Archive of Our Own ^beta

Will stared at the locked door, heart sinking.

The little handwritten sign taped to the glass read Temporarily Closed - Sorry for the Inconvenience! The lights inside were off, chairs stacked neatly on tables, and the once-familiar smell of espresso and baked bread was gone.

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath.

He stood there a moment longer, shoulders hunched against the chilly wind that whipped through the narrow street. The café - his café - was his favourite spot to draw, to work on assignments, to exist without feeling the constant buzz of campus noise. It was five minutes from his dorm, the coffee wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was cheap and warm and, most importantly, his space.

Will adjusted the strap of his satchel, the weight of his sketchbook and art supplies pressing against his side. The closed sign blurred slightly as frustration prickled behind his eyes. He’d been planning to spend the afternoon there. Finish a portrait for his art class, maybe get ahead on some coursework. Now he stood awkwardly on the pavement, unsure what to do next.

He blew out a breath and glanced down the street. He was sure there was another café somewhere nearby. It wouldn’t be the same, but it was better than heading back to his dorm.

So he started walking.

*****

The other café wasn’t hard to find, the low hum of conversation and the smell of roasted coffee beans led him there. The sign above the door read The Upside Down in soft white letters, and the windows glowed invitingly against the grey afternoon.

Inside, it was bustling. Students hunched over laptops, a couple laughing quietly near the window, the hiss of the coffee machine punctuating the air. It was livelier than Will’s usual place, louder too, but something about the warmth spilling from inside pulled him in.

He joined the queue, tugging his scarf loose and taking in the space. The walls were lined with mismatched art prints and old photographs. A soft indie song played through hidden speakers. The smell of espresso and cinnamon hit him, richer than he expected.

Will shifted his weight from foot to foot, eyes flicking between the customers and the baristas behind the counter. The queue was fairly long. Will let his eyes flick to the board, scanning the drinks offered. If he was being honest, he wasn’t much of a coffee person. But he loved drawing in coffee shops, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of life. His eyes ran over the iced coffee options. Then lower, to the barista. And then -

He froze.

Behind the counter stood, quite possibly, the prettiest boy Will had ever seen.

He had dark, curly hair that curled around his ears and fell slightly into his eyes - brown eyes, warm and bright, framed by lashes that were frankly unfair. His apron was dusted with faint traces of coffee grounds, and when he smiled at a customer, it was so beautiful that Will felt his stomach lurch.

Oh. Oh no.

The queue moved forward, and before Will could properly collect himself, it was his turn.

The boy turned towards him, smile still in place. “Hey! What can I get you?”

His voice was light, friendly, with just a trace of amusement, like he’d noticed Will hesitating.

Will blinked, brain completely empty. He scrambled for words, mind flitting through every type of coffee he could think of from overhearing his classmates order, which wasn’t much. “Um, uh, could I get… an iced latte? With oat milk?”

The boy grinned, eyes lighting up a little. “Good choice. You want any flavour in that? Vanilla, caramel, hazelnut?”

“Uh, vanilla’s fine,” Will managed, praying he sounded normal.

“Got it.” The boy scribbled something on a cup. “Name?”

“Will.”

“Cool. I’m Mike,” he said, nodding towards his name tag with a grin before turning to make the drink.

Will blinked at that, at the easy confidence in the way Mike moved behind the counter. The practiced rhythm of it, the way his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing long, pale forearms. Will couldn’t breathe. He was dying. He was in hell. 

Mike was so pretty. 

When Mike turned back to hand him the cup, their fingers brushed. Will’s heart skipped. And Mike… Mike’s cheeks flushed red and Will wanted to kiss him. 

What the fuck. 

“Here you go, Will. One vanilla iced latte.” Mike’s smile was bright enough to warm the air. “Hope it’s not too strong, we’ve got a new blend today.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sure it’s great,” Will said, words tripping over themselves as he stuttered a response.

Mike tilted his head. “First time here?”

“Yeah. My usual place closed for a bit.”

“Well, lucky for me,” Mike said, almost to himself, then immediately flushed, eyes darting down. “Uh, lucky for us, I mean. You know. The café. Business and all.”

Will felt his face heat up but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “Right. Of course. For business.”

Mike chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck, looking adorably awkward. “Anyway, hope we see you again.”

“Yeah,” Will said, still smiling. “Maybe.”

Will picked up his drink and stepped away from the counter, trying to look casual. As he walked away, he couldn’t help himself. He glanced back.

Mike was still watching him.

A grin tugged at Will’s lips, and he quickly ducked his head to hide it. He almost laughed outright when the next customer in line snapped her fingers to get Mike’s attention. Mike blinked, clearly pulled from whatever thought had stolen his focus. Will watched as Mike rolled his eyes, forced a smile and, with all the patience of someone barely holding it together, said, “So… what do you want?”

Will bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. 

He found a table tucked away in the corner, slightly secluded from the main crowd. The surface was scratched and uneven, but it had a good view of the counter. He set down his bag, pulled out his sketchbook, and stared at the blank page.

He was supposed to be working on his portrait assignment. He’d even brought a photo of his mom to use as a reference. But his eyes kept drifting, inevitably, towards the counter.

Towards Mike.

Mike was laughing with a coworker now, sleeves rolled even higher, moving with easy grace as he poured milk into a cup, the steam rising around him. His hair caught the light when he leaned forward, and Will, without thinking, picked up his pencil.

He started sketching.

Just a few lines at first. The curve of a jaw, the shape of a hand reaching for a cup, the slope of a shoulder. But the more he drew, the more his pencil seemed to move on its own. He glanced up every so often, quick enough not to be caught staring, capturing little details. The way Mike bit his lip when concentrating, the soft crease between his brows when counting change.

He lost track of time. The hum of the café faded into background noise, replaced by the familiar rhythm of graphite on paper.

By the time he finally looked up again, the light outside had faded to a dusky orange. The crowd had thinned, and Mike was wiping down the counter, humming quietly under his breath.

Will’s drink sat forgotten beside him, the ice long melted. He glanced down at the page and felt a smile tug at his lips. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt alive. Like he’d caught something real.

He carefully closed the sketchbook, packed up his pencils, and slung his bag over his shoulder.

As he walked past the counter towards the door, Mike looked up from the till. Their eyes met for half a second, and Mike gave him a small, tired smile. The kind that made Will’s chest ache.

“See you around, Will,” he said.

Will hesitated, returning the smile before stepping out into the cool evening air. “Yeah,” he murmured. “See you.”

The bell above the door chimed softly as it closed behind him.

And Will couldn’t stop smiling the whole walk home.

*****

The next day, Will pushed open the door to The Upside Down and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to come back. Maybe it was the coffee (which was, admittedly, quite good), or maybe it was the atmosphere in the café that already felt oddly comforting. Or maybe, if he was honest with himself, it had a lot more to do with the boy behind the counter.

The place was calmer today. Only a few customers lingered near the till, and the music playing softly over the speakers was slower, gentler. The kind of acoustic song that filled the silence without overpowering it.

Will’s heart gave a little lurch when he saw him.

Mike.

He was there again, apron tied loosely around his waist, curls a bit messier than yesterday, tapping something into the till as he took an order. He laughed at something a customer said, that same bright, easy smile spreading across his face, and Will felt a flutter in his stomach that he tried very hard to ignore.

When it was his turn, Mike looked up and that smile widened.

“Hey,” Mike greeted warmly, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes. “Will, right?”

Will blinked, surprised he remembered. And oh my gosh, he remembered. “Yeah,” he said, a little shyly.

“Back again already,” Mike teased lightly, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Either you really liked the coffee, or…” he trailed off with a grin.

“Or?”

“Or you just couldn’t stay away from me.”

Will felt his face heat instantly, but the way Mike’s eyes crinkled told him it was said as a joke, mostly. 

Still, he ducked his head, smiling. “You wish.”

“Maybe I do,” Mike said with a soft laugh. “So, what’ll it be today?”

“Can I get an iced caramel latte, please?”

“Coming right up.” Mike scribbled the order onto a cup, still smiling to himself as he moved to the espresso machine.

Will leaned against the counter, watching as Mike worked. The rhythmic sounds, the grind of beans, the soft hiss of steam, filled the quiet. Mike looked entirely in his element, focused but relaxed, moving with practiced ease.

“You know,” Mike said over his shoulder, “most people order something hot when it’s freezing outside.”

Will shrugged, lips twitching. “I like iced coffee. Hot coffee makes my hands sweat.”

Mike snorted. “That’s… an oddly specific problem.”

“Yeah, well,” Will said, grinning, “so’s drinking lava.”

Mike laughed, glancing up briefly. “Touché.”

He handed over the drink a moment later. “One iced caramellatte for the guy who defies the seasons.”

Will accepted it, smiling shyly. “Thanks, Mike.”

“Anytime,” Mike said. 

Mike opened his mouth, as though he was about to say something. But then he pressed his lips together and smiled awkwardly instead. 

Will retreated to the same corner table as yesterday, it already felt like his spot, and unpacked his sketchbook. He told himself he’d focus on his actual assignment today, but after only a few minutes, his pencil wandered. His eyes kept flicking to the counter, tracing the outline of Mike’s shoulders, the shape of his jaw when he smiled.

It wasn’t intentional, not at first, but soon enough, another version of Mike took shape on the page - quick, soft lines capturing him mid-laugh, holding a cup, a hint of movement frozen in graphite.

By the time Will finished, Mike was wiping down the counter again, the café nearly empty.

Will glanced at his drawing. Not perfect, but better than yesterday’s. He smiled to himself, closed his sketchbook carefully, and slipped out as quietly as he’d arrived.

*****

The next day, Will came back.

He hadn’t even pretended there was another reason this time. He’d packed up his art supplies, told himself he’d be productive, and ended up walking to The Upside Down before he’d even realised what he was doing.

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, but something was different. The atmosphere was the same - warm light, soft music - but the counter was manned by someone new.

A girl with bright red hair tied in a messy bun glanced up from the till. Her name tag read Max.

“Hey,” she said, smiling in greeting. “What can I get you?”

Will hesitated, scanning the counter out of instinct. No Mike.

“Oh. Um. Hi. Could I get…ummm? Iced caramel latte?”

“Sure thing.” Max started working on it with quick efficiency. “You’re new, right? Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Yeah,” Will said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Started coming here a couple days ago.”

Max glanced over, smirking slightly. “Ah. So you’ve met Mike then.”

Will froze. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Just wondering.” She slid the cup towards him with a knowing look. “He’s off today, by the way. Don’t look so disappointed.”

“I’m not-” Will started, then gave up, sighing. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Max laughed, shaking her head as she poured milk into the blender. “It’s fine. He can have that effect. The awkward nerd vibe works for some people.”

Will frowned, half amused, half defensive. “Awkward nerd vibe?”

“Yeah,” she said easily, smirking as she handed him his cup. “You know, tall, messy hair, probably spends too much time thinking about Star Wars and not enough time talking to real people. But somehow he still gets away with it.”

Will huffed a laugh before he could stop himself. “That’s… weirdly accurate.”

“Exactly.” Max tapped the lid of his drink, grin widening. “Anyway, I won’t tell him you were asking where he is.”

“I wasn’t asking!” Will said quickly, the words coming out a little too loud. The girl behind him in line glanced over and Will’s ears burned.

“Sure, sure,” Max said in a tone that suggested she absolutely didn’t believe him. She leaned her elbows on the counter, looking entirely too smug. “Your secret’s safe with me, mystery art boy.”

Will groaned under his breath. “That’s not my nickname.”

“It is now.”

He gave her a look that was half a glare and half a smile. “Thanks for the coffee, Max.”

“Anytime.”

Still smiling despite himself, Will took his drink and retreated to his usual table in the back corner. The seat was slightly wobbly, the view half-blocked by a pillar, but it was starting to feel familiar, safe. He set his cup down, unzipped his satchel, and pulled out his sketchbook.

The page waiting for him was still filled with the half-finished portrait of his mom. The pencil marks from yesterday looked colder now, more clinical than he’d intended. He stared at it for a moment, twirling his pencil between his fingers. Then he started to draw.

Something about the quiet helped. The soft whirr of the coffee machine, the low hum of conversation, Max’s playlist shifting from upbeat pop to mellow indie tracks. The café smelled like cinnamon and espresso, and for the first time in a long while, Will was able to properly focus on his assignment. 

He lost track of time. The lines on the page came easier than they had in days. The shadows fell into place without effort. For a while, he wasn’t thinking about assignments or deadlines or the fact that his favourite café was still closed. He wasn’t even thinking (much) about Mike and his ridiculous hair and his warm, lopsided smile.

Just… drawing. Breathing. Existing.

When he finally looked up, the light outside had softened to a dusky orange, spilling through the window in long streaks. The café had mostly emptied out. Max was wiping down tables, humming quietly to herself.

Will blinked, stretching his stiff fingers. He’d finished the portrait. Properly finished it. A small, proud smile crept across his face. He looked over the drawing. He felt a glimmer of pride in his chest. Yes, he could submit this for his project. He was sure his art professor would be happy with it. 

He packed up slowly. As he slung his bag over his shoulder and glanced once more towards the counter, he caught Max’s eye. She gave him a knowing little smirk and a mock salute.

Will rolled his eyes but smiled anyway.

When he stepped outside, the air was crisp, the city lights flickering on one by one. He shoved his hands in his pockets, the faintest trace of a grin still lingering on his lips.

He felt… content. Not because of the coffee, or even the satisfaction of finishing his work, but because he knew he’d be back tomorrow.

And maybe, if he was lucky, so would Mike.

*****

Mike was behind the counter when Will arrived the next day.

The bell above the door jingled softly as he stepped into The Upside Down. It was quieter than usual, only a couple of customers scattered around. But what caught Will’s attention immediately wasn’t the calm, or even the smell of freshly ground coffee.

It was Mike and Max, bickering behind the counter.

“I’m just saying,” Max said, arms folded as she leaned against the till, “if you actually cleaned the machine properly, maybe it wouldn’t sound like a dying animal every time you use it.”

“It’s fine,” Mike shot back, running a cloth over the espresso wand in what could only be described as an unnecessarily aggressive motion. “It’s just a little loud. You don’t have to act like it’s cursed.”

“It is cursed,” Max muttered. “I swear it hisses at me when you’re not looking.”

“You’re so annoying. That’s because you don’t know how to use it right,” Mike retorted, rolling his eyes. “You have to actually listen to it. It’s temperamental, not possessed.”

“Wow,” Max said dryly. “Didn’t realise you were the coffee whisperer.”

“Better than being the coffee murderer,” Mike shot back, smirking.

Will hovered awkwardly by the counter, caught somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to disappear. He waited a moment, hoping one of them might notice him, but they were far too busy arguing about the soul of a coffee machine.

Finally, he cleared his throat gently. “Uh… hi?”

Both heads whipped round at once.

Mike’s whole expression changed instantly, the sharpness from his voice melting away in an instant. “Will!” he said, and even Will was surprised at how soft his tone became. “Hey! You’re back.”

Will smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Mike leaned against the counter, hands shoved into the pockets of his apron, and looked at him with that same intensity that made Will’s stomach feel a bit strange, like he’d forgotten how to breathe properly. Mike’s cheeks were pink, but his gaze didn’t waver.

It was Max who broke the silence, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Sooo…” She raised an eyebrow, looking between them. “What can I get you, Mystery Art Boy?”

Will blinked. “What-”

“Yeah,” Max said, smirking. “Your nickname, remember? You’ve been officially christened. Congrats.”

Mike frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Long story,” Max said, waving a hand. “Anyway, since someone seems to have forgotten that it’s his actual job to take your order,” she elbowed Mike pointedly, “I’ll step in before this gets too tragic.”

Mike’s cheeks went pinker. “I didn’t forget!”

“You were staring,” Max said sweetly.

“I wasn’t,” Mike began, then glanced at Will, caught himself, and quickly turned back to the espresso machine. “I was just… thinking about, uh, milk ratios.”

“Sure you were,” Max said under her breath.

Will bit back a laugh, covering it with a quiet cough. “I, um… can I have an iced caramel latte, please?”

“Of course,” Max said, grabbing a cup. “Unless Mike wants to actually do his job today?”

“I’ve got it,” Mike said quickly, stepping in and taking the cup from her hands. He shot her a glare that didn’t quite hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Go wipe down the tables or something.”

“Bossy,” Max muttered, smirking as she sauntered off.

Will watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement, then turned his attention back to Mike. “You two always like this?”

Mike sighed, shaking his head but smiling. “Pretty much. She likes to annoy me. Says it builds character.”

Will grinned. “She’s not wrong.”

Mike pretended to look offended. “Whose side are you on, exactly?”

“I’m Switzerland,” Will said, tone light.

Mike huffed out a laugh as he handed over the drink, their fingers brushing. “Thanks for the support.”

“Anytime,” Will said softly, smiling.

Mike looked like he might say something else, but the bell above the door rang and another customer entered, breaking the moment. Will took the hint, retreating to his usual corner table.

As he sat down, opening his sketchbook and glancing once more towards the counter, he caught Mike looking his way again, just for a second.

It was enough to make Will’s heart stumble all over again.

Will set his drink down and pulled his laptop from his bag, the familiar weight of it thudding softly against the table. He’d promised himself that today, he’d actually get some work done. Real work, not just sketches that started with good intentions and ended with a dozen unfinished drawings of Mike Wheeler.

He opened a blank document, the harsh white screen staring back at him, and clicked into the notes for his art history essay. Something about Impressionism - brushwork, movement, emotion. Normally, he’d love it. Today, though, the words blurred almost instantly.

He slipped his headphones in, hoping music might help him focus, and began to type. His fingers tapped absently across the keys, pausing now and then as he skimmed through online articles, clicking open tabs faster than he could read them. He took a sip of his iced coffee, now half-melted, and tried to settle into the familiar rhythm of productivity.

But his eyes… kept drifting.

Back to the counter.

Back to him.

Mike was there, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a strand of dark hair falling into his eyes as he concentrated on steaming milk. He moved with that same effortless energy Will had already memorised. A mix of clumsy grace and quiet focus.

Mike, with his stupidly perfect hair that curled just so at the ends.

Mike, with his sharp, expressive features and those warm brown eyes that seemed to hold an entire conversation when he smiled.

Mike, who could be dry and sarcastic and borderline rude with the other customers, but never with Will.

Mike, who rolled his eyes when Max teased him but always ended up smiling anyway.

Mike.

It had been less than a week since Will had first walked through those doors, and yet it already felt impossible to imagine not coming back. It was ridiculous, how quickly he’d fallen into this routine. The quiet ache of it, the constant flutter in his chest whenever Mike laughed or glanced his way.

Obsessed, he thought miserably, tapping his pencil against the table. I’m actually obsessed.

He tried to turn back to his laptop, but the essay might as well have been written in another language. His mind refused to focus on brushstrokes or art movements. All he could see was the way light caught in Mike’s hair, or the concentration in his brow as he worked the espresso machine.

Will sighed, shoving his laptop out of the way. He couldn’t fight it anymore.

He pulled out his sketchbook instead, pushing the computer aside as though it had personally offended him. His fingers itched with the need to move, to create, to capture whatever it was about Mike that made his pulse quicken every time he looked at him.

He flipped through the pages until he found the last sketch he’d done. Another portrait of Mike, drawn in a rush of caffeine and nerves. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was better than the first one. But it still wasn’t right. Something was missing - something alive, something that only existed when Mike was moving, talking, laughing.

Will glanced up again, letting his gaze travel without guilt this time. The café was quiet enough that no one noticed him watching.

He let his eyes trace the lines of Mike’s neck, the soft curve of his jaw, the shape of his hands as he stacked cups behind the counter. The way his mouth quirked into a smirk when Max muttered something that made him roll his eyes. The small frown of concentration when he poured milk into a cup, steady and precise.

His pencil started to move almost automatically, as if his hand knew what to do before his mind did. He sketched quickly, rough outlines first - posture, gesture, movement. Then he slowed, letting the details build. The folds in Mike’s apron, the tilt of his head, the quiet intensity in his expression.

The world faded around him. The music in his ears, the hum of the coffee grinder, the quiet chatter of the few customers left - it all blurred into background noise. There was only the soft drag of graphite against paper and the steady rhythm of Mike moving behind the counter.

When Will finally paused to breathe, he looked down at the page. The drawing was still unfinished, but it was closer. Closer to the way Mike felt - alive, messy, real.

He leaned back in his chair, pencil still in hand, and allowed himself one last glance at the boy behind the counter.

Mike laughed at something Max said, head thrown back just slightly, and Will thought, not for the first time, that he could probably spend the rest of his life trying to draw that exact moment and never quite capture it right.

Will closed his sketchbook with a quiet sigh, feeling an unexpected wave of relief. He’d done it. He'd drawn Mike again, properly this time. The image wasn’t perfect, but it was something, enough to ease that restless itch in his chest.

He’d gotten it out of his system.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Now maybe he could actually focus. He tugged his laptop back toward him, pushing the sketchbook aside and cracking his knuckles in mock determination. The café had grown even quieter, a soft murmur of conversation and the occasional hiss of the coffee machine filling the space.

He started typing again, this time determined to make progress. Paragraph by paragraph, the words began to flow. Theories, quotes, comparisons. For the first time that day, he was genuinely in a rhythm. He didn’t even notice the bell above the door ring or the low hum of Mike’s voice behind the counter.

Not until the chair across from him scraped against the floor.

Will jumped, his fingers freezing mid-word. He looked up and there was Mike, sliding into the seat opposite him like it was the most natural thing in the world. In front of him, Mike placed another iced coffee and a chocolate muffin, both set carefully on the table.

Will blinked. “Oh…”

“You looked busy,” Mike said, smiling that easy smile that made Will’s brain short-circuit. “Thought you could use some snacks. On the house.”

For a moment, Will could only stare. “You… you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Mike said, leaning back slightly in his chair, one elbow resting on the table. “But you’ve been sitting here for, like, two hours straight. Pretty sure you’ve aged a year since I last looked over.”

Will laughed, ducking his head to hide his grin. “I was actually getting some work done, for once.”

“Yeah?” Mike raised an eyebrow, teasing. “What are you working on? Secret artist stuff?”

“An essay,” Will admitted, rolling his eyes. “Art history. I keep getting distracted though.”

Mike grinned, feigning innocence. “By what?”

Will’s heart stuttered. He looked down at his keyboard, pretending to type something, anything, to avoid that piercing gaze. “Just… stuff.”

“Stuff, huh?” Mike leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Sounds serious.”

Will dared to glance up, only to find Mike watching him - really watching him - with that same soft, curious look that made his stomach flip. There was no sarcasm this time, no teasing edge. Just warmth.

He reached for the iced coffee, grateful for the excuse to look away, and took a sip. It was perfect. Cold, sweet, exactly how he liked it. He swallowed and smiled shyly. “Thanks. For this.”

Mike shrugged, but the faint pink dusting his cheeks gave him away. “No problem. Consider it, uh… customer loyalty perks.”

Will laughed again, quieter this time, his chest feeling strangely light. The muffin sat untouched between them, the air humming with the kind of tension that wasn’t uncomfortable, just alive.

He wanted to say something else, something meaningful. Maybe ask how long Mike had been working here, or whether he liked it, or anything to keep him sitting there longer. But the words got tangled in his throat.

Instead, Mike glanced down at the sketchbook on the table, half-tucked under Will’s laptop. “You been drawing again?” he asked casually, nodding toward it.

Will froze, pulse jumping. “Uh… yeah. Just practising.”

Mike’s eyes flicked up to meet his, curious and bright. “You’re really into it, huh?”

“Yeah,” Will said softly. “It’s kind of… everything.”

There was a small pause, comfortable in its own way. Mike nodded, smiling a little. “That’s cool.” Mike hesitated, then, “Can I look?”

Will froze. Usually, while being a bit shy, he was happy to show people his art. But he was overwhelmingly aware that he had three sketches of Mike in that book. He hesitantly reached out for his sketch book. He opened it to the first page. 

The drawing was one he’d done for fun a couple of months ago. He’d drawn a sketch of El and Johnathan laughing together. He was pretty proud of it, and they’d both loved it when he’d shown it to them. 

Will slowly shoved the book towards Mike. 

Mike’s eyes widened when they landed on the page. “Shit. You’re like, really good. Will, this is incredible.”

Mike looked up at Will. His eyes were wide, his cheeks red and he had an awe struck look on his face. 

“This is incredible, Will,” he repeated. Mike looked down at the drawing. “Who are they?”

Will blushed and smiled shyly. “My brother and sister.”

Mike grinned and flipped over to the next page. There, Will had sketched a fantasy scene. Dragons and knights. Mike’s eyes lit up. 

“So cool.” 

Will laughed. “Yeah… I, uh, I love fantasy.”

Mike grinned wider, still looking down at the page. “Same. Me and some of my friends loved playing D&D.” 

“No way! Same. We haven’t played since school, but I miss it,” Will admitted. 

Mike looked over at him. “Me and my friend Lucas miss playing too. Maybe we should organise a campaign sometime? Bring your friends?”

Will nodded. “I’d love that!”

Mike continued flipping through Will’s sketch book. Will watched carefully, ready to snatch the book back as soon Mike got close to the sketches Will didn’t want him to see. He watched as Mike flipped through drawings of Dustin, El, Jonathan, his mom. Through sketches of Lenora and fantasy scenes. 

Then Mike landed on a picture of Will. It was the only self portrait Will had ever done. It had been homework for one of his classes and he was surprisingly happy with how it had turned out. 

Mike’s fingers lightly trailed over the paper and Will felt his breath catch as he watched the small smile spread across Mike’s face. 

For a moment, neither of them moved. The café around them faded again, just the low hum of conversation, the faint tap of the rain beginning outside, and the sound of Will’s heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

Then Max’s voice broke through from behind the counter. “Mike! You planning to work today, or are you on a date?”

Will, who had just taken a sip of his latte, choked. 

Mike groaned and shot her a glare over his shoulder. “It’s called customer service, Max!”

“Sure it is!” she called back, clearly grinning.

Will was certain his face was on fire, and from the look of it, Mike wasn’t much better.

“Sorry about her,” Mike said, rubbing the back of his neck. “She thinks she’s funny.”

Will smiled, still pink. “She’s… kind of right, though.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“You’re definitely not working,” Will said, laughing softly.

Mike grinned again, that teasing glint returning to his eyes. “But you’re so much more interesting than work.”

Will flushed deeper. He felt like his face was permanently on fire around Mike. 

A string of customers stumbled through the door, hair damp and coats dripping from the winter rain. Mike glanced over at them and sighed. 

“I should get back to work and help Max.” He stood up and hesitated. “You’ll be back tomorrow?”

Will nodded. “Yeah.” His voice sounded breathless. 

Mike smiled and shyly rubbed one hand over his opposite arm in an adorably awkward motion. 

“I’m working the morning shift tomorrow. If you, you know, want to come by then?”

Will grinned. “See you tomorrow morning then, I guess.” 

“Mike!” Max yelled. 

“I’m coming!” Mike yelled back. Then, softer, gentler. “See you tomorrow, Will.”

Will watched him walk away, warmth blooming in his chest. Tomorrow. He’d see Mike again tomorrow. 

********

Will was running late. Horribly, embarrassingly late.

He’d been stuck in classes all morning. Three back-to-back lectures that felt like they’d stretched into eternity and then one of his classmates had insisted they meet immediately to discuss their group project. Which, of course, turned into forty minutes of talking in circles and pretending they were being productive.

And now it was nearly lunchtime. And Will was practically speed-walking across campus, his bag bouncing against his hip, the cold air stinging his cheeks.

Because Mike was working the morning shift.  And Will had told him he’d pop in.

And the thought of not showing up, of Mike maybe wondering where he was, or assuming he’d blown him off, made something twist in his stomach.

It wasn’t just the promise, though. He wanted to see him. Badly.

Hell, he’d wanted to see Mike all morning. Through every boring lecture, every useless group discussion, he kept catching himself glancing at the clock, thinking, If I leave now and run, I can probably make it before noon.

It was ridiculous.

It was pathetic.

It was absolutely, undeniably true.

His steps quickened as the café came into view, that familiar sign hanging above the door. His heart thudded a little faster. Anticipation, nerves, excitement all tangled together.

He wasn’t even sure what exactly he was hoping for.

Just… Mike.

Mike’s smile when he walked in.

Mike’s soft, teasing tone.

Mike leaning across the counter a little too closely, like he always did with him and only him, from Will had observed. 

(El had said his behaviour was creepy when he’d called her last night. “You’re stalking him,” she’d teased. “Creeping on him and drawing him.” He’d argued back that he wasn’t being creepy. But he did watch Mike. A lot. In less than a week, he’d become addicted to looking at him. Maybe El was right and he was being creepy.)

Will shoved open the door, breath catching slightly from the cold, but mostly from the anxious, stupid crush pressing against his ribs.

He let the door swing shut behind him, the bell above it chiming softly as he reached up to adjust his beanie, more out of nerves than necessity. His eyes flicked instinctively to the counter. 

Mike was there. He was there. 

A rush of relief and something dangerously close to euphoria shot through Will’s chest. He took a steadying breath and began walking over, trying to look normal, calm, not like someone whose entire morning had revolved around seeing one specific boy.

Mike was hunched over the espresso machine, frowning  as he scrubbed at some stubborn stain. His shoulders slumped tiredly, his brow pinched. 

Will’s smile grew. “Hey, Mike!”

Mike’s head shot up as he looked over at Will and his entire face lit up. Will felt sick, his stomach twisting in knots. Mike was so fucking pretty and Will wanted to die. 

“Will! You came.” Mike’s voice cracked ever so slightly, like he couldn’t believe it. He sounded awestruck. 

Will shrugged shyly as his cheeks warmed. “Sorry I’m late. I had classes.”

Mike immediately leaned forward on the counter, elbows planted, closing the distance between them without even thinking. His eyes were bright, focused completely on Will like nothing else in the café existed.

“You’re here now.” His voice softened in a way Will swore Mike didn’t use on anyone else.

Then, almost shyly, Mike said, “And I’m finished in 10 minutes.” He hesitated. “Wanna grab a drink? After, I mean. With me. When I’m not working,” Mike floundered, flustered. 

Will couldn’t help it. He giggled. “Yeah. Yeah. I would love to.”

Mike’s eyes widened slightly, that hopeful, disbelieving look returning. Will felt it like a spark under his skin.

“Great!” Mike stuttered. “Great. Ummm. Do you want anything, then? While you wait?”

Will bit his lip and scanned the menu. “Um. A hot chocolate? Please? But like.. cold?”

Mike beamed, a startled laugh slipping from his lips. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course!” He swallowed. “So like, chocolate milk? With cream and marshmallows?”

Will ducked his head shyly. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Mike grinned. “Go grab a seat and I’ll bring it over in a sec.”

Will nodded and wandered over to his usual table. He dropped his bag on the floor and shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on the back of the chair. Then he sat down. 

Mike appeared at his side a moment later and placed the chocolate milk and a cookie. 

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” he said, walking backwards and nearly falling over a table in the process. 

Will giggled and Mike flushed, but he was smiling. 

While Will waited, he wrapped his hands around the cold cup, letting the condensation gather against his palms. The café hummed softly around him. His phone buzzed.

Will fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

Dustin: dude did u make it in time??? did he SEE u??

Will bit back a laugh, pressing his lips together to muffle it. He’d told Dustin about Mike a couple of days ago, mostly because Dustin had cornered him in the dorm kitchen and demanded to know why Will had been smiling at his cereal like an idiot.

And Will, exhausted and too caffeinated and apparently incapable of lying, had ended up blurting out something like, there’s this barista… he’s really nice… and pretty… and I think I might be losing my mind.

Dustin, of course, had reacted with the exact level of maturity Will should’ve expected.

Which was zero.

He’d gasped dramatically. He’d fist-pumped the air. He’d immediately offered to “run reconnaissance,” whatever that meant. And then he’d asked if Mike had “barista-rizz,” which Will still wasn’t convinced was a real phrase.

Will stared at Dustin’s text, shaking his head fondly.

He typed back quickly before he could overthink it:

Will: yes. I made it. he’s here.

Almost instantly:

Dustin: ASK HIM OUT. DO IT. I BELIEVE IN YOU.

Will let out a strangled laugh and slammed the phone face-down on the table before the next barrage of messages could arrive.

Ask him out.

Right.

Sure.

Absolutely not.

His heart was pounding just thinking about it. He hadn’t even mastered talking to Mike without blushing like a tomato. Asking him out felt like trying to climb Everest with no shoes.

But as he lifted his eyes, he caught sight of Mike behind the counter, stealing a glance at him and smiling when he noticed Will looking back.

And suddenly…

Maybe Dustin wasn’t completely insane. Mike had asked to hang out when his shift finished. He wanted to spend time with Will. So maybe, maybe Mike liked him back…

Will felt ridiculous. It hadn’t even been a full week and he felt head over heels for the stupidly pretty boy who was currently hanging up his apron.

Another boy appeared from behind the counter and clapped Mike on the back, making him jump slightly. Will straightened in his seat. He’d never seen this guy before - tall, dark-skinned, with a bright grin and an easy confidence that immediately made Will feel… twitchy.

Mike turned toward him, and the two slipped into a conversation so animated Will could practically see the energy crackling between them. The guy said something with a teasing edge, and Mike groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes so hard Will could see it from across the room.

A tight, unwelcome feeling curled in Will’s stomach.

Jealousy.

Sharp. Immediate. Embarrassing.

Mike shoved the boy’s shoulder with a scowl, but his lips were twitching like he was trying not to smile. The other boy just laughed - a loud, barked sound - and shoved him right back. Then he jerked his chin toward Will’s table, eyebrows raised, grin widening.

Will’s heart lurched.

Oh gosh.

They were talking about him.

They were definitely talking about him.

Panic shot through him and he ducked his head, pretending to be fascinated with his cup of half drunk chocolate milk. He stared so hard at the table he could’ve burned a hole through it. His ears burned, his pulse thudding in his throat.

He knew it was stupid. Mike was allowed to have friends, coworkers, cute people he talked to. But something about seeing Mike laugh with someone else, someone who wasn’t him, twisted inside him.

He risked a tiny glance up.

Mike was still looking in his direction.

Not at the other boy.

Not at another customer. 

At him.

And even from across the café, even in the dim lighting, Will saw the shy, warm smile spreading slowly across Mike’s face.

The jealousy didn’t disappear, but it softened. Melted. Shifted into something almost dizzying.

Because Mike wasn’t smiling like that at anyone else.

Will held Mike’s gaze as he approached, no longer in his work apron. When he reached Will, he hovered by the table,one hand nervously tapping against his thigh.

He flicked a look over his shoulder.

Mike’s co-worker stood behind the counter, grinning like he knew everything, and flashed two enthusiastic thumbs-up. It was the kind of grin that said I’m going to tease you about this until the day I die.

Mike’s entire face went scarlet on the spot.

“Uh,” Mike began, voice cracking before he cleared his throat and tried again, “So. Um. That’s Lucas.”

Will raised an eyebrow, doing his absolute best not to look amused and failing.

“My co-worker,” Mike continued quickly, “and my best friend… and, uh, Max’s boyfriend. Which is very important information because he’s about to be extremely annoying about all of this.”

Will swallowed a laugh. “All of… this?”

Mike’s blush somehow deepened.

“He’s the one who likes D&D and thinks he’s funny,” Mike muttered. “But he’s just… loud.”

Behind them, Lucas cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hi Will!”

Mike whipped around. “Oh my gosh, shut up.”

Will was temporarily dazed. Lucas knew Will’s name. Which means… Max, or Mike had talked about him. 

Lucas only grinned harder. “Tell him about-”

“Nope!” Mike spun back to Will, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. “Okay. Yeah. This is exactly what I was afraid of.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “So, uh… about that drink? Wanna get it somewhere else? With me. Like… not here. Because Lucas is absolutely going to spend the next hour embarrassing the shit out of me if we stay.”

He let out a nervous laugh, eyes bright with both fear and hope.

Will felt warmth bloom in his chest. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Sure.”

He stood up, slipping on his coat and grabbing his bag.

Mike blinked, like he hadn’t fully expected that answer. Then a shy, relieved smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Cool. Cool, yeah. Let’s go before he-”

“Wait!” Lucas shouted, already half-vaulting over the counter. “At least introduce me!”

Mike groaned into his hands. “Why do I work here?”

But he guided Will toward the counter.

“Will, this is Lucas,” Mike said quickly, waving a hand between them. “Lucas, this is Will. We’re leaving now.”

Lucas shook Will’s hand with too much enthusiasm. “Nice to meet you! Mike talks abou-”

“Goodybe!” Mike yelped, grabbing Will by the sleeve and practically towing him toward the door.

Lucas cackled. “Have fun on your little-”

The door shut behind them before Will could hear the end of that sentence.

Outside, a cold breeze hit them, and Mike let out a groan into his palms. “I’m so sorry. He’s… Lucas.”

Will smiled, heart hammering in his chest. “I think he’s nice.”

Mike snorted. “You won’t think that for long.”

Will just laughed because the whole thing felt ridiculous and sweet and a little bit perfect.

And because Mike had practically dragged him out on a not-date.

They fell into step together, the sun warm on the pavement, the air crisp enough that Will could see the faintest fog of his breath. Mike shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunching like he was building up the courage to say something.

“So, um,” he began, voice careful. “I know another café. It’s quieter. No Lucas. No… audience.” He winced at the memory and kept talking before Will could respond. “Or, uh, actually…”

He inhaled, then words tumbled out of him at full speed.

“You could come back to mine? Like, not in a weird way, oh my gosh, that sounded weird, just, like, we have a couch and it’s comfortable and it doesn’t smell like espresso grounds. And I’ve got soda, and snacks. And no roommates, cause I live with Lucas and Max, right? And Lucas won’t be there because obviously he’s still working, and Max is gone for a few days because of her volleyball tournament. She’s on the college team, she’s super intense, like terrifying but in a cool way. And we could just… I don’t know. Talk. Or watch a movie. Or just… exist near each other? Or-”

“Mike,” Will said softly.

Mike froze mid-ramble, eyes wide.

Will let a teasing smile pull at his lips. “I’d love to go to yours.”

Mike blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh. Okay. Cool. Yeah. Great.” His face went pink but he looked almost giddy. “It’s not far. Just a few blocks.”

They walked the rest of the way side by side, arms brushing occasionally, each touch sending a small electric shock up Will’s spine. Mike kept stealing quick, shy glances, and Will pretended not to notice even though his own heart was doing somersaults.

After a few minutes, Mike slowed in front of a brick apartment building with ivy crawling up one side and a bright red door that needed a new coat of paint.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “This is us.”

He pulled out his keys, hands shaking just a little as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Will stepped inside, warmth washing over him, the faint scent of coffee and vanilla lingering in the air.

Mike hovered by the entryway, suddenly shy again.

“Welcome to my apartment,” he murmured.

And Will followed him in.

******

An hour later, Will found himself sitting on a slightly lumpy but surprisingly comfortable couch beside Mike Wheeler. He had a can of Coke in one hand and a bag of Reese’s Pieces in the other. Somewhere between opening the snacks and choosing something to put on the TV, they’d ended up pressed close together. Close enough that every so often their shoulders brushed, or Mike’s knee bumped his, and each touch sent heat flooding up Will’s chest.

It didn’t feel awkward. It didn’t feel forced.

It felt easy. Natural. Like this was something they’d always done.

Will had never clicked with someone so fast.

He learned that Mike had an older sister and a younger sister, “both terrifying in different, equally impressive ways,” in Mike’s words. That he was from Indiana, from a small town Will knew by name. The same town his mom had grown up in. The same town Will himself had lived in for the first year of his life before Joyce packed up everything and moved him and Jonathan to California.

Hawkins. 

“That’s wild,” Mike said, eyes wide like it actually mattered. Like it meant something. “We could’ve been, like, baby neighbours.”

Will laughed. “Yeah. Maybe you stole my crayons or something.”

Mike nudged him lightly, grinning. “Please. I was a perfect baby. You were probably the crayon thief.”

Will pretended to be offended, but the warmth in his stomach only grew.

In return, Will told him things he didn’t normally share with people he’d known for years, let alone days. He talked about Jonathan, about their strange but perfect sibling dynamic. About El, how she’d been his best friend before becoming his sister, and how that had weirdly made things less weird when his mom married Hopper.

“Hop’s great,” Will added with a smile. “Gruff, but like… soft on the inside. In a giant, scary-dad sort of way.”

Mike laughed. “Yeah, I know the type.”

Will found himself rambling about Dustin next, how they’d met in primary school, how they’d bonded instantly over comics and D&D, and how somehow they’d ended up sharing a dorm in college.

“He was the first person I told about…” Will trailed off, voice dipping, then cleared his throat. “About you. I mean, about the café.”

Mike’s head snapped toward him, eyes bright and startled. “Me?”

Will looked down at his Coke, the fizz suddenly very loud. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You.”

And then their knees brushed again, this time lingering, and Will didn’t pull away.

Will looked back up at Mike, unsure what he expected to find, but Mike was already staring at him. Really staring. His expression was open in a way that made Will’s heart lurch, like he was afraid to breathe too loudly and break whatever was happening between them.

“Will,” Mike said quietly, voice full of something gentle and impossibly careful.

“Mike,” Will whispered back, barely more than breath.

For a second, neither of them moved. Then Mike swallowed, glanced down at Will’s hand full of candy, and his mouth twitched like he’d made a decision.

“Can I…?” Mike asked, nodding toward Will’s hand.

Will didn’t even have time to answer before Mike reached out, slow and deliberate, and took the bag of Reese’s Pieces from his fingers. His touch ghosted across Will’s skin, warm and light and devastating. Mike set the candy on the floor beside the couch, never taking his eyes off Will.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Mike’s fingers brushed Will’s again. Testing. Asking.

Will didn’t pull back.

Mike exhaled shakily and slid his hand fully into Will’s, their fingers threading together like they had been made to fit. Will’s pulse roared in his ears. Mike’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, soft and nervous and sweet.

“Sorry,” Mike murmured. “I, uh… I’ve wanted to do that since, like, the second I met you.”

Will’s laugh came out small and stunned. “Good,” he said. “Me too.”

Mike’s smile was slow and blinding.

They didn’t talk about it anymore. They didn’t need to.

Instead, Mike turned toward the TV, fumbling with the remote with his free hand while refusing to let go of Will’s with the other.

“So,” Mike said, clearing his throat, way too casual for someone whose heartbeat Will could practically feel through his palm. “I figured… if we’re hanging out for real, you should know something important.”

“And what’s that?” Will asked, leaning in a little.

Mike hit play. The familiar John Williams score burst out of the speakers.

“I’m obsessed with Star Wars,” Mike said, dead serious. “And you’re about to watch the best one.”

Will grinned. “The Empire Strikes Back?”

Mike nodded. “Objectively the best.”

“Definitely,” Will said softly, squeezing Mike’s hand gently. 

They settled back against the couch cushions, closer now, shoulders pressed together from the moment Mike relaxed into him. Mike’s hand stayed curled in his, warm and solid, their fingers tangled easily.

Halfway through the Hoth scenes, Will realised his thumb was brushing small circles over the back of Mike’s hand. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it.

Mike noticed. Will felt him tense for half a second, then melt, leaning into him like it was instinct.

They watched the movie like that. Hands intertwined. Shoulders bumping. Legs pressed together in a way that made Will’s whole body feel fizzy and unreal.

Every so often Mike would whisper something -  some commentary, some fun fact, some dramatic gasp when Han and Leia got close - and Will tried not to fall a little bit more each time.

It was soft. And simple. And perfect.

And when Luke hung upside down in the Wampa cave and Mike squeezed his hand excitedly, Will thought, Oh. I’m in trouble.

But he didn’t let go.

*******

Will was sat in the middle of a lecture when his phone beeped, vibrating quietly against the desk. The professor was droning on about composition and balance, something Will knew he should be paying attention to, but, well. He risked a subtle glance downward.

A text from Mike lit up his screen.

Will immediately bit down on a smile, staring at the message a second longer than necessary before locking the phone again and straightening in his seat as if that would magically keep the blush off his face.

It had been three days since he’d been at Mike’s apartment.

Three days since they’d sat shoulder to shoulder, hands intertwined, watching The Empire Strikes Back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Three days since Will had been close enough to feel Mike’s warmth sinking into him.

And it had also been three days since he’d seen him.

Right after their not-a-date-but-totally-a-date movie moment, Will had gone home for the weekend. His mom had insisted, saying she hadn’t seen him in too long, and El wanted help with a project for one of her community college classes. So Will had packed a bag and spent the weekend in the Byers-Hopper household, listening to El enthuse about chemistry, Hop yelling at football on TV, and Joyce fussing over whether Will was eating properly.

It was… nice. Comforting. Familiar.

But the entire time, Will’s phone kept lighting up.

Mike had given him his number before Will left, written on a receipt. So even though they hadn’t seen each other, they’d texted loads.

More than loads.

Will had woken up to messages.

Gone to sleep with his phone in his hand.

Found himself smiling at the screen like an idiot whenever Mike sent a joke or a meme or a half-formed thought like “Do you think Han knows Leia likes him or is he actually that dense??”

And Will… he’d answered all of them. Happily. Immediately. Maybe too quickly.

But Mike never seemed to mind.

Mike texted back just as fast.

Will’s phone buzzed again on the desk, and he clenched his jaw to keep from looking immediately. He waited a respectable three seconds.

Then another glance.

Another text from Mike.

Will’s stomach swooped pleasantly.

Gosh, he missed him. More than made sense for a boy he’d technically known for less than two weeks. More than made sense for someone he was just texting and holding hands with and thinking about way too much.

He shut his notebook, pretending to stretch his fingers while he shielded the screen and replied under the desk with one thumb.

His heart was already racing.

Mike’s name alone did that now.

And Will couldn’t even pretend he hated it.

Mike: Wanna hang out with me max n lucas after your class

Mike: bring dustin

Will grinned and typed out a quick response. 

Will: Yess!! When and where? 

*****

“Just… try not to embarrass me,” Will begged as they walked down the pavement towards the cinema, his hands flapping uselessly at his sides like he could physically shoo away the incoming disaster. “Seriously, Dustin, I mean it. No telling him stories about my childhood. No telling him how obsessed I was with dinosaurs. No telling him how I cried that one time we got lost on a school trip. Actually, no telling him any stories at all.”

Dustin snorted. “Wow. You must really like him if you’re banning literally every anecdote from your entire existence.”

Will ignored him and ploughed on, breath speeding up.

“And don’t tell him how much I talk about him. Or how much I text you about him. Or how I maybe have a whole page in my sketchbook that’s-” He stopped himself, face blazing. “Never mind. Just… just be cool. Like, normal cool. Quiet cool. Silent cool. Cool where you barely speak at all.”

Dustin stared at him. “Will, that’s not being cool. That’s being a ghost.”

“Fine,” Will huffed. “Then be a ghost.”

“You want me to be a ghost at the cinema?”

“Yes! A ghost who doesn’t tell Mike that I think he’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

Dustin groaned loudly. “Oh my god, Will, if you don’t tell him that yourself, I swear-”

“Dustin.” Will grabbed his arm, desperate. “Please. I’m begging you. Just one evening where you don’t make me want to climb into a bin.”

Dustin patted his shoulder. “Buddy, if you climb into a bin tonight, it’s not going to be because of me. It’s gonna be because you see Mike and forget how legs work.”

Will sputtered. “I… I would not!”

“Sure,” Dustin said, utterly unconvinced. “We’ll see.”

Will groaned and hid his face in his hands, muttering, “This was a mistake. I should’ve just gone alone.”

Dustin rolled his eyes so hard Will could practically hear it. “Relax, Will. I got this. I’m the definition of cool.”

“You wore a Dungeon Master cloak to Fresher’s Week.”

“That was a statement,” Dustin insisted.

They rounded the corner and the world seemed to tilt.

Mike was there.

Standing in a little group with Lucas and Max, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, head tipped back slightly as he talked. He was laughing at something Max said, curls bouncing a little with the movement.

Will froze so abruptly Dustin walked straight into his back.

“Oi! Will, what the-” Dustin peeked around him. His eyes widened. “So that’s Mike?”

Will swallowed. Hard.

Because Mike had just looked up,  like he’d felt Will arrive, and his whole face lit up. His posture straightened, eyes brightening in a way that made Will feel a little unsteady.

“Yeah,” Will whispered, breath catching. “That’s Mike.”

Dustin let out a low whistle. “Ohhh. Okay. Yeah. I get it now.”

Will elbowed him, mortified. “Shut up.”

But Dustin was already grinning, wicked and triumphant. “Will. William Byers. You are so done for.”

And honestly? Will couldn’t even deny it.

Not when Mike was already starting to walk towards him, smile wide and warm and meant just for him.

“Will,” Mike said softly when he reached him, voice warm enough to melt every coherent thought in Will’s head.

Before Will could respond, Mike’s hands were on him, gentle, certain, and he tugged Will closer, wrapping his arms around him in a tight, full-bodied hug.

Will froze for half a second, stunned. They hadn’t hugged before. And for a moment, he didn’t know what to do.

But then he melted. Completely.

Will relaxed into Mike’s arms with a shaky sigh, his fingers curling into the back of Mike’s jacket as though his body had decided all on its own that this - this - was where he belonged.

Being this close to Mike felt unreal.

He fit against him so perfectly it didn’t seem possible, like Mike had been sculpted with a Will-shaped space in his arms. Will tucked his head into the warm curve of Mike’s neck, breathing in the faint smell of coffee and peppermint on his skin, and hugged him back.

It was one of those hugs that felt endless and too short at the same time, like time stretched around them just long enough to make it mean something.

Eventually, Mike drew back, though reluctantly. His cheeks were pink, his hair mussed where Will’s face had brushed it, but he didn’t step far. Instead, without even thinking about it, he reached down and took one of Will’s hands in his own.

His thumb brushed over Will’s knuckles, slow and nervous and soft. Then Mike turned slightly, still holding Will’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” he said, offering Dustin an easy, lopsided smile. “I’m Mike.”

Before Will could die of embarrassment or joy, he wasn’t sure which, Lucas and Max walked up to join them.

Lucas nudged Will’s shoulder in greeting, smirking at him, and introduced himself and Max to Dustin. Max gave Will a once-over, clocking the hand-holding instantly, then shot him the cheekiest, most unsubtle wink imaginable.

Will felt his ears go scarlet.

Dustin elbowed him with a smirk.

And Mike, still holding Will’s hand, just beamed.

They made their way into the cinema together, a little cluster of chatter and elbows nudging and Dustin walking backwards because he refused to stop grilling Lucas about his favourite D&D classes. The queue for tickets wound in lazy loops through the foyer, fairy lights strung overhead for the holiday season.

A poster for some cheesy new Christmas rom-com hung beside the ticket booth, all soft-focus snowflakes and couples wearing matching scarves.

“That one starts in ten minutes,” Max said, pointing.

“Looks stupid,” Lucas added.

“Perfect,” Mike said brightly.

Will laughed, and they all nodded in agreement.

They bought their tickets and shuffled over to the snack counter. Will reached for his wallet, but before he could even get it halfway out, Mike nudged his hand away with a gentle, deliberate flick of his fingers.

“I’ve got it,” Mike said.

“Mike-”

“Nope,” Mike replied, already tapping his card. “I’m paying. You can get the next one.”

Will opened his mouth to argue, but then Mike gave him that smile - the slightly shy, slightly smug one - and Will forgot how words worked. So instead he just blushed and accepted the popcorn Mike handed him a moment later.

The only time Mike let go of Will’s hand was to carry the drinks and snacks.

Even then, their knuckles brushed every few seconds as they walked.

They drifted into Screen 4, the dim glow of adverts playing across the seats. Dustin and Lucas immediately started bickering about where the best spot was, Max rolled her eyes and led them into their row, and then they all shuffled into place.

Will sat, balancing his drink in the cup holder and popcorn on his knees. Mike settled beside him - close, closer than necessary - and the moment his hands were free, he reached out.

Their fingers slid together like it had been waiting to happen.

Will’s breath caught.

Mike leaned in, warm breath brushing Will’s ear as he whispered, “Is this okay?”

Will squeezed his hand back and whispered, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s more than okay.”

He felt flustered and warm all over, his heart racing in a way the quiet cinema couldn’t hide. He glanced sideways at Mike, who was pretending to watch the screen but whose cheeks were definitely tinged pink, and wondered if this counted as a date.

Their friends were right there. They’d come as a group.

But Mike was holding his hand like he meant it.

Like he wanted to.

And Will felt… excited.

And safe.

And stupidly, giddily happy.

If this wasn’t a date, Will thought as Mike’s thumb brushed the back of his hand again, then he really hoped they’d get to have one.

The movie was ridiculous in the best possible way. All predictable tropes and painfully dramatic Christmas misunderstandings. At one point the leads argued over a burnt gingerbread house, and Lucas groaned so loudly half the row shushed him. Max nearly choked on her popcorn laughing. Dustin kept whispering sarcastic commentary that made Will snort into his drink.

And through it all, Mike held his hand.

Not lightly, not casually,  but with a warm, confident curl of his fingers around Will’s, like it grounded him. Like he didn’t want to let go.

Every time Will glanced sideways, Mike’s face was illuminated by the flicker of the screen - soft, relaxed, beautiful. Sometimes Mike looked right back, and they shared a tiny smile before pretending to focus on the film again.

By the time the credits rolled, Will’s cheeks hurt from smiling and his heart felt full.

They all filed out into the cool evening air, the foyer buzzing with chatter. Max stretched her arms over her head and declared, “Right, I’m calling it, that was the dumbest film I’ve ever loved.”

Lucas nodded. “Agreed. Never again.”

“Tomorrow?” Dustin asked, deadpan.

Max shoved him. “Absolutely not.”

Max and Lucas were heading home together, muttering about grabbing chips on the way. Dustin checked his watch and made a face.

“Ugh, I’ve got that stupid science society meeting,” he groaned. “Don’t wait up. They’re experimenting with some new chemical polymer tonight and apparently I ‘must attend.’ So, have fun without me.”

Will rolled his eyes affectionately. “Try not to blow anything up.”

“No promises,” Dustin said, already hurrying off.

In the sudden lull, just the two of them standing outside the cinema, Mike turned to Will, hands in his pockets, shoulders a little raised like he was fighting nerves.

“So…” Mike said, gently swinging on his heels, “do you wanna… maybe… hang out a bit more? Just us?”

Will’s heart did an embarrassing flip. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Wanna come to mine?”

Mike’s smile spread slow and warm. “Yeah.”

They started walking, shoulder to shoulder, their hands brushing again and again, until finally Mike just reached out and took Will’s hand properly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Will let him. Happily.

They headed back toward Will and Dustin’s dorm, the chilly night air buzzing around them, but Will felt nothing but warmth.

They reached the dorm a few minutes later, climbing the worn staircase up to the second floor. Will fumbled with his keys, heart thudding in his chest like it somehow knew Mike Wheeler was about to be in his room.

When the door swung open, Mike stepped inside and immediately made an impressed noise.

“Whoa. This is… cosy.”

Which, considering the two mismatched desks, the slightly crooked posters, and Dustin’s laundry basking in the corner, was generous.

Will laughed nervously. “Yeah, well… it’s home.”

Mike wandered in slowly, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes moving over everything with open curiosity. He went to Dustin’s desk first - a chaotic landscape of wires, circuit boards, and something vaguely explosive-looking.

“Is this alive?” Mike asked, poking a strange, bubbling contraption.

“Probably,” Will said. “Don’t touch it.”

Mike snatched his hand back immediately. “Noted.”

Then he shifted toward the other side of the room, Will’s side. His steps got softer, more deliberate, like he knew the space mattered. Like he didn’t want to cross a boundary unless he was welcome.

His eyes landed on the shelves above Will’s desk, on neat stacks of sketchbooks, a few framed photos, and Will’s favourite pens lined up in a little ceramic cup.

He smiled softly. “This looks like you.”

Will felt his chest warm. “Yeah?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah.”

He drifted closer, scanning the notebooks, the still-open laptop, the small plastic dinosaur Dustin had snuck onto Will’s desk last week as a joke.

Then Mike reached the sketchbook Will had left out last night when he’d been drawing instead of sleeping. It was partially hidden under a sheet of paper he’d used to scribble notes while working on his essay.

Will’s stomach dropped.

Before he could move, before he could say wait or don’t look at that, Mike’s fingers gently moved the note sheet and his eyes fell on the drawing beneath.

And there it was.

The sketch.

His sketch.

Last night’s drawing of Mike, soft-lined and full of little details Will hadn’t even meant to pour in - the curl of his hair, the slope of his nose, the smile Will had only recently been acquainted with but already memorised. 

Mike froze.

Will’s breath left him in a rush, panic rising. “I- Mike, um… I didn’t mean for you to… you don’t have to… I know it’s weird, I know…”

He felt like he might actually dissolve into the floor.

Mike didn’t say anything right away.

He just stared at the sketch.

And the room went very, very quiet.

Will trailed off as he watched Mike pick up the sketch book and his eyes scan over the drawing. It was the best one he’d done of Mike. Way better than the initial drawing he’d done that first day at the cafe. 

“Mike…”

Mike finally looked over at Will and when he did, he smiled. Wide and beautiful. 

“Will, this is incredible. You drew this? I knew you were good, but wow.” He looked back down at the drawing, smiling. 

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” Mike frowned. 

Will shuffled awkwardly “Because I drew you without permission?”

Mike placed the sketchbook gently on the desk, like it was something precious, and then crossed the room in a few slow, certain steps. Will’s heart pounded louder with every one of them.

When Mike stopped in front of him, he tilted his head, eyes searching Will’s face with that intense, careful focus he always seemed to have when it came to him.

“Will,” he said quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Will swallowed. “I just… I didn’t want you to think I was being creepy.”

Mike let out a soft breath. Almost a laugh, but not quite. “Creepy is secretly taking photos of someone or following them around. You…” His voice gentled even more. “You drew me. And it’s… beautiful. You made me look like someone worth looking at.”

Will felt warmth bloom in his chest, hot, overwhelming, and terrifying.

“You are worth looking at,” he murmured, before he even realised he was saying it.

Mike’s breath caught.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The dorm room, usually full of Dustin’s loud commentary and weird science noises, felt impossibly quiet, like the world had stepped back to give them a moment.

Mike reached out, slow enough that Will could have stopped him at any time. He didn’t. Mike’s fingers brushed Will’s cheek, feather-light, then slid back into his hair.

“Can I tell you something?” Mike asked.

Will nodded, barely breathing.

“I’ve been trying really hard not to stare at you. Every time you’ve come into the cafe. Will, I think you’re beautiful. And it’s been so hard to try and not look at you all the time, ” Mike said, cheeks going an adorable pink. “Like, painfully hard. And then I come in here and find out you’ve been looking at me too.”

Will’s heart stuttered. “Mike…”

Mike stepped closer until there was hardly any space at all between them.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

Will’s “yes” came out before the question even finished.

Mike swallowed. “I didn’t know it was possible to like someone this much, not until I met you,” Mike whispered.

Will’s breath hitched. 

Mike leaned in, careful, slow, giving Will every chance to pull back, and Will leaned forward at the same time.

Their lips brushed.

Soft. Gentle. Almost like a question.

The second time, they both answered.

Mike kissed him fully, hands sliding to cradle Will’s jaw, and Will’s fingers curled in Mike’s shirt, pulling him closer. It was warm and sweet and dizzying, like a breath he’d been holding for years.

Will let out a soft gasp against Mike’s mouth and in response Mike pushed closer, gripping Will tighter. They gasped into each other’s mouths, their tongues meeting, their noses brushing. It was too much and not enough and all Will had wanted since that time they’d met not even two weeks ago. 

He hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but after meeting Mike, he was doubting that, because he was pretty sure he was in love with this boy he’d just met. This boy who he simultaneously barely knew and felt like he’d know forever. 

He pressed himself closer to Mike, kissing him with everything he had. He wanted more. He needed more. 

Will had no idea how much time had passed when they finally broke apart. Mike rested his forehead against Will’s, both of them smiling like idiots.

“So,” Mike said, breathless, “just to be clear… I’m very okay with you drawing me.”

Will laughed, bright and giddy, and kissed him again. And again. And again. 

Will giggled, his eyes bright as he pulled back every so slightly to look at Mike’s flushed cheeks. “That day I first came into the coffee shop?”

“Mmm?” Mike mumbled, his lips brushing against Will’s cheek as he pressed closer, gripping Will tightly. 

“I thought you were the prettiest boy I’d ever seen,” Will continued, breathless. 

Mike pulled back slightly to meet Will’s gaze, grinning. “I saw you come in and I thought I was going to die. You were so beautiful. And then, when you ordered, you were adorable. I watched you so much that shift. I couldn’t stop glancing over at you, drawing, wondering what you were so focused on.”

Will giggled again. “I was drawing you.”

Mike laughed, breathless. “Yeah?”

Will nodded, giddy. “Yeah. You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, of course I was drawing you.”

Mike tugged him close and kissed him again. “I really, really like you, Will Byers.”

Will kissed Mike back, warmth blooming in his chest. “I really, really like you, too, Mike Wheeler.”

Will pressed their lips together, slow and sure, feeling Mike smile against his mouth. Mike’s hands settled at Will’s waist, tentative but wanting, and Will slid his fingers up to the back of Mike’s neck, pulling him just a little closer.

The kiss was gentle, full of all the things they didn’t have words for yet - excitement, relief, the dizzy joy of something finally happening.

When they finally parted, their noses brushed. Mike laughed under his breath, soft and breathless, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real.

Will felt the same.

“Come here,” Mike whispered, leaning in again.

And Will met him halfway, kissing him once more - sweet, lingering, perfect.

*******

The coffee shop was packed, warm and loud and smelling like espresso and cinnamon - a stark contrast to the cold rain hammering the pavement outside. Will shoved the door open and stepped inside with Dustin, both dripping slightly and laughing as the bell above the door jingled.

Behind the counter, Mike and Lucas were in full chaos mode - Lucas calling out an order while Mike tried (and failed) to balance three cups on one cardboard tray. Max was weaving between tables with a towel and the practiced grace of someone who had absolutely given up on caring about messes.

Mike looked up first.

His whole face lit up.

“Will!” he called, voice bright in a way that made Max snort loudly.

Will felt his cheeks warm. “Hi,” he said, pushing wet curls out of his face. “We, uh… come bearing rain.”

“You look like drowned gremlins,” Max said fondly, grabbing Dustin by the hood and shaking water out of it.

Dustin swatted at her. “Hey! I styled that frizz, thank you.”

Mike finished pouring a latte, shoved it at Lucas, and leaned across the counter toward Will. “You want your usual?”

Will nodded. “Yeah. And Dustin wants something with an irresponsible amount of sugar.”

“Irresponsible is exactly my specialty,” Mike said with a grin as he went to work.

From the end of the counter, Lucas called, “He only picks favorites when they’re cute!”

Mike threw a balled-up napkin at his head. He missed. Will laughed, warmth spreading in his chest that had nothing to do with escaping the rain.

A moment later Mike delivered their drinks to the pick-up counter. 

Mike slid Dustin’s drink across the counter with a flourish. “One caramel frappe for the man who claims he ‘doesn’t even like sweet things.’”

Dustin scowled. “It’s called personal growth, Mike.”

Max passed by with a tray. “It’s called denial.”

Lucas nodded solemnly. “He ate an entire bag of gummy worms yesterday.”

“THAT WAS FOR SCIENCE,” Dustin snapped.

Will laughed, shaking his head, but then Mike leaned closer, eyes warm.

“I only remembered your order because Will talks about you and I remember everything Will says,” Mike said casually.

Will’s eyes went wide. Dustin’s jaw dropped. Max froze mid-wipe. Lucas whispered, “Oh damn.”

Mike blinked, realising what he’d just admitted. “Wait, no. I mean, I remember the important stuff, like,” he backpedaled. “I remember just enough. In a normal… appropriate… not-weird way.”

Will bit his lip to stop from smiling too wide. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I remember things you say, too.”

Mike flushed, the shy smile spreading across his face like sunshine. “Good. Cool. Great.”

Dustin groaned dramatically. “I did not sign up to third-wheel in public.”

Will elbowed him. “You literally begged to come.”

“And I regret it immediately.”

Max rolled her eyes and handed Lucas a stack of cups. “They’re cute. Accept it.”

Lucas sighed. “Fine. They’re cute. But I reserve the right to complain.”

Mike handed Will his drink, their fingers brushing just briefly, intentionally.

And Will’s cheeks warmed. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Mike smiled. “Anytime.”

The shop eventually quieted, the rain easing outside as the late afternoon crept in. When closing time finally hit, Mike unclipped his apron, Lucas stacked chairs, and Max locked the front door.

“You guys ready?” Lucas asked, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Hell yes,” Dustin answered. “El messaged to say she’d arrived and said she’s already at your apartment setting up the board.”

El had gotten to know the group over the past few weeks, through phone calls and Facetime and a few brief visits here and there. She’d come up after her last class today and was staying for a few days, crashing with Max, Lucas and Mike since Will and Dustin’s dorm room was so small. Will loved having her around and he loved how well El and his new friends got on. 

The first time she’d met Mike, she’d turned wide eyes on Will and said, embarrassingly, “He really is very pretty, Will, you were right.”

Mike had blushed and Will had wanted to die, but El and Mike had become good friends since, so really, it was all okay. 

Max clapped her hands. “Great. I’m prepared to destroy all of you.”

“You always say that,” Mike said, grabbing his coat, “and you always get distracted halfway through the campaign by a shiny rock or something.”

“It was enchanted,” Max snapped. “And you did follow me into a cave because of it!”

“That’s not the flex you think it is,” Lucas muttered.

Mike drifted to Will’s side as everyone headed for the door. He reached out, brushing their hands together once… twice… and then Will threaded his fingers through Mike’s without hesitation.

Mike exhaled, shoulders relaxing like that simple touch grounded him.

They stepped out into the damp evening air, the sidewalk glowing with reflected streetlights. Mike gently tugged Will toward him, squeezing his hand.

“You good?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Will said, heart warm. “Really good.”

Mike’s smile was small and private - just for him. He dipped his head and pressed a quick, sweet kiss to Will’s lips. Rain-slick and gentle. Familiar now.

Will felt something spark in his chest, something bright and solid and right.

Behind them Dustin gagged loudly. “Can you two not start making out before the campaign? Some of us need to keep our lunch down.”

Max smacked him. “Shut up, you love it.”

Lucas laughed. “Come on lovesick idiots, El’s waiting.”

Will and Mike fell into step behind the others, hands still linked, shoulders brushing as they walked.

A new campaign. Their whole little chaos crew. El waiting for them. Mike at his side.

It felt like the perfect beginning.

And Will couldn’t wait for whatever came next.