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Mike Wheeler is straight.
He thinks.
Four years in a relationship with Jane, even though that’s been long over, he thought that probably made it pretty obvious he likes girls.
But god, something has changed.
Mike figures it probably has something to do with a conversation nearly a year and a half ago, when he was packing up his childhood bedroom into boxes labeled “DORM.”
Stumbling upon a painting he’d kept tucked in a drawer, insisting it was ‘too precious’ to hang up because he didn’t want it to get ruined. He and Jane had been broken up for a year at that point but he still called her to ask about it.
“Hey, look. I know the message isn’t exactly… the same anymore, but do you mind if I still keep that painting? I don’t know, I still really like it and it means a lot to me but I don’t want it to be weird for you.”
And her confused reply had nearly shattered his world.
“What painting?”
It had been nearly two weeks before he was able to ask Will about it. He wasn’t mad, just curious and a little bit nosy, but he’d never been one to be very good at expressing things out loud.
Instead of a casual question, simple curiosity, he had nearly shouted at him, “Why’d you lie to me?”
The ensuing argument still rang through his head almost daily, especially at night right before he drifted off and all his thoughts were filled with mistakes he should have fixed long ago.
And since that conversation, it had been almost a year and a half since he and Will had really spoken. Polite interactions during group hangouts, stilted waves when they passed in the hallway.
Mike was a little heartbroken, obviously. Will had been his best friend after all.
But eventually, he (sort of) started to get over it. Will was out and proud, had made all kinds of new friends and even landed a hopeful position in an art museum internship for the next summer. Mike was writing his stories and writing campaigns and everyone thought he was a weirdo and he got to hang out with the Party all the time, and it was exactly where he wanted to be.
He thought it would go away.
Instead, he had to face a very uncomfortable realization.
Before, he had all these tools. All this convenience; he could explain it away.
They were best friends, it was normal to fall asleep on each other’s shoulders during movie nights. They were best friends, it was normal for the goodbye hugs to last a few seconds too long. They were best friends, it was normal to share beds during sleepovers and wake up wrapped in each other’s arms. They were best friends, it was normal to play footsie under the table at dinner and steal food from each other’s plates.
They were best friends. It was normal for him to feel all warm and fuzzy inside when he looked at Will. It was normal for his face to hurt from smiling so widely when he caught eyes with Will across a room. It was normal for him to crave the movie nights when everyone crammed onto the couch and Will ended up squished a little too close into his side. It was normal for the contact to make butterflies erupt in his stomach so thoroughly his hands would start to shake.
He had all these tools, all this convenience. Will was his best friend. They were closer than just about any other pair in the party, aside from Lucas and Max. It was easy to rationalize it, to compartmentalize it all into these tiny little boxes forcefully labeled “NORMAL”.
But now, he and Will don’t talk anymore.
And he still feels it all.
When the Party hangs out and he passes a cup to Will and their fingers brush. When he walks down the halls at school and catches a glimpse of Will’s bright smile. When he sees Will walking down the sidewalk, some guy’s arm around his shoulders, Will’s head tipped back in the brightest, most joyous laughter Mike has ever heard, and his stomach clenches so tightly he hunches over.
When Will catches his eye in a classroom and offers a small smile and Mike has to resist the urges to sprint off to the bathroom so he can freak out in peace.
He could explain it all away before, because they were best friends.
But now, Mike has spent six months processing and accepting the realization that Will has become… well, a hallway crush.
And Mike is disgustingly, pathetically in love with him.
Lucas thinks Mike Wheeler is just about the stupidest person to ever exist on the planet.
Which is, quite frankly, saying a lot, because Dustin Henderson is someone they spend time with daily.
But Mike has reached a new level of dumb, far past befriending demons for pets and thinking a long distance relationship in eighth grade with a Mormon computer genius would come without its fair share of drama.
Mike is just… pathetic. It’s genuinely a bit sad to watch, to be honest, but still funny and stupid enough to the point that the entire group just relentlessly bullies him for taking ten years to recognize his extremely obvious crush.
It wouldn’t be so bad, really, because that exact crush was very clearly requited. Until Mike, again, did a dumb, and proved that even the best writers can not express things if it’s not on paper.
And now Lucas is about halfway into another year of listening to Mike bitch and moan about Will Byers. The pining is about to push him off the deep end and one of these days Mike’s going to get smothered with a pillow.
It was quite an adjustment for the Party to get used to the new dynamic after the fight. It took almost two months for any of them to even get the full story. And now, Mike and Will, who always existed in everyone’s thoughts as simply a pair that was never separate, haven’t spoken in over a year.
Lucas is fed up with it. Not only because Mike is absolutely insufferable about it, keeping Lucas up all hours of the night whining about how pretty Will is and how funny Will is and how much he misses him and how he just hates that guy that’s been hanging around him (Mike thinks it’s Will’s boyfriend. Lucas knows better. Does he inform Mike of this? No, of course not.) and how he just wants things to go back to how they were before. Lucas is fed up with all of Mike’s whining, but he’s also fed up with seeing two of his best friends be so obviously in love and obviously in pain that they can’t have each other and neither of them have the balls to do anything about it.
He wants his best friends to be happy, but they’re stupid. Sue him.
A golden opportunity arises when Jane lets them know that she and Will are hosting their post-finals party, and Will let Jane invite Mike.
So he calls Max first and they drive the streets of Chicago aimlessly while brainstorming some kind of plan to get this tension over with.
The idea arises and they call Jane next to get her approval. It is her ex boyfriend and her brother and her apartment, after all. But she’s just as fed up with listening to Will spew the same complaints as Mike, and she’s been hearing it for far longer than Mike has even been able to understand his own feelings.
Kali, who ended up going to college with the Party, rooming with Max, and starting the Mike Wheeler hate club (existing of herself, Max, and Jane, meetings occasionally attended by Lucas and Dustin depending on how obnoxious Mike has been that day), fully supports the idea because she wants to see Mike squirm.
Dustin honestly could not care less because he just wants to get out of his dorm and a group hangout is the best excuse. He never shuts up about how annoying it is that he was the only party member who got stuck with a random roommate, but every time Jane offered for him to move in with her and Will, he got all red in the face and his voice would get all squeaky and he’d start mumbling about the weather.
Lucas is working with Max on that one too.
But his first mission is to get Mike 1) hopefully a boyfriend, 2) hopefully Will, 3) at the very least to just shut up.
Plans were made, supplies were gathered, Jane practiced enough to make sure it wouldn’t be noticeable, and now hopefully Lucas will only have a week to wait until he won’t have to be Mike’s therapist and he’d move into the much-preferred third wheel territory.
He just has to make sure nothing goes wrong.
“Mike, if you don’t get your ass out of the bathroom right now, I’m breaking down the door!”
Lucas’s voice is muffled through the closed door but Mike still winces.
They’re supposed to be heading to Jane and Will’s apartment… fifteen minutes ago. He grimaces at his watch.
It’s not his fault, really! It’s not his fault that they haven’t had such an intimate kind of group hangout in ages, instead opting for dinner out or arcade nights or the movies or going to whatever interesting events are happening around town.
It’s been months since they had gathered at one of their places, without crowds of people and the public eye keeping things from getting too tense. And Mike is already having an extra special crisis over that stupid guy he never spots Will without.
Every time he happens to see Will anywhere, whether it be in the school hallways or walking the sidewalks or driving past without a second glance, that guy is there with his stupidly handsome face and stupid pretty blue eyes and stupid curly brown hair and somehow, even though he’s just so stupid, Will is always laughing that beautiful laugh and smiling his gorgeous smile with him. Mike is thoroughly considering a hit and run. Lucas smacked him across the back of the head when he mentioned it.
What if the guy comes to the apartment? What if they invited him? What if I have to look at him?
He is very reasonably having a crisis, thank you very much.
“Mike. I swear to God,” Lucas says again through the door, his voice stern to the point Mike can tell he will in fact break down the bathroom door. And probably make Mike pay for it.
“I’m coming, okay?” He finally huffs back, pulling himself slowly out of the ball he had curled himself into in the corner of the room, cracking his back and grunting softly at the stiffness in his legs from the floor. His hands are trembling slightly and he clenches his fists, willing the shakiness away.
It’s just hanging out. Drinking and celebrating finals. Maybe board games. Will’s gonna talk to Dustin and Lucas and Max the whole time. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine, right?
He’s not very good at convincing himself, but Lucas unfortunately is, with his fist pounding the door so hard the room seems to be quivering.
He nearly flinches at the name. Kali was… a character, for sure. It was nice to see Jane finally get to bond with her sister, to see her and Kali and Will form this little club, almost. The three of them had been through more than just about anyone else, the “shared trauma”, as Nancy liked to call it, wrapping them together like a warm blanket and giving each of them support they never knew they needed.
Will was happy. Jane was happy. Jane got to have her sister.
But god, Kali hated Mike. He never quite understood why, exactly, though Max hinted it had something to do with how he had treated Jane during their very bizarre relationship.
He could understand that, obviously. He had always been a little dumb.
But Kali had quite literally formed a “Mike Wheeler Hate Club”. And not only had she formed it, the club had members.
Forgive him for being a tiny bit salty about it.
“I’m coming, okay?” He huffs in Lucas’s face after finally whipping the door open. “I was just… Um. I had to pee.”
Lucas gives him a flat look. Fuck him for being perceptive.
“Dude, don’t even try it. It’s gonna be fine, you don’t have anything to be nervous about.”
Mike opens his mouth to protest but Lucas shoots him another dead look and his jaw snaps back closed. Lucas had been dealing with far too much of Mike’s pining and whining to be fooled, and Mike knew it.
“Shut up,” he grumbles instead, fighting with his shoelaces as Lucas impatiently taps his foot on the floor.
“Dude, come on.”
Max and Kali’s dorm was only a few blocks away, barely a five minute walk, but Jane and Will had an apartment almost at the other end of town. Something about separation anxiety, that had been Jane’s explanation. And it made sense. Both of the siblings had nearly lost each other far too many times and neither of them had quite recovered.
At least it made for an easy hangout spot.
As soon as Max and Kali make it to the parking lot, Mike is very unceremoniously kicked out of the shotgun seat for Max.
He shoots her a glare while she leans in to peck Lucas on the cheek, flattening himself against the door as far away from Kali as possible, while she gives him her usual stare. It’s a disturbing expression, not quite enough feeling in it to be quite murderous, but still as if she’s imagining peeling the skin off his bones to inspect whatever might lie underneath.
He scowls at her and her face doesn’t change other than a slight raise of her eyebrow. “Lucas, please start driving.”
“FUCK.”
Jane nearly bursts through his bedroom door at the sound of the shout, her shoulders tense and ready for a fight against… well, something, but she relaxes immediately at the sight of him.
“I just washed this shirt,” Will huffs, mopping at the fresh stain across the front of his flannel. He was trying to get some liquid courage in before everyone showed up, but hands trembling from nerves combined with flimsy off-brand Solo cups and some sort of cherry flavored drink didn’t exactly encourage clean clothes.
Jane huffs, flopping down on his bed. “And you can wash it again, Will. It’s not a big deal, just grab another one.”
Will shoots her a scowl, unbuttoning the shirt with shaky fingers. “It is a big deal. I spent way too much time trying to plan a stupid outfit.” He doesn’t have to speak the reason aloud. He knows she knows, if not from the past years of his complaints, than from the knowing smirk on her face.
“Well, here,” She sighs, rising from his bed to go dig in the closet. He takes the chance to switch to a clean undershirt, a soft black long sleeve that he couldn’t remember the origin of.
Jane gives him another slightly inquisitive look when she leans out of his closet, a few shirts jumbled in her hands. “Here. I think this one’s best, but you pick.”
He frowns slightly, surveying her choices. Her top choice is a somewhat raggedy and oversized band t-shirt, the decal so worn he could barely read it. “I— why this one?”
She shrugs, tossing it at him. “It fits you well. Makes you look… muscular? Your shoulders look bigger in that one.”
And at that, his face goes a violent shade of magenta, the blush radiating from his cheeks to the point he can almost see the glow when he lowers his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
She winks at him, tossing the other shirts back in the direction of the closet. “That’s what you’re going for, right?”
A shriek escapes her lips when a pillow goes flying at her head, and she scurries out of the room with a laugh. “Hurry up!” She calls over her shoulder, tugging the door closed. “They’ll be here in about five minutes.”
Oh, shit.
He doesn’t have any reason to be so nervous. It’s a bit pathetic, really. It’s just the Party, coming over for one of their usual group meetings, and there’s going to be copious amounts of alcohol and stupid board games and it’ll all be fine.
But no, it will not be fine because Mike is coming and this is the closest proximity he’s been with Mike in two years; even their other Party meetings were at least somewhere public where Will could hide behind the excuse of social anxiety.
He’d spent the better part of a year trying to get over it. Trying to get over him.
Of course, if the number of drunken meltdowns and crying on Jane’s lap about how stupid he was and rushing home in panics after making eye contact with Mike in the hallway said anything, it had not worked.
Will had finally settled into believing he would never get over Mike, at least not fully, but he could at least try to move on.
And then Jane just had to offer their apartment for the finals-recovery party and he had spent a week planning a stupid outfit for no reason and he had spilled a stupid drink on his stupid outfit and Mike was five minutes away and of course they probably wouldn’t even speak to each other because they never did and God, he was such an idiot—
The doorbell jars him out of his pathetic litany, his internal monologue even sounding whiny in his own head.
Voices sound outside his door, and Lucas is banging on it with a fist cheering for him to hurry up.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Will mumbles to himself, quickly shrugging on the shirt Jane had chosen and running a hand nervously through his hair.
Breathe. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be very normal and perfectly fine.
Lying to himself has come easily after so many years, but the convincing part was a bit harder to manage.
Mike freezes outside the door when Jane opens it.
He can’t help it, really, he’s thinking about lots of things that are very very confusing and stressful, but Lucas nearly picks him up off the floor to drag him inside.
A small sigh of relief escapes his lips when he takes a cursory glance around the room and Will isn’t there yet. Maybe he’s in his room, maybe he’s in the bathroom, maybe he went somewhere to get snacks, maybe he made other plans.
A wave of relief mixed with queasy guilt rushes through him at the thought. He can’t decide if he’d rather Will be there or be busy and absent. Of course, he wants to spend time around him. He’s practically in love with the guy. But it’s also somiserably awkward because he doesn’t know how to talk around him, how to exist around him and pretend he’s a normal person.
But even if Will’s just somewhere else in the apartment, or out buying extra supplies, it gives Mike a moment to prepare himself, right?
And then Will’s bedroom door opens and Mike feels like he took a brick to the chest.
Fuck me. Fuck him. Honestly, fuck both of us.
Will looked unfortunately delicious.
Well, he says unfortunate. Mike actually feels extremely fortunate to have the privilege to witness this, but it’s extremely unfortunate for his blood pressure.
It’s the simplest outfit possible, black sweats and a black long sleeve shirt under some raggedy old They Might Be Giants t-shirt, but something about the way it fits…
Will had very obviously started gaining muscle after they moved to college. He’d apparently become almost addicted to the gym; Jane said the physical activity helped him with his stress.
It did not help in the slightest with Mike’s growing stutter.
The way the shirt hugs his shoulders and arms, the only word Mike can think of to describe it is sinful. Perfectly wrapped around shoulders broader than he had noticed before, the tight sleeves accenting every single curve and divot of his biceps, and oh, hell, the sweatpants are giving him entirely too good of a view.
Max is the first to notice how red his face has suddenly gotten, how his jaw has dropped slightly and there’s literal droolpooling behind his lip.
“Get it together, Wheeler,” she hisses, jabbing a pointy fingernail into his arm. And normally, he would have been far too offended by this to hold his tongue, but for once in his life, he’s thanking God and the universe and anyone who would listen for the existence of Max Mayfield. Things had been far too close otherwise to getting extremely embarrassing for him.
Hugs are exchanged and Jane’s arms wrapping around his shoulders is enough of a grounding touch that he manages to stop staring at Will like a creep and instead offers him a small smile.
It’s a bit pathetic how fluttery his chest gets when Will returns it.
But luckily or unluckily, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on it when Max immediately heads to the kitchen and starts cracking open bottles, shouting “FUCK FINALS!”
A cheer rings out around the party as they file into the tiny kitchen, accepting the cups Jane and Max pour for each of them. Dustin arrives shortly after and nearly swipes Lucas and Mike to the ground, trying to wrap his arms around their shoulders from several inches shorter.
“Fuck finals!” He echoes, and they all raise their cups to the middle for cheers before chugging the first round.
Kali makes a disgusted face and shoves Max’s shoulder. “Why do we let you make these?” She huffs, her cheeks already taking on a faint tinge of pink.
Mike can’t help but agree. Max has a special way of making even straight vodka about ten times stronger; all it takes is her being the one to pour it. “Yeah, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to let Max play bartender. We want to be able to wake up tomorrow, right?”
She gives him a good natured shove and refills his cup. “Well, I have a feeling you’re going to need it, Wheeler.”
Oh, shit. That does not sound good. And the looks she’s sharing with Jane and Lucas do not bode well for the rest of his night.
A brush against his shoulder makes his back stiffen and Will is right there, Will is touching him, holding his cup out for Max to fill. “Oh, leave him alone. He has a point, Max,” He teases, but all Mike can think of is how every nerve and sense in his body is zeroing in on where Will’s elbow is pressed against his arm, warmth leaking from his body and making Mike feel like he’s suddenly going to burst into flames.
And hell, he’s defending him. He’s being all warm and sweet and nice and Mike absolutely wants to kiss him about it.
No. No, no, no. Bad. Back in the box. Get back in the box.
This is not the time, he scolds himself mentally, a light shudder crawling up his spine as if he’s shaking off the thought. Will smells like spicy cologne.
Will thinks he might just pass out and die.
He could try to blame it on Max’s poisonous drink mixes, or the heat in the room stewing from their lack of functional AC, the group of people laughing and drinking and clutching each other, the heat in his face from his growing tipsiness; he could even try to blame it on the fact that Max keeps making the most vile comments and he’s choked on his drink and almost died about seven times already.
But the real problem is the fact that Mike is sitting right next to him on the couch, their elbows brushing occasionally, and Mike is smiling and laughing more than Will has seen in over a year. And it really, really doesn’t help that Mike’s eyes are lined in smudged black. There’s something about the look, the way it sharpens the deep brown of his irises, the way it makes him look almost devilish when he glances up at Will where he sits on the arm of the couch. Will’s heart feels like it’s trying to climb up his throat and dash out the fire escape.
The entire Party is rapidly progressing into tipsy territory, evident by the way Jane is sleepily leaning on Dustin’s shoulder, the bright pink tinge to Dustin’s face that he always gets when he drinks, the way Lucas is hanging off Max’s shoulders, the way Kali is actually smiling and laughing with them. The way Max is giggling.
Max does not giggle unless she’s drunk.
A Monopoly board lays forgotten on the coffee table while Max heads off onto some tangent about how the dining expenses are far too high to equal the quality of the food.
Mike’s eyes are glowing in the dim light of the living room.
Will might just tip over.
“Okay, okay,” Lucas finally interrupts Max’s shouting, right as she was about to gesture at Jane with a table lamp like a chalkboard pointer. “You’re gonna get mad and you’re gonna break something if you keep ranting about the cooks. Do we wanna go back to the game?”
Will doesn’t quite miss the pointed look he gives to Jane, who perks up on the couch. He doesn’t know exactly what it means, but Kali and Max seem to straighten as well.
It’s extremely not normal for Max to cut off a tangent so fast, but she immediately sets the lamp down and plops onto the floor like a kindergartener waiting for story time.
“Monopoly’s boring,” Dustin huffs. Lucas gives him a look of vaguely pleased surprise, and Will furrows his eyebrows.
They’re scheming.
He glances down at Mike, who looks so comfortably settled into the couch cushions he might just dissolve into them. Will has a disturbingly vivid image of reaching down and running a hand through Mike’s messy curls, swiping his thumb over the smudged eyeliner under his eyelashes.
Get it the fuck together.
“Well, what do you think would be better, huh, Dusty Bun?” Max teases, a pink glow on her cheeks shining through the spray of freckles. Max really is beautiful. And one of Will’s favorite things about her is that she’s the only member of the group, other than Jane and Kali, that’s actually capable of sitting still long enough for him to paint them. She loves Will’s paintings and has one of his portraits of her hanging in her dorm room, the sun glowing behind her head and making the auburn in her hair shine like a corona of flames.
He and Max had gotten a lot closer since coming to college, oddly enough, with her usually wrapped around Lucas or skating in the park a few blocks away. But she came over with Kali to hang out with Jane a lot, and after a while, Will ended up invited to the “girl’s nights” and they’d spent the better part of two years listening to him complain about Mike.
Kali had started a hate club out of support. He would obviously never be capable of hating Mike, but the sentiment had made him laugh so hard at the time he forgot to be depressed about the stupid crush.
As if it was just a crush.
He remembers it like it was yesterday, the expression of pure confusion and hurt on Mike’s face when he had walked into his bedroom.
“Why’d you lie?”
No clarification about the question had been needed, especially after Will had seen the painting unrolled and spread across Mike’s desk.
The argument had escalated far too quickly and they had shouted over each other so much that neither of them could quite remember what the other had said. And Will had run off, and that was the close of a decade long friendship.
He had hoped to find some comfort in the idea that maybe, with the fresh distance, he’d finally be able to move on. Get over his hopeless, pathetic crush on Mike Wheeler, the stupidly strong infatuation he had carried since the day they met on a swing set.
He should have known better. It was Mike, after all.
Will finally manages to draw himself out of his stewing thoughts to vaguely tune into Max and Dustin’s debate over board games, both of their faces growing pinker as their voices grow louder.
Jane is the first to cut in. “Okay, okay! No board games! You guys are already giving me a headache and I’ve barely started drinking. Why don’t we just… come up with a game?”
Will is sure he sees Lucas give her an encouraging nod.
“Yeah, why don’t we do some kind of… like, normal party game? Drinking games or something. Truth or Dare. Seven minutes in heaven. I dunno,” Max joins in, leaning her head onto Lucas’s thigh. Lucas nods fervently. “Yeah, Monopoly while drunk is just gonna end up in a fist fight.”
Mike has perked up and Will doesn’t notice until a shoulder brushes the side of his leg, and he flinches so hard he almost tips off the armrest of the couch.
“I don’t know why we even tried to start it, we all remember what happened last Christmas,” Mike lets out a teasing huff, shoving Dustin’s shoulder.
That had been… an event, for sure. They had all gathered at Steve’s house, joined by Jonathan, Nancy, Robin, Vickie, and even Erica (who did not drink), and a game of Monopoly had lasted only ten minutes before Steve and Dustin were trying to drown each other in the pool.
Dustin almost succeeded, and Steve still had to deal with a fair amount of harassment about how bad he was at fighting.
A scowl from Dustin is lobbed at Mike, and then directs itself at Will when he laughs. “Shut up, he was cheating! I knowhe was!”
Dustin is holding a fistful of Monopoly money, his hands clenched so tight the papers are crinkling. Jane reaches over and gently pries his hands open, tossing the money back into the box. And Dustin is nearly glowing red.
Without thinking, Will glances to Mike and makes eye contact, sharing a mischievous smile.
Max is glancing between Dustin and Jane, a smile growing on her face as she lightly nudges Lucas with an elbow. “Yeah, we’ll play something different. What about… seven minutes in heaven? Truth or dare sounds kinda boring, we don’t have a big enough group to get really interesting.”
Will can feel his face flaming a violent shade of magenta. It takes entirely too much willpower to not look over at Mike, to study his expression.
Jane sits up on the couch, looking excited. “We could add a twist!” Kali, of all people, nods her head. “Jane, where do you keep your dice?”
Dice?
The crease between Will’s eyebrows is growing by the second, but Dustin and Mike and Lucas look just as confused. Jane excitedly runs off to her bedroom, and comes back a moment later with a rattling box in her hands.
Kali pulls the can away from her, lifting the lid and scrutinizing the dice. “There are…” She surveys the room, counting on her fingers. “Seven of us.” A D8 clatters onto the table. “And…” A D20 follows.
Something seems to dawn on Lucas, an expression of understanding and then a little bit of glee crossing his face. “Oh, I like your style.”
Thankfully, Will isn’t the only one confused still.
“Um… elaborate? Not all of us are psychic. Or Lucas.” Dustin is staring at the dice on the table, eyebrows furrowed like he’s trying to solve an equation. Max sighs, scooting closer to the table.
“So, there’s seven of us, right? Well… Everyone gets a number. When it’s your turn, you roll the dice. Whatever number it lands on is your person. If you roll an eight, you get to choose. And the 20…” Her face splits into a mischievous grin, and Will’s stomach tenses.
It’s never a good omen when Max gets that look. It generally means violence will shortly follow.
“You roll, say, a 15. Fifteen minutes in that closet,” She juts a thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the linen closet. “You roll a 6? Six minutes. You get the idea.”
Dustin’s face is now sharing the same look of dawning understanding as Lucas, but the sunrise is a bit slower.
Mike, however, is staring at Max with his mouth hanging open, cheeks flaming red. And oh, Will wants to kiss the blush off his face, or maybe kiss a little more onto it. His eyes are glossy from the alcohol, a silver sheen over the tree rings of his irises, and the eyeliner seems to be smudging more by the minute.
Will likes it a little too much.
“H-hold on. Um, are we sure this is a good idea?” His voice cracks slightly and Will might fall over. But he sees the looks on Max and Lucas and Kali’s faces, the way they keep glancing between each other and then at Dustin.
Dustin and Jane.
Will kicks Mike’s knee as subtly as possible, and gives a quick glance over to the left where Jane is curled a bit further into Dustin’s side.
Mike’s mouth slowly closes, forming a little “o” of realization, and he sighs, slumping back into the couch. “Fine. Whatever.”
Max claps her hands excitedly, the crack echoing through the room so loudly it sounds like a gunshot. “Yay! Okay, Kali’s number one. Lucas, two, Jane, three, I’m four, Mike’s five, Dustin’s six, and Will’s seven. Sound good?”
Will’s head is spinning slightly.
Please roll a five.
Not exactly a productive thought. He and Mike haven’t even spoken, even if he did roll him, there’s no way Mike would kiss him. No way.
“Everyone hold up your number,” Max demands, sounding oddly like a high school gym teacher. “Great! Remember, if you roll an eight, you get to pick someone. Whoever you want.”
Will’s stomach is rolling and the room is taking on a slightly wavy image. His skin feels like it’s stretching too tight, like the room has suddenly had all the air sucked out of it.
Maybe there’s a chance.
Mike thinks this is one of Max’s best and worst ideas ever. Technically, Kali suggested it, which strikes Mike as just weird. But Max is the most enthusiastic.
He would have straight up refused to play, if not for the little look Will had shared with him. The glance and the little quirk of Will’s lips had quite frankly put Mike into cardiac arrest, but after following Will’s gaze to where Jane was snuggled up to Dustin and Dustin looked like he was about to pass out on the floor, and Max’s scheming made perfect sense.
She had mentioned it to him a while back, noticing the signs of something going on between the pair, just to gauge his opinion.
He had just given her a flat look, knowing too well that she knew everything about his nighttime rants to Lucas about Will. There was no part of him that would even slightly be bothered by Dustin and Jane.
If anything, he kind of loves it. And seeing two of the closest people in his life be happy together is all he could want. He hates Max sometimes, but her presence is always worth that stupid lovesick smile Lucas gets whenever her name is even mentioned.
When Max listed the numbers, all he could think was please roll a seven.
A pathetic thing to hope for, really. There’s no way Will would be interested in that. Even if not for that guy that’s always hanging off him (Mike had almost fallen to his knees and thanked the Lord when no extra guests appeared at the apartment), then at the very least for the fact that the last time he and Will had ever talked had been a screaming argument at 11:30 PM and Will had to bike home alone.
But even if it’s a pathetic hope, he still holds onto it.
“Kali, you’re number one. You’re up first.”
Kali sighs but there’s a smile playing on her lips. She’s actually not too bad when she’s in a good mood. And when there are other people around to protect Mike from being her punching bag. She’d spent a full two months their freshman year convincing him he had a spider in his hair.
Kali picks up the D8, shaking it in her hands before letting it clatter to the table. When it settles, Lucas lets out a groan.
“Four. Four, who’s four? Wait, I’m four!” Max gasps, her expression one of pure delight. Dustin starts laughing so hard he almost shakes Jane off the couch, pointing a mocking finger at Lucas.
“Dude. She kisses her goodbye more often than she does me,” Lucas sighs, but he’s still smiling. Kali rolls the D20 and it lands on a five and Max groans.
“Damn it. I wanted more time,” She sighs in exaggerated disappointment and Lucas shoves her shoulder. “Oh, shut up.” Kali stands up and offers a hand to Max, pulling her towards the closet with a wink over her shoulder at Lucas.
Silence holds the room awkwardly for a few seconds after the door shuts, until Dustin busts out in laughter again. “Dude. Dude, your girlfriend has a girlfriend.”
Jane is laughing softly, her cheek propped on her hand. “It’s nice how close they are. I love my sister, but… I was worried she would not find any other friends except me and Will.”
Will nods his head fervently, returning the sentiment, and Mike finds himself a bit too distracted about how the motion makes the waves in his hair shake.
Lucas stretches out in the armchair, hooking his hands behind his head. “Yeah, they’re… they’re good for each other. Not good for me. Any time Max gets mad at me, there’s voices in my walls for a week.”
Mike finally cracks out a laugh, forcefully ripping his stare away from Will’s hair. “It’s not great for my sleep schedule. He’ll wake me up with the crazy eyes talking about how the pillow’s whispering to him. It’s not fun.” He almost prays the joke lands hard enough that he can hear Will’s soft, sparkling laughter again.
But instead of soft and shy, Will lets out a snort.
“Oh, my god. The pillows,” He stutters out between wheezes, hunching over and clutching his stomach. The cup in his hand is swaying, the liquid inside lapping at the edges and nearly spilling out onto the floor. Without thinking, Mike leans over and gently pulls the cup from his hand, a sparking igniting under his fingers where they brush against Will’s before setting the cup on the table.
And with Will snorting, Jane eventually starts laughing just about the hardest Mike has ever heard, and the sound shocks him so hard, like a slap to the face, that he lets out a slip of it too.
Very quickly, the entire group is dissolving into near tears, Lucas looking like he’s going to melt into the armchair, Dustin and Jane holding onto each other’s arms, and Will has a hand planted on Mike’s shoulder to steady himself while he cackles. And the touch is so warm, so electric, it makes Mike so giddy he can’t control his own laughter either.
Max and Kali finally emerge from the closet, a bit pink cheeked and donning twinned skeptical looks. “What did you do?” She huffs, prodding Lucas’s bicep where he’s holding onto the back of the couch for dear life while wheezes rack his body.
“Dustin’s— a dumbass—” Will chokes out, his fingers still digging into Mike’s shoulder.
Kali stares at the room for a minute before a quiet chuckle rasps out of her, quickly slipping into a silent, shoulders-shaking, clutching a hand to her mouth fit, and Max immediately dissolves into a fit of giggles at the tears in Kali’s eyes.
“Oh, god. We all need help,” Dustin finally sighs, wiping at his cheeks.
The dice are passed to Lucas, who takes a moment to suck in a few deep breaths in hopes of recovery.
He rolls a six and peals of laughter are echoing from the walls.
Dustin looks mortified. It only gets worse when Lucas rolls a fifteen. He tries his hardest to yell at Max over his shoulder while Lucas drags him to the closet, but Max is too busy trying not to choke on her own spit.
They last for about thirty seconds in the closet before a muffled screech sends them all back into fits. Mike thinks he’s going to die from the stitch in his side, leaning his head slightly against Will’s knee while he wheezes.
Dustin comes sprinting out of the closet, scrubbing his sleeve over his mouth. “Ugh, ugh, ugh! Don’t you ever—” He begins before Lucas, emerging from behind the door, interrupts. “Dustin, you little shit, it’s not that bad. I’m not a bad kisser!”
Max shares a skeptical look with Mike and he thinks his ribs are breaking.
“Somebody else go!” Dustin squeaks out, still rubbing his mouth with his sleeve as Lucas finally flops down onto the armchair again.
Jane scoops the dice off the table, her hands still vaguely trembling as she tries, very valiantly, to rein in her giggles. Max lets out a squeal when she rolls a four. “Oh, this night just keeps getting better and better!”
Jane and Max spend eight minutes in the closet together. Max rolls for herself and lands herself an eight, which means a full nineteen minutes with Lucas, and when they emerge from the closet, Lucas looks a bit dazed and Max’s hair is rumpled in the back.
Jane lets out a shock of cackling laughter at the sight, slapping a hand over her mouth quickly, but the sound has done enough to send them all back into a drunken fit.
Mike doesn’t think he’s laughed this hard in years, and his stomach is aching and his ribs feel vaguely bruised and Will’s still holding his shoulder and this is the happiest he’s felt since they were kids around a Dungeons and Dragons table.
It takes a moment for him to process that Max is holding a hand out to him, ready to dump the dice into his hand, and his mood immediately sobers. Please, god. Roll a seven. A seven. Please.
He twirls the dice in his trembling hand, and lets it clatter to the table. Bated breath while the world seems to slow down, tumbling four, two, seven, eight, seven again, please land on a seven.
“Six.” He glances around the room before scowling slightly.
Dustin looks a bit enraged. “I am not kissing Mike,” He says hotly, crossing his arms over his chest. Mike tosses the D20 on the table, trying to conceal his very disappointed pout.
“Nine. C’mon, Dustin. We can just stand in there until the nine minutes are up,” He huffs, reluctantly lifting himself off the couch, away from the warmth leaking off of Will’s body. He risks a glance back and Will looks… perturbed.
Not quite upset, but his lips are a bit pinched and his eyebrows are tense, and he’s studying the carpet like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. A flare of hope rises in Mike’s chest and he tries his hardest to stamp it down.
Just because he looks a little upset doesn’t mean he’s jealous. I need to get a grip. Maybe he’s jealous. I hope he’s jealous.
Before closing the closet door behind him and Dustin, Max calls out. “If I don’t hear Henderson squeal like a little girl, I’m gonna smack you!”
Mike simply flips her off through the gap in the door and slams it shut.
The closet is a bit tight, but there’s more room than he expected. “I am not kissing you.”
Dustin breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. I’ve had enough already.”
“What number are you hoping to roll?” Mike blurts, his head cocked to the side. And in the darkness of the closet, he swears he can see Dustin’s face glowing. It literally looks as if there are heat waves radiating from his cheeks.
“Uh, um, I don’t really— I don’t have a specific number I want, I mean, I have, like, people I would be the least bothered—”
Mike pokes his shoulder. “Dude. It’s… kinda obvious. You’re hoping for a…” He thinks back through the list. “A three, right?” A teasing smirk is playing on his lips and Dustin looks like he might vomit.
“No no no, Mike, I wouldn’t— that’s so against the code, don’t worry, I won’t—”
Mike lets out a soft laugh, more warm than teasing. “I don’t mind. Seriously. She and I are… very not compatible. Not compatible at all. Trust me. And she likes you, like, a lot. You guys would be really cute.”
Dustin sucks in a breath like he’s going to keep arguing, but finally releases it. “I— thanks, Mike. Really. God, I was terrified you were gonna hate me or something.”
Mike’s smile spreads to the point his cheeks are burning. “No, dude, I really don’t care. Me and her have been over for a long time and the relationship was… well, it wasn’t ever gonna last. And you both are two of my best friends, and you get all woozy and gooey and puppy eyes at each other. You’re so cute it makes me sick.”
Dustin’s laugh is soft and genuine, before the smile on his face turns a bit teasing. “Never gonna last, huh? What makes you say that?”
Mike thinks his brain is rebooting. “I, um— Well, we just weren’t— We weren’t right for each other, y’know?” His voice is embarrassingly squeaky and Dustin’s smirk grows.
“Uh huh. Weren’t right for each other.” Mike thinks his stomach is about to drop to the floor. “You mean, she’s not the right Wonder Twin.”
Yeah, Mike’s gonna die. He sucks in a breath to defend himself but ends up inhaling a load of spit and starts coughing, tears springing to his eyes while Dustin thumps his back. “Don’t even try to deny it, Wheeler. We’ve been onto you for years. And you also talk Lucas’s ear off about it, like, every five seconds. You’re hoping for a seven.”
And before Mike can reply, Max is banging on the door.
“Zip your pants and get out! Nine minutes are up!”
Dustin’s teasing smile softens and he rubs Mike’s shoulder. “For your sake… I hope he rolls a five.”
Will does not roll a five.
Dustin ends up with Max for six minutes and the entire time, shrieks of laughter are slipping from behind the door. When they emerge, Max shoots Will a suggestive look and a little wink.
Will himself ends up with Lucas for a single minute, which is apparently enough time for Lucas to grab him by the face and plant one on him and he stumbles out of the closet, face burning and giggles bubbling in his throat.
Max and Jane let out a whoop of joy and Kali gives Lucas an approving look. Lucas himself struts out of the closet with his chest puffed out in pride and Will falls into the giggles all over again.
It makes his heart go a little wobbly, honestly. He had come out to them all ages ago, and they’d all been so warm and kind and accepting, but it still made him get a little misty when they showed just how far the acceptance went.
Lucas was secure enough that he could laugh about his girlfriend kissing her best friend, and secure enough that he would kiss a gay guy for a game and show it off proudly.
Mike is staring at the dice on the table so intently Will is surprised they aren’t smoking. His face is a little pale, other than a tinge of pink high on his cheekbones, and he shoots the tiniest glare across the room at Lucas.
No, no, no. Don’t give me hope. Please don’t give me hope. You’re not allowed to act jealous. You’re not allowed to give me hope.
But the little plant in his chest is waking up, leaves unfurling in the sunlight glow of wishful thinking.
God, please just let me roll a five.
The next round starts with a bang. Quite literally.
Kali rolls Lucas and the group can hear the muffled chants of “rock paper scissors” through the door until Lucas lets out a girlish shriek and slams the closet door open, clutching his hand.
“Don’t do that! I told you not to do that! That’s not allowed!” He wheezes, eyes so wide Will can see the whites all around them.
Max takes one look at Kali’s smirk and busts out laughing. “Oh, god, what’d you make him see?”
And right before Will’s eyes, Kali’s right hand materializes a pair of scissors. He lets out a snort, his hand immediately finding purchase on Mike’s shoulder.
He almost flinches back from the instinctual motion, but for some reason, Mike’s tense muscles seem to immediately relax under Will’s touch.
The plant is now budding flowers.
Lucas still looks a bit terrified, clutching his hand as if he’s worried his fingers will fall off if he lets go. “You’re evil.Plain evil.” Max lets out a groan and reaches up to catch his elbow, yanking him unceremoniously to the floor. “Stop whining. Jane, it’s your turn.”
She shares a look with Lucas and Will sits up a little straighter, watching as Jane’s gleeful expression turns a bit nervous. She glances over at Dustin for a millisecond before dropping the dice. Will crosses his fingers behind his back, hoping, begging, praying—
“Six,” Dustin is the first to speak, his voice a bit husky and trembling a bit. Max clamps her hands over her mouth to muffle the excited squeal. Mike is giving Dustin a huge, encouraging grin, and Will feels like his heart is melting.
His sister and his best friend, and he doesn’t have to battle with the guilt of jealousy this time.
Jane rolls the D20 and Max cheers when it lands on seventeen. Dustin looks like he might faint, but Jane carefully slips a shaking and into his and gently pulls him towards the closet.
As soon as the door clicks Max tips over onto her back, quite literally kicking her feet in the air as she muffles her excited squeal under her hands. “Oh my god, finally! Shit, shit, shit, they’re so cute I’m gonna throw up.” Lucas and Kali and Mike are sharing the same bright smiles and Will leans back against the wall, a contented warmth building low in his gut as he beams from ear to ear.
His cheek feels prickly and he looks down to see Mike watching him, the expression on his face close to… awe.
The eyeliner is smudging on his top eyelids too now and the sight sets a flurry of butterflies off in Will’s stomach, fluttering around so furiously he feels a bit dizzy. Mike’s eyes are sparkling in the light and up close, Will can see the shape of tree rings and the little circle of black right around the edges. His freckles are darker than they usually are in winter and his cheeks are glowing the softest hint of rose and his lips look swollen, like he’s been chewing on them.
Will doesn’t realize they’ve been staring at each other the entire time until the click of a door latch snaps him out of the daydream and he nearly flinches back, shooting Mike a guilty glance before scanning the room to make sure no one caught it. But Dustin and Jane are coming from the linen closet and Jane looks so proud of herself, a sheen on her rosy cheeks reflecting like stars under the lights.
Dustin looks like he saw God.
He follows Jane, a bit dazed, his hand wrapped tightly in hers, and the Party erupts into cheers.
“God, it’s about time!” Max shouts, jumping up from the floor to wrap Jane in a tight hug. Kali quickly joins while Lucas claps Dustin proudly on the shoulder.
“We’re gonna have a conversation, Henderson,” Max warns Dustin over Jane’s shoulder, but the threat refuses to land while she still has that giddy smile on her face.
When Dustin sits down, Jane curls up closer to his side like she belongs there and Dustin wraps an arm around her shoulders, the look of delight on his face so staggering it hits Will like a punch to the gut.
I remember when Mike looked at me like that.
That thought keeps him busy until Mike’s turn.
He tries his hardest not to get his hopes up, too busy preparing himself for the disappointment to catch the look Max and Lucas shoot at Jane.
Will doesn’t notice the worried glance Mike gives him either before tossing the dice onto the table.
It rolls, it rolls, it rolls, Will is clenching his hands into fists so tight his knuckles are white, bracing himself, preparing himself.
He’s so focused on steadying his breathing, on wrapping his heart in a guard of barbed wire before the blow lands, that he doesn’t quite see the number on the dice.
Mike lets out a shaky breath next to him. “It’s a seven.”
Will runs through the list in his head. Three times, before it clicks. He thinks he might throw up.
“C’mon, Wheeler. Don’t keep us waiting,” Max teases, and Will finally catches the satisfied gleam in her eyes.
A 20. He gets twenty minutes locked in a linen closet with Mike.
Two years ago, he would have been jumping for joy.
But Mike won’t even look at him.
He just jumps off the couch, stalking awkwardly towards the closet. Only after he gives Will a slightly pleading look over his shoulder does he jolt into movement, following Mike’s footsteps like a puppy.
The little plant in his chest is wrapping vines around his lungs and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.
Mike isn’t sure whether to be thrilled or terrified. He’s also not sure whether he should be groveling at Jane’s feet in thanks or screaming in her face.
He doesn’t think Will saw it. He almost missed it himself, but a few feet away from the closet door, he glanced back and saw Jane carefully wiping at her nose.
She had made eye contact with him and his jaw dropped a bit, and she only winked.
Oh, they’re all dead. They were planning this.
The latch on the door clicks shut behind Will and it echoes like a promise, like the shatter of a heart spilling onto pavement.
He can’t quite read Will’s face in the dark. He isn’t sure if the thumping is his own heart or Will’s. Based on the barely restrained quivering of his hands, he assumes it’s his own.
“Hi,” He whispers, voice cracking. Will’s head lifts slightly, his face pinched.
“Uh. Hey.”
Mike thinks he could cut through the tension in the crowded little space with a knife.
Will leans his head back against the wall, carefully studying Mike’s face.
Now or never. It’s now or never. It doesn’t matter if he— if he likes me or not. I want him back. I want my best friend back. I want my Will back.
Now, Mike has always been aware that he’s… well, impulsive. He’s also been aware for years that he’s not very good with words, or with expressing his emotions. He’s always done better with touch, pouring out his feelings into a brush of the knee or a squeeze of the hand.
And apparently, something had rewired itself in his brain and decides for him that the best way to pour out everything he’s trying to say is to grab Will’s face in both hands and kiss him.
Will. Will. I’m kissing Will. I’m—
A strong hand plants itself in the middle of Mike’s chest and he leans into the touch before realizing that the strength of that hand is shoving him back so hard against the shelves that bottles clatter against the wood.
“What the fuck?” Will breathes.
Shit, shit, shit. Not good.
He tries to remember how to work his mouth, how to speak, but all he can think of is the feeling of Will’s lips, the way Will had gasped into his mouth; all he can think is Will, Will, Will—
“Michael.”
He snaps back to reality. “Fuck. Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry,” he stumbles over the words, tripping over his humiliation and his guilt. He had known better.
“What the fuck was that?” Will breathes again, his eyes so wide that Mike can see them glowing in the dark of the closet.
Mike winces, sliding his back against the wall until he’s on the floor, knees hugged to his chest. Will stares at him for a moment before he carefully sits down across from him.
“I’m stupid.”
Will nods.
“I— fuck, Will. I’m sorry, I just— You know me. I’m not good at…” He waves his hands vaguely in the air. “Words. Speaking. Feelings. Um, any of it.”
Will’s expression is still holding carefully neutral. “Try.”
Mike knows he owes that to him. At least an attempt.
“Jane didn’t commission the painting.” Potentially the wrong way to start, based on the way Will tenses. “You… You made it yourself. For me. And I don’t know why it took me so long to figure out, but then I reread some of Jane’s letters and she said she thought you were painting for a girl you liked, and I assumed it was a different painting and then you came out and— everything just fell apart.”
Will is staring intently at the floor and Mike thinks he’s going to shatter.
“And… I know I was an asshole when I asked you about it. I mean, I didn’t even— I didn’t even ask, I just kinda… screamed at you.”
Will huffs a soft laugh.
“But I’ve been… well, thinking. A lot. And ranting a lot. To Lucas. He’s about fed up with me by now, really. I think— I think I was so upset because I had just been hoping that… what you told me that day. In the van. I was hoping it was from you. I didn’t— It wouldn’t make sense to come from Jane. She never… She never needed me like that, I guess. She and I were just… different, with each other. I think we both knew for a long time that it wasn’t what we thought it was, we just didn’t know how to say it. And I was praying that it was coming from you.”
Will still won’t look at him, but he hasn’t run off yet. Mike decides that’s a good enough sign to plow onward, even though his hands are shaking so bad he’s almost shivering.
“And when she told me she didn’t… When I figured out it wasn’t from her, I just panicked, I guess. I had already settled into thinking I was just crazy, that you couldn’t— that you wouldn’t feel that way about me, and then all the hope came back and I—”
Will shoots up to his feet so fast Mike’s neck cracks with how quickly his head whips up to follow. He scrambles to his feet, only for Will to plant a hand on his chest again and shove him back. “You— Mike, you can’t— you can’t do this. You’re not allowed to do this.” Will’s breathing is ragged, panicky.
“I was— god, I was hopeless about you. It was honestly pathetic. I don’t get how no one even noticed. And then— God, you always came to me about her, complaining about her, asking for advice about her, and that was the only time you ever needed me. The only times you ever wanted to talk to me were about her and you and wanting me to fix all your goddamned problems. You don’t—” He sucks in another shaky breath, almost a sob. “You don’t get to tell me that— You don’t get to say you wanted me to need you. Because I did, Mike, I really did. And you left me behind. You forgot about me, you— fuck.”
Every word out of Will’s mouth, punctuated by panicked little gasps for air and the occasional dry sob, feels like Mike is getting stabbed in the chest. His gut is twisting, tears pricking behind his eyes.
“I know, I know, Will, god, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, hugging his arms around his chest like it’ll keep the crumbling chips of his heart from spilling out. “I— I know I’m stupid. I know I’m a fucking idiot. Because I wanted you to need me, I wanted you to want me, but I was so terrified of what it would mean if I needed you too. I didn’t know how— I couldn’t wrap my head around it. And I was selfish, and stupid, and a total dick to you. And I don’t deserve anything from you, I know that, and you have that guy you’ve been hanging out with all the time and he looks like he makes you really happy and if you never want anything to do with me again I get it and you don’t have to love me back or want me the same way or anything, I just miss you and I miss my best friend and I’ve been miserable without you and I know I deserve it and I could never ask you for anything after what I did and I’m so sor—”
The apology is swallowed by a pair of lips smashing into his.
Well, that guy’s not his boyfriend then, I suppose.
It takes him far too long to reorder his brain around the new sensation, but he can feel Will start to pull back worriedly and it snaps him into action and his hands are moving on their own, tugging Will in by the waist.
Will is kissing him.
Will’s hands are cupping his cheeks and stroking over his cheekbones and his tongue is in Mike’s mouth and his face is wet and Mike doesn’t know when either of them started crying but all he can think is Will is kissing me.
He thinks this is what heaven must be like.
The tears on both of their faces are mingling into their mouths, tasting like seawater and anger and Mike makes an involuntary little noise and Will swallows it eagerly and pushes him harder against the wall.
His lips are soft and his hair is brushing against Mike’s forehead and his hand slides down to cup the back of his neck and pull him impossibly closer. He tastes like cherries and tears and something so perfectly Will that Mike thinks he might start crying again.
It’s too gentle. For the way Will yanked him in, for the pressure of their lips smashing together, for the cold wall digging into Mike’s spine, Will’s kissing him softly and tentatively and his hands are too light and Mike just wants more, more, more.
He parts his lips just enough to catch Will’s lower lip between his teeth.
He bites.
Will isn’t gentle anymore.
The hand gently wrapped around the back of Mike’s neck slips up into his hair, fisting the curls between his fingers and Will tugs and Mike thinks he might be dying because the shock of pain sends volts of electricity through his entire body and he whimpers—
Will takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into Mike’s mouth, and Mike thinks he has surely died and ascended to heaven.
Or maybe hell, because Will threads a thumb into Mike’s belt loop and he yanks and it’s sinful, the way his body melts like putty into Will’s hands.
Will lets out the smallest of gasps into Mike’s mouth and he thinks he’s going to die if he doesn’t get to hear the sound again, so the next swipe of Will’s tongue scraping over his teeth, he pushes closer and sucks Will’s tongue into his mouth and Will—
Will lets out the most obscene groan and Mike’s head goes hazy.
And then he’s being pushed harder against the wall and their tongues are sliding together and Will’s tongue scrapes his teeth again and he thinks the taste of Will’s mouth must be a drug because his head is foggy and his heart is pounding so heavily in his chest he think’s he’s going to die. And even if he did, he would die happy because Will Byers is kissing him and tugging on his hair and pinning him to a wall with his hips and he’s never been happier in his life.
Will pulls away and Mike whines, chasing his lips back before Will tugs on his hair again. Finally peeling his eyes open and seeing Will’s face, he almost collapses.
Will’s eyes are almost glowing, his cheeks pink and his lips swollen and bitten red, and a tiny strand of saliva is still connecting their mouths and Mike thinks that’s just about the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
And Will, Will looks hungry. He looks like he’s ready to eat Mike alive.
He would receive absolutely no complaints.
“Did you mean it?” Will whispers, and Mike has to fight to pull his eyes away from Will’s kiss-bitten lips to meet his gaze.
“Mean what?” His voice has never sounded like that before, raspy and whiny and needy and he’d be more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way Will was staring at him.
“You said,” Will pauses, chewing on his lip. “You said… I didn’t have to love you back. Or want you the same way.”
Mike tenses slightly, the first knot of disappointment curling in his stomach and sucking some of the heat from his face. “Yeah, I meant it, you don’t have to— You don’t have to want—”
His words drop off into the most embarrassing whine when Will leans in and sinks his teeth into Mike’s neck, the soft spot just above his shoulder.
“That’s not what I meant,” Will whispers in his ear and Mike can’t hide his shudder as the breath fanning over his neck and the shell of his ear raises goosebumps all over his skin.
“I meant… You love me?” Even as he continues planting hot, open mouthed kisses over Mike’s neck, brushing his tongue lightly over the spot he bit (Mike hopes it leaves a mark), his voice sounds almost timid.
“What?”
Not the right answer.
“I— Yeah, Will, fuck,” He hisses when Will nips at his collarbone. “Of— of course I love you. I, shit, I’ve been— God, I think I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember,” He gasps as Will latches his lips onto the pulse point just below his ear. “I just… didn’t get it yet. And— oh, fuck— I want you. I do. Will, I need you so badly it hurts.”
Will hums softly against his neck and the feeling makes him squirm. Eventually he pulls back, studying Mike’s face with a carefully guarded expression.
Mike does his best to keep his face open, honest, to let all the built up pain and love shine through his eyes as he lifts a hand to stroke his thumb over Will’s cheek. “I know I’m an idiot. I know I owe you more apologies than I’ll be alive long enough to give, I do. And I— I’m sorry, Will. You never deserved anything I did.”
His eyes are burning again, and Will’s face softens. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”
Mike’s knees give out, and only Will’s grip on his waist keeps him upright.
“And maybe that’s— maybe it’s bad, maybe it’s unhealthy, cause yeah, you really have been an idiot. Maybe it would have been better for me to just run for the hills.”
He tips his head forward to press a kiss right over Mike’s heart.
“But you and your stupidly handsome face and the way you laugh and the way you smile and the way you look at me…Mike, I could never let go of you,” He breathes, and a soft, broken sob works its way out of Mike’s throat. “I could never not want you.”
Mike is openly crying at this point and Will leans in, kissing one cheek, and then the other, and finally dipping down to Mike’s lips.
He tastes like salt and sweat and something beautiful.
He’s cupping Mike’s face in his hands like something delicate, something breakable, something priceless, and if Mike hadn’t heard him say the words this would have been enough for him to feel it.
“I love you,” Will whispers into his mouth and Mike smiles through the tears still drying on his face.
“But you owe me a lot of dinner dates. And you have to let me paint you and you have to sit still the whole time.”
Mike’s smile splits into laughter and he leans his head against Will’s shoulder, looping his arms around Will’s waist. “I love you, Will,” He murmurs, and Will seems to melt. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. And you can paint me any time you want.”
Will hums happily, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Mike’s head, and he thinks he’s going to just keel over and pass away. “Kali’s going to murder you.”
Mike finally lifts his head from Will’s shoulder, mouth immediately falling open, ready to protest, but the words are muffled by a tongue slipping past his lips and any complaints float off in the wind as Will nips at his bottom lip.
The slick slide of their mouths together, their tongues slipping over each other; Mike could get addicted to it. He thinks he already is.
But just as his hand is crawling up from Will’s waist, ready to bury itself in his hair, someone pounds on the door.
Will pulls away immediately, but ducks back in to press a chaste kiss to Mike’s lips as an apology.
“MICHAEL WHEELER.”
Max’s voice, even muffled by the door to the closet Mike had forgotten they were in, is terrifying.
“Yeah?” He manages to squeak out, and Will’s hand slips into his and squeezes.
And hell, he loves holding Will’s hand. He thinks he’s going to superglue them together so he never has to let go.
“It has been. AN HOUR. Put your clothes back on and get out here. Dustin chugged a bottle and is passed out on the floor.”
Will lets out a surprised snort, and Mike winces as her words process.
An hour. Lovely.
“Okay, okay,” He huffs, quickly stealing another kiss from Will before yanking the door open.
Dustin is, in fact, passed out face down on the floor, drooling slightly. But the others are all staring expectantly at Mike and Will.
He sees Max’s eyes travel inexorably down his neck, watches them snag on the bite mark he knows is forming.
“FUCKING FINALLY!”
Lucas lets out a cheer and Jane is clapping, Kali is giving Mike her usual murderous glare but there is, for once, a hint of warmth underneath.
Max is running over to high five them, and Mike remembers.
“You— oh my god, you rigged it!” He gasps, and Will shoots him a confused look.
“Jane’s nose was bleeding after I rolled!”
Will’s eyes widen and he whips his head around, staring at the guilty faces.
And then, he starts to laugh. “They’ve had to deal with way too much of me complaining about you,” He sighs, leaning his head onto Mike’s shoulder. “Probably just wanted us to get it over with.”
Lucas sits up slightly, glaring at Mike. “It wasn’t just you, Will! Mike can’t shut the fuck up about you, like, ever.”
And again, Mike would be embarrassed if not for the way Will squeezes his hand even tighter.
“I love you,” He murmurs softly, catching Will’s eyes.
“I love you more.”
Will is the only one still awake an hour later. Piled onto the couch and mattresses in the living room, Max is asleep curled up on Lucas’s lap in the armchair (Will doesn’t envy the neck pain Lucas will surely wake up with), Kali sprawled on a mattress with Jane, Dustin still face down on the floor…
And Will is laying on the couch with Mike directly on top of him. Face tucked into his chest, his hand tucked against Will’s cheek, softly snoring.
He had never once considered that this was how this night would end up. Thank God for his friends who could only handle so much stupidity.
Absentmindedly carding his fingers through Mike’s curls, he studies the brush strokes of paint on the ceiling.
Mike had a lot to make up for, sure. A lot of stupid mistakes and misunderstandings, a lot of long-awaited apologies, and a lot of time to make up for. Will would never let go of the fact that he missed two years with his best friend, just because they both happened to be idiots. But making up for it meant dinner dates and sleepovers and posing for paintings and getting to just be with him.
A quiet snort and rustle of fabric next to him catches his attention and he glances down to see Dustin blinking blearily in the dark.
“Will?” he whispers when he feels the attention, and Will watches his eyes widen to the size of saucers as he takes in the sight. “About fucking time.”
Will shoots him a pointed look, but there’s no fire behind it because Mike starts squirming, cuddling closer to his chest.
They both had apologies to make, missed time to make up for, aches and pains to work out.
But the little plant in his chest isn’t scavenging for scraps of hope, isn’t basking in the tiny warmth of silent wishes and secret dreams. Leaves are unfurling and flowers are blooming and when Will leans in closely, they smell like Mike’s detergent, and the world is a bit more beautiful now.
There’s a lot to make up for, but that can wait. Will’s lips still remember the scrape of Mike’s teeth and the taste of his tears and the heat of whispered words and their heartbeats are matching and Mike loves him, and the rest of it can wait a while.
They have forever, after all.