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There was a boy asleep on Ted's couch again.
This was, unfortunately, nothing new. For the better part of a decade, his home had served as a sort of halfway house for whatever strays his son happened to drag home from school. It had started in kindergarten with a grimy little pack of boys who tracked mud through the kitchen and inhaled everything in his pantry. Despite his best efforts to communicate that he didn’t want them there, they had never left. They simply grew taller, louder, and significantly more expensive to feed.
The boy currently on his couch was Will Byers.
Of all of Mike’s friends, Ted disliked Will the least. His only real complaint had less to do with Will himself and more to do with the fact that liking Will meant he was housing the rest of the Byers family along with him.
Still, Will was respectful, quiet, and didn’t leave destruction in his wake. Unlike that Henderson kid, he never shouted, broke things, or cursed like a sailor.
So yes, Ted liked Will just fine.
What he didn’t like was the scene currently unfolding in his living room.
Will was curled against Mike’s shoulder, arms folded awkwardly in his lap. Michael on the other hand was holding himself so stiffly, it looked painful. He kept stealing sidelong glances at the sleeping boy, as if any sudden movement might dissolve the moment in a puff of smoke, sending Will away.
Ted watched over the top of his newspaper.
Michael was not very subtle. Ted had seen men look less lovesick in the soap operas Karen occasionally forced him to sit through.
Jesus Christ, son. Pull yourself together.
A better father might have tossed out a light jab to break the tension in the room. Something embarrassing, but harmless enough to snap Mike out of whatever silent homosexual crisis he was currently having.
Ted was not that kind of father.
So he kept the paper raised and watched his son stare stupidly at his friend.
He wasn’t especially involved in his children’s lives, but he wasn’t blind. He’d been putting the pieces together for months.
There had been that ridiculous business over spring break. After weeks of moping around the house like a kicked puppy, Mike suddenly announced he was flying to Lenora to visit some supposed girlfriend who lived with the Byers. Ted had assumed he was really going to California to see Will and was too chickenshit to say so.
Then Mike returned a week later with the entire Byers family in tow, claiming the imaginary girlfriend had “broken up” with him. Shortly after came the request for them to stay, and then, as if Ted were an idiot, the question of whether Will could room with him.
Contrary to what most people probably would have assumed, Ted didn’t actually care that his son was gay.
He really didn’t.
People were always assuming all sorts of things about him. He voted for Reagan, sure, but he was a fiscal conservative, not a morality crusader.
Frankly, Mike being gay solved more problems than it created. The possibility of his son knocking some girl up before graduation had kept him awake more than once. At the very least, this would remove that particular concern from the table.
The problem with all of this was that Mike and Will were obviously not together yet.
For months now, Mike had been acting like a complete jackass, giving everyone whiplash. Miserable when Will was gone. Perking up the second he came back. Snapping at people and starting arguments for no reason. Wandering around distracted, dramatic, and generally just impossible to be around.
It was exhausting.
Ted was passive, yes. That was a fair criticism. But being passive was not the same thing as being spineless, and he was not going to watch his son sit around pining forever because he was too scared to make a move. He may have raised a homosexual, but he had not raised a coward.
Especially when it was painfully obvious how Will felt. Ted had known the boy was queer since he was ten, maybe earlier. Once you knew what to look for, you couldn’t miss it. Will’s feelings for Mike were written all over him.
He peeked over the edge of his newspaper again.
Will was still peacefully asleep on his son’s shoulder. Mike looked like the happiest idiot on planet Earth.
If his boy was in love, fine.
Ted Wheeler was going to make sure he actually did something about it.
***
Ted walked into the kitchen for his second cup of coffee and stopped dead in his tracks.
There stood Mike, frozen like a statue. In front of him, Will was bent over, digging through the fruit drawer of the refrigerator. After a moment, Will straightened up with a ripe peach in hand. Ted watched his son continue staring at the exact spot Will’s backside had just occupied, wearing an expression of pure, hopeless longing.
Ted considered quietly backing out of the room.
"For God's sake, Michael," He said, instead. "Either take something out or close the door. I'm not paying to refrigerate the whole neighborhood."
Will turned around, blinking in mild confusion.
Mike’s face bloomed bright red. The blush was quickly overtaken by a scowl. He slammed the refrigerator door hard enough to rattle every magnet on it. “I was getting something! Sorry it took more than two seconds-"
“When exactly did your mother start storing the snacks in the back pockets of Will’s jeans?”
“Oh my God.” Mike spun on his heel and stormed toward the stairs. “You are so-" The rest was lost to thundering footsteps and the inevitable slam of his bedroom door.
Ted poured his coffee, unbothered.
Will stood by the fridge, still holding the peach, looking apologetic and a little lost. “Um… I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler. I’m not sure what just happened.”
“Don’t worry about apologizing for him.” Ted said, sitting down at the table. “Actually, I should be thanking you. If you can believe it, he was worse while you were gone. All he did while you were in California was mope around and run up my phone bill calling your house.”
Will frowned slightly. “Um, I think you might be mistaken. Mike never called me. He must have been trying to reach someone else.”
"No, he was definitely trying to call you. Multiple times a day, for a while." Ted pulled his crossword toward himself. "The line was always busy, though. I told him just to write you a dang letter, but he doesn't listen to me."
Will was quiet for a second. "Mike was trying to call me? When I was in California?"
"Every day." Ted picked up his pen. "He didn't tell you that?"
Will didn't answer.
Ted glanced up from his crossword. The boy looked stunned, his face softening in a way Ted hadn’t seen in a long time.
"Well," Ted said, focusing on his puzzle. "Now you know."
He heard Will set the peach gently on the counter. Then came the soft pad of socked feet heading toward the stairs.
Damn, Ted thought, taking a sip of coffee. I’m good at this.
***
Karen had made tacos for dinner. Ted ate them without complaint, though he would have preferred anything else on God’s green earth.
It was a smaller table tonight. Joyce was working a Saturday shift at Melvald’s, so it was just the five of them: Ted, Karen, Holly, and the two boys, who had somehow ended up shoulder-to-shoulder.
Their elbows kept bumping every time they reached for more, in some kind of awkward, unspoken dance.
"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Wheeler,. It's delicious." Will said, politely.
“Oh, thank you, sweetie,” Karen beamed.
Ted chewed in silence. That kid would compliment Karen's cooking if she served him a shoe on a plate. He had once watched Will polish off an entire plate of her tuna casserole without complaint. Ted had been married to the woman for nearly twenty years and still needed a full glass of water and a moment of quiet prayer to get through that particular crime against humanity.
How the hell had his son gotten this lucky? Out of every kid in Hawkins, the one who liked Mike had actual manners, helped with the dishes, and didn’t make Ted want to drive his car into a lake. He was going to have to go to church tomorrow. Get on his knees and thank the Lord it wasn’t Dustin Henderson sitting at his table.
"Where are Jonathan and Nancy?" Karen asked, setting the sour cream down.
“Out somewhere.” Ted grunted.
"Out where?"
"I don't know, Karen. Out. Hopefully not adding to the population."
"Ted!"
"What? I'm supposed to pretend that Jonathan has been sleeping in the basement every night? I'm not an idiot. We were young once."
Holly looked up from her plate, where she’d been meticulously picking the tomatoes off her taco. “Daddy, where do babies come from?”
The table went dead silent.
Karen’s head snapped toward Ted with a glare that could peel paint from the wall. He suddenly became extremely interested in his taco.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Karen said sweetly, pushing her chair back and taking Holly’s hand. “Let’s go have a little talk in the other room.”
"But I'm not done with my-"
"You can finish it later."
Karen guided Holly out of the kitchen. As she passed Ted's chair, she squeezed his shoulder. It was not a loving squeeze. It was the kind of squeeze that said he’d be spending the night in his recliner.
The kitchen door swung shut behind them. Ted, Mike, and Will sat in the sudden silence. The boys looked visibly relieved to have dodged a full parenting moment.
Well. That just wouldn't do.
"Well," Ted said, setting down his taco. "This is probably a good time for us, actually."
Mike eyed him warily. “Good time for what?”
"To have a talk with you boys about…adult matters."
The relief on Mike’s face died in an instant. Will froze, looking like he might be sick.
“What?” Mike croaked.
"You're sixteen, Michael. We should have had this conversation a while ago. That’s on me.”
"Dad, I don't-"
"Will, you should stay for this, too." Ted turned to the boy, who had gone pale. "You don't have a man around the house to talk to you about these things. I’d feel wrong leaving you out."
Will’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh. Um. Mr. Wheeler, that’s… really nice of you, but I really don’t think-"
"It's no trouble."
"I really don't-"
"No, no. I insist."
Mike stared at his father with pure, distilled panic. "Dad, please stop talking."
"No, Michael, this is important. You're both young men now, and there are things you need to understand about…uh, women."
"Oh my God." Mike muttered.
"-well, about relationships. About when you have feelings for somebody and you don’t know what to do with them."
Ted took another bite of taco, completely unbothered.
"It’s natural to be confused at your age. To have strong feelings and not know how to act on them. When I was your age, I almost didn’t ask your mother out. I sat on it for months because I was scared. You know what happened?"
“Jesus Christ, I don't want to know!” Mike groaned.
"Your uncle Eric told me to stop being an idiot. So I stopped being an idiot. Sometimes that's all it takes: Someone telling you to stop being an idiot."
A heavy silence settled over the table. The two boys exchanged a quick glance before looking anywhere but each other.
Ted chewed thoughtfully. “Anyway. That’s the talk.”
"Wait, that's the talk?" Mike stared at him. "That wasn't even…you didn't even talk about sex!"
Ted raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, did I need to go further? Far as I can tell, neither of you is seeing anyone, and from what I’ve seen, there won’t be any panties dropping around here anytime soon unless one of you grows a spine.”
Mike stared at him for another second. Then he shoved his chair back and left the kitchen without a word.
Will sat there for a second, alone with Ted. His face was flushed.
“Um… thanks for the talk, Mr. Wheeler,” he said quietly. He stood up and followed Mike out.
Ted finished his taco in peace.
Two for two.
***
The next morning, Ted watched his son walk into the kitchen, spot Will at the table, and immediately turn around and head back upstairs without a word.
Will stared down at his cereal, looking thoroughly dejected.
Ted set his coffee down.
Two days. He had been working on this for two days. That was more effort than he had put into anything in recent memory, and somehow, impossibly, they had gotten worse.
Fine.
If these two wanted to be stupid, Ted could be stupider.
By ten o'clock, he had his plan.
“Karen,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “Why don’t you and Joyce go to the mall?”
Karen looked up from her coffee, completely thrown. “Im sorry, what?”
He held out three twenties. "You ladies should go shopping. Get something nice."
Karen stared at the money in disbelief. In twenty years of marriage, Ted had never once suggested she go shopping for anything except groceries. “Ted… what are you doing? Is this about yesterday with Holly?”
“....Sure.” Ted said, keeping his face neutral. He didn’t feel the slightest bit bad about yesterday, not even a little, but if letting Karen think that was the reason for his strange behavior got her out of the house, he’d happily play along.
"Oh Ted, that’s really-” Karen started, softening.
Joyce, who had been drying a dish at the sink, turned towards them, eyeing him with mild suspicion. “You feeling alright, Ted?”
Damn. She’s onto me.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Ted replied calmly. “You both just work too hard. You should go enjoy yourselves.”
“What about the kids?” Karen asked.
“I’ll keep an eye on the boys. They’re sixteen, Karen. Practically men.”
Karen gave him a long, searching look. Then she shrugged, took the money, and decided not to question her good fortune. “We’ll be back in a couple hours,” she called on their way out.
“Sounds good, honey.”
The second he heard the car pull away, Ted called Will up from the basement and headed upstairs.
Mike’s bedroom door was closed. Ted knocked, but was greeted with no answer. He knocked louder, annoyed.
"Michael?"
"What?" Mike's answered, hostile.
"I need help with something. The light's out in the hallway closet, and I need you do hold the ladder for me."
There was a short silence. "Can't you just do it yourself?"
This kid never makes anything easy, Ted thought wearily.
"If I could, I wouldn't be asking, Michael. Let's go."
The door opened. Mike stood there looking thoroughly put off, still dressed in his demonic high-school dropout club shirt and pajama pants. At the same moment, Will appeared at the top of the stairs.
Both boys locked eyes for a split second, then immediately turned red and looked anywhere but at each other.
Ted sighed.
“Will, you too,” Ted said. “I need you to steady the ladder from the other side. It’s old and I don’t trust it not to shift on me.”
"Sure thing, Mr. Wheeler," Will answered, hesitant and uncertain, but far too well-mannered to decline.
They walked down the hall to the closet. It was a dusty walk-in linen closet that Ted had barely touched in the nearly twenty years they’d lived in the house. The pull-string bulb had somehow survived all this time. It might outlive them all.
“Go ahead and pull the cord.” Ted ordered his son. “Let’s see if it’s the bulb or the fixture.”
Mike stepped inside, Will following close behind. Mike reached up, pulled the cord and-
The light came on.
"Dad." Mike frowned. "This works fi-"
Ted slammed the door, before quickly grabbing the wooden chair from the end of the hallway and jamming it under the doorknob.
There was a second of stunned silence before Mike started pounding on the door. "DAD. What the hell?"
“Mr. Wheeler?” Will’s voice was equally panicked. “What’s going on?”
"Here's the deal," Ted said, crossing his arms. "I've been watching you two stare at each other for months. I have dropped every hint I know how to drop. I gave you a heart-to-heart yesterday, Michael, which I think we can both agree was unpleasant for everyone involved. I have never worked this hard at anything in my life and I am pretty annoyed that you’re both being so goddamn difficult.”
"Dad, what are you talking about-"
“Look, you like the kid and he likes you back. It's a damn miracle! Just figure it out, because I’m tired of the constant moping and tension ruining every meal in this house. I just want to eat and watch TV in peace.”
Dead silence from inside the closet.
"You're not coming out of this closet until you sort it out. The Hoosiers are playing this evening, and you two better be coupled up by half-time!”
"DAD!" Mike's voice cracked. "Dad, you can't just-you can't LOCK people in a CLOSET-"
Ted was already walking down the stairs.
He settled into his recliner, making himself comfortable before grabbing the remote. The pre-game show flickered on. Upstairs, the pounding continued, accompanied by Mike’s muffled, furious shouting.
Ted turned up the volume.
Eventually, the shouting stopped.
During the next commercial break, he headed into the kitchen, made himself a sandwich, and returned to his chair. He took a satisfied bite.
Ted sighed, leaning back with his hands behind his head. The house, for the first time in months, was quiet.
It was the most peace he had experienced since the Byers moved in.
***
After a while, Joyce and Karen came home, shopping bags rustling and voices carrying through the front door.
"Ted, we're back!" Karen called from the hallway. "How were boys?"
Ted kept his eyes on the screen. “Don’t know. They've been upstairs.”
She appeared in the living room doorway, looking surprised. “They’ve been up there all this time? I haven’t seen them spend that long together in over a year.”
Ted chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. I took care of that.”
Karen blinked owlishly. “What do you mean 'you took care of that'...?”
"They just needed some time to sort it all out. They're in the closet upstairs."
Karen squinted her eyes, baffled. "What? Why would they be in the linen closet?"
Ted smiled, quite proud of himself. "Because I put them in there. About two and a half hours ago."
Karen’s expression shifted from confusion to dawning horror. Joyce appeared behind her, smile sliding off her face as she caught Karen's expression.
“Ted.” Karen’s voice went dangerously flat. “Are you telling me you locked our son in a closet?”
“And Will.” Ted added helpfully. “Will’s in there too.”
Joyce dropped her shopping bag with a loud thud.
Both women hit the stairs at the same time. Ted had never seen either of them move that fast. He heard the chair scrape across the hardwood, then a crash as the closet door was flung open. Not even a second had passed before-
"Oh my God!"
Then Mike's voice, strangled and breathless "MOM. SHUT THE DOOR. SHUT THE DOOR!"
There was a scramble, followed by the door slamming shut again.
Frantic, overlapping murmuring drifted down from the landing before footsteps hurried back downstairs. Karen appeared gripping the banister like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Joyce followed silently and sat on the step behind her.
Karen’s face was flushed. Her mouth opened, but nothing was coming out.
“They were…” she finally managed, “They were on the floor of the closet."
"Oh good."
"Their clothes were-"
"I don't need the details, honey."
"I'm going to have to wash everything in there, Ted!" She stared at him, still stunned.
Ted took a calm sip of his water and set it back down.
"I told you," he smiled. "I handled it."
Karen pressed both hands over her face. When she pulled them away, she was laughing.
“I need wine,” she announced, walking into the kitchen.
Joyce followed her, shaking her head. Ted heard Karen’s voice carry back: “Thank God you don’t have another son, Joyce. I couldn’t handle this again with Holly.”
Joyce’s laugh was accompanied by the pop of a wine cork.
Ted leaned back in his recliner, hands folded over his stomach, and let out a long, contented sigh. The house would finally quiet again. No more moping. No more awkward silences. No more tension.
He smiled faintly at the TV.
Finally, some goddamn peace.