Archive of Our Own

“What? How is this my fault?” Max raises her voice, standing up and slamming her hands on the table for effect.

“Because if you hadn’t stomped on my foot, my new shoes wouldn’t be covered in dirt!” Mike matches her energy, the other four at the table leaning back and watching.

“I wouldn’t have done that if you stopped giving me backhanded compliments with your tongue jammed up Will’s ass,” and Mike kind of wants to press pause on the argument right there, because he has no idea what she’s implying. “And my soles are squeaky clean. Your lack of common sense is your own doing, dude! Maybe you shouldn’t have taken them outside. Everyone knows that you never wear white shoes, ever.”

“What do you mean I have my—” Mike decides to stop himself, because his voice goes unexpectedly high with offence, and Max always makes nonsensical jokes like that about Will and Mike. “Stop trying to push the blame onto me. Just admit that you ruined my shoe.”

“Just admit that the dirt did you a favor,” Max retorts, “those shoes suck.”

“Okay, now it’s personal—”

“Guys!” Now it’s Will’s turn to stand up from his seat, putting his arms out and separating Max and Mike before Mike can lean across the table and carry out his best and most pathetic attempt at mauling Max.

Will’s outstretched hand lands somewhere in the middle of Mike’s chest, a little under the collar of his t-shirt. Somehow, just Will’s ever-so-slight touch and somewhat stern expression instantly make Mike just a bit less annoyed. He’s quite glad Will stepped in when he did, because his attempt at attacking Max would most likely end up to be really embarrassing for him. Plus, he now gets an excuse to look at Will’s face instead of wasting energy on Max’s stupid smug expressions.

The Party was supposed to be playing a board game in Mike’s basement, but the whole session has instead devolved into Mike and Max’s sixth argument of the week.

“Could you stop being at each other’s throats for ten minutes?” Will drops his hands, and Mike subconsciously touches the spot on his chest that Will was just touching. The tone of his voice already makes Mike feel a little bad. “The argument was a little entertaining at first, but El and I have already finished all the sweet and salted popcorn and now all that’s left is salted. Salted is disgusting.”

“Salted popcorn is a fucking masterpiece—” Mike feels himself getting defensive, but then he remembers that this is Will he’s talking to. “Right. I’m sorry, Will.”

Max snickers. Mike wants to punch her.

“Well, the point is, you two can’t get along and it’s becoming tiring,” Will looks between Max and Mike. “You’ve been at it about Mike’s shoes for the past hour. We don’t care anymore.”

Mike looks at Lucas, Dustin, and El, who are all nodding with agreement. Will seems to be a voice for the people right now. Man, he’s so inspiring. And authoritative. And commanding. And pretty. Very pretty.

“It’s like you guys are always looking for something to fight about,” Dustin pitches in, staying seated so Mike has to look down to give him his attention. His attention snaps right back to Will immediately after Dustin stops talking.

“Exactly,” El nods, gesturing towards Dustin in agreement. “The four of us discussed this after the other day’s macaroni cheese incident, and we’ve decided that we’re going to make you guys get along.”

Mike collapses into his seat with an exaggerated groan. That type of thing usually always involves being handcuffed to the other person or something ridiculous like that. All the energy leaves his body at even the idea of being cuffed to Max.

It doesn’t talk long for Max to also sink into her seat, letting out a similarly annoyed noise.

“Nice job copying me, Max,” Mike crosses his arms and uses his little remaining energy to make a quick jab at her.

“I swear to God Mike if you—” Max leans forward, but she leans right back and sighs when Will gives her a look of disapproval.

“So, we’ve been brainstorming ways to put this to an end,” Will announces, sitting down and shuffling forward to tuck his seat under the table. Mike’s head rests in the palm of his hand as he stares. He can feel reality slipping away from him as Will lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You know, there’s a picture of me and Erica from, like, ten years ago of us both wearing the same giant t-shirt together,” Lucas starts describing a living nightmare, “my mom said that forced proximity helps with that kind of thing.”

But that’s kind of an extreme forced proximity thing, isn’t it?

“So we thought about that,” Dustin explains, “and then we thought of handcuffing you together.”

“And then we thought of tying your shoelaces together,” El adds on, “and then stapling your shirts together.”

Mike imagines every idea one by one, and he honestly feels like throwing up. Looking at Max, it seems like the feeling most definitely is mutual.

“But I said that all those ideas are too physical and bordering on torture,” Will cuts in with his thoughts, and Mike feels a wave of relief wash over him, because Will really is just so kind and considerate and the fact that Mike never has to have his shirt stapled to Max’s makes him feel immense joy. “And I didn’t think they’d be too effective.”

“Right,” Lucas nods, but he sounds a little sarcastic, “because you can’t make out with Mike when he’s cuffed to Max.”

There’s the punchline. Everyone except for Will and Mike seems to get a little bit of a grin out of that one, which kind of annoys Mike, because what does that mean? Will would never make out with Mike. In fact, he looks red at the thought. His face going red must imply that he would not want to do that.

Mike is sort of used to his friends constantly making jokes about Will and Mike being romantically involved, which are surely only jokes, but the amount of interactions Dustin has labeled as “flirting” and the amount of times Lucas has told them to “just kiss already” feels like it’s bordering on non-ironic.

That’s obviously absurd, because Will and Mike are nothing more than best friends, as is surely abundantly clear to everyone in their lives. That being said, those types of jokes always get under Mike’s skin more than they perhaps should.

Whatever. It’s fine. Mike’s friends are all probably missing a screw, anyway.

Lucas is dating Max, for Christ’s sake. Mike loves the guy and all, but that is no sane man’s decision.

“Well, not exactly,” Will says slowly, averting his gaze and looking a little embarrassed, “but we all decided, as a group, that we could make the forced proximity thing a bit nicer. So, we’ve decided that you two are gonna hang out, alone.”

“Huh?” Max and Mike say in unison, something that seems to annoy them both.

“You heard him,” El sits up really straight, “tomorrow, you both are going to spend your Saturday afternoon at the diner, just you two, and make civil conversation until you don’t hate each other.”

“What?” Mike throws his head back like the world is ending, because it kind of is. “You want me to make civil conversation with her? On my Saturday?”

Max looks just as disappointed.

“Well, it’s summer break, and we want to do things as a group,” Will’s face looks just a tiny bit upset, and Mike’s heart breaks a little. “And it’s hard to do that when you two are constantly fighting. This is something that needs to be done.”

The other three all nod and make a noise of unanimous agreement. Mike exchanges a look with Max, who seems to know they don’t really have a choice.

Listen — Mike loves Will like a very close best friend. He would absolutely never say no to him. Especially not when his eyes are all wide and his face is all disappointed and his hair is just a little messy like this. Not at all.

And, although Mike has a strong distaste for Max, his soft spot for Will is even stronger, which is admittedly quite embarrassing. He thinks he feels something a little weird when he stares at Will for a second too long.

“Fine,” Mike gives in, only because of the way Will looks at him. “But for the record, I’m only doing this because you want me to.”

“We know,” Max rolls her eyes, and Mike goes right back to being annoyed.

“Yeah,” Dustin shrugs, “we actually had Will pitch this idea to you because we knew that was the only way you would say yes.”

Mike sort of wonders if that says anything about him.

“I guess I’ll do it too,” Max sounds insultingly reluctant to get lunch with Mike, “but I do need permission to strangle him at any given moment if he does anything stupid.” Max turns to Will for his approval.

“Permission denied.”

“Are you in the closet, Mike?”

Mike is awoken by the sound of Will’s voice, all quiet and soft and confused and laughing a bit, and Mike feels himself smiling a little, though he hasn’t even fully processed the fact that he’s awake.

It’s hard for Mike’s eyes to adjust to the sudden light as the closet door swings open fully, compared to it previously just being open a crack. His eyelids are still heavy and they burn a little and he’s trying desperately not to let them close again.

Will is holding onto the handle of the closet, looking down at Mike’s disheveled figure and brushing down the t-shirt and shorts that he had slept in — Mike’s t-shirt and shorts, by the way.

“Oh, my god, uh, morning, Will,” Mike tries and fails to wake himself up, but he knows that he’s grinning and he can hazard a guess through his blurry vision that Will is smiling too. “D’you sleep well?”

“I should be asking you that, Mike,” Will shakes his head as Mike blinks and hopes that the crust falls out of his eyes and doesn’t come back. “How did you fall asleep in the closet?”

“Well, I thought it might be a good idea to sort out the mess in my closet, because it’s a little cluttered,” Mike begins to recall, “but it turns out that you shouldn’t sit down in a closet in the middle of the night when you’re really tired.”

“I would have figured, Mike,” Will leans forward and examines the inside of the closet, “and it looks like it’s only even more cluttered now.”

“It’s no issue, anyway,” Mike decides to brush it off as he leans back, “I think I slept average. Plus, that just means that you got the bed to yourself with no one to disturb you, right?”

“I always get the bed to myself,” Mike thinks that Will rolls his eyes, but it’s kind of a blur. “I’m starting to feel a little bad. This isn’t my room. Shouldn’t you take the bed?”

“But then where would you sleep?”

“On the floor.”

“Like hell you will.” Mike crosses his arms, struggling but succeeding to sit up fully. “You’re supposed to be my guest. I can’t make you sleep on the floor. Besides, your comfort is way more important than mine, anyway.”

“That’s not true,” Will tries, but he sounds flattered.

“Are you forgetting why you sneak up here in the first place?” It’s now that Mike finds himself a little more awake, because Will’s habit of downplaying things really isn’t something that Mike takes lightly. “You don’t want to sleep alone in the basement on a mattress on the floor because you get nightmares. I’d be fucking evil if I offered to let you stay in my room and then made you sleep on the floor.”

“I just sort of wish you would be with me instead of in the closet, but…” The tone of voice in which Will speaks makes Mike unable to decipher whether he’s joking or not. “You’re right. You’re a great friend, Mike.”

Will crouches down slightly and extends a hand down to Mike. Will’s hand is warm, and it holds a firm grip on Mike’s as it pulls him up. Mike doesn’t want to let go.

The world spins for a second as Mike takes a step forward and out of the closet, taking a second to wait for his head to stop hurting, and spending that second with his hand still holding onto Will’s.

It’s been a little over two years, or something close to that, since the Byers family moved in with the Wheeler family. It was a little weird at first, but pretty much everything is routine now. It’s quite nice, to an extent.

Will and Jonathan are supposed to be staying in the basement, but since Jonathan has been consistently sneaking up to Nancy’s room for about a year, it’s been just Will for a while.

This particular thing started back in February, when Will showed up at Mike’s room in the middle of the night after a pretty bad nightmare and he said that Mike was the first person he thought to turn to.

After that night, when Mike slept on the floor next to his bed in the February cold, Will began to show up to Mike’s room in the middle of the night more frequently, until he gradually started sleeping in Mike’s room every night.

Once that had started happening, Will and Mike decided to make it unspoken routine that Will would come up to Mike’s room every night. The whole thing makes Mike feel kind of scandalous, because Mike’s mom shot down his initial idea of having Will in his room in the first place, though he can’t begin to comprehend why, so it’s a little weird doing it anyway. But it’s nice.

So, for the past couple months, Mike has almost entirely forgotten what his mattress feels like. Will gets the bed while Mike really just does whatever’s most comfortable for him. Some nights he sleeps at his desk chair, sometimes he leans against the door, sometimes he just takes the classic route of sleeping on the ground next to the bed.

Today, he’s unlocked a new spot — inside the closet. Rather unorthodox, he knows, and discovered completely by accident, but that back pain is actually yet to kick in as of now, so something must have gone right.

It’s whatever. Mike doesn’t mind where or how he sleeps as long as he knows that Will is okay. It’s more comfortable to have Will in his room, anyway. He likes it.

“Actually, you should probably get back in that closet,” Will lifts his free hand to grab Mike’s shoulder and shake some energy into him. “Because you need to get ready. You’re hanging out with Max today, remember?”

Mike throws his head back and groans, as Will’s smile only widens.

“God, I forgot about that,” he feels a wave of anguish wash over him at the idea of spending his precious Saturday with Max, “you ruined it. We were having a moment.”

“The moment isn’t ruined,” Will jokes as he squeezes Mike’s hand, and now all Mike can think about is the fact that Will is pretty content having not let go yet. “You just need to get dressed. You’ve gotta go in, like, two hours.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” Mike finds another thing to complain about. “I need more than two hours to mentally prepare.”

“I don’t get your problem with her,” Will laughs again, even though Mike is entirely serious. “Trust me, after today, you’re gonna love her. That’s why we’re doing this.”

“I would never love Max,” Mike is quite offended at the prospect.

“Come on, give her a chance.” Will attempts to reason with Mike, but deep down Mike knows he was already sold the second Will switched to that tone of voice. “You guys are both my friends, and I don’t like seeing you argue so much. This’ll totally be worth it.”

Mike pretends to consider for a second, because even with only Will around, it’s kind of embarrassing to fold so instantly because of the way Will smiles.

“Damn it,” Mike lets go of Will’s hand and meets his eyes, still feeling embarrassed one way or another. “I wish you didn’t have such a nice face.” He didn’t mean to say that.

Will laughs about it, because Mike’s tone did sort of make it come off as a joke, but he is dead serious.

With the overwhelmingly strange temptation to give Will a “see you later” kiss on the cheek, which he obviously doesn’t act on, Mike sets off to what will soon become hell.

Now, Mike can’t say he’s ever really liked Max, given that he was the reason she ever had to fight to get into the friend group, but everyone else seems to like her well enough. Will likes her.

Even though Max and Mike have always had this sort of dynamic, Mike supposes that since they never made an effort to fix it, it just got worse. They sort of have the potential to become friends if they knew much more about each other.

So maybe Max wouldn’t be such a problem if she didn’t hate Mike’s guts. When someone hates, Mike hates back. That’s how it works.

Not to mention she’s just annoying. She’s always making snide commentary and calling Mike stupid and ruining Mike’s new, nice shoes.

In technical terms, Max and Mike are friends, because they’re part of the same group, but they only really put up with each other. Barely. Mike only ever really even tries to keep it civil for Will’s sake.

He can’t imagine that having lunch with Max will fix anything about their friendship or the amount of pointless arguments they have, but Mike will put it this way — he might be willing to be a little less annoying if she agrees to be a little less mean. He can’t start being nicer to Max for nothing in return. He’s only doing this for Will, anyway.

Whatever happens, it’s going to be hell.

The diner’s quaint. Pretty nice. It opened up recently, and it’s a great spot. Will suggested going there with Mike when it had first opened, and Mike obviously couldn’t say no.

Max is already sitting at a table for two in the back corner, idly looking at the menu and sparing Mike nothing but a quick glance up when she notices him.

“Max,” Mike attempts to greet her, but he’s already pissed off.

“Mike,” this time she doesn’t look up, rather gives a lazy gesture for Mike to take a seat, which he does.

“I hope you know I’m only doing this for Will’s sake,” Mike subconsciously brushes his shirt down as he sits — a habit he picked up from Will.

“Literally everyone knows that,” Max rolls her eyes and puts the menu down, “you would do anything for Will.”

“I think that anything is a bit of a stretch,” Mike continues talking as if Max cares, “Like, if he asked me to—”

Mike stops talking. He realizes halfway through his sentence that anything is, in fact, not at all a stretch.

“Why’d you cut yourself off, Mike?” Max’s mouth turns up a little bit in an annoying smile. “Is your silence the sound of you proving me right?”

“No,” Mike decides he wants to change the topic. “So, we’re both here to get along better. How do we do that?”

“I don’t know. Have a conversation, or something,” Mike can’t tell whether or not Max is as utterly unbothered as she looks to be. It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to be here any more than he does.

“Okay, uh,” Mike attempts to think of a conversation topic. “I don’t know. What do people usually talk about?”

“Been alive for seventeen years and can’t even make basic conversation?” Max drums her fingers on the table, sounding painfully sarcastic. “I don’t know how you do it, Mike.”

“Well, usually it’s not that hard talking to people. Like,” Mike taps his chin for a moment, “Will! Like Will. Talking to Will is so easy. I guess it’s because he’s my best friend. Just let me try and think what we usually talk about.”

Mike discovers quickly that it’s difficult to talk one-on-one with someone you don’t like. Especially when he’s trying to think of something to talk about, so every topic naturally leaves his brain.

“Nothing?” Max turns up her eyebrows, resting her arms on the table and already looking bored.

“Well, I don’t know!” Mike leans back in annoyance. “I don’t know how having lunch together is supposed to make us get along in the first place. This is stupid.”

“That’s one thing we can agree on,” Max sighs, “this is definitely pointless. But, our friends will kill us if we don’t at least try to be civil, I guess.”

“Right,” Mike shakes his head, “for Will.”

Max makes a noise of disgust, to which Mike acts on his compelling need to reach across the table and lightly hit her on the shoulder.

Maybe it’s a little hard to have a conversation with Max because her and Mike really don’t agree on anything. It’s different with Will. Mike wishes he was talking to Will.

“Okay, how about…” Max sits up straight, looking as though she’s trying to think. “Just— talk about something you like. I promise minimal judgment.”

“Well, I like,” Mike has drawn yet another blank, “damn, what do I like?”

Fortunately, they’re saved by the waitress before Mike gets shamed for not knowing what he likes.

The waitress, who seems to be far more enthusiastic than anyone who works a minimum wage small town diner job ought to be, comes around with her notepad in hand and cheerfully asks them for their orders.

It’s jarring to see someone so happy so early in the morning. She’s at work, absolutely beaming like it isn’t one o’clock in the afternoon. It’s sorcery. Will is the exact same.

“Can I have the two waffles, please?” Max leans over on the table to look at the menu, as if double checking her order. “With the scoop of ice cream.”

“Uh, I’ll take the…” Mike glances at the menu that Max had set down on the table. He hasn’t eaten today, so he figures he’ll take Max’s breakfast for dinner route, though he hates being influenced by her. “I’ll have pancakes, please.” He says plainly, hoping to God that there aren’t multiple pancake orders that will make him have to specify. He’s almost entirely sure there usually aren’t, but he’s unreasonably paranoid about that type of thing.

“Coming right up!” The waitress says, like they always do in movies, and Mike feels a wave of relief that he didn’t have to specify his order as the waitress tucks her pencil behind her ear and practically skips off into the distance, leaving Max and Mike alone again.

“You know, when me and Will come here, we always split our orders,” Mike leans in to tell Max a fun fact that she does not care about, “like, if we come here to get breakfast, I’ll get pancakes and he’ll get french toast and then we’ll half-half. Isn’t that cool?” Max looks like she’s never heard anything less cool. “Granted, we’ve only come here a couple times with just the two of us, but Will says he likes it when we do. He says he feels like it’s already tradition. Isn’t that cool?”

Max, once again, looks like watching paint dry would be cooler than sharing french toast with Will. Mike bets that she’s just jealous that she doesn’t get to share french toast with Will.

Though he definitely would share with her if she asked. Will is really nice and kind and he isn’t repulsed by Max’s existence so he would give her a french toast stick in a heartbeat. It’s a really admirable trait of his. Mike loves it.

“Yeah, sure, that’s cool,” Max gives a half-hearted response with a shrug of the shoulders, and somehow that pisses Mike off more than if she had just not responded at all. “I’m kidding, dude. You’re crazy uninteresting.” She adds that last part with a snort, looking amused with herself.

“Rude, but, whatever,” Mike feels a little offended, “and I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m making conversation with you.”

“You’re not making conversation, you’re talking about half-half-ing breakfast orders with Will like it’s the most interesting thing in the world!” Max puts a hand out to Mike as an annoyed gesture. “It’s insane how you’re so incapable of holding an interesting conversation with anyone who isn’t him.”

“I have conversations with plenty of people,” Mike defends himself, “me and you just don’t have anything to agree on. I mean, if you don’t think that sharing breakfast with Will is cool, then it’s clear that we’re not compatible at all.”

“That’s a stupid thing to measure compatibility on,” Max says firmly, completely unimpressed.

“You’re a stupid thing to measure compatibility on,” Mike’s comeback is horrible, and everyone within a ten mile vicinity is aware of that, which is a little humiliating. He panicked, okay? He isn’t good with witty comebacks under no pressure.

“Thanks, Mike,” Max smirks a little, the sarcasm making its way back into her tone. Man, Mike hates how sarcastic she is. “Can we just move on? This isn’t helping us get along.”

Unfortunately, moving on is the mature thing to do, and Max suggested it, so he really feels inclined not to let it go. However, Will would probably be a little disappointed in him for that, so he holds his peace.

“Fine,” Mike gives in, “then how about you talk this time, if I’m so bad at making conversation?”

“Well, me, El and Will tie dyed a couple shirts the other day,” Max lazily unzips her hoodie and shows off an array of rainbow colors on her shirt. It’s pretty cool, or whatever. “They came out kinda nice.”

“Oh, yeah, I think Will told me about that,” Mike responds, and it seems like he only really latched onto and retained the mention of Will’s name in that sentence.

“El said we should do it again. Maybe you could join us next time.” Max offers, and she forces a little bit of a smile.

“Why?” Mike would only ever consider wasting one of his precious white shirts on tie dye to spend some extra time with Will. That alone is very tempting.

“I’m just trying to make peace with you, bro,” Max shrugs, “so our friends don’t kill us.”

“Right. Well, thanks for offering, but, no.” Mike responds very point-blank, picking at his nails, though he feels a little bit of regret at his answer because he really should be taking the free opportunity to spend some extra time with Will.

“Okay, thank God, I didn’t want you to say yes,” Max leans back and sighs in relief, and Mike finds himself laughing a little. “Being polite to annoying people is hard. I know you’d only actually consider it because I mentioned Will.”

“That’s not true,” Mike bluffs, a little embarrassed and a lot annoyed about the fact that she just happened to know that so easily. Is Mike easy to read? “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” Max snorts, looking down at her menu out of boredom, as the conversation rolls to a stop.

Mike admittedly did think that he would have a little bit more to talk about with Max, given that they have been in the same friend group for years, but it feels like everything Mike comes up with he worries Max will find uninteresting.

He’s actually humiliatingly concerned about that. It’s already been established that he would like Max more if she liked him more, but he admires her just a little bit. She’s cool, he guesses.

He wants to vomit at experiencing such a thought, but the truth is she gets along with everyone and she can pull off sarcasm better than Mike ever could, and she’s honestly pretty funny. Mike would rather die than admit that last part, though.

However, Mike can’t call himself the most socially gifted, and there aren’t really very many opportunities for the casual Mike-Max banter, so the majority of the time spent waiting for their food is spent in complete silence.

It occurs to Mike that maybe one of the reasons they dislike each other so much is because they barely know each other. He can’t even remember the last time they had a one-to-one conversation like this.

At the end of the day, Mike has committed himself to giving friendship with Max a chance, for Will. So, he figures he’ll try his best even when in an awkward diner setting that seems to be beneficial to their relationship in a grand total of zero ways. For Will.

“The waffles and the… pancakes,” the same terrifyingly cheerful waitress lady breaks the silence, setting two plates down onto the table. Mike snaps back into reality, because in the awkwardness he had honestly let himself drift while thinking about going on a calming bike ride with Will.

He wishes Will was here. That would make everything so much easier. He’d probably act as a great buffer and provide, like, conversation starters for Mike and Max. Mike would guarantee that if Will was with Mike and Max, then they’d already be friends, because Will’s comforting presence and sunshine-radiating smile is like Cupid’s arrow, for, like, friendships.

“I don’t know how this is supposed to help us,” is what leaves Mike’s mouth as he cuts into his pancakes, eyeing Max’s scoop of ice cream and unreasonably envious that he didn’t think to order that as well. Hell, he didn’t even know it was an option. “Having us eat lunch together and expecting us to be best buddies after makes no sense. We basically haven’t talked at all.”

“Right?” Max widens her eyes and raises her voice in agreement. “It’s beyond stupid. Honestly, I think their idea of stapling our shirts together would have worked better.”

“Right, but we’d hate that,” Mike struggles to generate such an image in his head, “you’d probably kill me.”

“And the metal from the staples would be against, like, our bare skin,” Max subconsciously rubs her shoulder just picturing it, “that would hurt.”

“But we would definitely trip and fall if they tied our shoelaces together,” Mike adds, moving onto the next idea.

“More like you’d trip and fall, dork,” Max laughs, and Mike leans forward to swat her shoulder on instinct, but he restrains himself. For Will. “And Lucas and Erica’s other shirt thing is just plain dumb.”

“Honestly, I think their best bet would just have been to do this but maybe with one other person aside from us.” Mike shares his idea, mainly as an excuse to mention a certain someone. “Like, if we had Will here, he’d probably be starting conversations and attempting to get us to get along with each other rather than it just being us not saying anything.”

“To be for real, that idea makes a little bit more sense,” Max agrees with a slight nod of the head, “but the whole thing of forcing us to get along is idiotic anyway. It’s more fun when we’re arguing.”

“Agreed,” Mike overestimates how much pancake he can eat in one bite, having to take multiple seconds to chew everything in a very embarrassing attempt to not look stupid, which he surely fails. “Plus, I bet that Will would be awesome at getting us to get along. Since he tolerates you and he’s best friends with me, he’d know what we both like, and he’d be really considerate about everything and he’d always attempt to keep the mood up even if we disagree and I bet it would be at least a little fun with him sitting next to me. Us. With him sitting next to us.”

Mike doesn’t even realize he begins resting his head on his shoulder and somewhat dreamily staring off into the distance like a movie sequence, as Max pairs an eye-roll with a noise of disgust and continues eating her waffle.

“Because Will’s always considerate. He’s always the mediator in arguments and stuff because he’s so nice and everyone listens to him.” Mike, for some reason, feels compelled to continue. “And obviously everyone should listen to him, because he’s the most agreeable person I’ve ever met, but not in the way where he can’t voice his own opinions, because it’s always clear when he disagrees with something, but he handles everything with such grace and he’s always kind even when I would get mad and he’s like if— the sun, was— a person, you know?” He gestures wildly above him to nothing in particular, and Max’s eyes follow as her expression looks right in between annoyed and endeared.

“Not really,” Max responds, taunting Mike as she eats her stupid ice cream because he could really go for some ice cream right about now. Mike takes her dry response as an invitation to keep talking.

Rambling is one thing that Mike finds himself at home doing. Perhaps that’s why he’s not the most socially gifted person, because he talks far too much when he’s passionate about something. A lot of people he met in Freshman year told him every conversation he has is “one-sided”.

And it kind of sucks, sure, but he likes when someone will listen to him talk. Will always listens to him, and he insists he likes it. Ooh, maybe he should talk about that while he has Max’s attention.

“And he’s such a good listener, too. He always listens to me when I just want to talk, which not many people do, you know?”

“I do know,” Max sarcastically interjects.

“I think I’m lucky to be his best friend, you feel me? Because I’m so annoying—”

“You are.”

“—And it’s nice that he puts up with me. In fact, I don’t even want to give myself a big head, but it always feels like he has a soft spot for me. I mean, he’s so no-nonsense — which I love, by the way, I love that he’s so nice but not in a pushover-y way and he can always put people in their place — but when I do something really annoying that isn’t, like, serious, he always laughs about it like it’s cute or something.” At this point, Max looks far more annoyed than endeared. “He’s gorgeous, too. Have you seen him? And he never makes fun of me, which is nice. And he also laughs at all of my jokes, even when you guys don’t, and he says I’m so—”

“Oh my god. Stop. Talking. Stop talking. Please just shut up, Mike.” Max buries her face in her hands, sounding more annoyed than she ever has, which Mike didn’t quite think was possible.

“What? Okay, harsh,” Mike tries to brush it off, a mix of confusion and annoyance in his tone, “the hell’s that about?”

“Can you talk about something unrelated to Will for five seconds?” Max seems even more irritated now. “Do you actually talk about anything that isn’t about him?”

“Of course I do,” Mike’s confusion turns into offence, “I went on a tiny ramble, once. It wasn’t even slightly a full-scale ramble! And I haven’t even talked about him before that since we got here.”

“That’s a stone-cold fucking lie,” Max looks filled with despair as he shoves another but of waffle into her mouth, “in fact, you’ve managed the bring him up at least, like, twice in literally every single conversation we’ve had. You subconsciously link everything back to that guy. We were finally starting to have a bearable conversation about how stupid this is, and then you slip into a whole rant about how perfect he is and how in love with him you are.”

In the last part of her sentence, Max scrunches up her face and deepens her voice to a comical level to imitate Mike, but he isn’t even stuck on that part.

“How in what with him I am?” Mike does a double take, because he can’t really have heard that right. It’s such an absurd thing to say, it’s almost unbelievable.

“Don’t tell me,” Max buries her face in her hands once again, her vocal fry turned up to the maximum as pure dread leaks out of her voice. “How hadn’t I guessed? You’re in total denial about it, too.”

“No, I’m not,” Mike raises his voice a little, which, to normal people, is apparently a lot. “I am not in love with Will.”

“Geez, at least learn how to fucking whisper, Mike,” Max leans forward and brings her voice down to an intense whisper-shout, looking around the diner, which isn’t all too loud or crowded. “And you could not more obviously be head over heels for him. It’s embarrassing.”

“How?”

“How? Have you listened to a single word to come out of your mouth since you stepped foot into this place? You can’t have a conversation if it’s not all about him and how amazing he is!” Max lightly slams her hands down on the table for dramatic effect. “You just compared him to the sun. And you always have that dreamy look in your eyes when you talk about him like you’re the main girl from a teen movie.”

“While all of that is true, you’re making it sound way too romantic.” Mike tries to keep his head on straight, because he knows that Max will have the upper hand if he gets annoyed, since she’s obviously trying to annoy him, because of how not plausible this concept is. Mike thinks that Max forgot somewhere down the line that Will is a dude.

However, he feels his face getting hotter, and he’s not sure if the whole thing of staying nonchalant is exactly working.

“No, I’m making it sound exactly how it is, because it is romantic,” Max sighs, “and that’s not even close to the half of it. Consider it, man. You can’t keep your hands off of him. You look at him like he’s your whole world. Every time you guys are in the same room and you even glance at him it’s like I’m attacked with the energy with how badly you wanna kiss him.”

“Woah, I do not wanna kiss Will,” the volume of Mike’s voice starts to creep up again, “are you out of your mind?”

“Well, there’s definitely something you want to be doing with him if he’s on your mind all day every day,” Max takes a pause from talking to continue her waffle, “you’re genuinely braindead, Mike. I’ve actually never met someone with romantic feelings more glaringly obvious. You’re practically drooling over him at any given moment.”

“Not true,” Mike tries to craft his words very carefully, because he doesn’t know how to go about explaining that all of this is, in fact, true, but in a totally non-romantic, comrade-in-arms kind of way. “It’s just— you wouldn’t understand. It’s just a really close friendship. You clearly wouldn’t know what that looks like.”

“You know what, I’m not— I’m not even gonna argue with you, Mike,” Max rubs her temples, “because you’re usually fun to fight with because you’re so stupid that I’m always right but you always double down, which is pretty funny, but this is such an unbelievably idiotic stance for you to take that I genuinely think that arguing with you would be completely useless.”

“I don’t know what any of this is supposed to mean,” Mike throws his hands up in a defensive manner, offended by all of Max’s comments about Mike’s intelligence and his feelings.

“Yes, you do,” Max huffs, “maybe you’re not so much stupid as you are in total denial, but I know damn well you’ve had these feelings for years, and I know damn well they’re only getting stronger. I’d bet you know that, too, but you’re so against confronting anything difficult. Even if you weren’t in denial, I know you’d never tell him.”

“First of all, I don’t have romantic feelings for Will to any capacity, especially not romantic feelings of love, because that’s literally impossible,” Mike raises his index finger and pushes up imaginary glasses as if he’s about to say something smart, “and even if I was, why would I tell him that?”

“You’re an idiot, Mike,” seems to be all that Max can respond with.

“That didn’t answer my question at all, by the way.”

From there, she doesn’t speak on the topic any more, rather she continues her waffle, and Mike thinks he catches her muttering something adjacent to “he needs the most obvious things spelled out to him” under her breath. Mike is unreasonably pissed off.

“You’re paying the full bill, by the way,” Max says after a moment, her voice quiet and monotone, “you’ve caused me far too much trouble.”

Mike has the gut feeling that this hangout actually didn’t fix anything.

This morning, Mike finds himself, once again, in the closet.

Today, it isn’t for a reason nearly as elegant as him falling asleep while sorting out his clothes, rather he had thought that sleeping in the closet might be a cheat hack to get around back pain.

Not true, is what he finds out. Last time was a pure fluke, because the first things Mike manages to notice when he wakes up in the dark is the fact that there’s a fallen shirt directly over his head and that his back hurts like hell.

Turns out, sleeping anywhere but his own bed is going to make Mike’s back hurt, and that doesn’t seem to be something he can avoid. It’s worth it for Will’s own comfort, but still.

Every part of his body needs serious stretching after spending about five hours cooped up sat criss-cross in a closet, but Mike really can’t be all too bothered to move.

Ever since that disaster of a lunch date with Max, Mike has been doing a lot of thinking. Specifically about all the stuff regarding, you know, Will.

Now, Mike loves Will just as much as the next guy, given that they have been best friends for a ridiculous amount of time, and Mike makes sure everybody knows that. However, it’s never occurred to Mike that this love could extend any further than being platonic. That’s literally not plausible.

Max would obviously know this, because she has a brain. Will and Mike, as people, do not go together romantically. That’s just science. Mike couldn’t be in love with him. Everyone knows this.

What’s throwing Mike for a loop is that Max sounded scarily serious. It was like every fibre of her being believed something so idiotic.

Dustin, Lucas, Nancy, Holly and even Mike’s mom have all made some type of joke that Mike remembers that could imply a possible romantic connection between Mike and Will. Piles of them. Lucas is obsessed with those little comments.

And sure, it’s really annoying, and he doesn’t see the sense in it — he doesn’t think that the way he and Will speak to one another resembles flirting at all — so he obviously always gets really defensive, but he could at least count on the fact that everyone is joking. He hadn’t expected any of his friends to be serious about it. Especially not Max.

Mike? In love with Will? It’s absurd. Absolutely, incomprehensibly, preposterously absurd. Absurd!

But maybe he should trust Max. She is in a romantic relationship, after all. Maybe she knows what she’s talking about.

Actually, Mike has also been in a relationship before, and he knows for a fact that what he feels for Will is completely different to what he ever felt for El. That much he’s sure about.

So, by this logic, if what he feels for Will is different to what he felt for his previous romantic partner, then his feelings for Will aren’t romantic at all.

Granted, Mike still isn’t totally sure if he ever loved El. He spends an unreasonable amount of time going over everything in his head and trying to figure it out.

Whatever, he’s— don’t ask him about that right now. Whenever he thinks about his relationship with El, it’s like his brain makes a noise adjacent to the sound of a fork getting put down the sink garbage disposal. It isn’t pleasant.

He can’t believe he’s even considering this. He knows that Max is petty and unreasonable and she obviously has a screw loose after getting so pressed over the most outrageous concept of the decade, so he should stop entertaining her ideas. He needs some air.

It takes far too much effort for Mike to pick the shirt off of his head and stretch his arm out and push the closet door open, the light totally assaulting his eyes on impact as he lets out a noise of surprise about the brightness, shocking himself with the sound of his own fried voice.

The time is anywhere from seven in the morning to three in the afternoon, and Will is gone by the time Mike manages to force himself to stand up and step out of the closet. His bed is perfectly made as if no one had ever slept in it and it isn’t totally endowed with Will’s scent, and — God, that was weird, why did he say that? — everything spins for a moment as Mike’s eyes adjust to the light.

He really hopes that this doesn’t begin to become his average morning.

The basic morning routine is a chore today. He doesn’t know where Will is or what he’s doing. Maybe he’s downstairs, helping around the house — because he’s so productive and kind and willing to help. That’s the best case scenario. It’s either that, or he’s out of the house, off hanging out with one of their friends, or something.

Mike doesn’t know if seeing Will right now would make things better or worse. Better, surely. Will always makes things better. Plus, all of this worry is totally unreasonable and all in Mike’s head. If anything, talking to Will would actually clear things up because it would allow Mike to see how stupid Max is.

Because that’s what she is. Stupid. Really. The whole thing is stupid.

Sure, Mike is totally enamoured by Will’s otherworldly beauty at all times, because he’s so effortlessly gorgeous and Mike would do anything to see him smile, but in a, like, best friends kind of way.

And sure, Mike constantly chokes on air around Will, and his kindness and comfort around Mike always makes Mike feel a strange thing he can only describe as sick, but he thinks he just has a bad immune system.

See? There are just about ten thousand explanations for the way Mike feels that don’t involve the L-word. Max is stupid. This whole thing is stupid.

So why does he feel like he doesn’t really believe himself?

It’s like his brain is gaslighting him into thinking he’s wrong. It’s insane. Ridiculous.

And, even though he’s trying to clear his head and think about something less mentally straining, this dilemma isn’t leaving his mind. It’s annoying.

By the time he makes it downstairs, his back doesn’t hurt any less and his eyes aren’t any less heavy or covered with crust. The only thing he really wants is for Will to be home so he can greet him with a good morning and place a hand on his shoulder to pull him closer and then give him a kiss on the forehead.

Okay — weird, a little. Not really, he thinks. No, yeah, it is. Kinda. Maybe.

Maybe he shouldn’t entertain that fantasy any longer. His mom is in the kitchen, cooking something or other. Whether it’s supposed to be breakfast, lunch or dinner is completely up in the air.

“What time do you call this?” It’s like she senses his presence, because she begins speaking as soon as he shows up at the doorway, not even glancing in his direction.

“It can’t be that late,” Mike rubs his eyes with one hand and shoves the other into the pocket of his jeans.

“It’s two in the afternoon, Mike,” now, his mom does look away from her frying pan, giving Mike that signature stern look. “I know that it’s summer break, but you really ought to start waking up earlier.”

“I know, sorry,” Mike decides to offer a half-hearted apology, because he really doesn’t care. “Is Will here?”

“No, he left about a couple hours ago,” Mike’s mom shrugs as she goes back to cooking, “I think he’s with Lucas.”

“Really?” Mike throws his head back and groans, leaning on the doorframe for dramatic purposes. “I’m just going to go back to bed.”

“You will do no such thing,” her voice turns stern again, before going soft. “Come on, he’ll probably be back soon.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mike shrugs and leaves the room, after a huge steaming bowl full of nothing of a conversation. He was half expecting her to throw in a “you know you can tell me anything, right?”, just to really hammer in the damage. She says that a concerning amount.

After the whole Max thing, Mike starts to worry that she isn’t joking.

Does everyone think that Mike is in love with Will? Is that a possibility? What has this world reached?

Mike wonders what his life would look like if he was to be in love with Will. Disastrous, most likely. Will would never love him back, in theory.

But what if he did? What if Will and Mike started, like, dating? That would be weird. Would they, like, kiss and stuff? Would it be like Mike’s relationship with El? Better? Worse?

For some reason, the idea of kissing Will doesn’t seem totally gross. Pleasant, even.

Well, maybe pleasant is a bit of a stretch, but, you get it.

He’s deluding himself now. Obviously Will and Mike would never start dating each other. That’s absurd.

This whole situation is so absurd that this is the fourth time he’s using that word today. He can’t think of any other word that captures the situation so perfectly. It’s purely— absurd.

But now he’s worried that every time someone accuses Mike of liking Will, they aren’t joking. Does everyone think this? How? This whole thing feels like one giant mystery and Mike has decided he needs answers.

He should ask. No, he shouldn't. He'll look demented. Everyone in his life is going to think he’s — God forbid — gay. As if that’s a real thing.

Unless it is.

Mike knows that he won’t stop thinking about this until he gets an answer, from anyone. That’s the annoying thing. It’s either he asks someone about it and risks humiliation, or he lets it eat him alive until he, like, dies.

Maybe asking isn’t too bad of an idea. When he gets back into his room, he heads straight back for the closet.

The place is kind of comforting now. Sure, it’s not a friend of his back, and the bed is literally free, but Mike feels cool sitting in the closet. He feels like he could shoot an album cover in here.

He comes to the decision that he should brainstorm who to ask about this type of thing.

Anyone in his family is automatically off limits. Immediately. He almost considers Nancy, but there’s a chance she might rip him to shreds. It’s a small one, but he won’t risk it. Nancy’s been making jokes about Will and Mike for as long as Mike can remember. She used to roll her eyes at Mike and comment about how Mike “talked about Will all the time” when he was ten.

He thinks that nothing has really changed.

Well, Nancy’s a no-go. Anyone in his family is too close to this.

As for his friends? He only has five friends he feels close enough with to talk about a matter as vulnerable as romantic feelings, so he figures he’ll go through them.

Mike already knows where Max stands on this, so he’d better skip over her. She’s the reason for all this, anyway.

Dustin and Lucas are iffy. Out of everyone Mike knows, they’re responsible for at least sixty percent of Will and Mike’s allegations. Mike has a feeling that if he asked them, they’d instantly say yes, which would be kind of embarrassing. He needs someone unbiased.

There’s El. She’s wise as fuck, and probably the second best listener in the whole friend group. Mike has a feeling that if he asked her about it, she wouldn’t judge him at all, and would think up her most honest and blunt answer.

However, the thing to consider is that El probably knows less about love than Mike, and that’s a really low bar. He doesn’t want to burden her with a huge question she might not be able to answer.

Also, El just needs a breather from romantic situations. Even though things ended really well, all things considered, Mike really doesn’t want to go to his ex-girlfriend a year after the breakup and ask if she thinks he wants to kiss her brother. That’s too much.

So, after ruling everyone out, Mike realizes that the most optimal person in his life to ask about this situation is Will.

Which is great, aside from the one glaring issue that this situation is entirely about Will.

Imagine going to your best friend and asking if, by his personal opinion, he thinks you’re in love with him? Mike cringes at the mere thought.

The entire thing makes Mike squirm in his closet seat, because obviously he’s not enough of an idiot to ask Will such a question. What happens if Will says yes? Would Will feel the same? Would things go further?

What happens if Will says no? Do they just pretend that Mike never asked that?

Now that’s too much. Far too much. Mike doesn’t want to imagine how that interaction would go at all.

Then again, Will’s really honest and he’s a fantastic listener and he probably wouldn’t judge Mike at all, and he’d probably handle the situation with the utmost kindness and care. Maybe Mike should ask him.

What? No he shouldn’t. He’s lost his mind. He can't believe he’s even considering this.

Mike leans back until he’s against the back of the closet, moving loose clothing out of his way and slouching where he sits. Criss-cross is uncomfortable, but he fears he has no other option when sat down on the floor of a closet.

His brain is totally fried. He gives up, closes his eyes and attempts to go back to sleep, an attempt that he fails miserably.

The passage of time between then and now could have been anywhere from ten minutes to two hours.

However long it’s been, Mike is still sitting very uncomfortably in his closet, overcome with dread and only one thought in his brain.

It’s like his train of thought has been running in a circle for the past who-knows-how-long. Everything is just one giant chain of What if I am in love with Will? and No, I can’t be and But maybe it’s possible and repeat. He feels his sanity slipping away by the second.

Mark the day— July twenty-fourth, whatever year it is: the day Mike Wheeler truly goes crazy.

A splash of happiness is poured into Mike’s sorrow when the bedroom door opens a crack, and he gets his hopes up really high for it to be Will.

And he was right to have his hopes high, because here’s Will Byers, stepping into the room with a somewhat shy wave and closing the door behind him, taking off his jacket and hanging it neatly on the back of Mike’s door.

Mike’s neutral expression quickly turns into a smile when he locks eyes with Will from across the room. Man, he almost forgot how beautiful he is. It’s unreal.

“Mike!” Will’s eyes light up when he catches sight of the open closet door. “Morning.”

“Hi, Will,” Mike’s smile softens, and he already feels a little bit calmer.

“Sorry I couldn’t catch you this morning,” Will sits himself down on the floor across from the closet, sitting cross-legged to mirror Mike. “You were asleep when I left. Have you been in here the whole day?”

“Basically,” Mike admits with a shrug, because he really has nothing to hide from Will.

“Mike,” Will shakes his head affectionately, and Mike melts a little. “I know it’s kind of a drag, but you’ve got to do something, at least.”

“I know, it’s just…”

Will can read Mike like a book. He can pretty much tell every emotion that Mike’s feeling, with a couple exceptions. Mike doesn’t get away with very many lies when it comes to Will.

Obviously, Mike knows it’s only a matter of time until Will realizes that there’s something wrong. Mike is currently using half of his brain to figure out his most convincing lie while the other half talks to Will.

“It’s just what?” Will’s smile quickly melts into an expression of concern. “In fact, it’s, like, five. It isn’t really like you to have stayed up here for that long.” Mike simply braces himself for the question Will will inevitably ask, because Mike has come up short on good excuses. “There something on your mind, Mike?”

“No! No, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Mike makes a little effort to lie, just to see if it works.

It doesn’t.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Will shrugs, looking at Mike with something sparkling in his eyes. Will’s eyes are so expressive. Mike loves them. “Come on, Mike. You know you can tell me.”

“I know, but it’s stupid.” Mike says honestly, because he fully believes that. “It’s, like, crazy stupid. It’s not worth your time at all.”

“Seriously?” Will shuffles a little bit closer to the closet. “I don’t believe that.” He crosses his arms, and Mike tilts his head. “Not for a second. I don’t think anything that’s worrying you is stupid, Mike. You’re always worth my time.”

Will looks so genuine it makes Mike sick. If this is love, Mike thinks he just fell even harder.

“Damn it, you’re so sweet,” Mike tries to sound quiet and unflattered to draw Will’s attention from the way that Mike is probably blushing at least a little bit, though he doesn’t know if it works in the slightest. “It’s just— it’s really weird.”

Mike considers actually asking Will for his advice. He knows he said he wouldn’t do it, but what other options are there now? Will would definitely understand if Mike said he didn’t want to talk about it, but Mike would probably feel really bad. At the end of the day, Mike has considered how wise and perceptive and amazing Will is, so maybe it’s not the worst idea in the world?

He braces himself for this one. He knows he’s about to make a big mistake.

In fact, he needs to stand up.

“If I tell you, will you promise not to be weirded out?” Mike asks with caution, slowly and painstakingly standing up and staying in the closet, stretching so intensely it gives him a slight headache.

“Of course,” Will responds with the utmost sincerity, standing up after Mike does.

“Okay.”

Actually, Mike isn’t ready. He needs a second to hype himself up. Plan this out. Does he try to ease his way into the question or ask straight up? Which would be less awkward?

None, probably. He needs to just say it. Yes, that. He’s gone too far to turn back.

But what if Will does find it—

“Do you think that I’m in love with you?”

Mike doesn’t even get the chance to finish his last thought before the words come out of his mouth. The damage has officially been done.

“What?”

Will’s eyes widen in surprise and confusion. Mike already regrets so much.

“Okay, well, not, like—” Mike knew he should have eased into the question instead. There’s a reason why ordinary people don’t bite bullets. “Well, people always make jokes that we, you know, like each other, which you would obviously know, but—” Mike scratches his head out of nervousness. “When I talked to Max yesterday she said that I was in love with you and that it’s really obvious and it’s been all I can think about lately.”

“And you want me to tell you if that’s true or not?” Will looks in disbelief.

“Well, I want your advice,” Mike tries to play it cool, “because it’s been really bothering me.”

“But I feel like you would be the one to know if you were in love or not, right?” Will tilts his head. “I can’t help you to a grand extent.”

“Okay, how about I…” Mike looks around frantically, as if the inside of his closet is going to give him answers to the universe. “How about I tell you some stuff I feel about you, and you weigh in for me?”

Will doesn’t say anything. He looks strangely flustered. Instead, he nods, and Mike tries to generate his opening words.

“So— I think you’re amazing, Will, obviously. And I, uh— I don’t really know where I’m going with this one, but you’re… But you’re like the sun to me, Will. It’s like you’re bathed in light every time I look at you and you radiate warmth, and when you smile, it’s like— gosh, you can light up the whole room— and I love seeing you smile and being happy and all of that stuff, and… Like, I would choose you over the actual sun any day.” Mike decides that was over the top and makes the choice to backtrack. “Well, like, metaphorically, because without the real sun I’d probably die, you know that. You probably got that. Sorry. Uh…”

Will’s expression starts to soften. It turns into something of a smile, and Mike can hardly even process how weird his chest feels.

“But you have the prettiest smile ever and the prettiest face ever, and you’re the most kind and amazing person to be around ever and I feel so lucky to be your best friend and—” Mike tries to think of more to say, “And you have really warm hands, and— I think about you all the time. You’re on my mind, like, 24/7. I found out yesterday that I don’t even realize I mention you in, like, all my conversations. I probably have been for years. You just always find a way to stick in my mind.”

He’s torn between saying more and wrapping things up right about now. Mike has embarrassed himself more than expected, and Will seems to be biting back a huge grin, while Mike doesn’t know how to feel about anything he has just said.

“I just— I think you’re so cool, Will. And that was the shortened version.” Mike forces out a laugh, to which Will responds with a genuine and very endeared laugh. Gosh, he loves Will’s laugh. He should have mentioned that. Whatever. Too late now. “Thats just a little bit of what I think about you, uh… Max thinks I’m head over heels. What do you think?”

Will takes a second to say something. The suspense is through the roof. Surely he’ll just say no and then things will go back to normal. Mike still thinks that Max is nuts.

“As I said, Mike, I can’t be the one to tell you how you feel…” Will tries to seem serious, but he’s smiling like crazy, and Mike can tell. He takes a step closer to the closet. “Thank you for the kind words, but I don’t really know.”

“You don’t know?” Mike repeats, feeling even more humiliated that he said all that just to not get an answer at all, as Will is busy taking another step closer.

Mike snaps back into reality and all of a sudden they're close. Too close. Mike’s eyes flicker down and land right on Will’s mouth. That part of him is perfect too.

Maybe Mike is crazy, but with this distance between them, Mike wonders what Will’s mouth would feel like if Mike clicked it together with his own.

That’s gross, right? Definitely.

Maybe not, because, undeniably, he kind of wants to kiss Will. Like a lot.

He’s had this thought a couple times throughout his life, or maybe more than just a couple, but this feels like the first time that it’s a legitimate urge at the forefront of his mind.

Because Will’s lips look so soft— ew. Mike has to restrain himself from physically cringing at that thought. He can’t be thinking that about Will. It’s a gross sentence. Whatever. His mouth is pretty much hanging wide open as he stares at Will’s.

Now, this is a crazy thought, but hear him out: what if he kissed Will right now?

It’s crazy, he knows, but that’s, like, the one true act of romance with another person, so maybe it would help him figure out his feelings. If it’s not his thing, then they can go back to pretending this never happened, and if he likes it, the world comes crashing down on him and Max his right. That seems about fair.

Maybe he should. No, that’s crazy. Totally crazy.

Would Will like it? There’s a huge chance that Will also isn’t into Mike at all.

But this is so awkward. They haven’t said anything, they’re practically just breathing on each other. It seems both of them are waiting for the other to do something. Mike just doesn’t think. He turns his brain off and lets whoever else is in control in his body do the rest of the work.

“Would you know if I did something else?” Is what Mike’s empty mind comes up with, his voice low and bordering on a whisper, but not quite there yet.

“Something else like what?” Mike can’t tell if Will’s expression hints at total cluelessness or knowing what Mike is implying. Mike doesn’t care, because he can’t stop himself before his eyes are already drifting shut and his hands are moving up to either side of Will’s face.

Will startles with a muffled noise, and Mike worries he made a grave mistake, but Will seems to relax into it really quickly.

Of all the times Mike has kissed, he’s never kissed anyone like this before. The sensation is totally different. Like his guts are on fire, but in a really, really, good way.

The first thought he can process when they all come flooding back into is brain goes something like, “fuck, Max was right”.

Mike finds the rest of himself lost, only aware of the feeling of Will’s hands moving to hold Mike’s waist. That part’s great, too. Will has such a delicate touch, Mike thinks Will should hold his waist more often.

Mike pulls away only after a few seconds, because he isn’t trying to make anything last too long without Will wanting it to. He wishes he had stayed for longer, though. He wonders if Will thinks that as well.

His breath is unnecessarily heavy after a kiss so short, and he automatically goes right back to staring at Will’s slightly open mouth as he keeps his hands around his face, because Will’s skin is burning hot.

When he looks at Will, it’s like all of his strange feelings click together in a very simple puzzle.

“Wow, I’m— I’m sorry, Mike, I still don’t know if I have an answer for you, I…” Will looks absolutely dazed. It’s like if Mike looks hard enough, he’ll be able to see black and white swirls in Will’s eyes instead of pupils. Somehow, he looks even more spaced out than Mike.

“That’s okay. You don’t need one.” Mike speaks fast and sharp, so he doesn’t forget his words. He still isn’t meeting Will’s eyes. His brain disconnects from his body as his voice lowers itself back down to a whisper. “Thanks, Will. You’ve helped me figure it out on my own.”

Will’s eyes widen slightly, and they still look a little hypnotized. It looks like there’s absolutely nothing on Will’s mind, something which Mike can’t say he’s ever seen before.

Mike doesn’t know what he’s going to say, but he realizes he doesn’t need to say anything more as Will’s grip on Mike’s waist becomes firmer and Will shuts his eyes and tilts his head to lean back in for the second kiss.

This time, it’s Mike who’s caught a bit off guard, but he quickly melts in Will’s contact as Will pulls him out of the closet by the waist, causing Mike to stumble over and very nearly trip as he finds his way onto the bedroom floor, struggling to stand as Will steadies his balance. Will laughs a tiny bit into the kiss.

Will continues to guide Mike in something that Mike could only describe as a little similar to drunk blindfolded ballroom dancing as Will briefly reaches out an arm to push the closet door shut and Mike’s feet get all tangled up with Will’s and they almost trip over numerous times, but they manage to save themselves before Mike takes the lead, turning Will around and performing the closest thing he can do to walking until Will is pressed up against the closet door.

From there, Mike is a little slower as he leans as far into Will as he can, as his hands move from around his cheeks to up in his hair. He feels bad for messing up Will’s hair, but he can’t bring himself to be concerned about that in the moment. Will always looks amazing with messy hair anyway.

At any given moment, he could probably collapse, because of the fact that he’s kissing Will Byers, and both of them seem to be enjoying it quite a bit. Will shifts his hands and wraps them more around Mike’s waist, and Mike makes a tiny and rather embarrassing noise which he can’t stop from coming from the deep dark depths of his throat.

His mouth parts and his tongue slips through, and he doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but he enjoys the sensation he gets a whole lot. Mike really hadn’t envisioned his Sunday to end with his tongue in Will’s mouth, but he’s pretty happy with where he is. Like, it should be totally gross, but it feels really good. He doesn’t know how it’s possible. Will seems to be fond of it, too, by the sound of things.

Mike doesn’t know when to stop. Preferably never. He doesn’t know how much further he can push Will against the closet door, or how much further forward he can lean.

When Mike does make the tough call to pull away, Will looks even more hypnotized than before. He looks like there isn’t a single thing up in his head. It’s a strange sight because Will’s always thinking and being logical.

“Oh, my god, Mike,” is the first thing Will gets out when he regains his breath, his voice still very breathless and the giddiest grin Mike has ever seen plastered all over his face. Mike feels the exact same.

“Will,” happens to be the only thing Mike can think to respond with, if he can think at all, as he idly twists tufts of Will’s hair around his fingers. After taking a second to process everything, it’s not long until Mike feels himself grinning like an idiot too, until they’re both just staring at each other with the stupidest smiles.

“I just— you just— we just—” Mike wonders if he’s even seen Will smile so uncontrollably. It’s a really nice sight.

“Yeah,” Mike replies, his voice full of air and his head in the clouds. “You know what?” Mike meets Will’s eyes for the first time in forever. “I think I might have to give Max some credit. I mean, if she hadn’t really laid into me about this yesterday I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“So does that mean you like her now?” Will tilts his head further to the side, and his smile grows impossibly wider.

“It means I’ll consider liking her.” Mike shrugs, once again trying to be nonchalant. “She did something good for me. She isn’t so bad.”

“See, Mike?” Will closes his eyes with confidence like this was all part of his brilliant master plan. “I know you had your doubts about the lunch date, but you’ve got to admit we did well.”

“I can hardly give you any credit,” Mike laughs, “you had no clue this would have happened.”

“I guess,” Will echoes Mike’s laugh, “but I still get a bit of credit.”

“Fine,” Mike rolls his eyes, and he never wants the moment to end.

So he’s decided that Max isn’t so bad.

This morning, Mike’s back doesn’t hurt quite so much when he wakes up.

He had almost forgotten how comfortable his bed is compared to the desk chair. Will’s pretty lucky to have slept on that for the past year.

“Morning, Mike,” Mike pries his eyelids open when his attention is immediately caught by Will’s voice, which doesn’t sound quite so tired at all.

It’s kind of hard for two people to cram into Mike’s bed, but he thinks they’ve managed it without any issues for about a week. Will says he likes it much better this way.

“Will,” Mike blinks a few times until his eyes don’t feel quite so weird, and he fully processes that he’s awake and right next to Will. He shuffles closer so that they’re touching.

“I’ve gotta go in a little bit,” Will makes a poor effort to fix up his hair, “I’m running an errand for your mom. I was just waiting for you to wake up.”

Will looks to be already fully dressed. Mike wonders how late it is.

“What, really?” Mike yawns as he talks, which makes Will laugh a little. “Can I come?”

“You want to?” Will turns to lay on his side and face Mike, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

“I’d rather run an errand with you than sit around doing nothing in the house without you.” Mike says as matter-of-factly as he can, and Will smiles wider.

“Alright, then you have to get ready,” Will decides, “and we can also pass by Max so we can give her the thank you note that you wrote her.”

“That…” Mike groans at the thought. In yet another attempt to get Mike to make peace with Max, Will made Mike write a letter detailing a thank you for getting him and Will together and a sorry for being annoying. It’s not exactly his best piece of writing.

“Come on, she’ll appreciate it!” Will tries to convince Mike, though they probably both already know that Mike has already been convinced. “Didn’t she give you a little bit of an apology for being mean the other day? You should pay it back.”

“It was barely an apology.”

“She shook your hand and everything,” Will defends her, and Mike loves that Will always sees the best in people. “It was a good letter that you wrote. If you give it to her, I’m sure you’ll respect each other more and get along better.”

Mike pretends to consider it for a moment. “Fine,” he agrees, “but only because you told me to.”

“I know,” Will sounds sarcastic but not in an annoying way, pulling the covers off of himself and getting out of bed. “Now get up and get dressed if you want to come with me.”

“Okay,” Mike can’t help but feel a little giddy as he lays down and looks at Will from his sideways view, because he’s attacked by the feeling of gratefulness that he is the first and hopefully only person on this stupid planet to date Will Byers.

Nowadays, it’s pretty much all he can think about.