Chapter Text
TUESDAY, 11pm
It started with a clatter.
Will Byers had, in recent years, become very jumpy at any noise he couldn’t directly see. He startled, a gasp rattling hard and fast out of him like he had been caught.
He felt caught, is the problem. He covered them immediately, the papers that covered his desk. The drawings. They were everywhere, why were they everywhere? God, were there days where Will hated himself. He flipped what he could and hurriedly hid what he couldn’t with his arms. It was stupid and instinctual, when Will knew first hand this could be more dangerous than some minor embarrassment. He knew first hand, that, maybe, he should run.
Will swiveled his head around his room, the clatter had come from the window.
Terrible sign.
The clattering continued before Will heard it, soft breaths huffing their way up. Distinctly human breaths.
Will stood fast, “Who--” he began to say, walking a miniscule step toward his window. He searched his room for a weapon, something to defend himself with because who would be scaling his house wall at 11 pm on a school night? The only person he could think of that would-- Mike.
“Mike?” Calls Will, stepping closer still. The sounds are getting louder and finally, when Will is a step or two away from his window, the figure reveals itself. It is just Mike, Will notes in relief. He sees the top of his head pop up and he feels almost safe at the familiar sight-- that flash of raven hair. Well, he feels as safe as he feels mortified, glancing nervously back at his desk.
Mike's eyes light up, “William!”
Will suddenly, inexplicably, feels like he’s in trouble.
“Michael…” He calls back, half confused and distantly flustered at how happy Mike sounded to see him. Finally, finally Mike lifts himself up in a fluid motion.
And he’s wearing Armour.
But Will doesn’t have time to be confused, his mouth opens around a “what” before he’s crowded by Mike, in his shiny armour, a heart emblem planted right there on his chest.
“There you are!” Mike says, he sounds like he hasn’t seen him in years.
“My-- My house?” Will hates how flustered he is. But Mike is so-- close. So casually close.
Mike frowns but presses on, undeterred, “I’m so sorry, I meant to find you sooner I really did but it was so gruelling to get hear but--” Mikes hands fly to Will's face, they cup his cheek and hold him there like he’s something to cherish, “I failed you, my liege.”
“Wha--” Will flusters, grabbing Mike's wrist and pushing him away, “I-- okay, Mike, this isn’t funny this--” Will takes a breath because his cheeks are hot and red and his heart is beating so fast it hurts and he is so confused he thinks he might implode.
At that moment a few pieces click together, “Am I missing a game?” Will asks, then immediately his face burns with shame, “ I-- okay, Mike. Ha Ha, this is about the time I dressed up as a wizard for you guys-- look, it was embarrassing I don’t know why I-- Just-- what is happening here, what are you doing?”
Mike looks like a kicked puppy. He protests Will pushing his hand away by grabbing his waist and Will yelps, stumbling back until his lower back is pushed against his desk.
“How long has it been, my love?” Mike asks and everything goes still. Will stops breathing. Whatever joke this is, it isn’t funny anymore, and if Mike, oblivious, harmless Mike had just decided to try that endearment out on a random Tuesday night, Will demanded a little clarification on that, “I got to you as soon as I could but it seems as though I’ve come too late still.” Mike sounded like he wanted to cry, “You must hate me, or-- or worse, you’ve forgotten about me, already assimilated so deeply into this strange world-- please don’t say you’ve forgotten me, sweetness.”
“I didn’t--” Will’s breath is shallow and deep all at once. He shouldn’t be enjoying this, this is ridiculous. He isn’t to a certain degree but to a couple others he most definitely is and that thought makes him want to rip his hair out of his skull, “You’re Mike, I know who you are, Mike, I just want to know what you’re-- Is this LARPing? Is this LARP?” Will takes another shaking breath. Everything he’s saying sounds like a concept to a game of his-- this, he has to admit, would be a cool way to start a session, but the endearments are what was throwing him sideways. Any other introduction, and he’d have accepted Mike's antics and played along. But… my love?
“But you have forgotten.” Oh my god, he actually was crying now, “I’m here to rescue you, don’t you remember? I came in only a day after you had, but the time here, much like everything else, must be different. Darling, please don’t say you’ve forgotten, don’t tell me that portal whipped your mind clean of me, you promised you’d never forget about me.”
“Wha- No, Mike, I know-- please, don’t cry, I know it’s you, you-- you just don’t call me darling and my love on the daily, so I just don’t know what you’re--”
That hurt Mike more, somehow, “Of course I do!” Will's face is back in Mike's palm, and he’s being steadied by his hand on his waist even now and Will doesn’t know how to feel about this. Confused mostly.
Maybe even a little guilty.
“Allow me to remind you, sweetness.” Mike says, and it's quiet and soft and defeated. And he’s still so close but Will is smart enough to know that if he pointed that out in dismay it’d only make Mike cry even more.
Will's mind stutters before he realizes what is happening. Will can feel the heat radiating off of him, can smell the skin of his neck and the metal and an undertone of sweat and musk that is so distinctly Mike.
Mike is leaning closer. Will is stunned, and held close and that grip is only tightening in desperation before suddenly, all too suddenly, Mike's lips are on his.
Will should push him away.
This was a dumb joke, he isn’t supposed to lean in.
He isn’t supposed to.
But when was the last time he didn’t do something he wasn’t allowed to do, exactly?
Will is not kissing back. Even though his body is lurching forward, even though he melts and he lets his hands fall forward onto cold metal armour that feels so real. Will is not kissing back. Even though he can attest to the fact that Mike Wheeler tastes like lemon raspberry tea and wild berries. Will is not desperate and Will is not kissing back. He does, however, feel terrible about this. But Mike is kissing back.
With so much vigor. He’s kissing, and his hands are lifting under his shirt, settling onto the bare skin of Will's lips and Will (who is most definitely not kissing back) shivers at the feeling of Mike's fingers on direct skin and…
What the fuck is happening.
Will, of course, isn’t kissing back, but Mike does gasp a little back when Will's hand raises off the desk and onto Mike's neck. He’s so soft everywhere, so warm.
Will hadn’t really kissed anyone before, and the feeling was astounding. There was a person under his fingers. Michael Wheeler under his fingers. Mike is pushing forward, Will is leaning back onto the desk and he has to bring a hand back down to steady himself, he lets out something that is not a soft moan.
They part to breathe between the feeling of lips on lips and tongues and so much heat everywhere the air is turning stuffy. Mike's hand at some point had reached all the way around to the small of Wills back to keep him still. So Will stays perfectly under Mike's grasp when Mike leans forward, their bodies now pressed together. It’s fucking decadent and Wills head is still spinning.
Maybe he was wrong.
Maybe he was wrong about Mike, and Mike wants him too. Maybe he knew Will wanted him, maybe---
“You know it’s me, don’t you?” Mike says softly against his ear, “You kiss just the same. Like you miss me too.”
It’s quiet for a beat. Will's chest lurches with sudden uncertainty.
“I love you, my cleric.” Mike says. “I love you, William, please come home.”
It’s so soft it’s devastating. Mike sounds like the rest of his life. It’s delicate, how he says it, self-assured yet bursting open at the seams in vulnerability and that's when Will realizes it.
This isn’t his Mike.
His Mike would never say that. Not ever.
Will's chest tightens so hard he wonders if it's going to burst. He’s still out of breath, his fingers shake on Mike's neck.
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just lives in that moment, of Mike saying he loved him. Mike pulls away, disturbed by the silence. Maybe his WIll would’ve responded in an instant. Maybe his Will-- the Cleric-- would’ve said, “Of course my dear, I love you more than sunshine and wild berries and everything wonderful in the world, because you are my world and you are my sunshine and you are the food that I eat.”
Or whatever.
Fuck, he was going to cry.
He looked at Mike, stared harder now as he brought a hand up to play with his hair. He was so distracted by the armour that he hadn’t noticed all the subtle differences he let himself soak in now. His hair was a little longer, he was playing with the ends of it. He smelt a little different, Will finally noted that he smelt a little like wood and campfires on top of everything else. He even looked a little older, not by a lot though. By like, a year at most. Mike was staring back, a hand still stroking at his face and it looked almost like he was coming up with his own conclusions.
“Mike…” Will choked. He was drowning in so much guilt it felt insane. He knew that This Mike-- The Paladin-- was with his Cleric. And Will suddenly felt like he was stealing. The guilt didn’t even melt away when he realized that this Mike wasn’t his, it just turned into something different. A new bad feeling in his gut that almost felt like butterflies.
“You’re not my Mike.” Will said around the lump in his throat.
“And you’re not my Will.” Mike said back.
“I’m sorry.” Will's response was immediate. He lifted his hands up to his face to wipe at the tears spilling away and down and speeding onto the floor.
Mike shook his head, looking so damn softly at him that Will wanted to die and throw himself into Mike's arms again and kiss him all over again. Some small part of Will wishes he hadn’t admitted that he wasn’t his cleric, his cleric was-- around this realm too, if Mike was to be believed, which Will did. He was a Mike Wheeler after all, he couldn’t help himself,
“Oh come here,” Mike says, pulling him close again, into a hug this time, “What ever happened to you?”
“Nothing, Mike-- just---” That was a lie. Will was shattering into a million pieces right now. His heart couldn’t take this up and down.
“Darling.”
“I’m not yours, don’t waste that on me.” Will scoffs it out, “Your Cleric is out there-- you say there was a portal?” Will was quick to believe this now, he’s seen weirder.
Mike ignores him, “My heart still brought me here, I could feel you.” He said softly, holding one of Will's hands, “so it is not a waste. But you’re right that Will-- My Will-- is out there. You must help me find him. Do you have any idea where he’d be? You know yourself best, after all.”
Will thinks about it but the answer is immediate. He nods slowly.
He can’t say no to Michael Wheeler. Any Michael Wheeler.
“That’s easy,” Will said, “he’s probably with Mike. My Mike.”
The Paladin smiled, “You two are together in this world too?”
Will pressed his lips together, “Not like you two are, no.”
“Then what's with these?” Mike-- Michael, Will decides since Paladin feels too formal--- is holding up one of Will's drawings. A sketch of Mike's side profile, it’s nothing--
“Remarkable.” Whispers Michael. Will snatches it out of his hands with a horrified yelp.