Chapter Text
“So,” Dr. Hamill said, settling her notebook onto her lap. “What else has been on your mind this week?”
Mike chewed on the inside of his cheek. How was he supposed to answer that? Everything had been on his mind.
Lately it felt like his brain had forgotten how to shut up. Ever since Henry was dead and the Upside Down had finally been destroyed, there wasn’t a constant apocalypse demanding his attention anymore. Instead, every stray thought, memory, embarrassment, and feeling he’d successfully ignored for years suddenly had all the time in the world. And boy, were they making themselves known.
Unfortunately, so did the narrator and the narrator had opinions. Mostly rude ones.
It existed for the sole purpose of reminding Mike about every stupid thing he’d ever done. Like his own little shoulder demon, whose favorite hobby was whispering mean shit in his ear.
‘Remember when you walked in on Nancy and Jonathan?’
Mike grimaced. That one never failed. He’d opened Nancy’s bedroom door without knocking and walked in on them being very horizontal on her bed.
Then there was the bathroom incident. He’d been absolutely certain he’d locked the door. He hadn’t. Max had walked in on him mid-shit, and somehow turned it into material that had lasted the better part of a year.
‘Did you ever figure out how a lock works?’
“Fuck off,” Mike muttered under his breath.
The narrator wasn’t finished. ‘Or what about middle school?’
Mike huffed. He’d tripped in the cafeteria, grabbed at the nearest table to catch himself, and succeeded only in ripping his jeans nearly from front to back. His tighty-whities had become the hottest topic in Hawkins Middle School for almost a month.
Good times.
The embarrassing memories were annoying but the other memories…Those were worse. Because one of them kept coming back over and over again, and Mike still didn’t understand why.
It was the night at the Squawk, just before their final battle with Vecna. Will had gathered everyone together.
“I haven’t told any of you this because I don’t want you to see me differently. But the truth is…” His voice had shaken as he looked around the room. “…I am different.”
Mike still remembered how terrified he looked. Will talked about growing up together. About D&D campaigns and bike rides and other fond memories from their shared childhood. Then he took a breath and finally said it.
“I…I don’t like girls. I mean…I do. Just…not like you guys do.”
Mike had heard every word. His best friend was crying in front of him, trusting all of them with the biggest secret he’d ever carried. Will even admitted he’d had a crush on somebody—a boy he’d nicknamed Tammy—who didn’t feel the same way.
Mike hadn’t known what to do with any of it, so he’d done what he always did with feelings he didn’t understand. He’d shoved them into a mental box. Closed the lid. And refused to look inside again.
When everyone moved to hug Will, Mike did too. Of course he did. Nothing about that confession was ever going to change the fact that Will was his best friend.
Mike had tried later that night, while they climbed the tower toward what very well could’ve been their grisly demise, to tell Will that none of it mattered. That he was still Will. It came out all awkward and messy, so he focused on what needed to be done and moved on.
Then, somehow…they won. They killed that evil motherfucker. Destroyed the Upside Down. Signed more government paperwork than Mike ever wanted to think about again. And somehow started figuring out what normal looked like.
Normal looked different for everyone.
The Wheeler house was repaired. Hopper and Joyce bought a place nearby, which meant someone was constantly showing up with food or an excuse to check on everybody. Jonathan moved to New York. Nancy left for Boston with Robin in tow. Steve—somehow the one Mike had expected to leave first—stayed right there in Hawkins.
Jane finally got to return to high school alongside everyone else once classes resumed. Little by little, life stopped feeling like something they’d survived and started feeling like something they were actually living. Mike wasn’t sure normal would ever really exist. But at least they were getting closer.
The government had insisted on weekly therapy sessions for everyone involved. Mike had hated the idea at first. Then, somewhere along the way they actually started helping. One unexpected benefit of said weekly therapy sessions was that Mike slowly started learning how to think more critically about himself.
One Friday afternoon, about four months after their victory, he sat on the couch in Dr. Hamill’s softly lit office while she spoke about recognizing emotional triggers.
Something she said made the narrator whisper one word. ‘Tammy.’
Immediately, that familiar anger settled in Mike’s chest. It happened every time. Whenever he thought about the asshole who’d broken his best friend’s heart, something inside him tightened. He’d never understood why it bothered him so much. Someone had made Will sad, and somehow Mike couldn’t let it go.
Before he really thought about it, the words slipped out. “I still get really angry sometimes.”
Dr. Hamill looked up from the notebook balanced across her knee. She tilted her head thoughtfully. “That’s understandable, Michael. Given everything you’ve been through these past few years, anger isn’t exactly an unusual response. You need to give yourself permission to feel that.”
Mike shook his head. “No…it’s different.” She waited. He sighed. “It’s not something I should still be this angry about.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It isn’t even my problem.”
Her pen scratched quietly across the paper before she looked back up. “So there’s something specific making you angry?”
Mike immediately regretted opening his mouth. “I don’t know, never mind.”
“Michael. No ‘never mind,’” she said gently. “We’ve talked about this. I am aware of your situation. Nothing you say in this room is going to be judged or used against you. My job is simply to help you understand what you’re feeling.”
Mike shifted awkwardly on the couch. “It’s going to sound…really dumb.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “There’s no such thing as dumb in here either.”
He hugged one of the throw pillows a little tighter. “My friend…” He hesitated. “I’ve told you about Will before.” She nodded. “A while back…” Mike looked down at the floor. “He told all of us that he’s gay.”
Dr. Hamill’s expression didn’t change. “And that made you angry?”
“No!” Mike answered so quickly he almost startled himself. “Not that.” Everything was coming out wrong. He dragged both hands down his face before trying again. “He told us he had a crush on this guy.” Mike shrugged helplessly. “The guy didn’t like him back.”
“Are you angry because it isn’t you?”
Mike frowned. “No! I just…I don’t know.” She stayed quiet. “I-I keep getting mad at this asshole.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Mike leaned back into the couch. “Will’s the best person I know.” He shrugged again. “Any gay guy would be lucky to have him.”
Dr. Hamill nodded slowly. “Do you know this boy?”
“No.”
“So you don’t know whether he’s gay.”
Mike winced. “I don’t even know who he is.”
“If he isn’t,” she asked gently, “is it really his fault he doesn’t have feelings for Will?”
Mike hesitated. “I mean…” he muttered. “Maybe he could’ve at least tried.”
Dr. Hamill wrote something else. “Would that be fair?” Mike didn’t answer. Instead, she folded her hands together. “Let’s try looking at it another way.”
Mike already didn’t like where this was going.
“What would you have done,” she asked carefully, “if Will had told you the person he liked was you?”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not me.”
“I know.” She smiled softly. “But, just for the sake of processing what is really bothering you…pretend it was.”
Mike looked unconvinced.
“Our time’s almost up,” she continued. “So I want you to think about that this week. Don’t try to justify your feelings or explain them away. Just…notice them.” He stared at the floor. “What would you do if Will told you he was in love with you? Can you do that?”
Finally he nodded once. “Yeah.” He still didn’t have an answer. But for the first time he wanted one, no matter what he would discover.
The ride home passed in near silence. Karen tried twice to start a conversation. Mike answered with distracted hums and one-word responses before turning back toward the window. Eventually she gave up, letting the radio fill the space between them as Hawkins drifted by outside.
The second they pulled into the driveway, Mike was out of the car. “Love you!” he called over his shoulder.
“Love you too,” Karen answered, watching him disappear into the house.
Mike barely registered Nancy calling hello from the living room. He muttered something that might’ve sounded like “hey” before taking the stairs two at a time and throwing himself onto his bed.
“Okay,” he muttered to the ceiling. “I can do this.” He reached into his desk drawer for an old spiral notebook and a pen before scooting back against the headboard.
The blank page stared at him. Mike stared back. “What am I even supposed to write?”
Nothing came. He tapped the pen against the paper in a quick rhythm, hoping the thoughts would eventually organize themselves into something useful.
Instead, the narrator spoke. ‘Go on.’
Mike sighed. “What would I do if Will told me it was me?” The page remained just as blank as his mind. “This isn’t helping.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
The doctor had mentioned role-playing once, to help sort through things. But there was no way in hell he was going to go to Will and ask him to pretend-tell Mike he liked him. Maybe he could just imagine it instead.
So, he closed his eyes again and focused. What if Will walked into the room right now, stood at the foot of his bed, and told him that he didn’t want to be best friends anymore? That he wanted…more.
Maybe Mike would try it. After all, that was exactly what he’d argued Tammy should’ve done while sitting on Dr. Hamill’s couch. Maybe he’d just say, Screw it. Let’s see what happens.
What would really change?
They already did everything together. They liked the same movies. They played D&D every week. They spent entire afternoons hanging out without ever running out of things to talk about.
The only real difference would be the physical stuff. And if he was being honest, he hadn’t even really liked doing any of that with Jane. Kissing had always felt like something he was supposed to enjoy more than he actually did. Maybe it’d be like that with Will. Or maybe it would be different.
The thought caught him off guard. His imagination kept going anyway. He pictured holding Will’s hand during a movie. That wasn’t weird. They’d held hands plenty of times when they were kids.
Then he imagined Will sitting beside him on the couch. Shoulders touching. No big deal. That happened constantly.
What if Will leaned a little closer, though? Close enough that Mike could feel his breath. Close enough that those soft pink lips were only an inch away. Mike’s own breath caught. He’d probably lean in too. Maybe Will would taste like Milk Duds. That would actually be kind of nice.
Mike’s eyes flew open. His heart slammed against his ribs. “No.” The room was completely still. “No way.”
The narrator laughed. ‘You’ve always liked Will more than everyone else.’
Mike squeezed his eyes shut again. Immediately, more memories came. Castle Byers and blanket forts in the Wheeler basement.
Will asleep against his shoulder halfway through one of Dustin’s terrible movie nights because he’d insisted he wasn’t tired.
The hugs that had lasted just a second longer than they probably should have.
Hours spent painting miniatures without ever feeling the need to fill the silence.
Every stupid little smile Will gave him whenever Mike showed up at his door.
None of those memories had seemed unusual before. They’d just been life with his best friend, Will. Only now they felt different. The realization hit him all at once. Maybe this hadn’t happened overnight. Maybe it hadn’t even happened this year. Maybe he’d been carrying these feelings around for months, or even years.
The narrator sounded almost triumphant. ‘Congratulations, Wheeler. Only took you seventeen years.’
“Shut up.”
Then everything Dr. Hamill had asked came crashing back into place.
“Are you mad that it isn’t you?”
“Would you try it if it were you?”
Mike slapped a hand over his face. “Oh…” He groaned loudly. “Oh, shit.” She’d known. Maybe not the answer, but she’d known exactly where to look. How was he this ignorant about his own feelings?
He laughed once, completely bewildered. “Great.” He dropped backward onto his pillow. “I just realized I’m in love with my best friend while arguing with myself.”
The narrator sounded smug. ‘Character growth.’
Mike threw the pillow over his face. “I hate you.”
‘No you don’t.’
“No.”
‘You hate yourself a little.’
“Yeah.”
Nancy happened to walk by at exactly the wrong moment. Or maybe the right one. She heard Mike through the bedroom door, which he’d been too distracted to shut all the way.
“Oh…shit.”
She paused in the hallway and knocked lightly against the frame. “Mike?” He looked up so fast he almost jumped. “You okay?”
Mike stared at her for a second too long, completely frozen. He thought he might be in love with Will. The realization was still bouncing around inside his head, and now his sister was standing in the doorway looking concerned. “I-I’m fine.”
Nancy wasn’t convinced. “How’d therapy go?” she asked as she stepped inside. “Is something wrong?”
Mike shook his head a little too quickly. “No.”
“Mike.” She crossed the room and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “You know if something’s wrong, you can tell me.”
He glanced toward the bedroom door. Could he tell her? They’d promised not to keep secrets anymore after everything they’d been through. He knew she’d fight for him if she had to. But this…this felt different.
Nancy followed his gaze without saying a word. She stood, quietly pushed the bedroom door shut, then returned to sit beside him. She didn’t pressure him. She just waited.
The silence stretched for nearly a minute before Mike finally cleared his throat. “I…think I might…” The words disappeared before they ever became a sentence.
Nancy smiled gently. “You might what?”
Mike stared at his hands. “I think I might…” He swallowed. “…have feelings for…a friend.”
Nancy nodded once. “Will?”
Mike’s head snapped up. “What?”
She smiled. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Because…” Mike blinked several times. “How do you know?”
Nancy shrugged. “Mike, I’ve watched you two together since you were five.” A small smile crossed her face. “I’ve kind of wondered for a while.”
Mike just stared at her.
“Honestly, when Will came out, I thought the two of you were about to tell everyone you were together. But then he started talking about some crush, and you never said anything.” She reached over and rested a hand on his. “So I figured I’d been wrong.” She shrugged as if it were such an ordinary thought to have, despite the way it made Mike feel like his world was imploding.
Mike still hadn’t recovered enough to speak. Nancy squeezed his hand gently. “It’s okay. You know, Mom’s different now.” Mike nodded. “And Dad…” she continued. “…might need a minute.”
Mike lifted one eyebrow. “A pretty big minute.”
Nancy nodded slowly. “Yeah. But Mom won’t let him say or do anything stupid.”
“I know.” Silence settled between them again. Finally Mike sighed. “I just…don’t know what to do.”
“Have you told Will?”
Mike let out one incredulous laugh. “I literally figured this out five minutes ago.”
“Fair.” Nancy smiled. “So…Are you going to tell him?”
Mike leaned back against the headboard and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know. What if I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same?” He rubbed both hands over his face. “It could ruin twelve years of friendship.” His voice came out much quieter. “I don’t think I could lose him.”
Nancy watched him for a beat, then she smiled. “Mike…” He lifted his head. “I mean this in the nicest and most loving way possible…”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot.”
Mike scowled. “Seriously? Kick a man while he’s down, huh?”
She laughed. “Who do you think Will was talking about when he said ‘Tammy?’”
Mike immediately shook his head. “I don’t know. It could’ve been Lucas.”
Nancy chuckled. “Lucas?”
“I don’t know! He’s kind of attractive.” Mike gestured helplessly. “He’s got…like…muscles and shit.”
Nancy burst out laughing. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“I really don’t think it was Lucas. I think it was you.”
Mike shook his head again. “But he said had.” Nancy tilted her head. “Past tense.”
“I know what past tense means.”
“He could be completely over it by now.”
Nancy studied him for another second before smiling. “Maybe…But maybe you should spend some time with him now that you know how you feel. See what happens.”
Mike thought about that. “Maybe.” A few seconds passed. Then another thought hit him. “How did Jonathan make you like him?”
Nancy laughed so hard she had to wipe at one eye. “He didn’t make me like him. We just spent time together. The feelings happened on their own.”
Mike sighed dramatically. “Ugh. That’s not helpful.”
Nancy grinned. “You asked.”
“So then…” Mike tried again. “How did you know?”
She leaned back against the headboard beside him. “I started noticing things. The little ways he showed he cared. The things he remembered. The way he was always there when I needed him.” She smiled softly. “The more time we spent together…the more obvious it became.” Mike looked thoughtful. “Though…” Nancy added with a shrug. “We might not be the best example.”
Mike winced. “Sorry I brought him up.”
She waved the apology away. “I’m okay. It was for the best.” She stood and brushed imaginary wrinkles from her jeans. “I’m gonna go start some laundry.” She smiled at him. “But when you’re ready to talk about all this again…I’m here. I won’t tell anybody. You’ve got a safe place.”
Mike smiled for what felt like the first time all afternoon. “Thanks, Nancy. I love you.”
Nancy leaned over and ruffled his hair. “I love you too, you big dork.” She disappeared down the hallway.
Mike sat quietly for another minute. Then his eyes drifted back to the notebook lying on his bed. If Jonathan hadn’t made Nancy fall in love with him then maybe there wasn’t a formula. Maybe feelings just…grew.
He stared at the blank page. Then another thought pushed its way in.
…But it probably couldn’t hurt to help them along a little.
A grin slowly spread across his face. He uncapped his pen. At the top of the page he carefully wrote:
‘How to Get Will to Fall in Love With Me’
He looked at the title for a second. “Yeah…okay.” It wasn’t a great plan but it was a start. He began to write down as much as he could remembering the way Nancy described falling in love.
‘1: Always look and smell nice around him.
2: Make sure that I’m always the one next to him when the party hangs out.
3: Make sure he thinks of me when he thinks of his favorite things.
4: Always be the one there when he needs someone.
5: Plan more time for just us, without the party.
6: Find little ways to make him happy.
7: Be a better person, like he is.
8: Flirt with him???’
The narrator nearly shouted, ‘Flirting? You moron, you can’t flirt for shit.’
Mike looked at the last entry. He added another question mark, the narrator could be right. He didn’t know how to flirt. That one might make it worse, it would have to wait until later. He didn’t know if all of this was enough but at least it was a starting point. He wouldn’t see Will every day at school next week because of the break, but the party was going to come over Saturday night. Mike made up his mind to start then and try to convince Will to spend more time together over the break.
Mike stared at the page for another minute, chewing absentmindedly on the cap of his pen. It wasn’t a perfect plan. Honestly, it was barely a plan at all. But it was something, and right now something felt a whole lot better than sitting around doing nothing. Then, almost as an afterthought, he lowered the pen back to the paper and scribbled one final line beneath the list.
‘9: Don’t panic.’
He looked at it for a second before the narrator chuckled. ‘Yeah. Good luck with that.’
He tried to pay no attention to the voice and he closed the notebook. He shoved it beneath his mattress before jogging downstairs to find his mom. If he was serious about this, he needed a haircut. And maybe some new cologne. Or was cologne too much? He’d figure it out. One step at a time.