Work Text:
As one could probably imagine, a lot has changed for Will Byers since his friends killed the guy who’d been possessing him.
Possession一is that the right way to explain it? He doesn't think so. It’s more like ‘the guy who’d been psychologically spying on Will since he was twelve,’ but that also doesn’t sound quite right. Whatever. Those are just semantics. It’s not like he’ll ever have to explain the situation to anyone. The big deal here is that Vecna is dead, and things in Will’s life have been all sorts of confusing ever since—and not due to Vecna, shockingly.
He's spent many of his nights—the ones not plagued by nightmares—tracing it back, considering his actions carefully, attempting to pinpoint exactly what event kicked this whole thing off. In the end, it all comes down to one thing: his sister dumping her boyfriend.
Yes, he knows it sounds crazy. How can anything be more confusing than the things he’d been put through over the past few years, especially something as mundane as a teenage breakup? Will doesn’t know.
Of course, ‘confusing’ is a massive simplification of events, as Will Byers tends to do with every single issue that arises in his life.
The main list goes like this: he has a deadbeat drunk of a father, he was abducted by a demogorgon when he was twelve, he has a crush on his best friend, his brother suddenly has the inability to get through a single day sober, his best friends collectively sent him five letters in the eight months he’d been away, he’s in love with his sister’s ex-boyfriend, his friends started playing Dungeons & Dragons again after he left. These are the major things that trouble him, but only sometimes. At this point, they’re all just facts of his life.
He’s getting off-topic, this isn’t meant to be a pity party. Things aren’t all bad. After all, remember that he’s no longer being psychologically spied on? Maybe Will’s just bored now that his life’s not in danger. Maybe his life needed some basic teen drama.
So, yes, the breakup. His sister, the wonderful, telekinetic Eleven-slash-Jane Hopper, and his best friend, the humiliatingly emotionally dense Mike Wheeler, who Will just happens to be in love with. Superman and Lois Lane, as Mike has put it before.
It was only a few months ago when Mike had suddenly reappeared on Will's radar, landing in sunny California for spring break, just to brush him off with an awkward side hug that Will's still only a little hurt by. Only a few months ago did Mike grab El in a crushing embrace at the airport, lift her up in the air and twirl her around. Only a few months ago, Mike had been desperate to salvage his relationship with El, even as it dangled by a thread in front of their eyes. Only a few months ago, they'd sat in the back of Argyle's pizza van—probably on the verge of a contact high—and Will had decided, for the first time in a long time, to lie to Mike.
No, he's not proud of it. At the moment, it just seemed like the natural course of things. Just like how grabbing that stupid painting was an unconscious decision when they’d left his house in Lenora. Yeah, that was Will ripping off the band-aid.
Will’s not the word guy, okay? He doesn’t do the whole speech thing. He, embarrassingly, practiced in his bedroom for days before Mike’s flight landed in Lenora Hills, and not once did Will expect that he’d be flipping the script on himself so last minute. Hey, that’s just how these things go.
Obviously, Mike does not feel the same for Will, and that’s fine! Will’s always known that his feelings were an endless one way road. All he wished for was a mention in the prologue of the story of Mike’s life. He just wanted to fix the strange distance between them, because all he wanted was his best friend back. He wanted back Mike who made shitty jokes, and talked back when people were assholes, and made fun of Will for stupid things. He didn’t like Mike who folded in on himself, and got lost in his head, and kept his mouth shut except to swoon over El.
It appeared to Will that maybe the words would mean more coming from her. If all it took to save his best friend’s relationship was to tell a little white lie, that seemed like the only option to Will.
Except, it didn’t save anything. Mike and El broke up not even two weeks later.
In hindsight, it’s a bit funny that this stuff was all going on while El was literally fighting shadow monster things, but that’s neither here nor there. You can run from demogorgons, but you can’t run from relationship drama.
Overall, did it surprise Will when they broke up? No, not at all. Like, Jesus, look at Lucas and Max. They must've broken up maybe nine times, and now they’ve been back together for a consecutive three months. Impressive.
Besides, it’s not like Mike and El hadn’t broken up and gotten back together before. The first thought that passed through Will’s mind after finding out about the breakup was something along the lines of ‘’they’ll be back together within a week.”
Funnily enough, however, Will’s starting to get the feeling that his gut instinct was wrong.
It was just a few weeks ago when Mike knocked on his front door unannounced, fidgeting with his fingers on the front step. His hair was a mess, and not in its usual way. Will could picture him tossing and turning in bed, his hair getting pushed every which way against the pillows.
(Will has pictured that scene a couple times—seeing Mike’s hair splayed out on his pillow, his hair messily teased to be even larger than it already is—but in perhaps a different context. Not that he needs to be reminded of that right now.)
“I have a question for you,” Mike said simply. His eyes wouldn’t meet Will’s own, and he made no move to speak any further..
Will blinked, unsure of why this couldn't be a phone call. “Yeah, okay. Come in first.”
Will sat on the edge of his bed, and Mike followed, sitting just a couple feet away. He stared at the wall, looked at the posters, looked at the floor. He did anything to keep himself from speaking, and his hesitance planted a pit of worry in Will's throat.
“Your question was..?” Will trailed off, hoping desperately that this wasn't the conversation he'd hoped he'd be able to avoid forever.
“Your painting—” Ah, and how he was immediately proven wrong. “El told me she didn't commission it.”
Will sighed. “Yeah. That's true.”
“So, you lied?”
“Mhm.”
“You know, I kind of had a feeling,” Mike tells him, emotion unreadable. “See, like, I don't think El really knows much about D&D, and she told me you were working on a painting you wouldn't let her see, so…”
Mike trailed off. Will licked his lips, cleared his throat nervously. “I’m sorry for lying. I still… um. I meant everything I said. I just lied about, you know… the El part.”
Mike looked at him, cocked his head. “You really meant it?”
Will nodded, and spoke again with a voice impossibly soft, he's unsure if Mike heard him. “Yeah.”
Mike smiled softly, and looked back down at the floor.
“I'm sorry for not calling—I swear I tried.” Will’s eyes widened at Mike’s revelation. “I wrote letters, but they always felt wrong and I thought calling would be so much easier, but the line was always busy, and—”
Will smiled. “Mike. Don't worry about it.”
Mike continued on. “I'm scared of losing you too. You're important to me—you’re, like, the most important person to me. Do you… know what I mean?”
And then—surprisingly—he took Will's hand in his. Will was pretty sure his face went beet red, but Mike was kind enough not to mention it.
All Will could say in return, through his racing heartbeat echoing in his ears, was: “Yeah. Of course.”
They went to the movies the next day—and surprisingly, it was… normal.
Even more surprising, however, is the fact that Mike has been a leech on his side ever since that day—he means that in a loving way. Obviously, it’s not unwelcome since Mike’s still his best friend, even after their awkward eight months apart. His time in California feels like it’s not even worth mentioning at this point because things are just that normal. It’s like Will never left and like they never had that stupid fight in the rain and it’s like Will’s forgotten all of the reasons he should be trying to get over his stupid feelings for Mike Wheeler because he’s just so good.
He bikes over to the Byers-Hopper residence nearly every evening, asking Will to hang out. Sometimes they get milkshakes, sometimes they hit the arcade, sometimes they find themselves just on the outskirts of Lover’s lake. Sometimes they head back to Mike’s and binge Halloween or some other horror series until they can’t keep their eyes open一and Will crashes in Mike’s bed. While Mike also sleeps in his bed. Will’s not sure how it even started. One day, he said he’d crash on the couch, next thing he knew, he was pressed calf to calf with Mike.
Sometimes during their movie marathons—remember, just the two of them—Will nearly believes that Mike’s hand is slowly approaching his own, but then it retreats just as quickly.
Yeah, so Will’s as hopeless as ever, and being the only gay kid in Middle-of-Nowhere Indiana majorly sucks. Both of those thoughts—and the pressure of Mike Wheeler’s arm resting against his own on the couch, and Harrison Ford on the screen, leaning over a bar table with a smirk on his face and his eyes sparkling in the light—leads to him blurting out the words before he could think about them.
“I have to tell you guys something.”
They all stare at him silently. Mike freezes beside him, and Lucas jerks his head around so fast that Will’s surprised he didn’t pull a muscle. Dustin has a furrow to his brow and his mouth hangs open, probably about to say something along the lines of “Shut up, not now. This is literally the best scene.” He doesn’t say anything though, maybe seeing the nerves on Will’s face.
Will stares at Han Solo with a gun to his chest, hands in the air. Will’s feeling about the same right now.
“Is something wrong—” Mike brings a hand to rest on Will’s forearm and as much as he wants to jump off the couch and run out the door, never to be seen again, of course he won’t.
“No, no—” Will shakes his head nervously. “No, it’s not, like, a Vecna type of something.”
All of them visibly relax in their seats, but they look at him curiously and Mike’s hand stays in its place on his forearm. One of them pauses the movie, but Will doesn’t notice who has the remote.
“You’re not moving away again, are you?” Lucas studies him carefully.
Will laughs, because that’s definitely at the bottom of the list of things he’d expected to hear. “No, not to my knowledge.”
“What’s up then, man?” Dustin spins his body around to face Will completely, and now all three of them are fully staring at him, and Will’s realizing how stupid this was.
“I’m…” Will’s mouth hangs open for a second, staring down at a loose thread on the seam of his shorts. He wants to pull at it, but he doesn’t. “I like boys.”
He says it like a question, but it’s not and it’s never really been one. Mike’s hand on his arm is still, and Will can’t decipher anything. He’s not pulling away, which Will would take as a negative thing. He’s not immediately pulling Will into a hug, which Will would see as a positive thing, since that’s what Jonathan did.
“I just didn’t… see the point in hiding it anymore,” Will murmurs, finally reaching out to pull at the loose thread. It’s one of those threads that looks like it can easily be snapped off, but it pulls up the fabric as he twists it, and he lets it go.
“Are you telling us that Han Solo is your type?” Dustin blurts. “Because you were spacing out staring at the TV like—”
“Dude, obviously he was nervous!” Lucas kicks Dustin in the shin. “Be a little supportive, man.”
Will’s lip quivers, a bit overcome by the relief of not immediately being shunned by his friends. He presses his lips together, and blinks away the tears that threaten to fall. The two boys in front of him continue to argue in whispers, and Will’s mouth shifts into a smile without him realizing.
He feels Mike shift beside him, and panic is about to set back in, but the hand on his arm drops to his hand, intertwines their fingers—holy shit, Will is being super normal about this, just like the last time—and squeezes. And as if that’s not enough, Will feels Mike lean over, and whisper to him.
“I’m proud of you.”
And Will—yeah, okay, he really doesn’t know how to be normal about any of this. He tries his damndest not to look over at Mike, but he nods his head. He sniffs, and blinks away more tears. Mike’s hand squeezes his once more, and slowly pulls away, but comes to rest on the backrest behind him.
“Are you two dumbasses done?” Mike asks, firm.
Lucas and Dustin look over with guilty expressions on their faces. Dustin speaks first. “Uh, sorry. You seemed nervous so I just wanted to make a joke, and like, take away some of the intimidation or whatever so…”
Will laughs. “Thanks, Dustin.”
“You know you’re one of us forever, Byers,” Lucas tells him. “Just don’t date a dickhead.”
Will rolls his eyes, the smile on his face doesn’t falter. “I’ll try my best.”
And, so, he supposes that was that.
It’s not like he truly thought they’d all freak out. If he did he probably never would’ve told them until he was, like, twenty-five, and living like a hermit somewhere across the country. Realistically, they’ve faced so much crazy shit together, there’s no way this could’ve been the end for them. Plus, he’s sure that they’d made a few assumptions at some point. It’s not like he ever talked about girls, and there was that one summer when they were thirteen where every conversation they had was about girls. The years of bullying too, they could’ve made a few assumptions at some point there.
So yeah, realistically, he knew on some level that his friends would accept him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried for—
“So Byers,” Dustin whistles. “Does this mean there’s a fella who’s caught your eye?”
Beside him, Will feels Mike tense up, which spikes that panic in Will’s chest once again..
Lucas rolls his eyes. “Don’t say it like that, you sound like an old man.”
“Well, sorry for being curious about my friend’s life!”
He can’t seem to follow much more of their bickering, all he can think of is—fuck, does Mike know? As soon as the thought forms, the tension in Mike’s body releases, and his arm shifts ever so much closer to Will’s shoulders. Will feels the tension creep into his own body at the movement.
“Guys, lay off,” Mike rolls his eyes. Will blinks at the comment, and tries his hardest not to question it. “He doesn’t have to tell you nosy fucks anything.”
What does Mike know? Does he know about Will’s stupid feelings? Like, if he did know and was just choosing to fake ignorance, sure, it would be incredibly embarrassing for Will, and even just the thought of that makes him want to ship himself to rural Mississippi—but it would be bearable. They could still be friends. Will can reign himself in and stop being so goddamn obvious about his stupid little gay feelings for his best friend.
“Dick.” Dustin kicks him in the shin, and gets a loud complaint in response.
“So?” Lucas asks him, Mike and Dustin still distracted by their petty brawl.
“There… may be,” Will exhales, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “But I know it could never go anywhere, so…”
Lucas gives him a gentle pat on the knee, and Will’s sure it’s meant to be comforting, but it just feels a little patronizing.
“Um,” Will rubs his palms on his thighs, feeling the need to erase the sweaty evidence of his nerves. “Movie? Should we…”
And thank God, Dustin chooses that moment to tune back in, and takes all the attention off him by the click of a button on the TV remote. Will doubts he’ll be able to pay attention to the screen. Even though he thought a weight would be lifted off his shoulders after telling them his secret, it feels like it was replaced with an even heavier weight.
The feeling of Mike’s gaze on the side of his head definitely doesn’t help him either.
-
Dustin and Lucas leave shortly after the movie ends, and Mike stays. Not that Will wasn’t expecting it. They talked about it before, that Mike would sleep over.
Now, though, his worries are running wild.
Mike wanted to sleep over before he found out Will was gay—or at least before he verbally admitted it. If Mike knows about his feelings and he’s trying to ignore them, Will would think he’d probably run away immediately at the prospect of being alone and in close proximity.
He doesn’t though. Mike changes into his stupid plaid pajama pants and white muscle tank, and crawls into bed beside him.
Will, pointedly, tries not to look at him. He doesn’t let his eyes drift across Mike’s collarbones, map out the distance between the exposed freckles across his chest and arms. He doesn’t.
“That was, um,” Mike clears his throat. “Really brave of you. With Dustin and Lucas.”
Will blinks, composes himself before (elegantly) saying. “Uh, what?”
“Telling them about you.”
Will swallows the lump in his throat. Telling them? Not us? “Yeah, I just… I couldn’t hide it anymore.”
Mike nods. “They’re idiots, but they’re not assholes. Which… you know.”
He’s trying not to read into what Mike’s saying—but it sounds an awful lot like Mike already knew. His mind is racing, trying its hardest to connect all the dots between how and where and when Mike could’ve realized.
Will hums.
“I still…” Mike audibly swallows. “I don’t know if I could tell them. About me. I’m sorry.”
Will blinks, staring at the ceiling. He turns over to face Mike, and when he turns, Mike’s already looking at him. Will’s mouth opens, but he doesn’t know what to say.
What?
Mike sighs. “It’s dumb, isn’t it? Like, they already know you’re gay, so obviously they shouldn’t freak out when I tell them that I am too—but still.”
He’s saying this all so casually, as if Will already knows. Will’s searching the crevices of his mind, trying his hardest to remember when Mike came out to him. He’s coming up empty—but he must have at some point.
It just doesn’t make sense! Will would’ve remembered!
“You’ve never…” Will trails off. He starts again. “I don’t remember you saying…”
“I guess, yeah, you’re right.” Mike laughs quietly. “I’ve never said it out loud before.”
Mike looks over at him, eyes a bit glassy and his smile a bit wobbly. Will wants to kiss him so, so badly. Press their lips together, breathe the same air, feel their skin press against one another and lose track of time. He knows though, he can’t, even if Mike’s gay. That doesn’t mean anything.
But Mike’s still looking at him, wobbly smile and all, so even though Will can’t kiss him, he smiles at him instead.
“That’s pretty brave of you,” Will tells him, voice soft. He’s sure the stupid little smile on his face is much too fond.
Mike’s eyes flick down, and Will’s sure it’s a trick of the light, his heart playing tricks on his mind. To be safe, he turns back to face the ceiling.
Mike’s hand finds his own under the comforter.
-
It’s a few days later, and Will still can’t stop thinking about it.
Mike won’t stop holding his hand. It’s almost incessant—it’s great, but Will’s starting to go a little bit crazy. Not, like, Upside-Down crazy or anything, but just… God. One day, Will is going to make a stupid mistake and read into their tangled fingers just a little too much.
He’s trying his hardest not to think about it though. He watches his brush swirl around the canvas, greens and yellows mixing. He dips his brush back into the paint, listening to the sound of the bristles against the canvas.
He’s not thinking about it. He’s not. Mike’s sitting on the other side of the room, reading a comic book on Will’s bed. He hasn’t said anything for the past few minutes, and Will’s starting to worry he can read his mind.
God, he really hopes not.
So, yeah, he’s not thinking about it. He’s not. He has no desire to hold Mike Wheeler’s hand or kiss him senseless or—
“Do you think I'm a bad kisser?”
Will nearly falls off his chair, and in the process of catching himself, he smears paint across his forearm. He drops his brush in his mug of murky water, and stands, fiddling nervously with his paint stained sleeve.
“What are you talking about?” He walks to the other side of the room, avoiding eye contact with Mike. He grabs a tissue from the box, and furiously starts rubbing the paint off his skin.
As if he’d know the answer to that question. Theoretically, of course, Will would say no, but in practice? No clue. Not that he doesn’t want to find out, and hopefully, prove his theories correct.
Mike's eyes just follow him, the feeling of them is uncomfortably warm, and Will feels colour rushing to his cheeks.
“I don't know,” Mike sighs. “I just get the feeling that you don't want to kiss me, and like, that's fine, of course. I just wanna know if I, like… If I did anything for you to not wanna… kiss me. Yeah.”
Will stares down at his arm, the green having stained a faint blob on his skin. He tries, and fails quite spectacularly, to still his breath.
It'll be quite embarrassing if this whole conversation is some kind of ego trip for Mike—but just on the off chance it isn't, there's one question Will desperately needs an answer to above all.
“Do you…” Will swallows, staring at the blob become blurrier in his vision. Here goes nothing, he supposes. “Do you want to kiss me?”
“Obviously!” Mike whines, which—sorry?
Will's head snaps up, looking over at Mike whose cheeks have become redder than Will thought was humanly possible. He's fiddling with his fingers in his lap, and he's staring off at the wall.
“Sorry,” Mike murmurs. “I just… I know we're taking things slow, and I really don't want to mess things up, and I'm worried that I'm making you uncomfortable—”
Will takes a few steps closer. “Mike, what are you talking about?”
Mike's undeterred, still staring anywhere but at Will. “—I'm really happy that you were able to tell the guys about you and I feel so bad that I'm just not ready to—”
“Mike,” Will calls again. His head is spinning, and he can't help himself from taking a seat on the edge of his bed, just a few feet away from Mike.
“—tell them anything. I'm not used to understanding all these feelings, like, it's kind of strange because I didn't realize that this is what it was supposed to feel like, and—”
“Mike,” Will asserts, placing a hand on top of Mike's restless ones. “Please slow down.”
Mike exhales, staring down at their hands. “Sorry.”
Will's still reeling. He feels all of Mike's words spinning around in his head, around and around, tying themselves up in a tangled knot.
“Can we…” Will starts, but then shuts his mouth. He tries again. “What do you mean by… ‘obviously’ you want to kiss me?
Mike looks up at him briefly, his blush unrelenting. He looks away immediately after their eyes meet. God, if there were any moment where Will needed to kiss Mike, it would be right now.
“Well, like…” Mike trails off. “I don't know. I've kinda tried to… hint at it? I wasn't sure if that was something you wanted though. I don't want to push you.”
Will blinks. What the fuck?
“I don't want to make you uncomfortable!” Mike shrugs.
“You think… I would be uncomfortable if you kissed me?” Will clarifies. Wow, this is certainly a situation he’d never expected to see himself in.
“I don't know,” Mike mumbles. “Maybe. You just seemed, like… skittish when I tried.”
“I didn't know you wanted to kiss me!”
“Why wouldn't I?” Mike exclaims, looking at Will like he just admitted to keeping a demodog as a pet.
Will's brow furrows in confusion. He waves his hands between them urgently, hoping the gesture is able to put into words just how fucking strange this conversation is.
Mike stares at him blankly. Will groans, rubbing his face with a hand.
“Can you just…” Will's voice is muffled behind his hands. He's unwilling to reveal his face, which must be even redder than Mike's at this point. “Explain to me what's going on. I don't understand why we’re talking about this.”
“I just…” Mike trails off. “I feel like I'm not doing a great job at this whole dating thing.”
Will drops his hands to his lap. “Dating?”
Mike stares at him, eyes slightly narrowed. “Yeah?”
“I'm so confused.” Will shakes his head. “You're giving me whiplash. Who are… you're…”
Mike's face falls. “Fuck.”
Will sits up straight, hands jumping to Mike's shoulders, and keeping him from bolting.
“I fucked everything up,” Mike whines, pressing his face into his hands.
“No, no, Mike, just tell me what's going on?”
“I made, like, a whole speech! I thought I got everything across, but I was so nervous and you just looked so nice and your hand was so warm, so I couldn't focus on anything I was saying—”
Will’s lips twitch upward into a small smile. Mike thought he looked nice?
“—and I didn’t even follow the speech at all. I literally wrote it out, and I told myself, like, okay, this is perfect and it says everything I want to say, and then I didn’t even…”
Mike stands up, Will’s hands falling into his lap. He doesn’t go far though, he just starts to pace.
“Mike?” Will frowns, considering whether he should follow or not.
“I’m sorry,” Mike blurts, not looking at Will. “I must’ve made you so uncomfortable, like, I was just throwing myself all over you and you were obviously pulling away, and I should’ve realized that I completely misread this, and I’m just…”
Will stands, and takes the few steps over to Mike, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing Mike to face him. His head is turned to the side, his cheeks flaming red and his eyes pinpointed at something on the wall.
“Mike,” Will calls gently. “Were we… dating?”
Mike’s mouth opens for a second. He clamps it shut, licks his lips nervously, and then nods a little bit. “I… I thought I asked. I asked you to the movies, and you said yes, and we went—”
Will grins. What an idiot. He’s obsessed with him.
Will’s hands move up to hold Mike’s jaw, forcing him to look him in the eye. Not for long though, because then he’s pulling Mike closer, and pressing their lips together. Mike freezes briefly, but his hands quickly move to wrap around Will’s waist, and holy shit, Will’s world has shifted.
It’s gentle. Mike’s lips aren’t super soft, they’re a bit chapped, but his mouth is warm, and he kisses Will like it’s something he’s ached for. Will pulls him closer at that thought, and Mike makes somewhat of a humming noise. Will wants to swallow it, he wants to bottle it, he wants to catalogue it in his mind, he wants to remember this moment and relive it over and over.
They, obviously, have to pull apart eventually. Will heaves an exhale, and he feels his heart racing in his chest. Mike’s eyes meet his own, and his cheeks are still a bright red. Will swipes his thumb across, feeling the heat on his skin. His other arm falls to rest around Mike’s shoulders.
“You couldn’t have just… asked me to date you?” Will laughs, cocking his head to the side.
“I thought I did!” Mike complains. “I asked you out! We—”
“How was I supposed to know those were dates?” Will asks incredulously, struggling to keep his laughter in.
Mike’s mouth shuts, and he blinks. He stutters for a moment, and then his lips form a stupid little pout. Will runs his thumb along that too.
“I thought…” Mike trails off. “I think I blacked out when I was trying to tell you I liked you.”
Will snorts. “And… did you ever wake back up or…”
“Hey!” Mike whines. “I thought we were on the same page.”
“We, very much, were not.”
Mike drops his head onto Will’s shoulder, his body shaking with quiet laughter. His words are muffled when he speaks. “I can’t believe… Wow.”
Will laughs too, letting his forehead fall down to rest against Mike’s head.
It’s just a random Thursday. Isn’t it odd how things can change so suddenly. Will lifts his head back up, unable to fight the grin that remains on his face.
“You know,” Will starts, his fingers trailing up to feel the curls at the base of Mike’s scalp, tangling themselves together. “We should start making up for lost time.”
Mike straightens back up immediately. His eyebrows are raised. “Huh?”
Will meets his eyes. “Are you gonna kiss me again or what, boyfriend?”
Mike smiles, biting his lip, and looking away for a second. The blush still hasn’t left. Will hopes it never does.
Their lips meet again, and it’s like they’ve been doing it the entire time.