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The basement felt bigger without everyone else there, without Dustin's yelling, Lucas arguing about rules, or Max and Mike loudly bickering.
Will had survived worse things than this, he knew that. Demogorgons, darkness, a place where time didn’t move the way it should. But this, sitting in the Wheelers’ basement, knees almost touching Mike’s, heart beating too loud, felt harder to name. There was a sense that something important and amazing was about to happen, and he wasn’t sure which version of himself would come out the other side.
The TV flickered in the corner, Atari colors blurring together in a way that made Will’s eyes start to hurt a bit. He sat cross-legged on the floor with the joystick loose in his hands, watching Mike lean forward and concentrate on the game.
“Okay, that’s not fair,” Will said with a laugh, mostly just to hear his own voice. “You keep picking the same move.”
Mike grinned without looking back. “That’s because it works.”
It felt so normal. This was what they’d always done, video games in the basement, knees knocking occasionally, arguments that weren’t really arguments. The Party used to fill the space with noise, but now it was just the two of them, the hum of the TV, and the quiet knowledge that this wasn’t actually exactly the same anymore. That they were both in love with the other, and knew it. Will still couldn’t believe that his feelings, the ones he’s been suppressing and denying and feeling guilty about since he was twelve years old, or even before that, were reciprocated.
A little over a week ago, Mike had kissed him on the radio tower in the Upside down before their final battle with Vecna and the Mindflayer, only hours after Will had come out to the whole group. Mike seemed to have put two and two together, realizing that he was the one Will had a crush on (which was actually a severe understatement – he had been irrevocably in love with his best friend since before he understood what it meant).
Will didn’t think about the battle often, not the pain, the shaking ground, not Vecna’s voice, not the way the world had felt like it was ending and everyone was going to die. What stuck was how Mike had kissed him, how fast that happened. Mike’s hands firmly gripping his jacket, his mouth warm and solid and sure, like he was anchoring Will to reality. Like he was afraid one or both of them won’t make it, and he couldn’t bear the thought of never getting this off his chest.
It hadn’t been gentle. It hadn’t been careful. It hadn’t even been long enough for Will to panic.
It was his first kiss, and leave it to the universe to make his first kiss happen while the world was literally ending. But it was perfect because it was with Mike.
They’d barely talked about it afterward, there hadn’t been time, not really. Just a few looks, another desperate kiss after they had killed Vecna and they’d all escaped the military, a quiet “later”, and then later had stretched out into days of rebuilding Hawkins and pretending everything was normal again.
And now they were here.
Mike had come knocking on Hopper’s cabin door, where the Byers-Hopper family was in the process of trying to rebuild the place into something remotely like a family living space. Mike looked nervous as he led Will by his hand a bit further into the woods, away from questioning looks, then stumbled over his words as he asked Will to hang out.
“We could go to Palace - I heard the arcade’s open again - get pizza or whatever, and then maybe come back to my house? Watch a movie. Or, uh. Something,” he asked, a shy, hopeful smile on his face.
“You mean, like… a date?” Will asked, heart beating faster. He still couldn’t even comprehend that Mike had kissed him. Twice. And that it wasn’t all just a really, really good dream. He half expected Mike to laugh in his face, or say he just meant it as friends, that he couldn’t believe that Will could ever think he would ask him on a date.
But he didn’t. “Yeah, a date. Just the two of us.” His cheeks were dusted red, and Will was sure his were even worse.
The arcade and the pizza were great, it felt like old times again, before the Upsidedown and the monsters and the nightmares.
Mike won him a blue plush frog from the claw machine, even though he was aiming for the teddy bear. They both laughed, joking about the questionable design choice of making the frog blue instead of green. Will loved it anyway, and decided to name him Mikey, saying the frog reminded him of the other man (Mike totally pretended to be offended, but Will could see how flustered he became when Will said it was because he was cute).
Mike paid for the pizza with the money he had saved from his allowance, even though Will tried his hardest to insist they at least split the bill. He managed to at least convince him that he should be the one to pay for the big ice cream sundae that they shared between the two.
It was easy and natural in public, almost as if nothing had changed. They talked about school, movies, and their next D&D campaign, but tried to avoid the topic of Vecna and the battle, even though it was all still so fresh.
They went to the Wheelers’ house after, deciding to play the Atari, sodas and a bowl of popcorn shared between them.
Mike finally won the game, because of course he did, and dropped the joystick beside him with a huff of satisfaction. “Rematch?”
“Give me a second,” Will said with an endearing smile. “I can’t keep up with you today.” It was mostly because he was distracted by how good Mike looked in the low lighting of the basement, now that he was finally allowed to really observe him freely.
He realized his hands were becoming clammy and wiped them on his jeans, hoping Mike wouldn’t notice. Mike noticed everything.
He glanced over, expression softening in a way that still caught Will off guard. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Will said immediately, maybe too immediately. “Just a bit nervous,” he admitted, because he could never really lie to Mike - except for that one big secret he kept hidden deep inside for years.
Mike’s mouth curved into a smile at that, a reassuring one, one Will had noticed was reserved only for him. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too. I mean—” He huffed out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck, a tell Will knew better than anyone. “I just don’t want to mess it up.”
That helped, somehow. The idea that Mike was just as unsure. “You’re not,” Will said immediately, before he could overthink it.
“Okay,” Mike said, drawing the word out a little. He didn’t reach for the joystick again. Instead, he leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, eyes flicking across Will’s face. “Then maybe we don’t need the rematch.”
Will blinked. “We don’t?”
Mike shrugged, still smiling like that. “I mean. We could go upstairs. If you want.”
Something in Will’s chest stuttered.
Upstairs meant quiet. It meant Mike’s bedroom. It meant being alone on purpose, not because everyone else had wandered off, but because Mike was choosing it, with no way of being interrupted by his family. Will’s brain tried to assemble a reasonable response and failed completely, getting stuck instead on the way Mike’s eyes looked softer when he wasn’t trying to be brave, and the faint dimple that appeared when he smiled.
“Oh,” Will said, intelligently.
Mike laughed under his breath. “Is that a no?”
“No,” Will said quickly, heat rushing to his face. “I mean- yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”
Mike stood, offering his hand, which Will took automatically, fingers fitting together in a way that felt familiar and new all at once.
“Don’t forget the frog,” he reminded him teasingly. “It took a lot of work to win him for you.”
The basement seemed to fall away behind them as they climbed the stairs. Will was suddenly aware of everything, the sound of their footsteps, the warmth of Mike’s hand, the way his own heartbeat had decided to be as loud as possible.
He thought, briefly, of El. Not with guilt necessarily, not anymore. It had been eighteen months since she ended things with Mike, back when everything was still cracked open from spring break, and Hawkings felt permanently unsteady. It hadn’t been dramatic, they’d just realized they loved each other, but not in the way people were expecting them to. That they were better like this, as best friends. She was the first to excitedly congratulate him when he told her about Mike asking him out, and even helped him choose his outfit.
At the top of the stairs, Mike hesitated, then turned to him, still holding his hand. “We’re gonna have to be a bit more quiet, though, Holly’s probably already asleep.”
When Will nodded, he opened his bedroom door, stepping aside to let Will in first.
Mike’s room looked the same as it always had, posters peeling at the corners, messy stacks of books and comics, the bed pushed against the wall. But standing there now, with the door clicking shut behind them, it felt like a different place entirely. Will stood in the middle of it, heart racing, and thought distantly that he might never recover from the way Mike was looking at him.
“I’m gonna put on some music,” Mike announced as he turned on his bedside light, bathing the room in a low yellow light. As he rummaged through his cassette box to find the one he wanted to play, Will made himself comfortable, sitting down on the edge of Mike’s unmade bed, and placing the blue frog on the bedside table.
The first few notes of a corny love ballad started playing quietly, and Will’s face split into a grin. “Bryan Adams? Really?”
“Oh, shut up,” Mike said affectionately. “I know you’re into punk and stuff, but this is romantic, okay?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Will answered with faux innocence as Mike sat down beside him on his bed, close enough for their sides to be almost pressed together, even though there was plenty of room. “Trying to set the mood? You didn’t happen to have any ulterior motives bringing me up here, did you?”
Mike smiled, his eyes tracing Will’s face in a way that made him heat up, before finally settling on his lips. “I might have,” he said, voice lowering. His hand lifted to rest against Will’s cheek, gentle and warm against his skin. “Can I kiss you?”
Will had been expecting it of course, but his breath momentarily caught in his throat anyway as his own gaze fell onto the other’s lips. He only managed a nod before Mike slowly leaned in, taking a second where their mouths were almost touching, only a breath away, so that Will still had time to reconsider. But he didn’t, and so he pressed their lips together softly, so softly it felt like a caress, so different from the desperate rough kisses they had shared in the face of possible death.
Will’s eyes fell closed, his own hand coming up to cup Mike’s neck. Oh god, he was nervous, he’d never done anything like this before. And Mike obviously has, obviously had years of experience, which is something Will still couldn’t think about without ugly jealousy and guilt twisting in his stomach against his will. This is probably the worst kiss he’s ever had; he can probably tell Will has no idea what he’s doing-
“Will, relax,” Mike’s voice broke through his jumble of thoughts as he leaned back slightly to break the kiss. His big dark eyes looked at him so lovingly that Will’s breath caught in his throat again. A thumb caressed the flushed skin of Will’s cheek. “I’ve got you, you don’t have to overthink. Did it feel okay?”
Okay was an understatement, Will thinks he could never go again without the feel of Mike’s lips against his own. The feel of Mike’s big hand gently cupping his face, his lips soft, all of his attention devotedly on Will. He didn’t say all that, only nodded again, already craving another kiss.
Mike seemed to have read his mind, closing the distance between them again, guiding Will’s head to get a better angle and deepen the kiss. Will melted into it more easily this time, trusting the other to take the lead.
A tongue pressed against his lips, wanting access, and his mouth parted instinctively. Their tongues met, almost timidly at first. Mike tasted like the Coca-Cola they shared before in the basement, and the cherry-flavored chapstick Holly had given him a few weeks ago because she said she preferred the strawberry. (He was so adamant he wasn’t going to use it, but Will knew the truth now.)
Their tongues danced together as they both grew hungrier for it. There was something dizzying about it, the closeness, the warmth, the way Mike’s other hand found his waist and held him there like he wasn’t going anywhere. Their noses bumped, their hands gripping each other more firmly, trying to get impossibly closer.
Will vaguely registered something between a surprised gasp and a soft whine escape his mouth when Mike lightly bit on his bottom lip. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, drawing out the sound of a familiar pop love ballad that Will couldn’t possibly name right now. He was surrounded by Mike – with his scent, coming from the room, from the bedsheets, from the man himself. He could feel his breath on his face, could taste him in his mouth, and it was slowly becoming addictive.
For a moment, it was easy. Will sank into it, into Mike, into the certainty of finally feeling wanted.
And then Mike shifted, just slightly, angling closer, pressing his tongue in more firmly, demanding to be deeper inside, and the kiss tipped from heatedly careful to too eager without warning. The tongue suddenly felt invasive, a whisper of a feeling he felt years ago, something pushing too far, too fast, too aggressively into his mouth.
And Will’s body reacted before his mind could catch up.
His breath hitched, and his shoulders went tense. The warmth in his chest twisted into something sharp and wrong, like the air in the room had suddenly thinned. The closeness stopped feeling like closeness and started feeling like too much, too suffocating, like he couldn’t escape.
He didn’t remember moving, only that one second he was kissing and the next he was very, very still, heart hammering, mouth refusing to cooperate the way it had a moment ago. Something sour rose in his throat, something like panic, and his hands, which had been clutching Mike’s hoodie, loosened without him meaning them to.
It only took Mike a second before he seemed to have felt it, the way Will stopped kissing back, but not pulling away, just… going still. Like someone had hit pause. The way his fingers on his hoodie uncurled instead of tightening the way they had been.
Mike pulled back at once.
“Hey,” he said softly, barely more than a breath. One hand stayed at Will’s waist, but lighter now, like he was making sure Will knew he could move if he wanted to. “Hey. It’s okay.”
Will blinked, eyes unfocused for a second, then nodded too fast. “Yeah. I’m- I’m fine.” He forced a small laugh that wasn’t quite convincing. “Sorry. I just- I think I’m bad at this.”
Mike frowned, not upset, just concerned. He attentively searched Will’s face the way he always had, like he was piecing together a puzzle no one else could figure out. “You’re not bad at it,” he reassured firmly.
Will shrugged, shoulders still tense. “It just got… intense. That’s all. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not,” Mike said, just as quickly. “You froze,” he added gently, not an accusation, but an observation. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”
Will swallowed, his eyes flicking away. “I think it was just too much,” he tried again. “All at once. And my brain kind of… went somewhere else.”
Mike’s brows knit together in concern, cupping Will’s face to try to make him meet his eyes again. “Somewhere else, how?”
Will swallowed. His throat felt tight, just like it always did when he got close to saying things he usually kept locked away. “It reminded me of… something bad,” he admitted finally. “Not like- not you. You could never be bad. Just the way it felt. Sudden. Like I didn’t get to decide. In the Upsidedown, when I was first taken… Vecna, he -uh- kind of shoved this tentacle into my throat, you know, kind of like with the other kids that were taken now,” he tried to explain, fighting the tears prickling behind his eyes as he remembered that it happened again, happened to Holly and eleven other innocent children who didn’t deserve to suffer like that.
“And then the whole, uh, coughing out Dart thing happened,” Will continued, feeling sick at the memory and the implication. “So, sorry. It was just- my body freaking out before I could stop it now.”
“God, Will, don’t apologize,” Mike said firmly, no room for argument. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry, I just rushed into it. Fuck, that fucking bastard’s lucky he’s already dead.” His voice was steady, but there was something fierce under it now. Protective.
Will let out a breath, tension leaving him when he knew Mike wasn’t upset with him. “I didn’t want you to think it was because I didn’t want to-” He gestured vaguely between them. “This.”
“I don’t. But, we really don’t have to if it’s making you upset,” Mike rushed to assure. “We can just talk, or read that new Spiderman comic, or… cuddle, or something.” His voice got shier at the last suggestion, even though they just spent the last few minutes kissing.
“No,” Will said too quickly. “I mean- we can. But I think I want to try again. Maybe I can try to make my brain, like, associate it with a good memory. With you. I mean, only if you want to.”
Mike’s gaze softened again, though he looked reluctant. “Really? You sure? I really don’t want to make you-“
“-Mike. I’m sure. I really want to kiss you again.”
Mike finally smiled – gentle and familiar - and reached out, touching Will’s wrist instead of his face, like he was asking to touch him quietly. Will turned his hand over, threading their fingers together.
“I really want to kiss you, too,” he admitted. “What should I do to make it feel better?”
Will thought for a second. “Just… slower at first,” he said. “And maybe don’t surprise me? I think it helps if I expect what’s going to happen. The rest I don’t totally know yet. But if something feels wrong, I’ll tell you. And if I don’t, you can-” he hesitated, then smiled a little. “You can keep doing whatever you’re doing. I trust you.”
Mike looked satisfied at that, happy, like he was proud to be the receiver of Will’s unwavering trust, especially regarding something like this. And Will knew he’d never abuse it or take it for granted. “Okay,” he replied. “I can do that.”
His hand lifted and slid up to Will’s jaw again, thumb warm where it rested just below his ear, steadying him, grounding him. “C’mere,” he said, leaning in slowly, giving Will plenty of time to stop him. “Can I?”
A sudden surge of confidence swelled inside Will, and instead of answering, he closed the distance himself. Mike seemed surprised by the first sudden press of lips for only a second before he melted into it, eyes closing.
He let Will set the pace at first, letting his tongue trace and explore the other’s mouth like he wanted to. It was slower than before, but the heat was still there, between them, and in Will’s cheeks, and in his stomach.
Mike slowly, gradually intensified the kiss, always seemingly watching out for signs of discomfort from Will – tensing, freezing, locking up. But Will remained pliant in his arms, easily returning the same enthusiastic energy Mike was pouring into the kiss.
He became slightly bolder with his tongue, licking into Will’s mouth tentatively again, but Will knew he was always ready to back away if something went wrong, if he himself wanted to take the lead. But he didn’t, instead welcoming Mike’s ministrations with a tiny moan of pleasure.
Things were slower now, no sudden changes or unexpected movements. They seemed to be operating on the same wavelength again, and Will could almost feel like he knew what the other was about to do next. It felt comforting, safe, secure.
Time became an unknown concept. Will didn’t know how long they had been kissing. The song had changed, maybe multiple times already without him noticing.
Foreigner was playing now. I want to know what love is, I want you to show me. And Will thinks he knows what love feels like now, to be loved.
His head was dizzy with that thought. It was dizzy because of Mike. That’s all he could think about. Mike Mike Mike MikeMikeMikeMike.
Mike’s hands slid to his sides, drawing comforting circles there with his thumbs, almost like a heads-up. Will’s world tilted then as he was slowly lowered back onto the soft bed, carefully, without breaking the kiss. It didn’t feel too sudden; it felt like a natural progression, and he let it happen happily even when Mike gave him plenty of time to interject.
He was on his back, surrounded by Mike’s unmade, tangled bedsheet, his smell now more prominent than ever. Mike was leaning over him, braced on his bended arm on the bed next to Will, lips never separating from his own. His other hand remained on his waist, grip firm but not restricting. Protective in a way that made Will’s stomach erupt in butterflies.
“This okay?” Mike asked into his mouth, like separating from Will took too much willpower to do.
“Perfect,” he answered breathlessly, arms coming up to wrap around the other’s neck and pulling him even closer against his body.
Their lips finally separated then, as Mike started kissing Will’s face instead. His cheeks, down to his jaw, the corner of his mouth, his nose, his forehead, like he wanted to worship him whole. Will felt out of breath, maybe from the kissing, maybe from the impossibly big emotion, love, swelling in his chest, threatening to crack him open and burst out.
He panted as Mike continued kissing him everywhere, trying to regain control of his breathing now that he finally had full access to oxygen again. Not that he felt he needed it. Kissing Mike felt like the only thing capable of keeping him alive now, no air needed as long as he had this.
After a few more kisses to his jaw, and some scattered onto his neck as well (a totally unknown sensation to Will until now, which totally made his stomach swoop and mind race), Mike finally returned to his lips again.
Will’s hands tangled into Mike’s hair as the kiss deepened again, gently pulling at the soft curly strands. Mike seemed to like the feeling, based on the breathy moan he let out against his mouth.
The bliss only lasted a few more minutes after that, or so Will would guess - time really did seem to escape both of them.
There were footsteps coming from outside the room, somebody walking up the stairs.
“Mike,” they heard being called out, muffled by the distance and the bedroom door.
They quickly sprang apart, sitting up with lightning speed, trying desperately to put a somewhat respectable distance between them on the bed.
Seconds later, there was a firm knock on the door, but the person didn’t wait for an invitation before opening. “Michael-“ Mrs. Wheeler said, appearing in the doorway, expression annoyed. Her eyes flicked to the other man in the room then, face contorting in surprise. “Oh, Will, I didn’t know you were still here.” Her attention turned back to her son, who quickly grabbed one of his pillows, laying it securely across his lap. “Michael, you know it’s a school night. It’s past eleven. And you still have to do the dishes like I asked you to this morning,” she said sternly, hand braced on her hip like it always was when her kids didn’t listen (which means often).
“Yeah, Mom, I will,” Mike promised, voice higher-pitched than usual. “Just- just give us a minute, and then I’ll drive Will home.”
She looked between them skeptically. “Are you two alright? What happened to your hair?”
They exchanged a nervous look. They both looked flushed, their cheeks tomato red. Mike’s hair was a mess, standing in every direction from Will’s fingers running through it. Their breaths were still coming a bit short, and they were both visibly flustered, clothes rumpled from their grips. Mike was still holding the pillow on his lap securely, almost desperately, with an awkward expression on his face.
They both started speaking at the same time, brains scrambling for an excuse.
“Uhm, we were just- uh-“
“Well, we – uh- we wanted to-“
Mike finally seemed to come up with something. “We have this, uhm- thing for P.E. that we have to do at home every day. To get – uh – daily exercise in. You know, some… strengthening workouts and stuff.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Will quickly agreed. “This new teacher is totally crazy, I mean, we have to do so much stuff at home. Me and Mike are totally gonna fail if we don’t keep up with it daily.”
“Right…” Mrs. Wheeler said, though she didn’t seem completely convinced. She must have thought the truth wasn’t worth pushing the subject further, though. “Well, you boys shouldn’t overdo it, especially this late at night.” Her eyes found Will again. “Alright then. Bye, Will, and goodnight.”
“Bye, Mrs. Wheeler,” he replied, hoping she would finally leave and close the door.
Before she did, she reminded her son firmly: “Don’t forget the dishes before you go to bed.” Then the door closed, and they were alone again.
They both finally let out a relieved breath, completely in sync.
“Fuck, that was close,” Mike complained, shoulders finally relaxing.
Now that they were in the clear and not in danger of being caught anymore, Will couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the whole situation. “Oh my god, you look like a mess,” he said amusedly, leaning forward to run his fingers through Mike’s hair and try to make it look somewhat presentable again. “I don’t know how she didn’t figure it out.”
“You’re not much better,” Mike argued back, but leaned into his touch instinctively anyway.
“Wait,” Will suddenly said after a moment of realization. “Is the pillow…? Are you…?” he tried asking, cheeks darkening again at the thought of Mike’s… condition.
“Oh my god,” he exclaimed in answer, burying his face in his palms in embarrassment.
It wasn’t a no.
“Oh,” was all the reply Will’s mind could come up with. Mike was hard. Because of him. Because kissing him was that good.
“Let me just take you home, okay?” Mike asked, something in his voice pleading for them to change the subject to something, anything else.
Will could definitely do that. “Yeah, okay,” he answered, standing up to grab his jacket. “I had a lot of fun today, by the way.”
From his place still sitting on the bed, Mike’s eyes brightened again, a smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, me too.”
Once they were both ready to leave and were almost out the bedroom, Mike turned to him to remind him once again: “Don’t forget the frog.”
“His name is Mikey,” Will demanded teasingly, reaching for the plushie on the bedside table and squishing him tightly into his arms. It earned him an affectionate eyeroll in return.