Work Text:
18 months.
It’s been 18 months.
And nothing has changed.
Mike’s in front of the bookcase, his own DND board in hand, staring at Will’s. Is this it? Everything they’ve been through, all that’s happened, everything they fought for—just to end up like this, this?
He places his board next to Will’s, his thumb caressing the cover of it. He feels himself about to cry, his throat constricting. Mike doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. But unlike everyone else, unlike Will, Mike is a coward. Coward. And Will?
Oh Will is gonna go to college in a big city and study fine arts or something. He would go to fun clubs and bars, drink cheap alcohol that tastes gross but leave him just a little tipsy. And Will would wait for that special someone that’s somehow always just precisely 7 minutes late.
They would walk back home, holding hands through the cold night air. Shoulders bumping, inside jokes and giggles ringing through the air. They would reach home and get ready for bed together. Sharing one even though there’s another. And they would hug and kiss and make love, fall asleep, wake up in each other’s arms in the bright morning sky.
He would see how beautiful Will’s hair shone brown in the sunlight, the mix of greens in his eyes. He would get to make Will’s coffee every morning, just how he likes it—2 sugars. They would argue over silly things and simply make out as an apology. Forever. They’d get to do it forever. He would get to do it all with Will.
He who isn’t Mike.
And Mike? Mike would be locked up in his bedroom, in his parents house. Writing words, lines after lines of paragraphs of everything that could’ve happened. That would’ve happened if he wasn’t such a coward. Will’s painting right by his desk. The painting he knows Will made for him. A truth he was too afraid to confront.
He would type and erase and erase some more because nothing could ever compare to writing the grace of a man he once loved. Still does. Forever will. He would see his yellow curtains and be reminded of Will. He’d drive by a pizza place and think of Will. He would sign off letters and remember Will. Will haunting every corner of his life.
He’d lay awake at night, replaying his childhood. Replaying Will. From the swingset to this very basement. Everything that could’ve been them. And he’d turn 20, 30, 40, 70, sitting by the porch of a house too quiet to be called home. Too empty. He would stare out into the horizon. The blending hues of yellows and blues and reminisce his pathetic life. Lonely.
Will would just be a thought, memory to remember when he doesn’t know what to think about. Forever just a what-if.
The party would meet up in a decade or so and Will would be glowing. He’d talk about this new dog he’s adopted. How he was gonna paint his new bedroom blue. The weekend trip he’d have planned with his special someone. And Mike would just listen. Stuck in that time from when they were 18 in this godforsaken basement. When they were 16 on that exhausting road trip. 15 in his garage. 14 celebrating Halloween in their ridiculous Ghostbusters outfit. 12 in that boring classroom.
5 on that swingset.
Is this really how he wants this to end? How he wants them to end?
Will was right there. All he needed was to reach out. He doesn’t want their story to end like this. He just needs one, one simple thing to give him that strength.
The young kids bump into him as they settle on the table, rounding up for their turn of the game. And Mike sees… himself. And the party. And Will. It all started from here, didn’t it? The last time everything was just, normal, until it wasn’t.
“It was a 7.”
It was always there for him to see. For him to realise, right in his grasp. And he kept slipping and slipping, letting go. How many more times does he need to lose Will to finally keep him? How long would he need to bottle up his love before it dissolves in the acidic waters of his soul? Or would it last forever, eternal. For as long as the sky stood over the earth, his love would bleed through the cracks of his heart. Threatening to stain his mortal being and everything he touches.
Love. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t love enough a reason to fight on? To not be afraid? If Lucas’ love saved Max, if Joyce’ love saved Hopper, if their love is good and right, why would Mike’s ever be wrong?
Why not Mike’s love? Why not Will’s? Why not them?
Why can’t he give love a chance?
I can’t end it like this, he thinks. I won’t let it end like this. Not this time.
Mike glances up the stairs. He runs up. “Will!” His mom appears from the corner, “Oh, they all just left, Mike.” Mike doesn’t even bother answering back, he rushes into the garage. Swinging the door open, “You’re still here.” Will has his hands on his bike. “I was just leaving. Max and Lucas just left.”
“Right uh can we—can we talk, Will?” Will’s face morphs into one of meek surprise. “Yeah sure. What is it, Mike?”
“It’s kind of—actually very important so uh—“ Will sets his bike down and Mike walks forward. “Is everything okay, Mike?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I mean—not completely fine just—as in—“ Will’s brows furrow. “Sorry no. Everything’s not fine. I—“ Will’s expression is worried now. “Mike…you know you can tell me anything right?”
“No I know, it’s just—god this is hard. I uh—“ Will nods in encouragement and Mike lets out a heavy sigh. Thunder roars behind them, the start of rain pelting on the ground.
“I can’t end it like this, Will. I can’t let you go like this. I—I’ve been an idiot, an asshole all my life, all my life and I just—I don’t want to regret anything, Will. I don’t wanna regret you. Us. What we could’ve been. Will. I—“ Mike’s voice falters, tears stinging his eyes. Will’s eyes are blown wide now, eyebrows furrowed, his lips parted in disbelief.
“I—I love you, Will.” Will gasps. As if the words Mike just uttered were never meant to be spoken, like he never deserved to hear them.
“I always have. Always. I was a coward, Will but I don’t wanna be one anymore. I don’t wanna be scared anymore.” Tears are now flowing down Mike’s face, warm and salty. Rain drums loud against the roof of the garage. But it’s still not louder than Mike’s heartbeat in his ears. He grabs Will’s hand tight in both of his. “I want you, Will. In my future, my home—our home. In everything—you’re everything, Will. I—I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you.”
Mike is openly sniffling now. Hot tears on his face contrasting the cold damp air. Will’s lips quiver, eyes pooling with every passing second.
“I want to be a part of your life, Will. Forever. Forever. Will you please have me?” Will’s hand twitches in Mike’s grasp. He chokes out a sob, flinging his arms over Mike, pulling him in a hug. Mike’s own arms hanging by his side.
“Mike I—“ Will bunches Mike’s shirt in his grasp, burying his face deeper in Mike’s chest. “I love you too, Mike.” Mike chokes out a strangled noise. Both of them openly sobbing, Mike’s hand clasp tight onto Will’s back. His head cocooned in Will’s soft hair. Lightning strikes and they pull closer against each other. Their rapid heartbeats syncing with every moment passed.
“I’m so sorry, Will. I—All the times I’ve hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’d let me.” Will laughs against Mike’s chest. The vibrations of it ringing through Mike’s entire body, awakening his long slumbering soul. “We have forever right?”
Mike smiles. “Right.”
They pull apart, eyes a little red from the crying, matching tear streaks down their faces. Mike thinks he looks ridiculous sobbing in the pouring rain embracing the boy he’s loved for years. He brings a cold, shaky hand up, swiping across Will’s cheek. His other hand drawing circles on Will’s waist. Will swallows deep. The decade’s long question hanging of Mike’s tongue. The weight of it growing heavier and heavier and heavier, begging to be voiced out. Finally, Mike asks.
“Can I kiss you?”
Will smiles, so softly. Reaching up to the collar of Mike’s shirt, pushing himself up on his feet. Their faces mere centimetres apart. Breaths warm against the cold atmosphere of the thunderstorm. Lips parting in anticipation, fingers curling around fabric. Will whispers against Mike’s mouth.
“Please do.” Faces leaning in, eyes fluttering shut. Their lips connect and a fresh stream of tears flow down Mike’s face. To think he had almost spent the rest of his life without ever knowing what this feels like? Mike almost sobs at the absurdity. The kiss is so chaste, so innocent, mingling with the aftertaste of salty tears.
Will’s feet plant flat against the ground and Mike leans down into the kiss. Will’s cold hands sliding across Mike’s neck. Mike’s own cradling Will’s face and waist, so secure in their grasp like Will might just fade away.
The sky roars with thunder and lightning as they kiss in this garage. Nothing in their minds and hearts except each other. Except love. So heavy but light at the same time. Grounding and floaty all at once. It’s so much but still not enough. Never enough. Mike will never get enough of Will.
They break the kiss and Mike rests his forehead against Will’s. They’re both quietly panting, chests heaving with the action. “I love you, Will.” Mike thinks how easy it is to say it, how it just rolls of his tongue when it’s right. Like it was wrong to not say it. “I love you too, Mike.” Both of them crying, grinning messes.
A harsh swipe of wind brushes across them, drizzling the cold drops of rainwater into their space. Will hisses and Mike feels the goosebumps raise on Will’s neck against his fingers. “We should go inside. Come on.” Mike guides them into the house once again, hand pressed against Will’s lower back.
As Will heads inside, Mike lingers at the open door taking in the sight before him. The same garage from nearly 3 years ago—though completely different circumstances now. He thinks back to how far they’ve come. How the one thing he feared was also the same one that gave him strength to push forward. Love.
“Mike?” Mike shuts the door behind him, following after Will. Their hands interlock as they head up the stairs to his room.
“It’s pouring. You should just stay over.”
“Yeah, I’ll call my mom later.”
***
“Mike! Have you showered yet?!”
“One sec!”
Footsteps are heard not long before Will’s standing by the doorframe, arms crossed. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Just like—2 more sentences. Tops.”
“You say that every time and its never just 2 sentences.”
Their room is a dark hue from the thunderstorm outside. Mike spins in his chair, facing Will now, away from the typewriter. He brings a finger to his chin, feigning thought. “Yet somehow we’re never late.” Will rolls his eyes and walks into the room, sitting on their unmade bed. “Because I make sure we’re not late.”
Mike walks over to Will. “And you always do an amazing job, Will.” Mike grins as Will fakes annoyance. “Well, they’re gonna kill us if we’re late you know that right?” Mike laughs. “Oh come on. Dustin’s like at least 15 minutes late every single time.” Will giggles, “Okay fine true. But still—“
“Yeah yeah ‘we don’t wanna keep Max and Lucas waiting’. You’ve said it about, 4 times since this morning.”
“And you’re still in your pyjamas.”
“Well, I think I look quite swell in this, don’t you?” Mike smiles playfully, hands on his hips.
“You’re in a knit sweater with glasses on. You look like a total loser nerd.” Mike gasps, clutching his chest. “Ouch!” Will suppresses a chuckle. Mike leans down, face to face with Will now. His lips forming a smirk, “That’s not what you were saying last n—“ Will latches his palm flat against Mike’s mouth, his face turning pink. “Okay! Okay shut up.” Mike removes Will’s hand by the wrist, pressing a small kiss there before connecting their lips.
Mike’s free hand braces the bed next to Will as he pushes him softly into the bed. Will’s pinned wrist pressed into the sheets as his free hand tangle in Mike’s messy curls. Their lips and tongue sliding against each other seamlessly. Mike slides his palm into Will’s, coaxing each finger apart with his own before slotting them together. His warmer hand entwining with Will’s cold one. As always.
Mike breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down Will’s jaw and neck and Will sighs contentedly. Will slides his hand down the neck of Mike’s sweater, resting on his back. Their body temperatures syncing, cold and warm. Mike leaves chaste kisses down Will’s throat before getting distracted by the deep reds and purples marking Will’s skin down to his collarbone, reminding him of last night’s endeavours. He squeezes Will’s hand in his grasp, burying his smiling face into the crook of Will’s neck.
Will suddenly pushes against Mike’s chest, face scrunched up in worry. Before Mike even gets the chance to ask what’s wrong, “Shit! The eggs!” Will pushes Mike off of him, running to the kitchen. Mike’s just left bewildered on the bed. “Goddamn it!” Will curses and Mike laughs shaking his head.
Making his way over to the work desk again, messy with his typed out chapters and Will’s sketch drafts for work. But above it all, hanging on the wall, is Mike’s reminder of just how far they’ve come, Will’s painting. Mike strokes it with gentle fingers, smiling to himself.
He’s exactly where he wants to be.