Work Text:
Mike
Spring 1989
Mike glances around at the teary eyes of his closest friends. His eyes meet Will’s, and he takes a deep breath.
“As for Will the Wise,” Mike says breathlessly, “he travels far and long to the bustling city of Vallaki.”
Will’s eyes are bright and shining, like they always are, but today, they’re so full of hope, Mike can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away.
“It’s overwhelming at first,” Mike continues. “So very different from the village where he spent his youth.” Mike imagines Will in Chicago, taking advantage of his art scholarship. He’ll find his people there, Mike thinks, and he knows it’s true. Hawkins is only holding Will back.
“But it isn’t long before he finds his place there.”
Mike pictures Will at a bar in the fast-approaching future. Maybe he’s gotten a more stylish haircut—not that Joyce’s were all that bad. Maybe he’s found a place to get his ears pierced, and taken more interest in fashion. Or maybe he’s taken more interest in a guy from his college; someone who’s tall, handsome, and caring. He probably has a great smile—one that sweeps Will off his feet in an instant. Surely Will’s smart enough not to fall for a pretty face, right? Mike trusts Will with all his heart, which is definitely enough to know that Will has excellent judgment when it comes to telling good people from bad. But what if someone tricks him? Goodness knows Will is inexperienced with dating; what’s to stop some random guy at a frat party from taking advantage of the nerdy, small-town boy who’s never even been kissed? Mike knows he’s probably overthinking it. Will is smart, with the moral compass of a saint, and more than enough observational skills to tell if someone’s trying to mess with him, but Mike can’t stop the worry from seeping in. Maybe he should try dating someone he knows a bit better first, Mike’s mind supplies, but he quickly realizes how ridiculous that sounds, seeing as the only people they know are right there in Hawkins, and Will’s moving to the Chicago in August. Mike supposes there’s a chance someone Will met in California will be there, if the stars align just right.
Mike really just hopes someone familiar will be there to keep Will company. It’s not that Mike doesn’t believe in Will’s ability to make friends, or even find a nice boyfriend, but more that he doesn’t want Will to get hurt and not have anyone to turn to. Will deserves the world and more, and Mike just wants to make sure someone is there to give it to him. Hell, I’ll do it myself, Mike muses, then feels his stomach drop.
Mike and Will have been best friends since kindergarten. They’ve never known a life without each other, save for a few years that seem so forgettable without the other one there, it’s like they never even happened. Mike knows with every bone in his body that Will is the best person he’s ever met, and he’s never doubted it for a second. They know each other better than anyone else in the world, and care for each other so, so deeply. He’s the most important person in my life, Mike thinks, and suddenly he feels lightheaded.
Mike’s being crazy. It’s only natural for Will to meet people and build friendships in college, and Mike knows that. He knows Will is inevitably going to find an incredible group of talented people just like himself, and Mike will rejoice. But that doesn’t mean someone won’t break Will’s heart.
Mike pictures Will in the bar again, cozied up next to a nameless, faceless man that Mike’s never met. Mike itches to reach out and pull him away, to save Will from dedicating his life to someone who barely knows him. No one will ever understand what Will’s been through but the Party. No one gets him like I do.
Mike wants to cry. Everyone else already is, so maybe he could get away with it. He stares down at the table in front of him. Has he really been dancing around such a simple, obvious fact for this long? It sure seems that way. Mike loves Will, and he always has. He knew that, though. This is different. Only now is it occurring to Mike that he is definitely, most certainly, without a doubt, in love with Will. His best friend of thirteen years and counting. There is no other explanation. The thought of Will finding a boyfriend that isn’t him pulls at Mike’s chest in a way he’s never felt before, like a deep soreness that won’t go away unless he fixes the root cause.
Mike glances back up at Will, who’s hazel eyes are as brilliant as ever, glistening with unshed tears.
“And the storyteller?” Will asks gently. “What about him?”
This is why you’re in love with him, Mike reminds himself. Patient, caring, sweet, sweet Will. Mike feels like he might explode.
Who am I without Will? What am I going to do? Mike flounders. He latches onto Will’s words and says the first thing he comes up with.
“The storyteller keeps telling stories,” he starts. “Stories inspired by his friends. One day, he hopes their tales of grand adventure will spread far and wide across the land.”
Mike can almost see it. Himself, ten years from now, living on his own in a quiet suburb, selling stories that only children enjoy, because he will still be hung up on a love from his childhood. He fights the tears that well in his eyes, willing himself to at least finish his current tale.
“But, there is a story that he can never tell,” he says solemnly, stunning himself with this admission. Mike clamps his mouth shut.
The entire Party stares at him, questions written plainly across their faces. Will meets his eyes.
“Or, at least not the real story,” he backtracks, wanting to kick himself.
“The real story?” Max asks, leaning closer in confusion.
“No one knows,” Mike answers lamely. “No one will ever know.”
His friends gawk at him. Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, he scolds himself. Thankfully his mother spares him any further embarrassment.
“Guys!” She calls from the top of the basement stairs. “What’s going on? The lasagna’s getting cold!”
“Yeah, we— we just finished; we’ll be right up!” Mike replies.
Dustin stands up, and the rest of the Party follows suit. Mike avoids everyone’s gaze, even as Lucas hands him his D&D binder.
One by one, they each return their books to the shelf. Max, Lucas, and Dustin all head upstairs, and then it’s just Will and Mike. Will stands still in front of the shelf, but Mike can see his shoulders shaking, and hear his quiet crying. He wants to reach out and comfort him, tell him it’s all going to be alright, that he’d do anything to stand by him. But he doesn’t. Will makes his way up the stairs, and Mike is left to put his things away.
He stares at the shelf for a moment, the binders of all his friends, even El, lined up neatly. He slides his own right next to Will’s.
Shakily, Mike lowers his hands, and begins to make his way up the stairs. It’s time to face everyone again, and pretend like everything’s the same as it always was, only, now, he knows something that no one else does, and it might destroy him. This can’t be his future. He has to have a family, just like his parents, and a wife. Mike thinks back to El and cringes. He knew he didn’t love her the way he was supposed to. He couldn’t, and he knew, and he still stayed with her anyway. It eats away at him every day—knowing he lied to her for so long and never got to make up for it.
Mike hates himself right now. For lying to El, for lying to himself, and for making his own life so damn complicated. He hates that he can’t imagine a life without Will, and he hates that he let himself fall in love with a boy and didn’t even realize it.
Mike takes a deep breath and shoves it all down, like he always does.