomorrow," Mike replies. "You shouldn't give someone else a gift on your birthday."

"I want you to have it now, though." Will nudges his ribs with a gentle elbow. "It might help you feel better." He hands it over and smiles encouragingly. "Just open it."

Mike slides the twine off and unrolls the painting, and the look of wonder on his face just might be enough to keep Will happy for the rest of his life.

"You painted this?" Mike asks, glancing up. He looks at Will like he hung all the stars in the night sky. "This is incredible, Will."

"Thanks," Will says, feeling a little bashful. He's incredibly proud of this painting, but it's still so difficult for his art to be seen by anyone else, especially a piece so deeply personal. He clears his throat and points at the small figure of Mike the Brave, leading the charge against the three-headed dragon.

"See how you're leading us here? You're guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That's what you do, Mike. And see your coat of arms here? It's a heart, and I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what holds the whole party together—heart. Without heart, we'd all fall apart." He looks back up at Mike and offers him a smile that feels a little brittle but entirely honest. "Even me. Especially me."

"Is that really how you see me?" Mike asks softly. He shakes his head but leans closer, until their shoulders brush. "I think you're giving me too much credit."

"Yeah, well, these past few months have been kind of terrible without you. I'm so different from other people, and it's really scary to be different. When you're different, sometimes you feel like—like a mistake." Will looks down at his hands and notices that they're shaking the tiniest bit. Mike reaches out and takes one, stilling his trembling fingers with his warm, grounding touch. Will takes a breath. "But, you make me feel like I'm not a mistake at all—like I'm better for being different. You always have."

"You're not a mistake, Will," Mike breathes. "You're the best person I know. I meant it when I told you that asking you to be my friend is the best thing I've ever done." He squeezes Will's hand. "I really meant it. I still do. That's my first memory, you know? My life started the day we met, Will."

"Mine too," Will says. "I thought I was losing you, though. I stayed home today because, well, if I was going to lose you, I'd rather just get it over with quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. It's easier to walk away on your own than to be left behind, and after this morning, I thought that was where we were headed." He offers Mike a sad, watery smile. "And that hurts too much."

"You're never going to lose me," Mike says firmly. "Never again, okay? I'm sorry I've been such a bad friend lately. You really do deserve better."

"I could've reached out more," Will concedes, but Mike shakes his head.

"No, it was on me. You did reach out, and I was just too afraid to reach back. Every time I wrote to you, I kept thinking about how much I missed you and how easy it always was to talk to you, and I'd sign them all with love before I could even think about it, and that terrified me."

"So you didn't send them," Will says with a nod. "I get it, Mike."

"One of the reasons El broke up with me is because I couldn't say I love her," Mike continues. He sighs, brow furrowing. Will wants to press his thumb to the spot, to smooth away the crease there. "It's terrible of me, but…even when she was yelling at me about it, I couldn't bring myself to say it. And when she finally dumped me, all I felt was relief."

"Do you think you'll want to get back together? I mean, you did the first time the two of you broke up."

"Not this time," Mike says softly. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"Not at all," Will replies. "Mike, you're not a bad person at all. You're my favorite person. Sometimes relationships just don't work out. It's okay."

"Can I say something else terrible?" Mike asks. He looks up at Will and waits for him to make eye contact. When Will nods, Mike takes a shuddering breath. His hand squeezes Will's again, tighter this time. "I keep comparing the two of you. Like…El doesn't care about any of my interests. She doesn't want to talk about D&D or movies I like or anything. We never really talk, not the way you and I do. And this," Mike says, gesturing to the painting, "is the most incredible, heartfelt gift I've ever gotten. I don't think El would ever even think to give me something like this."

"Mike…"

"I don't think I could give El something this amazing, either," he says. "And yet, I've already got a few ideas for how I can make today up to you, birthday gifts and ways to celebrate and make sure you know just how important you are to me." He sighs again, and Will runs this thumb back and forth across the back of Mike's hand. "I haven't spent a single second thinking about how to make things right with her. If anyone's the mistake here, Will, it's me. I don't—I don't love right."

"That's not true," Will argues, keeping his voice gentle. He lets some of the warmth he feels at Mike's words seep into his expression. "Mike, you have so much love to give, and you show all of us how much you care each and every day. Sure, things have been rough with the two of us lately, but you're here now. Everyone you care about knows that you love them."

"That's not what I mean," Mike whispers. He lets go of Will's hand and hugs his arms to his chest. "When we were arguing, I realized that I don't think I could love her—not…not the way I love you." The look he gives Will is the most heartbreaking thing he's ever seen. "I'm sorry, Will. I tried to be—to be normal, but I just can't. I can't, because you're you, and you're the best person I know. How could I not love you?"

Mike's shoulders start to shake, just the slightest bit. He closes his eyes, like he can't bear to watch Will's reaction, and keeps speaking.

"Every time I think about the kind of person I want to spend the rest of my life with, I think of you. You're kinder than anyone I've ever met, and you're smart, and funny, and brave, and so creative. You're beautiful, too. I don't think I've ever seen eyes as pretty as yours, and you're just—you're kind of distracting to look at, sometimes. And-and you're my best friend. You've never, ever made me feel like I'm wrong for being myself, and I think that's the only reason I can even say any of this to you." His voice drops to a trembling murmur. "Even though I'm more than a little scared to say it at all, I think you deserve more than anything to hear it."

Will doesn't let himself overthink it; he just tugs Mike into a hug. It's everything he'd wanted at the airport that morning. Mike clutches him close with an aching desperation. He completely envelops Will in his arms, and he's never felt so held, so secure. He lowers himself to tuck his head into Will's shoulder. They stay like that for a long moment, just breathing each other in.

"I missed you," Will manages to say around the lump in his throat.

"Me too."

Mike pulls away first, wiping at his eyes roughly.

"El told me you were painting something," he says. He takes one of Will's hands again. "She thought it was for someone you liked. Is that—Please tell me that's true."

He feels a bolt of terror at the question. Will has never told anyone about what he is, how his father and his bullies were all right about him. Had seen and understood something fundamentally wrong about him. How Will doesn't love right, as Mike apparently thinks about himself. What a pair they make, both broken in some intrinsic way, apparently. But Mike had said please, like he was hoping for it. Will can only nod because he can never lie to Mike, and when Mike smiles at him, it lights up his whole face.

"That's good. That's really good," Mike says, almost to himself. His eyes are bright with happiness when they meet Will's. It's a look he recognizes from their childhood, a look that belongs on a much younger face, from back before they learned there was a limit to how close two boys should be.

"Yeah?"

"Of course," Mike replies easily. Then, like he can't believe he can finally say it, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I've been an idiot, but I know now that I love you, and I'm yours, if you'll have me."

"I think I've loved you my whole life," Will says, ducking his head. "I never thought…"

"I know, and that's my fault," Mike admits. "I wouldn't have been brave enough to say anything if I hadn't known what El told me about your painting. I'm really glad she was right." He hesitates a moment before pressing a lingering kiss to Will's forehead. "I might've realized it all on my own, though. The painting is beautiful, Will. You put so much love into it, didn't you?"

"I did. I wasn't expecting anything from it, but I wanted to at least show you how much you still mean to me, even after we spent so long so far away from each other. Before anything else, you're my best friend."

"You painted something so heartfelt for me when, all the while, I should've been groveling at your feet." Mike shakes his head in disbelief, arching a brow at him. "You're incredible, Will Byers."

"And you're the heart, Mike Wheeler." He studies Mike's expression for a moment before adding, "You're my heart."

They have a lot more to talk about. They both need to figure out how to approach things with Jane. Not to mention navigating what this means for their friendship and how things will change. But for the first time in a long time, Mike and Will have been fully honest with each other. It feels like an important first step down a path they've been avoiding for years.

The rest can wait for tomorrow. Will lets himself have this, if only for tonight. He wants things to feel easy and uncomplicated for once in his life. He loves Mike, and Mike somehow loves him back. It's something he never thought he could have. He smiles at Mike, and he sees his entire life up to this point looking back at him. He sees his future and all the hope he's never dared to let himself have looking back at him.

Mike reaches up and rests a hand on Will's cheek. His palm is warm, and his brown eyes are bright with happiness.

"This is going to sound crazy, because I know I've only been single for like, an hour, but…Can I kiss you?"

Will huffs a soft laugh, heart swelling with fondness. Mike reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of Will's eyes, fingers skimming gently against his skin. He holds Will like he's something precious.

"Yes," Will manages, "please do."

He doesn't know what he was expecting for his first kiss, or if he even expected to have one at all, but Will does know that it's better than anything he could've imagined. Mike presses his mouth against Will's, and the first thing he registers is how warm it is. His lips are softer than Will thought they'd be, and they're achingly gentle. Mike keeps his movements slow and featherlight, and Will has the feeling he's holding himself back.

They separate for a moment, only pulling away far enough to breathe, and Will allows his eyes to flutter open and meet Mike's. The two of them smile at each other, and it feels so natural, so simple, like this is just another facet of who Mike and Will have always been to one another.

Mike kisses him again, and this time, he stops holding back. He kisses Will like he wants to devour him, like he's starved for oxygen, and Will has all the breath he'll ever need. His mouth presses firm and hot against Will's, insistent and demanding. One hand reaches for Will's hip, pulling him just a little bit closer and digging into his skin. The hand on his cheek remains gentle, though. Will tangles his own hands in Mike's hair, longer than he's ever seen it. The curls are as soft as he'd hoped, and he makes a pleased hum from somewhere in the back of his throat.

The heat of Mike's tongue as it slips into Will's mouth is overwhelming in the best way. He never knew he could feel like this, like he's drowning and drinking in lungfuls of crisp air at the same time. His head swims, thoughts turning syrupy and fleeing before they can form. Mike presses him backward, hovering over Will as his back hits the mattress beneath him and tilting Will's chin up to get a better angle. Mike pulls back and presses a kiss to the tip of Will's nose, then to each one of his cheeks, and finally to his forehead. Will can't stifle the giggle that bubbles up.

"I know I didn't say it before, but…happy birthday, Will."

"Thanks, Mike. I think it's actually shaped up to be a good one."

Will doesn't know what tomorrow will bring, whether or not Jane will forgive him for loving the boy he's known all his life, but for the moment, he finds he can't bring himself to care much. This moment is his, and it's beautiful. As he settles side by side with Mike on his bed, he thinks he could spend the rest of his life right here and never get tired of it. And from the warmth and depth of emotion he sees mirrored back in Mike's eyes, he feels the exact same way. Will lets himself exist in the quiet of the evening settling around them.

For the first time in months, he feels like himself again, really and truly himself, like a piece he's been missing has finally slotted back into place. Mike rests a hand back on Will's cheek, and he tilts his head to press a kiss to his palm. He's here with his best friend, who loves him back, and he's happy.

For now, it's more than enough.