Wiby
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Steve’s gaze is heavy in the warm light, pupils expanded from the dark. Jonathan suppresses a shiver as he watches those eyes drop to his lips blowing smoke.
“Do you like guys?” Jonathan freezes.
“What?” His words come out close to a whisper.
“Come on, Byers.”
or, Steve throws a party, Jonathan stays longer than he means to, and they both find out what can happen when they're left alone together.
Bookmarked by Wiby
13 Jun 2026
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“Nothing,” Will says, right into Mike’s ear. “Still feeling good?”
So good. Mike makes sure to not say it aloud this time. “I think,” Mike says slowly, heart pounding, “I need” — Will pulls back just a little, just enough for their noses to bump against each other, clumsy, and Mike bites the bullet — “one more.”
Will is still in Mike’s lap, which is maybe not very platonic of him, and the joint has smoldered its way down to the end, nearly over, all eaten up by the fire. Will swallows thickly, then leans closer, a perfect imitation of their positions from earlier. Mike isn’t sure how long it’s been, but fire has been eating away at him too, this whole time, leaving him on the brink of going up in smoke, slow and burning and so good.“Yeah?” Will murmurs, realization dawning on him, eyes wide. “One more?”
or: Mike’s still new to this whole smoking thing. Will has a few ideas.
Bookmarked by Wiby
11 Jun 2026
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“Just saying, if you’re taking another hit, you should share it with me,” Mike says, and Will slowly tilts his head, drinking in every word. “It just makes sense. Like, mathematically.”
Will’s reddened eyes narrow, bewildered. “Mathematically?”
“If there’s two hits left, we’d each only get one,” Mike explains. “But if we shotgunned, we’d both get two.” God, this is the best idea he’s had in ages. He should’ve stolen Will’s weed, like, months ago. “That’s like, bang for your buck. This is simple math, Will Byers. Keep up.”
In which it’s well past midnight in New York, Will can’t sleep, and Mike feels like they barely know each other anymore.
So, they get a little high. Mike is very normal about all of it.
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Moments ago, he’d never kissed anyone, and now he’s straddling the boy he’s in love with, moving his mouth on instinct, forcing his body down so that he doesn’t float away. He keeps thinking, I’m so fucked, I’m in trouble, I’m in such deep shit, a giddy running commentary that means nothing, really, because with whom would he be in trouble, and why? Mike? God? The world? Himself?
One of Mike’s hands cards through his hair, nails scratching scalp, and Will feels like he’s dissolving, like he’s cotton candy on Mike’s tongue.
Belatedly, Will gestures at the lamp. “Should I—”
“Keep it on,” Mike says in a firm, heady baritone that hits Will like liquor, and pulls Will back in by the roots of his hair.
Or,
After the MAC-Z, Will and Mike share the mattress in the Wheelers’ basement. Mike finally follows his instincts. Will tries not to have a stroke about it.
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Bookmarked by Wiby
08 Jun 2026
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Graduation night, after the tears and emotions, comes the drinks and the joints.
Will lets loose, and Mike does too.