Chapter Text
Mike Wheeler was homophobic.
He wasn’t always, or at least, he didn’t think so. He didn’t grow up in the most liberal area or to the most liberal family, but he had received countless lectures from his older sister Nancy on the importance of “accepting everyone” and “being open minded.” Once he got to high school, he met gay people. There was Robin, an older girl in the communications club. She was a lesbian and had a girlfriend. She was cool, even if she did judge Mike’s music taste, and Mike never felt weird around her, or thought it was wrong she was dating a girl.
And then, there was Will. Mike’s best friend in the whole world, his best friend since kindergarten. Will had never been interested in girls growing up, and Mike had never thought anything different about it until Will sat the whole friend group down and came out to them as gay. Nothing had changed between Mike and Will, Mike assured him they’d always be friends.
When Mike and Will had arrived at Indiana University, Will had really come out of his shell. He joined the Queer Student Union, and took classes on LGBT literature and history, and started going to the gay bar in town. Again, Mike didn’t mind this. He happily listened to Will talk about the books he was reading, and went to the gay bar with him a few times, and pierced Will’s ear with a sewing needle and an ice cube because apparently piercing the right ear was a queer thing.
All of this was fine, until Will started actually being gay.
Will was a good looking guy. As straight as Mike was (and believe Mike, he was very straight), he could admit that. He had found his style since entering college, kind of a throwback to ‘90’s grunge with flannel and ripped jeans and band tees, and started painting his nails black and wearing a lot of bracelets and rings. He had grown his hair out and his bangs now flopped into his eyes, and he had put the student gym membership to good use.
Being a good looking guy meant Will got asked out. A lot. And again, Mike thought he was fine with it. He helped Will pick out his outfits for dates, and made sure to have Will’s location on Life360 so nothing could happen, and definitely did not insta-stalk all of Will’s prospective suitors to make sure they were good enough for his best friend.
Then the gayness stopped being hypothetical and started being actual. Will was never one to kiss and tell, but Mike could see the proof written on Will’s olive skin. Mottled bruises at his neck, new jewelry given by the guy of the week. Nothing ever lasted longer than a few months—Mike never even met any of the guys—but it was still there. Shy, quiet Will Byers, who the Party had always assumed was a late bloomer, got a lot of action. He was the gay heartthrob of Bloomington, Indiana.
And Mike started to feel uncomfortable. They had both agreed to not bring anyone over to their dorm (which wasn’t a problem for Mike, he wasn’t that interested in dating anyway). Once they moved off-campus sophomore year and into an apartment with their own rooms however, Will brought guys home. The walls between their bedrooms were thick enough that Mike couldn’t hear anything, any evidence was always thrown away and cleaned up, and the guys were always gone by the morning, but Mike still knew it was happening. The first time he heard the voice of another man accompanied by WIll’s drunken giggles in the foyer, his stomach twisted so badly he thought he was going to throw up.
The feeling didn’t go away the second time Will brought a guy over. Or a third. Or—well, Mike lost track. No, if anything, it got worse. Mike would spend the whole time locked in his room, face buried into one pillow and another thrown over his ears, praying for the guys to leave.
Right now, Mike peeked through the window. Will was coming home from another date, some communications major named Nick. Thankfully it wasn’t an overnight date, but Mike peered through the blinds like some creepy pervert as Will and Nick approached the apartment. He couldn’t hear anything, but Nick said something, and Will laughed. Then, Nick pulled Will into a hug, and as they separated, leaned in for a quick kiss. It was brief, a single peck of lips on lips, but it made Mike swell with rage. He clenched the curtain in his fist, pulling so hard he was surprised it didn’t crash to the ground.
Will waved goodbye to Nick and made his way back up the path to their apartment. Quickly, Mike let go of the carpet and ran to the kitchen island, grabbing a towel and pretending to wipe.
Will’s keys jangled as he unlocked the door. “Mike, I’m home!” he called.
“In the kitchen!” Mike answered back.
Will made his way. Mike had helped him get ready for this date, picking out an olive green button up that matched his hazel eyes, selecting a silver star earring for his piercing. Will’s hair was tousled to the side, a few loose strands hanging down into his forehead, light glinting off his stacks of rings and necklaces.
“Jesus, Mike, you’re red. Did you run a marathon or something?”
“Just hot in here, I guess,” Mike faked a smile. “How was it?” he asked.
Will sighed, throwing his tote bag over one of the kitchen chairs. “Fine? He’s nice, cute, but he’s looking for something more serious—like, date to marry serious. And I’m not at that stage in my life. So we’re just going to be friends, I think. We’ll see how long that lasts.”
He snorted, wandering over to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of his favorite wine. Barefoot peach moscato. It was cheap for a reason, but Will loved it. Made him feel sophisticated, he said.
Inside, Mike was relieved. He wouldn’t have to see Nick again. But then another boy would come along and sweep Will off his feet, and make Mike feel all weird and uncomfortable. It would never end, this parade of suitors. And neither would Mike’s stupid feelings around Will.
At first, he thought feeling uncomfortable when Will brought guys home could just be a proximity thing, right? It was their space, and he just didn’t like anyone intruding on that. Mike was a possessive guy—Max joked that he was a “guard dog”—and maybe he was just jealous because he didn’t bring girls over.
(Which, he didn’t really want to anyway. Mike hated talking stages and situationships, and would really prefer to date his friends. He just didn’t have that many female friends.)
It extended to stuff that happened outside the apartment, though. Whenever Will headed off on a date, Mike was filled with anger. Whenever Will came home with another hickey or another bite mark or another scratch peeking out from his shirt collar, Mike wanted to punch a hole in the wall. His stomach would gurgle, and his chest would tightened, and he’d have to fight the urge to grit his teeth and clench his fist, faking smiles instead.
He would think about what Will would be doing with these guys. Where would they be on a date? Would they be at a fancy dinner place, Will getting food on himself and the other guy reaching out and dabbing it off his mouth? Would they hold hands in the darkness of a quiet movie theater, sneaking glances at each other out of the corner of their eyes? Would they stumble to Will’s room, collapsing onto the bed, gasping into each others mouths, slender fingers unbuttoning Will’s shirt, slowly sliding it off his toned arms—
That was usually the point Mike couldn’t handle his own imagination, heart pounding rapidly, and would go on a run or take a cold shower or whatever.
It became a self-immolation ritual, Mike going down these horrible spirals of Will and other guys and what he would do with these other guys, and it would make Mike feel sick and angry, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about it.
And sometimes, Mike would appear in these visions, it would be Mike Will was kissing, and taking the shirt off of, and going on dates, and Mike’s heart would pound and his stomach would burn in a way none of this other stuff did.
All of this was only with Will, though. He never felt weird when Max and Lucas talked about their relationship, and Max loved going into detail. He never felt weird seeing Dustin and Jane during their weekly facetime, talking eagerly from the bed they shared in their Cambridge apartment. No, it was just Will. And what made Will’s relationships different from Max and Lucas, or Dustin and Jane?
He was gay.
Will was gay, and Mike felt weird around him, or thinking about him, or hearing about his dating life. He didn’t feel weird around straight people. Only gay guys, apparently.
So Mike was homophobic. He felt weird about Will kissing guys, and dating guys, and having sex with guys. It was so severe it caused a physical reaction. Despite his best efforts to be a good ally and friend to Will, he was still a fucking homophobe.
He knew from skimming Will’s readings for his classes that it wasn’t his fault. Again, he was raised in buttfuck Indiana, and his homophobia was less a product of his own views and more about the views pushed around him. It was just society making him think that being gay was bad when it wasn’t. People could change. Mike had heard it before, of people being homophobic only to learn and grow and do better. Mike needed to learn and grow and do better so he could keep being a good friend to Will. Will was going to keep dating guys and maybe marry a guy, and if Mike wanted to be in that wedding party, he needed to man up and get over his prejudice.
Mike came to the most logical conclusion. If he gets grossed out by seeing Will kiss guys, or think about Will kissing guys, then he needed to get over it head on. He needed to dive into his prejudice. Homophobia was a phobia, and what do you do with your fears? You face them.
Therefore, Michael James Wheeler needed to kiss another man.
Of course, it was easier said than done finding a man to kiss. His first thought would be to just ask Will if he knew anyone, but he didn’t want Will to know he was homophobic. Even if Mike explained he was doing this whole kissing another man thing to fix his homophobia, he didn’t want to risk ruining his friendship. Will didn’t deserve to know his best friend was homophobic, especially towards him.
Then he thought about the apps. He could make a Grindr, try to find someone on there? But then he remembered Will’s horror stories about the One Month he spent on there freshman year and shuddered.
That left one more option. Someone Mike knew, who knew a lot of queer men. She would judge him and make fun of him, but it was the best he had.
Mike pulled out his phone, swallowed his pride, and shot Max Mayfield a text. Max and Mike had never been the closest in the Party, but they had formed a truce over the years, bonding over video games and celebrity gossip. More importantly, Max knew quite a bit of gay guys. In fact, 90% of Will’s dates were Max setting him up with her friends. Mike wasn’t quite sure how a straight girl knew so many gay guys and if that was weird or not, but Will was never bothered by it, even if he did call her a “fruit fly”.
MIKE: I need a favor.
MAX: im not a miracle worker mike
MIKE: It’s nothing crazy.
MIKE: Well.
MIKE: It’s kind of crazy.
MAX: what is it
MIKE: I’d rather say it in person. Meet me at the coffee shop in the IMU tomorrow, after our 9:00 a.ms get out?
MAX: fine.
MAX: and you dont have to use perfect grammer in every sentence you type
MIKE: don’t* grammar*
The next day, Mike trudged up the front steps of the Indiana Memorial Union, the IU student center. It was honestly just dumb luck that Mike and Will and Lucas and Max had all wound up at the same school. Lucas got recruited to play basketball for the Hoosiers junior year, and Max decided to follow him. They have a really good gender studies program, she had said, it’s dirt cheap, and if we break up it’s a massive school and I can easily find someone else.
The rest of the Party applied to IU as their in-state safety, but set their sights on prestigious schools out east. Dustin got into MIT, and Jane got into Wellesley, so they were over in Massachusetts. Mike and Will wanted to go to the same school and be roommates, as neither of them wanted to room with a complete stranger. And they did get into some prestigious schools—Will got into Brown, Mike got into Columbia—but not to the same school. Not even the same city.
There was a lot of back and forth, a lot of late night talks and some crying and whatnot. They ultimately decided to stick to their plan of being roommates and just going to IU with Max and Lucas. Besides, Will was an art major and Mike was a creative writing major. They weren’t going into high paying fields, they kind of needed to just go wherever was most affordable.
So here they all were.
He entered the coffee shop, eyes scanning for that familiar flash of fire red hair. He spotted Max tucked away in a booth in the far corner and made a beeline.
“Max,” Mike said as he slid into the booth across from here, “I need to kiss a guy.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up, spitting out the sip of matcha latte she had just taken. “Uh, what?” she wiped her face.
He groaned, laying back against the seat. “I recently realized I’m homophobic, because I get really uncomfortable whenever Will talks about gay stuff, or he goes on dates, or brings guys home, and I need to stop.”
“So you need to kiss a guy to…?”
“To, like, get the homophobia out of my system? Exposure therapy?”
Max sighed, started to say something, then closed her mouth again.
“You think you’re homophobic.”
“I feel gross and weird around Will, thinking about what he does with other guys, or seeing him kiss other guys, that feels like textbook homophobia to me.”
“You think about what he does with—ok, never mind. Did you feel uncomfortable watching Robin kiss her girlfriend in high school?”
Mike paused. No, he never felt weirded out around Robin and Vickie. Oh. it’s because he probably subconsciously thought it was hot or something right? Like the guys at the few frat parties he went to pressuring girls to kiss. Ew. Not because they’re girls. Because I’m gross.
“No,” he said, “But I guess it’s because, like, two girls, I guess it’s ‘hot’ to guys?” he grimaced.
“And do you feel uncomfortable around any other gay guys?”
“Well, Will’s the only gay guy I really know.”
Max paused, sticking out her lip. Once again, she opened her mouth, only to close it. “And you’re asking me for help with this because….”
“Well, I don’t want to ask Will to kiss me, because I don’t want him to know I’m homophobic, and I figured you’d know some gay guys who’d be okay with it.”
” He didn’t mean to imagine it, but upon saying the words “Will kissing me” his brain became filled with that image. Will’s hands curling in Mike’s hair, the lingering smell of paint that always followed Will engulfing Mike as well. Mike’s stomach turned and tightened at the thought. See, this is why I need to get over my homophobia.
Max laughed, for some reason. “Uh, you know what, I think it’s important that you see this journey to its conclusion. Yeah, I can call some of my friends and see if they’d be down. Shouldn’t take me too long.”
Mike exhaled. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Max.”
“You’ll thank me later after this.”
Wow. Max can be a good friend sometimes!