Archive of Our Own

Now Listening: Accept Yourself by The Smiths

Mike Wheeler hasn’t always been the most observant. Well, okay, he’d like to think he’s pretty observant when it comes to those around him (he notices things okay? He’s just not good at showing it). Sure, it can be hard to pick up on the social cues thrown out by those around him. And, okay, yeah, he admits he’s not the best at noticing shifts in emotion unless that shift is made crystal clear through full-on yelling. But, besides that, he’s pretty observant.

But man is he shit at it when it comes to himself.

Mike isn’t quite sure he can pinpoint when he fell in love with his best friend.

Will has always been there with Mike, always at his side where he should be. He’d always been there to reassuringly squeeze Mike’s hand when Mike was nervous. Will was always the first to know when something important (or incredibly mundane that Mike wanted to talk about anyways) happened, and vice versa. Hell, Mike can’t even recall all the times Will had helped clean and bandage his scraped knees, all the times Mike had held Will and told him stories (that he expertly made up on the fly, thank you very much) in order to comfort and calm Will down after particularly nasty fights with Lonnie. Will and Mike were always there for each other. They’re best friends, afterall.

Will has always been special.

It, embarrassingly, took Mike a very long time to deduce that hey, maybe these different feelings for your best friend aren’t 100% “without a doubt” platonic.

So many instances throughout his childhood should have made Mike aware that he views Will in a COMPLETELY different way than he does any of his other friends. ‘Cause sure, he loves Lucas and Dustin, even Max though he’d never admit it. But he’s never had the urge nor desire to kiss them.

Mike first noticed this urge back when he was 12, during his reunion with Will in the hospital once he had been returned safe from the Upside Down. Mike had sprinted into that hospital room, leaving Lucas and Dustin in the dust, in order to throw himself on Will. He remembers how his heart had raced a million miles a second, how his cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. He remembers placing his ear against Will’s chest, just to double-check that Will was there and breathing and okay. Mike remembers looking back up at Will, falling into the older boy’s hazel eyes, and suddenly being crushed with the urge to lean in and-

Yeah. Mike refused to think about it much.

In Mike’s defense, it was kind of hard to acknowledge his possibly not totally friendly feelings for Will when he was actively dating Will’s sister.

Jane was kind. She was sweet and strong and loyal and one of the most special people he’s ever met in his life. And she wasn’t disgusted by him. A girl, one with the power to bring down an army of men, liked Mike. She didn’t shy away from him, she didn’t laugh at him, and she wasn’t weirded out by his nerdy interests and voice that was a little too high and cracked a lot more than he would’ve liked. No, she viewed him as cool, as a leader, as a boy worthy of her attention and affection. So, naturally, when she returned to Hawkins after a year of being “missing”, it made sense that they would date. Mike would be crazy to not want her as his girlfriend.

She was Superman. But he was just a normal guy. A guy who didn’t, couldn’t, love her in the way she did him.

The summer of 1985 was rough for many reasons. Notably due to the fact a monster made up of the remains of his neighbors, classmates, and parents’ friends, was out to kill him and his friends. An event like that really takes a toll on a guy, you know?

The summer of 1985 was rough because things between him and Will were tense, to say the least. Which, is Mike’s fault. He knows. He had just been so busy with Jane, so busy trying to ignore the desire to kiss Will every time he saw him, so busy carefully avoiding even looking at the boy because God why is he wearing some of the shortest shorts Mike has ever seen??

He was pushing Will away. He hadn’t even meant to, initially, but he just couldn’t act normal around his friend. Every time they talked Mike felt the fear that bubbled up in his stomach that would appear when Will would give him that look. The look that made Mike feel as if Will could see right through him and oh God Will can tell, Will knows. Will hates him, he’s disgusted by him, he’s horrified and going to ask Mike to stay the hell away from him because he’s not some fa-

Mike was scared. So he stayed away and he focused on Jane and did what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t gay, he was Jane’s boyfriend. Until he suddenly wasn’t. Jane broke up with him, in front of their friends, out of NOWHERE, and Mike was left without a distraction from the feelings he’d been actively running from. Then he snapped.

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Mike still isn’t sure why he said that. Was it thrown out at Will in an effort to push him further away? Was Mike just speaking without thinking? Was it projection? (It was probably all three). And, look, he tried to apologize, he really did. He went running after Will in the rain to apologize because he knew how deeply he had fucked up. He was desperate, he needed to tell Will sorry. He needed to just talk to him. Set it all right.

It didn’t work out that way (creature made of dead people, remember?). Mike got distracted. Then suddenly everything was over, the Byers and Jane were packing their stuff and saying their goodbyes. Will had assured Mike he’d never join another party, which made Mike’s stomach erupt in that familiar warm, fluttery feeling he usually did his best to ignore.

Then Jane told him she loved him.

She told him she loved him and kissed him, and Mike stood there shocked and frozen. And as he watched her walk away, he continued to stand frozen as his brain slowly kicked back into gear, a singular thought forming. The thought bounced around his brain, hitting the corners of his skull like the old DVD screensaver that would bounce around Mike’s TV screen at night as he watched, while Will slept on his shoulder.

Mike stood and stood and stood until his singular thought was finally fully formed and legible.

Oh fuck.

◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌
Now Listening: Smalltown Boy by Bronski Beat

Will was gone. He was in California, and Mike was left back in Hawkins. Mike was left depressed, moping in his basement for weeks trying to cope with the distance suddenly between him and his best friend. He didn’t know how to function without his friend, his other half, across the country. He frankly didn’t want to.

Mike would reject his friends' invitations to hang out. He ate less, he stopped getting dressed and leaving the house, and he stopped talking. Nancy would later confide in him that she was scared for him.

“It was like watching the ghost of you occasionally float around our house, Mike.”

Mike probably could’ve gone on like this for longer. If it weren’t for his f̶r̶i̶e̶n̶d̶ nemesis, Max Mayfield. Out of their group, she had the least patience, which was made very clear when she suddenly showed up in Mike’s basement one day and physically dragged his ass up the stairs and out of the house.

“We’re going for a walk, Wheeler. Put some shoes on, asshole.”

She wasn’t kidding. They did go on a walk, and it sucked.

But Max showed up the next day and did the same thing. And the next day, and the day after that. It took a week for Mike to start anticipating her arrival and preparing accordingly. He started getting dressed, he started brushing his hair (which had started to grow out longer than he normally lets it), and he even showered, which Max was very appreciative over.

“Thank GOD, Wheeler. I can’t smell you from miles away anymore.”

Max was rewarded with a pillow thrown to her face, and in retaliation, Mike was forced to run for his life.

Mike started leaving the house. He started writing letters to Jane. He started hanging out with Lucas and Dustin. He started high school.

He tried calling Will, with very little success. He tried writing Will letters, with even less success (they just never came out right). He watched Max distance herself and fade into the background at school. He watched Lucas join basketball and gain a positive social status while losing his relationship with Max.

He met Eddie. He joined Hellfire.

Eddie was cool. Not in the traditional, socially-accepted way. He was cool in the ‘he doesn’t give a fuck about what others think of him’ type of way. He was loud, confident, unapologetically nerdy, talented.

He was attractive.

Mike had quickly taken a liking to Eddie. He started dressing “edgier” (as edgy as Karen Wheeler would let him get, at least), he let his hair grow out, and he started doing anything he could to impress the older boy.

Then one day Eddie smiled at him and it clicked. He had a small crush on Eddie. He was attracted to Eddie Munson.

Mike was attracted to boys.

He hates to admit it, but Mike freaked.

He didn’t know how to handle it. He was terrified, he felt wrong, he felt…almost relieved that it finally clicked. The fear beat out the relief, though.

Mike stopped trying to call Will (it was clear Will didn’t want to talk to him anyways). He kept writing and hiding away his letters for Will. He kept sending letters to Jane, and he kept receiving letters from her, telling him that she and Will were having the time of their lives and that she and Will had many friends.

That Will was happy and painting something for a girl he liked.

It didn’t bother him. It was cool. (Spoiler: It did bother him.)

All too soon, his scheduled spring trip to Lenora to visit Jane and the Byers sprung up on him. He flew out, his nerves practically on fire in anticipation.

He met them at the airport. He gave Jane flowers. He awkwardly half hugged, half clapped Will on the shoulder. He upset Will. Things were tense. Things were awkward.

It was a survivable awkward. Until it was revealed Jane had been lying to him this whole time. And he got into another fight with Will.

“Well, what about us?”

“What?”

“Well, you’re mad that I didn’t talk to you? Seems like you made it super clear that you’re not interested in anything I have to say.”

“That’s just not true!”

“You called maybe a couple times. It’s been a year, Mike. Meanwhile, El has like a book of letters from you.”

“That’s because she’s my girlfriend, Will!”

“And us?”

“We’re friends! We’re friends.”

“Well, we used to be best friends!”

Things were not going well, to say the least.

Then everything just exploded. Jane cracked a girl's face with a rollerskate. She was arrested, and she was picked up by Dr. Owens to get her powers back. Mike, Will, Jonathan, and Argyle escaped a full-on shootout at the Byer’s house and went to find Jane, needing to get to her before the bad men did.

Oh, and the world was at risk of ending. Yeah. Super.

Lots of stuff happened during this time. The group traveled across the country to find Jane. They met Dustin’s girlfriend, Suzy, to get her help with finding Jane’s location. They drove and drove and drove and drove.

During this journey, Will gifted him the painting he had been working on. The one apparently not for some girl (good.)

“Can I show you something?” Will asked, hesitant and uncertain.

Mike nods. Of course he does. He can’t say no to Will Byers.

Will exhales as he quickly hands Mike the rolled-up painting. He watches nervously as Mike, curiously, unrolls it.

Mike’s face breaks out into a smile. “This is amazing! Did you paint this?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I mean…I mean, I mean El asked me to. She commissioned it, basically. I mean, she told me what to draw.”

Mike’s smile drops, quickly turning into a frown as disappointment settles in his stomach.

“Anyway, my point is,” Will continues, “see how you’re leading us here? You’re guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That…that’s what you do. And see your coat of arms here? It’s a heart. And I know it’s sort of on the nose, but that’s what holds this whole party together. Heart. Because, I mean, without heart we’d all fall apart. Even El. especially El.”

“These past few months, she’s been so lost without you. It’s just, she’s so different from other people, and…when you’re…different, sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all. Like she’s better for being different. And that gives her the courage to fight on. If she was mean to you or she seemed like she was pushing you away, it’s because she’s scared of losing you, like you’re scared of losing her. And if she was going to lose you, I think she’d rather just get it over with quickly. Like ripping off a bandaid.”

“So, yeah, El needs you, Mike. And she always will.”

The group continued to search for Jane. They found her. They helped her try to protect Max and defeat Vecna from the location of a random Surfer Boy’s Pizza.

Jane…didn’t win this time. They made it back to Hawkins. They visited Max in the hospital. Hawkins was in ruins.

Eddie was dead.

From then on, everything went on like a blur. There was a lot of grief, a lot of struggle. Lots of time spent fighting the creatures of the Upside Down.

Jane broke up with him.

“You don’t love me, Mike. I know.”

“That’s not true, El! You’re my Superman. You mean the world to me.”

“You still do not say it. You could’ve just said it, but you did not. You only say it when we are in danger.”

“That’s not true! I can say it other times!”

“Then say it, Mike.”

The silence settles between them as Mike opens his mouth, then closes it. He opens it again, floundering like a fish, as the silence gets heavier. A slow, sad smile spreads across Jane’s face as she shook her head.

“You won’t because you cannot. I know. It is okay.” She glances towards the door that leads out into his hallway, towards the barrier that separates them from Will downstairs in the kitchen. “I know. It is okay, Mike”.

Mike's eyes widen in surprise, unsure whether she means what he thinks she means, or if he’s overthinking it.

“You are my friend, Mike, but I am not your Superman.”

There was more fighting because the end of the world doesn’t just stop for their teenage issues.

They win. Vecna is defeated. Will is alive, Jane is alive. Max wakes up. The world is no longer ending and the town gets rebuilt. It’s a happy ending for their group of heroes.

◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

Now Listening: Where Is My Mind? by Pixies

It’s been three years since the world was saved and everything is mostly back to normal.

The party is in their senior year now. The Byers and Jane moved back to Hawkins. Max beat the odds and gained the ability to walk (and skate!) for short periods of time, though she is blind and still has to rely on a wheelchair 90% of the time. Max and Lucas got together. El and Max also started dating (yeah. That was a shocker). Despite the changes, everyone was able to fall back into step with their lives that they had put on pause for the end of the world, with the help of lots of therapy.

So where does that leave Mike?

Sprawled out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in silence as if it holds the secrets to the universe.

Things have been good for Mike. He’s been doing fairly well in school, he started learning guitar, and he spends more time with his friends.

He spends more time with Will.

Mike flushes just thinking about the boy. Things between them have been great since the world stopped ending. They’ve gone back to being practically joined at the hip, running to each other with every new secret or random news to share. Mike honestly spends more time at the Byers-Hopper residence than at his own house. However, spending more time at Will’s meant seeing Jane nearly every day, as well. Which, don’t get Mike wrong, isn’t a bad thing. Jane is great, they’re good friends despite everything. Sure, there had been some awkwardness between them at first, but once she had started dating Max, they were finally able to shove it all aside in favor of being friends.

They talk a lot. There’s been a lot of apologies, lots of late-night talks. Two coming outs. Honestly, they’re closer than they were before.

The last time he spoke to Jane, though, is what currently has him trying to explode his ceiling with his mind.

Mike had nearly forgotten about the painting Will gave him, having tucked it away in a corner of his room while they were busy saving the world. Then one day Mike rediscovered it, hung it up, and decided to finally thank Jane for commissioning it…

Mike knocked on Jane’s doorframe, leaning in the doorway when she looked up from her nails. She smiled, beckoning him inside her room.

“Hey,” Jane grinned, “you want me to paint your nails again? We can match!” She holds her pink nails up to emphasize her question, raising a teasing eyebrow.

“Hey, El. Not today, maybe next time.” Mike grinned back, awkwardly plopping all 6’ feet of himself down next to her.

El shrugs in response, returning her attention back to her nails, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she continues to swipe the pink on her left pointer finger. “Lame, but that's nothing new.” Mike could see the glint in her eye as she smirked down at her nails, still very focused. “What’s up then? Is Will not home yet?”

Mike quickly shook his head, laughing. “No, actually. I’m here to see you.” Jane looks up in surprise at this and Mike rolls his eyes at her. “Don’t look so surprised. We’re friends!”

Jane properly looks him over for a second before squinting at him. “Yes…we are. That’s not why you’re here, though, is it?”

Mike sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considers his words. “No…you caught me. It’s nothing bad, though. I just came to say thank you. For the painting.”

Jane furrows her eyebrows, her face clouding with confusion. “Painting?”

“Yeah. You know, the one you commissioned Will for?” Mike scrunches his eyebrows, possibly starting to sweat at Jane’s questioning.

Jane blinks at him. “...Commissioned?”

Okay, Mike is definitely sweating now. “Yeah. Like, you told him what to paint?”

Jane stares at him in silence for what feels like decades to Mike, a blank look fixed on him. Then realization seems to cross her face and she snaps out of it. “I did not. He wouldn't even show me what he was painting when we lived in Lenora. I assumed it was for a girl he liked…He gave it to you?”

Mike’s palms prickle, his mind suddenly muddled. “Yeah, he did. Back in the pizza van during spring break.”

At that, Jane’s face broke out into the widest grin Mike has ever seen. “Oh. Well, hm. I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him about it.” Mike couldn’t miss the teasing lilt to her tone as she says this, tilting her head at him.

Mike feels exposed and sweaty and honestly wishes that he could call up Vecna to come crash in here and drag his ass away from this conversation. Instead, Mike ended up stammering out a quick goodbye and made a mad dash for the front door.

That was two days ago. It’s Sunday night and Mike has not stopped thinking about it. Not for a second.

Jane hadn’t commissioned Will for the painting. Will had lied. Why? What was the reason behind it? What did it mean? Thinking about it hurt his head.

If Mike was being honest with himself, this new information made him jittery. That familiar, fluttery feeling was in his gut and anytime he thought about it, a goofy grin appeared on his face. Will made that painting for him. For Mike. It causes that same spark of hope that he’s constantly fending off lately to flare up.

Mike has noticed a change in his dynamic with Will. Sure, they’re still best friends, but it’s different in a way he can’t really explain. Will seems bolder, a little more confident, more touchy. If Mike had a penny for every time Will grabbed his hand to entwine their fingers, rest his head on his shoulder, or lean so far into Mike’s space that he could count his eyelashes, Mike would be the richest man in Hawkins.

If Mike didn’t know any better, he’d think Will’s been flirting with him.

Mike let out a strangled noise at this thought, flipping himself over and dramatically smothering himself in his own pillow. No, he has to discard that thought immediately. Will isn’t gay, he’s just being a good friend. If anything, Mike is a bad friend for assuming things like that about him. Will isn’t gay, he doesn’t know Mike is even into boys. Mike’s just overthinking it.

Mike lifts his head up to grant himself some air. Will isn’t flirting with him. There’s no way…But Will still lied about the painting. He still painted Mike as the heart even when they weren’t speaking to each other. Mike furrows his eyebrows, desperately thinking it over, trying to search his mind for any logical reason Will did this. With another garbled sound, Mike plops his head back into his pillow in defeat, sighing his frustrations and confusion out into the black pillowcase.

Mike is going to fucking implode.

◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

Now Listening: Snap Out Of It by Arctic Monkeys

Mike let out a quiet groan as he sluggishly opened up his locker. It’s only about to be third period but Mike is so done with this Monday. For starters, he woke up late and had to rush to get ready. Then his hair wouldn’t cooperate so he had to settle with throwing it back in a ponytail. Then Mike realized that he still needed to stop to get gas before class because there was no way he’d make it to school without his car fucking dying. And then, Mike was late to first period History, and Mr. Crocker is not a teacher you fuck with so Mike was forced to stand in front of the class and apologize to everyone for being late and wasting their time. Second period was fine because it was English and Mike loves English, but his recent essay was returned to him with a 73. Which, sure, isn’t the worst grade, but usually his writing scores at least an 85 so, needless to say, his mood was officially soured for the day. It was taking all his willpower to not shove himself headfirst into his locker to never surface again. Actually…that’s not a bad ide-

“Hey, Mike! ...What are you doing?”

Mike startled, jumping away from his locker where he’d just been resting his whole head in like a dumbass, turning to the offender with wide eyes.

Will Byers looked back at him, wearing an amused, and frankly unfairly attractive, expression as he witnessed Mike go through all five stages of grief at once in front of him.

Mike cleared his throat, leaning against his locker in an attempt to act casual. “Hey, Will.” He winced as his voice slightly cracked on Will’s name.

Will raises an eyebrow at him as he lets out an amused chuckle. “You look…tired. Rough morning?” Mike caught the teasing tone being directed at him.

He and Jane are too similar nowadays. Mike groans, shoving his face in his hands. “You don’t even know! I’m sure I’ve said this before but I fucking hate Mondays. And Mr. Crocker. Fuck that guy.”

Will lets out a startled laugh, shaking his head at the taller boy. “Yeah, sure, fuck that guy.” Will leans in, resting a playful hand on Mike’s bicep, his eyes sparkling. “You only say that because you’re shit at History.”

Mike's breath hitches in his throat at the feeling of Will’s hand on him and their sudden close proximity. “Hey! I’m decent at History.” Mike does his best to recover, glaring at Will with no real malice behind it.

Will leans back a bit, laughing at Mike’s indignation. “Kidding, Mike,” Will grins at him, before swooping back in close to Mike, “Though, if you ever need my help with studying, let me know.”

Mike couldn’t breathe, suddenly completely lost in those hazel eyes staring back at him intently. Distantly, Mike can hear the bell ringing, indicating there’s five minutes left until third period starts. Will lightly squeezes Mike’s arm before letting go and stepping back. Mike watches Will walk away, shouting “See you at lunch!” at him over his shoulder as he goes. Mike still doesn’t move. He’s rooted to his spot, staring off where Will was just at.

Mike Wheeler is a big, gay mess.

Suddenly, Mike is startled out of his frozen state by the feeling of something bumping against his backside. He whirls around, expecting to see some asshole trying to start shit, but instead, he’s met with the sight of Max, who, despite being blind, is squinting up at him from her wheelchair as if she could see how much of a mess he is.

“Wheeler.” Max greets.

“Mayfield,” Mike responds, raising his eyebrow at her, “What do you want?”

Max grins up at him, mischievous as she always is. “Wanna skip?”

Mike pulled the cigarette away from his mouth, exhaling while passing it back down to Max’s expectant hand. It’s a warm day out and Mike squints up at the sun, worried he’s going to return to campus looking like a tomato from how bright it is.

They sit in silence, passing the cig back and forth between them. It’s actually pretty nice. He’d never admit it but he looks forward to Max asking him to skip with her for a period. He knows she can’t stand being on campus, too many inconsiderate assholes making her life difficult to navigate between and in classes. He’s glad she asks him to join her out of everyone else. He’d go insane without these breaks.

It’s peaceful, leaning against his car, resting one of his arms on the back of her chair.

“So…are we going to talk about Will rendering you completely useless back there in the hallway or are we going to keep basking in our total love and adoration for each other.” Max dryly asks.

Suddenly, it’s not so peaceful.

Mike groans, throwing his head back to direct his eyes at the sky. “Dude, how could you even notice that? You can’t see shit.”

The redhead turns around in her wheelchair, swiveling in his direction. “I’m blind, not oblivious, asshole. Every time you act like a big, gay idiot, my spidey senses start tingling.”

Mike blinks at her. “What?”

Max grins at him in response. ‘Don’t worry about it. Don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding my question, Wheeler. You can’t ignore me.”

Mike lets out a record-breaking sigh, mulling over his thoughts and determining which ones are best to express. After a few more seconds of stalling, Mike mumbles out “El told me she didn’t commission Will for that painting he gave me a few years back.”

Max’s eyes widen. “Oh, you finally figured that out?”

Mike straightens up in alarm, looking at her with wide eyes. “What do you MEAN ‘finally figured that out’? You knew?”

She rolls her eyes at him, inhaling from the cigarette before sticking it in his face, waiting for him to take it from her and stick it in his mouth. He does. Who is he to keep Max Mayfield waiting?

“Of course I knew, dingus. After you told me about the painting, I dropped hints about it in conversation with El to try to get information out of her but there was nothing. She was absolutely clueless. I knew damn well she had nothing to do with the painting.”

Mike stared at her in shock, exhaling before reeling on her again. “So, what? You didn’t think to tell me?”

Max just shrugged at him, zero regrets on her face. “Dude, it’s not my job to solve your stupid ‘will they, won’t they’ thing you’ve got going on with Will. If you wanted my advice-”

“I don’t,” Mike interjects.

“-then I would just tell you to stop dancing around the topic, tell him you’re gay, and make out already. It’s getting tiring to watch, Wheeler.”

“Watch? You can’t even- nevermind. You know I can’t do that. Things are…good right now. For us. For all of us. I don’t want to risk ruining that. It’d be selfish. Plus, Will isn’t gay.”

Max slowly blinks at him, raising a judging eyebrow so slowly, it had to be for dramatic effect. “Have I ever told you you’re an idiot?”

“Yes, you have. Many times. Literally like five minutes ago.” Mike responds, slumping back against the hood of his car.

They sit there in silence for a while, Mike lighting another cigarette and passing it to Max. She passes it back to him after a quick hit, clearly thinking over her words before speaking. She holds out her palm, waiting, a silent question hanging in the air between them.

Mike sighs, placing his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. “I’m sorry I’m so high-strung. All the time. I’ve been trying to work on it.” Mike mumbles, embarrassed over the whole situation.

Max squeezes his hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, Mike. You don’t need to apologize. I’m sorry for pushing it. I know this isn’t easy for you… I’m here for you, no matter how frustrating it is to witness you dance around him. Lucas and El too. Always.”

Mike squeezes back, sighing again as he lets himself relax. “Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

Max sits silent for a second, carefully choosing her words before slowly asking “Are you planning to tell him? Not about your feelings, but, you know?”

Mike starts to shake his head, before pausing and giving a slight nod. “Yeah. Eventually. I’m just not ready yet. I’ve only been out to you guys for a year. Dustin has only known for, like, half that. I’ll get there. Just not right now.”

“Alright, that’s okay. Take your time.”

They sit there in comfortable silence for a long time, letting their conversation settle between them. Eventually, Mike lets go of her hand and takes a long drag of the cig before passing it back to her.

“Hey, Mayfield?”

“Hm?”

Mike grins, knowing she can hear it in his voice. “How are you always able to locate where I am? It’s creepy, you just come straight to me as if you can see that it’s me standing there.”

“I can smell your fear, Wheeler.”

◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

Now Listening: Girls on Film by Duran Duran

Mike Wheeler hates parties. They’re loud, crowded, and frankly overrated. He’d rather sit in his basement watching movies and rolling out a joint with the party in his basement than get trapped at a near stranger’s house with way too many sweaty teenagers.

But, man, does Mike love alcohol.

He loves the burning of it as it slides down his throat, the immediate warmth in his stomach after a shot. He loves everything going hazy and losing that anxious tension in his shoulders he seems to carry around 24/7 nowadays.

The only downside? Mike is kind of a lightweight. And an annoying drunk.

“Mike,” Will huffed, practically dragging the boy up the stairs, “can you please help me out here? Pick up your feet a little.”

“Mmmmhm.” Mike responds. He does not pick up his feet. If anything, he goes even more boneless on Will than before.

“For fucks sake, Mike.”

Will pulls the boy the rest of the way up the stairs. Some far-away part of Mike’s brain is relieved his parents are out of town and Nancy is in New York because he’d probably get his ass kicked by his mom for this. Or Nancy. Probably both.

Will pushes Mike’s door open and basically dumps him on the bed, slumping for a second in exhaustion, before getting to work removing Mike’s shoes and helping him under the covers. Will tried to ask Mike to change into some sweats but all he’d gotten in response was delirious giggling, so he gave up.

Will leans down, tucking a stray curl out of Mike’s face before sighing and getting up. As he goes to leave the room, though, he can hear Mike suddenly sit up in bed.

“Where are you going?” Mike dramatically whines.

Will rolls his eyes fondly, walking back over to Mike. “I’m heading out. You need to get some rest.”

Mike frowns at this, clearly in disagreement. “Stay. You don’t need to leave.”

Will stares into Mike’s wide eyes, registering the ‘not all there’ look the boy is sporting from his 16 too many shots. He places a hand on Mike’s chest to try to push him back to laying down. Instead, Mike grabs his hand, hanging on like it’s a lifeline.

“Please, Will? Stay? Just for a little.” Mike is practically pleading at this point, though he couldn’t tell Will or anyone why.

Will chews on the inside of his cheek, mulling it over. He sighs, sinking down to sit on the bed in defeat.

Mike smiles triumphantly. He slowly slides back down to rest his head against his pillow, not letting go of Will’s hand. The two boys sit in silence as Mike seems to get sleepier and sleepier by the minute.

Suddenly, Mike speaks up, his eyes half closed. “Will?”

Will squeezes his hand in acknowledgment. Mike squeezes back. “Yeah, Mike.”

Mike sits in silence, but not in contemplation. No, the pale boy was too busy being entranced by Will’s eyes to form a coherent thought. Hell, he wouldn’t be able to sober, either.

“You’re so pretty.” Mike blurts, his half-lidded eyes not breaking contact with Will’s.

Will immediately flushes bright red, a small smile across his lips. “Yeah?”

Mike enthusiastically nods, still refusing to break eye contact. “Yes. Very pretty. You always have been.”

Will chuckles in response, nervous under Mike’s gaze. Mike’s eyes slowly droop fully closed and he relaxes into his bed. The silence returns for only a short time, though, before Mike mumbles.

“I wish I could kiss you.”

Mike is already too far gone to register the fact that Will is suddenly very frozen next to him, his mouth hung open in surprise. Mike squeezes Will’s hand one more time and then drifts off to sleep.

◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

Now Listening: I think I’m Going To Kill Myself by Elton John

Mike fucked up.

He may not know what he did, but he definitely fucked up.

It’s been a week since the party. Mike had woken up confused and severely hungover. It wasn’t until he returned to school on monday that he realized something was wrong, though.

Will has been avoiding him.

Sure, he still speaks to him at lunch and briefly during chemistry, but he won’t meet his eyes. Will looks anywhere but at Mike and says as few words as possible when Mike tries to talk to him. He’s also stopped touching him. No holding his hand, no affectionately placed hand on Mike’s bicep. Nothing.

He won’t even let him look at his art.

During chemistry on Friday, Mike caught a glance of Will’s sketchbook, noticing an in-progress drawing that looks like him. Or at least what he can see of it.

So naturally, like he usually would, Mike leans over to look at Will’s page. Will quickly shifts it to his far side and covers the page, avoiding Mike’s gaze intently. Mike just sighed and returned his attention to the incredibly boring chemistry lecture.

It’s driving Mike insane.

So that’s why Mike Wheeler finds himself in Max’s room Friday night, flopped face down on her bed while Jane braids Max’s hair on the carpet and Lucas leans against El, directing his attention towards Mike.

“Dude, aren’t you being a little dramatic, right now? He spoke to you today at lunch.”

Mike just grumbled into the bed in response, too worn out and upset to explain the true depths of his inner turmoil.

Mike can practically hear the redhead’s eye roll when Max states, “He’s just being a big baby. He’s probably not avoiding him. Mike is just extra clingy.”

Mike sits up at lightning speed, glaring down at the girl with as much annoyance behind it as possible. “I am not clingy.”

“Dude…” Lucas says, directing his eyes down to where Mike has been loosely clinging onto his hand this whole time.

Mike stares in silence, blinking slowly. He looks back up. “Okay, sure, I like physical contact. Sue me.” He huffs. “But that’s not what’s going on with me and Will. He’s been acting strange since Monday.”

Jane finally pipes up, still braiding Max’s hair, not even sparing Mike a glance. “Actually, he’s been weird since before then. He returned Friday night acting funny. I asked him about it but he never told me what was up.”

Mike points his finger at her, shouting “AHA” while staring down Max.

Max rolls her eyes again in response. “Look, Mike, maybe he is avoiding you. Maybe you did severely fuck up when drunk because you’re the epitome of a walking gay disaster.”

“Hey!”

“But, you can’t know for sure if you don’t talk to him about it. Remember the talk we had a while back? You know, the one about communication?” She raises an eyebrow expectantly at him.

Mike avoids eye contact with everyone in the room when he grumbles a quiet “Yeah.”

“So,” Lucas prompts, nudging Mike with his elbow.

Mike sighs. “...I should talk to him.”

Jane claps in response, her eyes sparkling as she laughs. “Guys he’s finally learning!”

Mike chucks a pillow at her. Jane ducks, screeching indignantly at Mike before using her powers to shove it back towards Mike. It makes impact against his chest with a slight oof.

Max rolls her eyes, readjusting to lay her head down in Jane’s lap. “Is that all you wanted, Wheeler? To complain about your failing love affair?”

Mike sniffs. “So what if it was?”

Jane giggles. “You’re lucky we like-”

“Tolerate.” Max interjects.

“Like.” Lucas corrects, grinning. “You’re crashing date night, man.”

Mike sighs, slumping back in the bed. “It’s not my fault Dustin’s busy tonight. Blame him, not me.”

Jane side eyes him. “Mike, he is on a date. So, instead, you crash ours?”

Mike stares back, dead serious. “Of course.”

They all sit in silence, staring each other down (except for Max, whose eyes are closed laying in Jane’s lap).

The group bursts out laughing, wheezing until their chests hurt because of course Mike would interrupt their date night. They expect nothing less.

Their laughter slowly tampers off into comfortable silence. But Mike needed to say one last thing about the situation before he could let it go for the night.

He chews on his lip nervously. “...What if I told him something when I was drunk?”

Lucas turns to him and shrugs his shoulders. “Drunk words are sober thoughts, man.”

Mike stares off at the wall, eyes focused on nothing. “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”

◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌◌

Now Listening: There Is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths

Mike goes to knock on the door, fist raised and everything before he quickly turns around and bends over, placing his hands on his knees as if he’s physically exerting himself. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. It’s just Will. He practically lives here half the time. It’s fine. He can do this.

Mike turns back around, takes in a shaky, deep breath, and knocks.

One second, two, by five he’s sweating. By fifteen the door is being opened.

On the other side is Will, his eyes widened in surprise. For what feels like forever, they just stare at each other, the energy between them tense.

Mike slowly raises his hand to wave, sheepishly. “Hey, Will.”

Will blinks, then slowly raises his hand too, a small smile on his lips. “Hey, Mike.”

Mike takes in another deep breath. “May I, um, come in?”

Will tilts his head at him, his gaze searching Mike. For what? Mike has no idea.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Mike sits on the Byers-Hopper couch awkwardly, clutching the glass of apple juice Will immediately got him (He just knows him so well). Will slowly sits down next to Mike, noticeably putting space between the two of them. It sets Mike on edge.

They sit in silence, neither looking at each other.

Finally, Will goes to speak. “ So, what’s-”

“Do you hate me?” Mike blurts. Mentally he facepalms. Smooth, dude. He can practically hear Max laughing at him.

Will flinches in surprise, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. “What? What are you talking about?”

Mike blinks back, then quickly averts his gaze. He’s shaking now, he practically feels like he’s going to implode. “I’ve noticed you’ve…um…you’ve been avoiding me, Will. Did I do something? Are you mad at me?”

Will’s face immediately flushes. His eyes soften, just a bit. “Oh.”

They sit in silence while Will thinks, biting his lip. Mike can see the gears turning in his head. He’s always been able to.

Will exhales slowly. “The other night when I finally got you settled in bed, you said something. I don’t think you really meant it, you were practically out at that point but…”

Mike’s stomach drops, terror slowly spreading throughout his body. He could’ve said anything. “What did I say, Will?” His voice is hushed, his mind racing.

Will chews on his lip again, averting his eyes to the window. “You, um, you said you wanted to kiss…me.”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

Mike shoots up in a panic, eyes darting everywhere as his flight response kicks in. “Oh my G- I am so fucking sorry, Will. I can’t believe I- I’m so sorry.” Mike knows he sounds frantic but he can’t help it. He turns towards the door, ready to make a run for it “I’ll just- oh my God I’m so sor-”

“Wait, Mike.” Will says, grabbing Mike’s hand. Mike freezes, still turned towards the door. He’s shaking, but he doesn’t pull away.

It’s Will. He could never pull away from Will.

“I’m so sorry Will. I never meant to tell you that. I was going to take it to my grave, I swear. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I’m so so so sorry.” Mike barely registers the wetness on his cheeks.

Will slowly tugs him a little closer. “Mike, you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” His voice is quiet, uncertain.

Mike still won’t turn around, his eyes squeezed shut.

Will tugs him closer again, squeezing his hand. “Mike. Please look at me. Please.”

Mike takes in a choked breath, slowly turning around towards Will. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor.

Will reaches out, tilting Mike’s head up to make him look at him. “Mike, you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” He says it sternly as he stares Mike down. “I was avoiding you but it wasn’t because you made me uncomfortable.” Mike stares at him, eyes wide, as Will takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry I was avoiding you. It wasn’t because I was uncomfortable or upset with you, Mike. And it’s definitely not because I hate you. I could never hate you.” He squeezes his hand, once, twice. “Before the party, El had brought up the, uh, the painting and asked me about it, saying you thanked her for it and asking if it was true that I gave it to you. I kind of panicked and all night I waited for you to bring it up, but you never did. So I thought I was in the clear.”

Will takes another deep breath, this one shakier than the last. Mike notices, startled, that there’s tears in Will’s eyes now.

“Then you said that, and I just, I knew you didn’t mean it and I just…I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It just,” Will pauses, struggling to find the words, “I guess it hurt because it’s something I’ve been wanting to hear for years, Mike. And of course, when it finally happens, you’re drunk and not in the right state of mind and it didn’t mean anything.” Will rambles on, deflating with each new word spoken.

Mike’s eyes widen as Will’s words sink in. “What do you mean you’ve wanted to hear me say that for years?”

Will refuses to look at Mike, turning away in an attempt to hide the tears falling freely down his face.

Silence. Mike holds his breath, waiting.

“I’ve been in love with you for years, Mike. I’m so sor-”

Mike’s brain completely shuts down before Will can finish his sentence. He doesn’t even know how it happens. One second he’s staring at Will and the next-

He’s kissing Will.

He can feel Will freeze in surprise against him for a second, but no longer than a second. His hands quickly make their way up into Mike’s hair, tangling in his dark curls. And he’s kissing him back.

Mike is kissing Will. Will Byers is kissing him, Mike Wheeler.

Kissing Will is like every good thing in Mike’s life wrapped into one. Kissing Will is like playing a song on his guitar all the way through with no mistakes. Kissing Will is like that first bite of mint ice cream on the hottest day of summer. Kissing Will is like the feeling of frozen tears of laughter on Mike’s face when he’s out *attempting* to sled with the party during the Winter. Kissing Will is like the feeling of sinking into his bed after a long day at school.

Kissing Will is like warm sunshine on his face, the first orange leaves of Fall, the first rain of April.

Growing up, Mike had never felt like he’s belonged anywhere. He always felt weird, out of place, different. He’s always felt like he was too nerdy, too mean, too weak, too awkward. He never felt comfortable or at ease anywhere.

Until he met Will. Until he met Will and walked right up to him to ask him to be friends. From that day up until this very moment, Mike has always felt like he belonged when he’s with Will. Will makes him feel okay, happy. Will can immediately make Mike’s perpetual scowl vanish in an instant just from smiling at him. Will made him feel normal.

“It’s just, she’s so different from other people, and…when you’re…different, sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all. Like she’s better for being different.”

Will never made him feel different. Will made him feel like Mike. Mike was okay as long as he had Will by his side.

Slowly, Mike pulled away, suddenly nervous as he looked down at Will. God, he’s beautiful. Will’s eyes were wide, his lips red, his cheeks redder.

Mike sheepishly smiled at him, squeezing Will’s sides, where his hands had made their way to at some point during their kiss.

“Hey.” Mike grinned nervously.

Will blinked, a small smile forming on his lips. “Hi.”

Mike couldn’t help it. He leaned down and captured Will in a kiss again. And again. And again, until he just kept pressing quick kisses to his lips over and over, then moving to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his chin.

Will laughed, face growing redder. “Mike.” He didn’t pull away of course.

Mike presses one more kiss to his lips before pulling back, smiling goofily at Will.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Will lets out a shaky breath. “You don’t say.” He teases, tilting his head and squinting his eyes at him fondly.

Mike reaches up to wipe away a remaining stray tear on Will’s face, the wheels in his head turning as he thinks of something to say.

“So…I’m guessing it’s not El who needed me?” Mike grins knowingly, thinking back to what Will told him while gifting him the painting.

Will rolls his eyes. “Shut up you dumb-”

He cuts himself off, pulling Mike into a kiss. They’re both smiling against each other’s lips and they probably look insane, but Mike has never felt more at peace in his life.

Kissing Will is right. It’s not a mistake. He’s not a mistake.

Kissing Will was like coming home.