Archive of Our Own

Mike’s chest fell heavily, exhaling a breath he had apparently been holding in, when he heard the bathroom door shut behind Will. He leaned against the wall of the small bathroom stall, enjoying the coolness on his back in contrast to his heated body. Today — today was a serious problem.

It had been months since Will and Mike were ‘officially’ (at least to themselves) partners, and Mike wouldn’t be able to complain about a single thing — it had been absolute bliss, the only moments resembling negativity being the days and hours in which they were forced to ‘just’ be friends. This relationship had awakened something in Mike: a new personality, a new worldview, like he had never known or expected before their connection.

Mike loved Will. He loved him with every cell of his being — every action, every thought, every word. Everything about Will made Mike fall just a little more every day; anytime he believed he had reached the peak of his adoration for that man, it inched higher. It wasn’t shocking — Will was still Will, but these days something was different about him. A kind of aura buzzed around him, one of quiet confidence and radiant charm. Some would call Mike biased; Mike would call himself aware. It wasn’t just him — the people around them noticed it too. Over the last couple of months, Will had seemingly shed the ‘Loser’ skin, more often than ever chatting and interacting with groups The Party wouldn’t have dreamed of interacting with during the other 90% of their educational experience. And it wasn’t just at school — hell, even Mike’s own parents had made comments about how ‘well’ Will seemed to be doing.

Mike wasn’t envious or holding a grudge — he was right there with them in that opinion — but as Will’s boyfriend, he earned himself an extra level of hardship. With every day passing, Mike felt it grow: the yearning, the need. He wanted to give Will everything he had ever wanted, make him feel every part of bliss one could feel, read every wish from his lips, move heaven and earth to make it happen. But alas, he was restrained — restrained by time and place, by expectations, by the suspicious eyes resting on their backs when they even walked a little too close beside each other.

He groaned audibly and ran a hand over his face, coming to a rest on his lips — lips that had just touched the soft, delicate skin of Will’s neck and mouth. He still felt the burn on them: the adorable shiver when his fingers found Will’s waist, Will’s hands in his curls, tugging like he always did, causing a tickle in his scalp; the hazel eyes staring fearlessly into his own as he ‘convinced’ Mike to come to the party tonight — right, the party.

Mike dropped his arms to his sides and caught sight of his own lower half. With a roll of his eyes, he quickly adjusted and pulled his tucked shirt out to cover up a momentary problem, finally exiting the stall. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in there, but probably too long. He stared at himself in the mirror, fixing his collar and hair — hair that Will had apparently messed up, though Mike had been too entranced to even notice at the time.

“Control. Yourself.” He gave himself an angry glare, as if the man in the mirror were anyone other than himself.

He turned and finally exited the bathroom, still deep in his thoughts. Surely, it would be fine. They would go to the party, get drunk, dance with random people, go back home. Mike would keep himself pinned to Lucas and Dustin whether they liked it or not, ensuring no actions that could raise suspicion would occur.

He turned the corner to get back to the table with their families for graduation lunch, his eyes immediately scanning for Will without even being aware of it, settling on him. Apparently, Will had decided to torture Mike some more by undoing his tie and opening the first couple of buttons of his shirt — that was the first thing Mike noticed. The small space of exposed skin. Will’s relaxed position as he leaned against the backrest of his chair, arms crossed, looking at… the second thing Mike noticed — a man.

Why would a man be here? Mike had seen him in high school. He hadn’t taken kindly to Mike, but he had moved here when Will was still in California, so this was the first time Mike got to see those two interact. Although Will looked so comfortable, Mike wasn’t sure if he hadn’t somehow just missed these interactions before.

“...Sounds good, see you later, then.”

Mike was finally close enough to hear their conversation, which was apparently already at its end. Will’s eyes followed the guy as he turned around, flicking to Mike when he realized he was standing right there.

Mike forced himself to move his gaze from the beauty at the table, resting his eyes on the man now facing him. Mike always lowered himself around Will, making it seem as though they were the same height — he did this all the time, so one might forget how tall Mike actually was. He didn’t forget. He subconsciously straightened his back, now looking down at the stranger.

“...Ah. Wheeler. I thought you’d be around here somewhere.”

“Really, Johnson? That’s funny — I didn’t expect you at all,” Mike replied flatly. “Congrats on graduating.”

“You too.” Johnson cleared his throat, taking a step to the side. “See you later, Will. Wheeler.”

He passed by, and Mike finally had Will all to himself again. Will was wearing a look of pure confusion.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?”

Will shifted away from leaning against the chair and pulled it out instead, taking a seat. Mike followed suit, taking his own chair beside him.

“That weird… mood shift?”

“Oh. That.” Mike slowly took a sip of his drink, which was already slightly warm — how long had he really been in there? “Yeah, Johnson does not like me. I didn’t know you guys were friends?”

Will leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs - his shirt shifted as he moved and Mike was once again fighting a war against his own body to keep his eyes fixed above Will’s chin. “We’re not friends — we just vaguely know each other. We started talking back at the… after the earthquakes, before the military lockdown. You know, when we helped out?”

“Ah, cool,” Mike replied, his voice a little too light. He absentmindedly drew shapes in the condensation of his glass, vaguely remembering the thumping pain in his shoulder he’d endured for two weeks after the fight a couple of years ago.

“Mike?”

Will’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, his eyebrow raised. “Tell me — what did he do?”

Mike opened his mouth. He wanted to tell him — he really did. But then he reconsidered. Will looked happy and relaxed as they spoke, and their ‘rivalry’ barely existent at this point. Yes, Mike hated him, but Will would cut him off if he found out — and Mike wasn’t about to be the reason for that.

He closed his mouth and shook his head slightly instead. “Don’t worry, Will, it’s not that important.” His voice was soft — too soft.

He had tunnel vision, his entire world narrowing down to Will beside him. His hand twitched toward Will's on the table, and for a second, the mask almost slipped. Will caught it, but Mike also caught himself, clearing his throat and crossing his arms instead. He looked at his mom, who was busy chatting with Joyce and Holly, and dug his nails into his own arms until the knuckles turned white.  

He clenched his jaw and stared into nothing, suppressing the hollow ache of the performance and the rising spite for a world that kept him trapped in his own body.

Maybe, if he laid there for long enough, his brain would simply explode before Dustin, Lucas, and Max arrived.

He watched as Will turned in front of the mirror, fixing the back of the loose button-up that had ‘somehow’ come untucked from his jeans. Mike narrowed his eyes, his gaze wandering up and down his boyfriend’s body—the dark jeans, a perfect fit; the light blue, loose button-up over a tight white T-shirt; and the thin necklace glimmering against his throat. At this point, Mike was sure of it: Will was actually, intentionally torturing him. And he was succeeding.

Mike took a deep breath and sighed loudly, a dramatic, long-suffering sound that finally caught Will’s attention. Will was already looking amused before he even turned around, his features settling into an innocent, curious expression.

“What’s up, Spider-Man?” Will asked.

Mike sighed again, somehow even louder. “I think my Mary Jane is actually just the Hobgoblin in disguise—” He allowed himself to slide further toward the floor, his head hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Aw.” Will couldn’t contain a quiet laugh as he walked over and crouched right in front of him. He rested his hands on the ‘top’ of Mike’s head, stopping him from slipping any further. “Why do you think that, Mr. Spidey?”

“Because...” Mike cleared his throat, shuffling up slightly to align their mouths—just in case it would be handy in the next couple of minutes. “...You see, MJ is beautiful, and he knows it, but he made himself even more beautiful, which is torture to me because I’m actually Spider-Man and obviously can’t show my face at the party. My MJ would never torture me, therefore, it must be the Goblin.”

Will nodded with a pitying expression. “But, Spidey, have you considered this—maybe MJ is always like this, and perhaps you’re just a bit excited and a bit in love, so your perception might be… just a tad twisted.”

Mike hummed in vague agreement. “Thanks for your input—unfortunately, two things. One: don’t ever say I’m a ‘bit’ in love; I’m actually a lot in love. And two: it sounded a bit like you were denying MJ’s true beauty just now, and I can’t let that pass around here.”

“Shit, my bad, Mr. Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, it is actually your bad. What kind of shit journalist are you?”

Will broke into a small giggle, and Mike could no longer bite back the smile on his lips as the sound of perfection grazed his ears.

“Hey, MJ.” Mike squinted. “Is my face red at all?”

“Mmh, yeah. You should probably get back up now—looks like your head’s gonna explode soon-ish.” Good.

“No can do.” Mike dramatically closed his eyes. “I can only be freed… by a kiss of true love.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Oh wow, must be tough if your MJ is actually the Green Goblin—you’re gonna be stuck here forever.”

Mike’s eyes flew open. “Did you just admit—”

His realization was cut off when Will connected their lips, granting Mike his very own upside-down kiss. He melted immediately, relaxing into the touch and pressing back against Will as best as he could in this position. Besides the obvious — that this was a lot more thrilling than Mike had expected — there was another advantage to this position: it was Will. 

Will was completely in control — over himself, over Mike, the pace, the pressure. Mike didn’t know why, but that realization sent an exciting, dangerous tickle through his stomach.

He felt Will’s hands slide up to his jaw, one thumb resting gently against Mike’s throat. His eyebrows knit together when he felt the slick glide of Will’s tongue, pulling a quiet sound from him. He wanted more—too much.

Mike grasped the sheets and pulled himself back onto the bed, separating their lips as he sat upright. Blood rushed back down from his head, but it was already too late for him anyway. He glanced at the alarm clock beside his bed. Ten minutes left.

Slowly, he turned his head, his chest rising and falling heavily, and saw Will leaning on the edge of the bed. Will was watching the disaster he’d turned Mike into with a comfortable, knowing look. Will was also just a man; he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, shut up,” Mike grumbled, grateful that his face was red from being upside down — not because of the heat spreading quietly from his ears.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“Your face did.”

Mike dropped onto his back and closed his eyes. Maybe breathing exercises would help?

He heard a soft crack as Will stood up, his knee popping into place, then the bed dipped beside him. Of course, Mike opened his arms and let Will in, resting a hand in his hair as Will curled against him — head on Mike’s chest, leg draped over his.

Against popular opinion (the only opinions being Will’s family), the two of them hadn’t gone much further than kissing. Of course, here and there there had been… things — things that led to other things and happy endings — but they hadn’t ventured into any of the ‘expected’ territory yet. Once, Will had voiced that he wasn’t comfortable taking their clothes off. Mike had accepted it, moved on, and since then had done his best not to accidentally dip too far into the deep end. He figured Will would tell him when he was ready.

And Mike was ready to wait. However long it took. When he signed up to be with Will, he signed up for everything — not just the good parts.

It seemed Will was getting more open to the idea of intimacy lately, but they hadn’t talked about it yet.

Mike gently ran his fingers through Will’s hair, breathing in his cologne, the sweet soap, the warm weight beside him. If it were up to Mike, they could stay like this for the rest of the summer.

“We should talk about the party,” Will spoke up just as Mike was starting to drift off.

Mike sighed softly. “Yeah? What about it?”

“If a girl asks any of us to dance… what do we do?” Will hesitated. “Do you want a cover-up, or…?”

Mike opened his eyes and looked down at him. “What do you want?” he asked, carefully shifting so they were at the same height. Will lifted his head, resting it on Mike’s bicep.

“Me?” Will looked surprised, thinking for a moment. “Well… I don’t want you to deal with rumors or—”

Mike shook his head gently. “No, Will.” He interrupted him softly. “Not what you want for me. What do you want? I don’t care about rumors. So tell me. We’ll do whatever you decide.” He smiled encouragingly, brushing Will’s bangs out of his eyes. They were getting long — Mike was surprised Joyce hadn’t forced him into a haircut for graduation. Maybe Will was growing it out.

“I…” Will started, his voice dying out. “I would like… if we could avoid it. Maybe we should just… say no. To girls.” He hesitated. “If that’s okay with you.”

Mike kept his gaze steady on him, an affectionate — but sad — smile on his lips. Of course it was okay. The idea that Will thought otherwise, that he’d expect Mike to be close to someone else just to avoid discomfort, made his chest ache.

“Sure,” Mike said gently. “Reject anyone who’s anything but friendly. Sounds good.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to Will’s lips.

“Mike! Your friends are here!”

Mike groaned, glaring at the door. “Coming!”

They tumbled off the bed, grabbing their things. Will reached for the doorknob, but Mike stopped him, pressing his palm against the wood.

Just…one more second. Just a little more. 

He wrapped his arms around Will’s waist and pulled him in for a final kiss.

“See you later,” Mike whispered breathlessly against his lips.

Will’s arms came around him in a goodbye hug.

Best friends until the end of the night.

Mike buried his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as he walked alongside Lucas and Dustin. Up ahead, Max and Will were caught in the golden glow of the streetlights, happily chatting about something the boys in the back couldn’t hear. Max was anchored to Will’s arm, her head tilted toward him as they moved with a synchronized ease that made them look, for all the world, like a couple.

Mike knew it wasn’t anything "odd," but a sidelong glance at Lucas confirmed his friend didn’t seem to care either. Mike felt a spike of cold anxiety—did they all know? Were he and Will making fools of themselves by thinking they were being subtle?

Lucas mistook Mike’s lingering stare for a request for the bottle. He passed the ‘coke’ bottle that had already made the rounds several times. Mike wasn’t about to deny the liquid courage; he was going to need it to survive the next five hours of acting.

“Thanks,” he muttered, grabbing the bottle. The alcohol burned a jagged trail down his throat, and he cleared his throat as he handed it over to Dustin, who was currently embroiled in a nonsensical argument with Lucas about the specific geometry of the patterns on Dustin's new shirt. Mike missed the days when they didn’t care about looking cool or impressing anyone.

“Hey, Lucas,” Mike spoke up, trying to sound as casual as he could muster. “How are you so chill about Max being like that with Will?”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. Was he drunk already? “I mean,” he added quickly, scrambling to repair the damage, “obviously Will would never… do anything weird. I’m just wondering because I feel like I got jealous way easier with El. So, like, is there a reason you aren't?”

Dustin and Lucas paused mid-step, then burst into a chorus of laughter that echoed through the quiet neighborhood.

“Did you pre-game without us, Wheeler?” Lucas wrapped a heavy arm around Mike’s shoulders, patting his back with a force that made Mike stumble.

“Fuck off, I’m not drunk—” Mike groaned, dragging a hand through his hair “Just forget it, Lucas.”

“Hey, come on… don’t be in a mood. You asked why I’m not jealous?” Lucas looked ahead. By now, Max’s hand had slid from Will’s arm into his hand, and she was practically dancing beside him while Will took a large sip of their shared bottle, cheering him on to drink more.  “Look at them, man. If you weren’t Will’s best friend, she would be it. They're like twins. Plus, it’s Will. He hasn’t been interested in that shit even for a day of his life.”

Mike chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Remember when I first had Max and you had El?” Lucas continued. “The entire summer, all he wanted to do was play games. He was in Lenora with hot Californian girls and—nothing. If you’re gonna let any guy be friends with your girl, it’s him. He's safe.”

Mike stayed quiet, the word safe ringing in his ears like a dull chime. In hindsight, it was a stupid question with an obvious answer—of course his friends didn’t know. To them, Will was still the timid boy who cared about his games and his friends, not romance. The guy they went through hell for and with - the trust was endless.

“Hey, never say never—maybe we’ll find him a girl tonight,” Dustin chimed in, adjusting his hat. “The night is young. But let’s be real, the only reason Mike is asking is because he’s jealous.”

Mike’s heart plummeted. Did I just fuck this up? He looked at Dustin, waiting for the accusation.

“Huh?”

“Right. Hey, don’t worry about it, Mike.”

He looked over at Lucas. He was frozen, the breath in his lungs turning to lead. His feet felt heavy, dragging and kicking little pebbles ahead of him. “Don’t worry about what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he rambled, shaking his head.

“Will’s not gonna replace you as his best friend just yet. No need to go crazy.” Lucas nodded toward the bottle. “Take another drink, relax, and enjoy the night.”

It was like a weight lifted—a weight Mike had placed there himself. He really needed to shut up. Lucas was right, but Dustin was right too: Mike was jealous.

But he wasn't jealous of a potential relationship between Max and Will. He was jealous of the behavior. 

Max had the freedom to grab Will’s arm, to hold his hand, to laugh in his space, and to dance with him in the middle of a street. She was allowed to do it all because of her gender.

Mike felt trapped in his own skin, trapped in the act of a straight best friend. He was stuck in a costume, and he wouldn’t be able to escape it without pulling his own skin off. He raised the bottle silently, taking several large, burning sips to drown the thoughts of despair.

Lucas skipped ahead and snatched the bottle from Will. “Leave some for me!” Max yelled, lunging for it. Will just stood between them, laughing as they play-fought.

Mike watched them and he couldn’t help but wonder when the better version of their life would finally allow him to be the one holding Will’s hand in the light, if it would ever get easier, if it would ever stop hurting this badly.

Baby Jane, don't leave me hanging on the line
I knew you when you had no one to talk to
Now you're moving in high society
Don't forget I know secrets about you

They heard the music blaring before they saw the house, the lyrics of Baby Jane getting Will and Max all riled up again. Those two were definitely drunk, singing along to the lyrics without a care in the world.

Dustin was getting visibly nervous as they approached the driveway, frantically fixing his shirt and hair. “Okay, guys—can you just be cool until I’m with Stacey? I really don’t want you all to ruin this for me.”

Mike rubbed Dustin's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, man. You look great. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really? You think I’ll get lucky tonight?” Dustin gave him a hopeful, desperate look.

“Definitely.” Mike gave him a confident nod. “Just be yourself—she’s totally into you. Just don’t try to pretend to be something else.” It was ironic advice, Mike realized.

“Thanks, Mike.” Dustin gave him a genuine smile. “I know you’re still… in a situation, probably, emotional-wise, but… I hope you find something special tonight as well.”

Mike smiled awkwardly, the lie tasted like ash. “Probably not, but thanks, Dustin.”

They stopped on the curb outside the house. Will and Max turned around to face them, the group forming a small circle under a flickering streetlight. Mike looked at Will for a second—the way the shadows hit the line of his jaw and the relaxed, open collar of his shirt—and it almost knocked the air out of his lungs. He had to force himself to look away.

“Everyone gets drunk for free, everyone has fun, some of us get laid—if someone wants to go home, we all go. Sound like a plan?” Dustin declared.

“Wow, Dustin. You’ve been getting real good at making plans these days,” Will commented, draining the last of the bottle. “I shall partake in most of it.”

“Thanks, hot stuff—just leave some girls for us,” Dustin joked.

Will rolled his eyes, his movements fluid and a little too loose. “Actually, according to the plan, if you get laid, and Lucas and Max lay each other, I can’t get laid and leave Mike by himself, can I? Thereforeee… for tonight, you can have all the girls.”

Dustin hummed in understanding, nodding along to his very eloquent explanation. “Quick question, Will—just out of interest—did you drink that entire bottle on your own?”

Max giggled into Lucas’ shoulder. “He totally did—”

“—not!” Will groaned at the accusation. “I had like… like…” He looked at the bottle, trying to estimate; his voice trailed off.

Mike was in awe—Will was drunk. Shamelessly, vibrantly drunk. Sober Will would never talk this freely about "things". He was expressive, his arms and shoulders moving with a radiant charm that Mike found both intoxicating and terrifying. 

Luckily, Mike felt a bit of a buzz as well—otherwise he might’ve felt a bit upset about somehow becoming the token virgin around here.

“Okay, change of plans,” Dustin spoke decisively. “Mike and Will stay together. The rest of us get laid.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mike replied, looking amused. “If our cute Byers gets laid like this, he’s going to come out on the other side with a child.” The others laughed, nodding in agreement.

Will rolled his eyes slightly. “You guys are so annoying. Can we just go dance already?”

“Yeah, totally. I am ready—so ready, as ready as ever…” Dustin rambled on and pushed past Will, decisively walking up to the house as if that would make him any less nervous. Max and Lucas exchanged looks and grabbed each other’s hands, following after Dustin.

Mike watched them, then finally looked back at Will. His best friend was just standing there, staring at him. His blinks were rather slow; there was a slight tilt to his body.

Mike tilted his head with a small smile, taking a step closer. The tension between them heightened as he leaned in to speak, even as they were both pretending to be casual. It was almost as if the air between them was vibrating, making Mike dizzy.

“You asked to go, but you’re still here… are you not ready after all?” He playfully raised his eyebrows, lowering and softening his voice.

Will leaned slightly back, his eyes locked with Mike’s—until they weren’t. Shamelessly, his gaze wandered up and down, then back up to Mike’s face. Mike bit back a reaction, even though his breath immediately felt heavier in his chest. Their friends were already at the door, looking back at them. They could see Mike’s face, Will’s back facing them.

“What—”

“Can I tell you something?”

Mike blinked quickly and swallowed as discreetly as he could manage. “What’s up?”

“You were right. This is a terrible plan.”

“I know.”

“Are you angry?”

“Never. Never at you.”

“I…” Will pressed his lips together, swallowing the words down.

“Yeah, me too.” Mike felt impossibly soft as he stood there, leaning into Will, their voices low and quiet, communicating their feelings even without speaking. God, he wanted to kiss him.

With a lingering gaze, Will finally turned around and followed their friends. “What are you doing? Let’s go!”

All I know is that to me
You look like you're havin' fun
Open up your lovin' arms
Watch out, here I come
You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round

“Dustin!” Stacey saw him as soon as they entered, catching his hand. “You’re here so early! That’s so cute—come on, let me show you—” And just like that, they had lost the first man.

The rest of the party made their way to the table of alcohol, using the walk to look around their very first party—it wasn’t a bad first; Stacey was definitely rich.

The house was giant. The lights were off, but party lights were set up to truly set the atmosphere. The furniture had been pushed to the sides as much as possible, leaving plenty of space to walk and dance. Giant speakers were everywhere, blasting disco music. The dining table and kitchen served as a massive bar—half-empty bottles of alcohol, mixers, and empty cups everywhere. Lucas picked up four cups and mixed them into a mystery concoction, handing them out while Mike was still busy taking it all in, carefully avoiding looking directly at Will. He knew he would probably fold like a piece of cardboard if he did.

It wasn’t too full yet; the night was still early—but it was already getting hot. The smell of cheap beer, cigarette smoke, and heavy perfume was overwhelming. Mike could feel sweat collecting at the nape of his neck as the volume of the music vibrated in his chest.

“To a great night!” They smashed their plastic cups together, following it up with a large sip.

Will coughed immediately, covering his mouth. “Lucas—what is that—”

Mike also pulled a face, forcing himself to swallow.

Lucas smiled and shrugged. “I call it ‘the fun potion.’”

Mike gave him a look. “How many parties have you been to exactly?”

“Whatever, nerds.” Lucas emptied his cup, grabbing Max’s hand. “I’m going to dance, and I suggest you do the same.” And just like that, they lost two more.

Will watched them pass, giving Max a happy wave. So much for their terrible plan—it worked for not even five minutes. Mike couldn’t hold back the grin and covered his face with the cup; the situation was just too ridiculous.

“What’s so funny?” Will smiled curiously, stepping closer so they could communicate over the loud music. That was true—an advantage Mike hadn’t considered before. They could speak completely freely in here.

Mike nodded and leaned down to his ear. “I just realized how stupid your plan really was. It’s funny.”

Will laughed, a bright, shameless sound. “I guess I was naive! You didn't have a better one!” He gave Mike a playful nudge. Mike was suddenly feeling very brave, the alcohol and the anonymity of the crowded room emboldening him. He leaned back down, his lips brushing the shell of Will’s ear.

“Babe—”

Will’s eyes widened, but he didn't pull away.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all day,” Mike half-whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and desire. “You look so fucking…” He shook his head. “I think I’m going crazy, and I hate having to pretend I’m not a complete idiot for you”.

Will gave him an amused, dark look, leaning up to Mike’s ear. “I know. Me too.” He licked his bottom lip, and Mike watched the movement, instinctively gulping.

“I want you.”

A shiver ran through Mike’s body, and he had to focus on not crushing the cup in his hands. The people around him seemed to slow down, his vision narrowing until it held only Will—the others weren’t important.

Will smiled, as innocent as ever, and the volume of the music around Mike seemed to increase. He stared at Will, his mouth opening and closing, speechless. Yes, he had thought that route—did he expect it from Will? No. Telling him here? Even bigger no. Mike cursed himself; he’d missed his chance at home again. He should’ve just asked—just like the kiss.

He was so focused on Will that he didn’t notice the destruction of the wild mindspace he’d found himself in until it was too late. An arm wrapped around Will’s shoulders, and it wasn’t his own.

“Will!”

“Oh—hey!” Will dragged his eyes off Mike and up to Johnson. Mike felt the bile in the back of his throat rise immediately.

“I didn’t see you. How long have you been here?” his arm tightened around Will’s shoulders, and Mike could swear he was pulling Will closer to his body.

“Oh, only like twenty?” Will waved a hand dismissively.

“Hey, Wheeler, you don’t mind if we steal him away for a bit, right?”

“You’re asking me? Shouldn’t you ask him if he even wants to come?” Mike spat, too drunk to control his expression.

“I was asking more because I didn’t want you to be lonely, Wheeler.” Johnson smiled, but it wasn’t kind. He was disgusted by Mike—by his existence. They hated each other’s guts, and it was much clearer mixed with alcohol. “Will, should we go?”

Will was drunk, but he definitely sensed the tension. The excitement died, and his focus snapped back to Mike. “I don’t know—maybe I should… stay here for a bit—or maybe Mike could just join us?”

Johnson sighed dramatically. “Wheeler, are you really going to ruin the fun for your friend?”

Mike wanted to spit back an insult, he wanted to tell him that… but the words hit home after all. 

A distant spot inside him stirred—something he’d managed to bury ever since Will and he had found a way to merge their paths, something he’d almost believed he had locked away forever.

They were here, at a party, and Mike was the only one without anyone—without fun, without invitation. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the problem after all. People often told him he was too insistent, too emotional, even cruel and rude. He felt the uncomfortable poison of insecurity flood him as he looked down at Will. Mike swallowed—he wasn’t going to be the reason Will’s night was ruined.

“You’re right,” he surrendered, raising his hands. “I don’t need to join. Have fun.” He gave Will a supportive smile, though Will was clearly and extremely unhappy with the way things were unfolding.

“Mike, come on—join us. Or… I want you there.” Will’s voice was desperate, trying to convey meaning without saying it out loud. He reached out, trying to grab Mike’s hand, but Mike stepped back.

“I’m fine, Will. I’ll see you later.”

He couldn’t hear what Will said afterward. He spun around and walked into the next room, slipping between drunk and sweaty people. Eventually, he found himself in a bathroom—or one of the bathrooms. He locked the door with a click and walked up to the sink, splashing cold water on his face. Mike leaned on his hands against the sink, but he didn’t dare look at himself in the mirror. He already knew he was pathetic.

Johnson—probably unknowingly, a lucky hit—had somehow gotten him right where it hurt. Mike took a shaky breath, slowly sitting down on the floor in front of the door, leaning his head back. He’d been like this a lot before, but especially after El’s death. He’d always been a doubtful person, but the older he got, the more intense it seemed. Concerns and fears hit harder, insecurities amplified—frozen in the moment of coming face to face with them.

But that guy… not only had he gotten Mike into this state, no—he’d also taken his boyfriend along with him. Anger and the sharp tickle of protectiveness bubbled up in his chest. If he had just told Will the truth at lunch, this wouldn’t have happened.

I want you there.

Will had asked him to come—so why had he frozen and run away like a child? The longer he thought about it, the clearer his mind became, the more ridiculous he felt. Should he go? Should he find them? Was it too late?

A loud knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts, blocking the road of overthinking before it got too long. “Come on, I need to pee!”

Mike scrambled to his feet, checked his reflection, and unlocked the door, a girl rushing inside with urgency. The volume of the music surged back to full outside the bathroom, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of the song playing at that exact moment.

He needed to find Will.

Upside down
Boy, you turn me inside out
And 'round and 'round
Upside down
Boy, you turn me inside out
And 'round and 'round

Finally, after seemingly running through the entire house, Mike spotted that light blue button-up. He saw the soft, light brown hair as Will sat out in the garden. He exhaled a long, shaky breath of relief; just the sight of Will helped Mike remember what actually mattered. Why had he let stupid Johnson distract him? I want you here, Will had said, and Mike was finally answering.

Will was sitting in a circle with Johnson’s other friends—the kind of guys Mike couldn't stand—and he could tell Will felt the same. Will's body language was tense and closed off, his arms folded tight against his chest. When Johnson said something "funny," Will only managed a polite, tight-lipped smile. Mike wanted to walk over and kiss him right there.

Somebody tell me, oh
(Won't you tell me?)
Why I work so hard for you?
(Give you money, work to give you money, oh)

The air outside had reached a comfortable temperature—much better than inside. The music was loud enough to create atmosphere, but it didn’t hurt his ears like before. Gathering every brave bone in his body, Mike stepped up to the circle.

“Hey, is the offer still open to join?”

Will’s eyes snapped up when the cup in Mike’s hand came into view, and Mike could swear his face lit up.

“Mike—there you are!” Will immediately shifted, creating a wider space than necessary between himself and stupid Johnson. Apparently, Will had really been looking for some distance. Mike felt a weird sense of pride rise in his chest for ‘saving’ his boyfriend, even though he knew Will was more than strong enough to take care of himself.

Mike sat down beside him, giving Johnson a short, smug grin as he handed Will one of the cups in his hands. Will accepted it without even asking what was inside, a silent show of complete trust. “Do you mind if I join, Johnson?”

“Of course not, Wheeler.”

They exchanged fake smiles, but Mike didn’t give him more attention than necessary. Look at what matters. The one looking straight at him with a worried, searching expression.

“What happened back there?” Will whispered.

“I just…needed a second by myself. I’ll tell you later, okay?” Mike glanced at Johnson and then back at Will, lowering his voice. “Also, I’m sorry I lied today. Johnson totally beat me up. Multiple times. You were still in California.”

Will’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“Yea, it was a whole thing.” Mike admitted, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to avoid Will’s direct gaze.

“Are you playing Truth or Dare with us, Mike?” a girl across the circle interrupted, her eyes bright with mischief. Mike nodded before he could overthink it.

“Truth or Dare? Fun.”

The bottle was spun, a rhythmic, scraping sound on the patio stones, multiple times. Mike and Will were safe…until they weren’t. It landed on Will first, and of course, he chose truth.

The guy who had spun it tapped his cup, taking a sip while he thought.

“Man, you’re…you’re that Byers kid, right? Zombie Boy. I swear, I need to pick the right thing here because I’m—man, I’ve been curious.”

Will shifted beside Mike, taking a sip himself. Right. That thing. Mike glanced at Will, wanting nothing more than to carry him away—but he couldn’t.

“Okay, is it true that you…ran away with like, an, an older…yknow, fucked too hard, so he left you, but they just found you in time to resuscitate you?”

The circle went quiet. Will stared at the guy, his mind visibly trying to process the graphic, ridiculous sentence. Mike felt his jaw tighten, ready to snap, but then Will started to laugh. He actually laughed out loud, a bright, genuine sound that cut through the cruelty.

“What—is that what people think? Are you serious?” Will asked, wiping tears from his eyes. “No. That’s not even remotely close to what happened. Holy shit, I was twelve, dude.”

“Sorry, man! That’s just the rumor,” the guy laughed, looking a bit embarrassed. “Kinda sounds insane now that I said it out loud.”

“You’re good. That can happen.” Will’s voice stayed light, but Mike knew they’d be talking about this at length tomorrow morning at the latest. “Anyway, my turn.” He spun the bottle, and the game continued.

“Are you and Will a couple?”

“Nope.” Mike didn’t hesitate. He’d expected it. His voice was light, practiced. “Not a couple. Still just friends.”

“Okay, but then why are you two like…so weird together?”

“I guess after, like, twelve years we’re pretty comfortable. I’m pretty sure this guy is my first memory.” Mike shrugged, looking over at Will.

“Your first memory? Really?” Will grinned drunkenly into his drink. “Hey, maybe we should be more than friends—that would really fit into my kidnapping-sex plotline.”

“I tell you, you’re the stars in my night sky and you turn me into a plot point? I’m dumping you, Byers.” Mike leaned forward and spun the bottle.

“Will Byers, I dare you—” The guy tapped his chin, thinking. Will had used up all his truths. The guy’s face lit up. “Will Byers, I dare you to seven minutes in heaven with Amanda!”

“Huh?” Will went pale. “You can’t include other people in my dare—”

“I don’t care, I’ll do it!” Amanda jumped up immediately, way too excited. “Don’t be scared, Byers—I’ll take care of you.” She walked up to him, holding out her hands.

Mike’s head spun, his jaw clenching as he watched Will’s hands rise in his peripheral vision, placing them into hers. There it was—jealousy, protectiveness—burning in his chest, screaming at him to get up, grab Will, get him out of this party, out of this game. But something else burned too.

Johnson’s eyes. Mike could feel them against the side of his face.

“Something up?” Mike asked flatly.

The rest of the circle got up, following Amanda and Will as they headed toward their little “heaven.”

Johnson leaned closer, his breath brushing Mike’s cheek.

“I don’t buy your little act, Wheeler,” he hissed, smiling. “I know what you are. No matter how well you hide it—you always give it away. Your eyes.”

Mike took a shaky breath, his blood turning to ice. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Stop projecting your shit onto me. Whatever your problem is, deal with it yourself.”

He stood and turned away, following them instead. Amanda was already clinging to Will’s arm, her hand buried in the back of his hair. Mike bit the inside of his cheek, lifting his cup.

“Looks like you’ve got no choice,” he said, trying to sound amused. It fell flat.

Will finally looked at him. Mike raised an eyebrow, nodding vaguely toward the house.

Want to get out of here?
No, it’s too awkward to stop now.
Suit yourself.
Are you mad?
Never.

The door closed behind them. The click of the lock sent Mike’s heart racing.

The others went off to play. Mike stayed behind, telling them Johnson was too much of a dick to endure - he didn’t care how suspicious it was to do that right after his supposed not-boyfriend disappeared in a closet. He leaned against a pillar, scanning the party. The house was packed now. He couldn’t spot his friends, only hoped they were having fun.

He stared into his empty cup, then up at the night sky. He wondered what it was like in there. Was she touching him everywhere? Kissing him against his will? Did Will push her away—or did she respect his boundaries? He knew Will had his powers, but he also knew how much Will hated being out of control.

Open up your eyes, then you'll realise
Here I stand with my everlasting love
Need you by my side, there's no need to hide
Never be denied, everlasting love

Seven minutes passed. The group gathered around the wardrobe, unlocking it amid drunken laughter. Mike stood at the back, watching silently as they emerged.

Will looked disheveled—his hair, his shirt—and for a moment, worry pinched Mike’s chest.

As Amanda rambled about “getting another virgin,” Will’s eyes searched the crowd. When they finally landed on Mike’s, the relief was visible. Mike almost laughed at himself for thinking anything had happened. Poor Will—he looked like he was silently screaming for help.

“That was fun, guys. Thanks. I’m gonna get a drink…” Will made up an excuse.

They slowly drifted away from the group, disappearing into the packed house, their hands automatically intertwining so they wouldn’t lose each other.

Mike peeked inside the room—it was empty. It looked like a typical 1980s parents' bedroom: heavy oak furniture, floral wallpaper, and the faint, lingering scent of mothballs and expensive hairspray. They quickly slipped inside, the click of the lock sounding like a final boundary between them and the world. The music was muffled now, a rhythmic thumping in the floorboards that felt like a distant, collective heartbeat.

“So?” Mike questioned, curiosity in his voice. His eyes followed Will as he walked up to the mirror, checking his appearance. He bit back a smile; he knew this was serious for Will, but he couldn’t help but see how adorable he looked.

“Ugh, she totally tried to give me a blowjob in there—it took me like three minutes to convince her I actually didn’t want it. I was already considering using—y’know… but then she stopped and started crying something about how she’ll be too embarrassed if she fails and asking if I can lie for her.” Will rolled his eyes, catching Mike’s gaze in the glass, who was still leaning against the doorframe. “Sorry for dragging you into this… I had no idea! I mean—beat up? That’s a lot, even by our standards of getting bullied. Why didn’t you tell me? He was so nice; he didn’t even tell me he knew you!”

“Makes sense; he likes you,” Mike replied calmly, leaning his head against the frame as well.

“There’s no way—”

“Yes way. Think about it—his behavior.” Mike shrugged, smiling uncaringly. “Guess there are more like us out here than we thought.” He finally pushed himself off the wall, strolling over to Will. “But I don’t care about that; I don’t want to think about him.”

He stood up straight so Will had to look up at him, and he cupped his face, brushing some strands of hair out of his eyes. Mike was breathless once again. Will's cheeks were red from the alcohol and the heat, giving him a flush on his already handsome face. 

“I don’t blame him. You’re beautiful,” Mike whispered, blowing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “Did she do anything to you?”

Will looked up at him, leaning his chest against Mike’s, his hands on Mike's shoulders. “She kissed me… on my mouth, my neck…” he admitted quietly. “I’m… I’m sorry, Mike. I took too long to push her…”

Mike shook his head and gently brushed his thumb across Will’s bottom lip, watching as it got slightly pulled down with the pressure. Will stopped talking. “I’m sorry, baby; she shouldn’t have done that.” The air was buzzing in the room, hot and heavy, resting on them like a weighted blanket.

Mike slowly leaned closer until their noses bumped. He could feel Will shaking slightly in excitement, his mouth already open in expectation, their breaths mixing—the smell of alcohol between them. Mike was shaking himself; the amount of restraint it took him was immeasurable. “May I kiss you, Will Byers?”

Will dug his fingers into Mike’s shoulders, almost pulling him down. “Please—” Will panted impatiently. “Please, Mike”

Mike dropped his shoulders again, lowering himself as he finally pressed down, their open mouths connecting like two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces. Their breathing was heavy, their lips full of pressure, intention, and need—a hunger built up and finally bursting. They had years of yearning, yes, but no one could have prepared them for the challenge of having each other within arm's reach without being able to act.

The delicious sounds of their lips burned in Mike’s ears, and he didn’t want to forget that sound anytime soon. It didn’t take long for tongues to slip; simultaneously, the encounter got a lot messier very quickly, but in a good way. Their mixed saliva was like sweet nectar, encouraging Mike to come back for more. He felt Will’s leg against his side and reached down, grasping his thigh and wrapping it around his own waist. His fingers dug into the flesh, wishing those damn jeans weren’t in the way. Their bodies were hot, yearning for each other, for contact, for friction.

Mike felt Will’s hands make contact with his bare waist, pushing up his T-shirt as he explored Mike's body. They stumbled towards the bed and Will sat down while Mike stood between his legs. Almost impatiently, Will pushed the shirt up again. What kind of man would Mike be if he let him wait any longer? He grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his own head; before he even dropped it on the floor, he gasped quietly, feeling Will’s lips and tongue on his stomach, tasting him.

Mike’s breathing was heavy and shaking, but he forced himself to stand still, allowing Will to do his thing—it would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy it. After a moment of exploration, Will reached out to Mike, pulling him down. Mike complied gladly, their teeth clashing as their lips reconnected. Mike leaned over Will on the bed, one of his legs between Will’s. Mike remembered something he still had to do, so he disconnected from Will’s lips, kissing a trail down his neck instead—he had to fix whatever that girl did there.

He felt the pressure against his leg and got curious—curious enough to try. He pushed his leg up slightly higher, pressing against Will. Will’s hand flew into Mike’s hair, gripping him as he gasped and moaned quietly. “M-Mike—” he stuttered, his face contorting in bliss as he dared to ground down against Mike, testing the sensation.

“Yes…?” Mike was breathless, but his voice was still sweet. He kissed and licked along Will's jawline, pressing a soft kiss on his earlobe. “Are you okay?” he murmured, delicately licking the shell of his ear. The noises Will made right beside him sent shiver after shiver down his spine.

“M-mhm—” Will whimpered, tightening his grip on Mike as he ground down harder.

Mike finally pulled up his other leg, using his knee to hook under Will’s and push it up into a spread. He sat up slightly, just enough so he wouldn’t need his arms to hold himself up anymore, and his hands found Will’s waist. His long fingers smoothly untucked everything from Will's jeans, wandering underneath. He felt a soft stomach shake against his thumbs as he ran them up Will's side until he felt his ribs and, further up, his thumbs brushing over his nipples.

He was, quite literally, exploring on the purest human level. His movements weren’t perfect, his lanky legs were slightly awkward, and his kisses were sloppy and hungry, but his hands were going everywhere. He was running purely on love and the need to please Will, following his noises and physical reactions.

Mike loved it—he loved everything—but he knew it could be better for Will. His hands wandered down to Will's hips, stopping his movement. “Hey, baby.” He fully sat up now, Will’s legs wrapped around him as he centered himself, needily trying to pull Mike closer. “I—” the air caught in his throat for a second. The view of Will like this—the clothes bunched up, the stomach rising and falling heavily, the open mouth, the flushed face, the messy hair—was overwhelming. Mike needed a second to take a deep breath and ground himself. “Fuck, princess, you look—” he stuttered, shaking his head.

Back to the point, Mike. “Do you like this, sweetheart?” he whispered, using his hand to create the pressure Will was shifting for. Will's face got even redder, but Mike loved it—he loved feeling the heat, the pulsing, the need.

Will nodded shyly, visibly controlling himself from pushing down against him. Mike pressed again, watching those bottom lips get caught in Will’s teeth with a quiet whimper.

“Is it okay for you if I take these off? You’d feel even better…” Mike moved his hand to the belt of Will’s jeans, watching him gulp. And then, slowly, Will nodded.

“Okay,” Mike whispered, carefully starting to undo the belt. His eyes were focused on the belt but also on Will’s stomach right above it. It was soft and pale, with a heavy but consistent rise and fall. Once the belt was undone, he reached for the button, but something told Mike to stop—to not go any further. He glanced back up; Will's breathing was now irregular, quick, and shaky. He looked further up to Will’s face. Will wasn’t looking down anymore; he was staring at the ceiling, his eyes teary—but not in a good way.

He completely removed his hands and legs from Will’s lower half, dropping to his side and shuffling up so his face was hovering above Will’s. He didn’t grab his face, even though he wanted to so badly. “Hey, hey, Will… come on, look at me. It’s okay…”

Will hesitantly detached his gaze from the ceiling and looked at Mike instead, a few tears escaping and curling down the side of his face. “W-why’d you stop?” he whispered weakly.

Mike shook his head. “Baby… I wouldn’t do anything when you’re this… this uncomfortable. I could never; I love you.” His chest tightened in despair, his eyebrows knitting together. Mike would never force this. “Did you not like it? It’s okay, you can tell me—I won’t be angry.”

“No, it’s not that. You’re… you’re amazing, Mike. You’re perfect.” Will shook his head as he stuttered out the words, more tears spilling. “It’s me. I’m broken. I just—when you—when I think about what I have to… what I have to do for you… I can’t. All I can remember is him.” Will sobbed, and it sounded angry. “What he… what he forced into my—my mouth… my throat… my stomach… my—everything… what he did—”

Mike felt his own emotions well up as he watched Will suffer in a pain Mike couldn’t fix. He clenched his jaw; he didn’t want to cry, he wanted to make Will feel safe. 

“I’m sorry, I… Will, I…” He softly dared to cup Will’s face, leaning his forehead against his. “What you’ve gone through, I can never fully comprehend… but I...Will, you’re not broken, okay? You’re not.”

“That’s—that’s bullshit—” Will pushed himself out of Mike’s arms, getting out of the bed. “And you know it!” He pointed at Mike, who was taken aback by the sudden anger.

Mike sat up, but he didn’t stand, not wanting to intrude on Will's space. “Will—”

“Out there, they are throwing all this sex shit around like it’s… like it’s nothing! Because it is—it is nothing to them! We are animals, we are humans; this is what we do!” He pointed to the window, and Mike vaguely heard the noise of the party again. “Fuck, she was going to give it to me in the fucking wardrobe, Mike! But you know who can’t? You know who? Me.” Will laughed, a pitiful noise of agony. He paced around the room, running his sleeve over his face.

“Stop…” Mike lowered his head and his voice. He didn’t want to hear this.

“And the worst thing is…” Will gasped for air through the tears, stopping right in front of Mike. “I want it. I want it so bad. I want you—I love you, every part of me wants you—but you… you’re so good to me, and you deserve better than this. You deserve someone who can love you like I should, like humans should be able to—”

Mike didn’t know when he’d started crying, but he was. Seeing Will like this, speaking about himself as if he were worthless, was too much. “Y-you—” he stuttered, collecting his words. He was used to saying whatever was on his mind, but he wanted to be careful for Will. He took a deep breath.

“All this shit about being normal, about being like these idiots downstairs… Will, name me one fucking thing about the past five years of your life that was normal. Name me one—” Mike finally stood up, stepping closer to Will, but keeping his body low and unthreatening. “—You can't. Because it wasn’t. You went through terrible, fucking things. I was there the whole time, and I can’t understand even half of it. How can you be so hard on yourself?” He gasped. “You are the kindest, most compassionate, loving person I’ve ever met. Being loved by you, Will… you gave me the push to keep going, even through everything. It should’ve been me who gave you the push, you who needed it more—but you went through everything, came out better than the rest, and gave everyone else the push they needed. You gave it to everyone, Will, everyone except…” he paused, aggressively wiping the tears from his cheeks. “…except yourself.”

“‘I deserve better than this’? Fuck you, Will.” Mike spat the words. “Fuck you for talking about yourself like that. You are worth more than what happened in here. You are worth every date, every thought, every moment, every dream, every hug… the idiots downstairs are clueless, Will. Their lives are a joke, a 12-year-old going through hell and back is a joke, sex is a joke, and everything is a joke to them. I know it’s so hard for you, and I am sorry, because you know that life is not a joke. You learned that five years ago, on November 6th. I wish I could help you; I would do anything to make you feel better.” His voice was breaking, getting weaker, as he realized Will was just staring at him, silently crying. “Will…” he whispered, stepping closer. “It’s you. It was, and will always be you for me. I would die for you. I would leave everything behind and run way tonight if you just asked. I would never think about sex again if you didn't want to. I don’t care; I love you for you. For Will. Not your body.”

Mike took a shaky breath. He was holding Will’s hands now, giving them a squeeze to show how much he meant it. He lowered his head, not knowing what else to say to make it clear that he loved every part of him. Slowly, he dropped to his knees in front of Will.

It was silent for a while, the noise of the party forgotten again, only the sound of their quiet cries audible. Will sniffled, hiccuping weakly. “What… what are you doing, Mike?”

“I mean it,” Mike whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “If you never want to have sex—fine. If you’re scared of doing anything to me—fine. You never have to do anything for me. But you said it yourself: you want me.” He leaned his head against Will’s thigh. “You’re in charge, Will. Tell me what to do—I will do it. Tell me to stop, and I will stop. Anything you say, I will do.” He held onto Will’s leg, the fabric clutching in his fingers.

“Mike… stop… you can’t be serious—” Will’s voice was weak, his hand buried in Mike’s hair, gently petting him.

“I can, and I am,” Mike replied. His voice was sure and determined. He leaned his head back, staring up at Will, open, vulnerable, submissive. Will had stopped crying; he looked shocked by the expression Mike was giving him. Something shifted in his gaze, something that Mike couldn’t quite place yet.

Will gently rubbed his sleeves on Mike’s face, cleaning up the tears. “You’re crazy, Mike Wheeler…” he breathed out, laughing quietly in disbelief.

Mike smiled weakly; he felt endless relief at the tension lowering again. “I love you. All of you. Even the parts you think are broken.”

Will cursed under his breath, both arms wrapped around Mike’s head. Mike leaned his cheek against Will’s lower stomach. “Come back up here. Just kiss me—please.”

Mike didn’t have to be told twice. He pushed himself back to his feet, leaning in. Their lips connected in a sweet, healing kiss. Will found Mike's wrists and wrapped Mike's arms around his own lower torso. Mike tightened his hold, pulling him closer. He didn’t intensify the kiss; he kept the same pace until Will asked for more. Will leaned his head away. “My neck.”

The request was hardly more than a breath, but it was all Mike needed. He started placing soft kisses on the delicate skin of Will’s neck, occasionally giving a soft lick or nip.

“Stop,” Will whispered weakly. Mike closed his mouth and loosened his arms, raising his head to look at Will. He stayed still, not questioning it, just stopping. Pure obedience.

Their eyes locked, and he could tell Will was thinking—mentally exploring.

Will opened his mouth, then closed it again. He silently grabbed Mike by his collar and gently dragged him to the edge of the bed, taking a seat in front of him. There was a glint of excitement and challenge in his eyes, albeit still some hesitation.

“…Kneel.”

When he spoke, his voice was low. Mike’s eyes widened, and he was taken aback for a moment, a hot sensation forming in the pit of his stomach. It reminded him of what he felt in his bedroom just before the party—the realization that Will was in charge.

His breath quickened and he gulped, obediently lowering himself back to his knees. Will buried his hand at the back of Mike's head, tightening his fingers around his curls.

“I want to know what it is… what they talk about…” Will gulped, too sober at this point to say the word. “I want to know how it feels and… how it feels for you to be there. Do you want to… do it for me?”

“I… I’ve never done that…” Mike licked his lips, his chest rising and falling heavily. “I can’t promise that I’ll be good at it, but I would really like to do it for you. If you want me to.”

Will’s breath hitched. “Okay… if you’re sure, then…”

“Are you?”

A beat. “I am.” Unwavering.

Mike licked his lips, glancing at what was right in front of him. “Do you want me to just do what I think is best?” he suggested carefully. “I won’t do anything but this, I promise. And I don’t expect anything in return.”

Will softened for a moment, petting Mike's hair. “I trust you, Mike. It’s me who’s…” He stopped, biting his bottom lip. “Just do what you think is best.”

“Okay,” Mike replied softly. He pushed Will's shirt up ever so slightly and pressed his face against it, placing featherlight kisses on his stomach as his hands slowly undid the denim  below his chin.

Mike was nervous, but he wanted this to be good for Will. His hands shook slightly as he opened the jeans, glancing up every few seconds to check if Will was still okay. He pulled them down until they hit the floor. His fingertips ghosted around Will’s shaking thighs. He loved Will's legs; the skin was so soft. Mike slightly dug his hands into the flesh, feeling Will shift his leg to rest on Mike's shoulder.

He opened his mouth, kissing along the exposed skin of Will's inner thighs, enjoying the noises from above. He didn’t move further for a while, kissing around his briefs and loving every spot he could reach. Eventually, his hand slipped in through the leg opening—but he didn’t get to work straight away. He just felt and caressed, giving Will time to adjust to the feeling of being touched.

Mike glanced up when Will started shifting. “Everything okay?”

Will just hummed, and Mike almost giggled at the impatience in his voice. 

Even when Will was finally fully exposed, Mike made sure to tell him he was beautiful. At first, Mike stayed with the simple things—things he knew would work. It gave Will time to get used to the idea and gave Mike a bit of a buffer. Of course, he had heard stories in the locker room, but he had no idea how real they were. Plus, they were always from the receiving end, not the giving end. He just prayed he wouldn’t disappoint.

Finally, he licked his lips one last time and gave himself the push to open his mouth. Will flinched slightly, then sighed, his legs cramping and relaxing at the new sensation. His hand buried in Mike’s hair, tugging. Mike was too focused to look up, but he could feel Will’s eyes on him.

It was odd at first—not something he was used to, but not uncomfortable. It was definitely a trial-and-error situation. Mike tried to do what he thought he would like, and Will corrected him a couple of times. Communication was actually the key, just like always. Maybe this time Mike would learn.

He quickly got the hang of it and it became a lot more enjoyable, he was able to focus less on technique, and more on chasing the noises and the movement from the beauty in front of him.

At some point, it was mostly Will moving, not Mike—and Mike didn’t mind. He enjoyed the feeling of Will, the fact that he could tell Will was feeling good and enjoying himself unapologetically. Will’s breathing was faster now, his moans mixed with whimpers as one hand gripped the blanket and the other gripped the hair on the back of Mike's head. He held Mike's head in place while pushing up against him. Mike felt Will’s thighs tighten around his head, and he glanced up, face-to-face with Will’s… pure white eyes?

“M-Mike—f-uck…” Will gasped for air, his movements becoming more desperate.

The air in the room began to vibrate. The party lights from downstairs seemed to flicker in sync with Will’s breathing. Mike didn't look away; he focused entirely on Will, his hands squeezing Will's thighs in encouragement.

Suddenly, the lightbulb above them flared with an intense, blinding brightness before bursting with a sharp pop. In the sudden darkness, the only thing Mike could see was the glow of Will’s eyes as the legs around his head relaxed.

Mike leaned down over the porcelain sink, gathering handfuls of cool water to wash out his mouth. He was still breathing heavily, his lips a dark, swollen red, and his face was still tracked with salt; not just from the breakdown before. He spat into the drain and turned off the tap, the silence of the bathroom feeling heavy and safe. He raised his head, seeing Will’s reflection in the mirror. Will was back to being fully dressed, but he looked different—lighter.

A smug grin found his way to his lips. “Mr. Byers, you look worn out - what happened?”

“Shut up” Will rolled his eyes, but he smiled; radiant and more comfortable than ever, leaning against the doorframe. “That was…”

“Hey, come on…” Mike turned to face him, stepping into the space beside him. “Am I already getting a performance review? I only had one chance…” he murmured teasingly, leaning in to steal a lingering kiss.

“It felt…great it felt…crazy…good” Will whispered. He shifted to stand directly in front of Mike, his back pressed against the cool wall while he rested his chest against Mike’s.

Will glanced down at Mike's waist. “Are you sure you’re okay? That’s gotta be uncomfortable.” 

“It is,” Mike admitted, quickly pulling his shirt over the problem. “I can deal with that later” He raised his hand, gently caressing Will’s cheek, his thumb tracing along the jawline. “Ask me whatever you want,” he encouraged, sensing the leftover hesitation.

Will hesitated for a little longer, hands fiddling with Mike’s collar. “How did it feel to be…could you breathe the entire time?”

“Most of the time, yes. Only at a certain angle it was hard but…because you keep moving it’s not really noticeable.” Mike answered honestly.

“How did it feel? Emotionally.”

Mike thought about it for a little while, wanting to give an as accurate answer as possible. “I was…happy. I liked it because I knew that…and I could tell that you were feeling good. It was new, and an odd feeling at first - I never really thought I would ever…do that kind of thing. But I did, and I liked it, and I’m happy you liked it, and I’m happy to do it again…”

“...you managed to spit out everything?” 

“I think so”

“How did I taste- actually no, don’t answer that.”

Mike snorted, a genuine laugh bubbling up. “Okay, I won’t.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Will's head, resting his chin there as he wrapped his arms around him, gently swaying to the music coming from downstairs.

Set me free, why don't you, babe?
Get out my life, why don't you, babe? (Ooh-woo, ooh)
'Cause you don't really need me
But you keep me hangin' on

“So…” Mike started casually. “Now that that’s…done. Can we maybe talk ab-”

“Nope”

“I feel like we should”

“Ah, no, that’s fine don’t worry about it”

“You burst the lightbulb-”

“I guess we are”

“-and shut down the music downstairs while-”

“Mike!” Will yelled out, his face hot and red. He slapped Mike’s shoulder, who just laughed. 

“Hey, I take it as a compliment!”

“We are going back to the party now”

“Hey…” Mike softened, catching Will’s hand as he tried to escape. He pulled him back into his chest. “...Okay, fine. I’m sorry.” He peppered apologetic kisses across Will's cheeks. “Forgive me?”

Will grumbled something under his breath, but Mike could tell he wasn’t angry anymore. He sweetly wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him in, their lips meeting into a gentle, sweet kiss. At least Mike kept it sweet, Will wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him lower, deepening the kiss.

Mike couldn’t help but break into a smile against Will’s lips, giving his back a little rub. “Hey, Will-” he was interrupted by some more insistent presses against his lips. “-party, the party.”

Will was eager, hungry for more, open - and Mike was happy, even if it was just the first strike of many, it felt like another step closer to finally killing the version of Vecna that still lived in Will’s head.

Can't we give ourselves one more chance?
Why can't we give love that one more chance?
Why can't we give love, give love—

Mike downed the cup until the very last drop, the plastic falling somewhere out of sight. He lifted his head, his eyes immediately finding Will.

Will looked free—at ease, drunk and happy. He screamed the lyrics along with all the other graduates packed into the room, and Mike couldn’t help but join in; he was finally drunk enough not to care. When Will noticed him, he lit up even more, if that was even possible, and grabbed Mike by the hand, dragging him straight into the surging crowd to dance.

The house was filled to the brim now. Mike didn’t know what time it was—he only knew that Will was pressed against his chest, subtle but intentional, and that they were screaming the words until their throats burned, like nothing else in the world mattered.

A hand landed on Will’s shoulder. They turned to see Max and Lucas, both in a state not unlike their own. Without a word, they wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders, forming a tight circle—closer than ever, happier than ever.

The music blasted in their ears. Their ears hurt, their throats hurt, their heads spun, their legs ached, and their clothes clung to their bodies with sweat.

The world didn’t end after all.

The lighter flared, a sharp clink-hiss that briefly illuminated Will’s face before the cigarette tip caught, burning orange with a soft, rhythmic rustle. Beyond the flickering glow and the stars, there was no light—only the thin, blueish smoke drifting upward into the humid Indiana night air.

Will leaned back into the grass, his shoulders finally relaxed. The familiar scent of tobacco—comforting and sharp, like the smell of his mom's clothes after a long shift—filled his lungs. Nearby, their friends sat in a loose, exhausted circle, their voices hushed as the party wound down.

“But I don’t even know if she’ll remember all that…” Dustin’s voice was small, drifting through the dark.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, man,” Lucas said, patting Dustin’s back. “Sounds like you had fun. That's what matters.”

Mike watched the glowing ember beside him. He reached out, plucking the cigarette gently from Will’s lips to take a drag himself. He was drifting into the soft, velvet part of being drunk, smiling quietly to himself.

“What about you two?” Max’s voice cut through the cricket-song. “You totally disappeared after we went dancing—what happened?”

The attention of the group shifted to Mike, and to Will, who was still stretched out comfortably in the grass.

“We had fun,” Mike said, his voice a little too light. He nudged Will’s leg with his own. Will accepted the cigarette back without complaint.

“Totally,” Will added casually. “Some girl tried to give me a blowjob.”

“Huh??” Dustin’s voice jumped an octave. “Was it—I mean, was it good?”

Will snorted, a sharp, cynical sound. “Sure, Dustin. It was great.”

Silence followed. An unspoken truth settled between them, heavy and awkward, everyone too uncomfortable to poke at it directly.

“…I don’t think you wanted it, right?” Max asked softly. Careful. Gentle.

Will finally moved, pushing himself upright. He took one last, long drag, the orange light reflecting in his eyes. He stared at his lifelong friends—the people who had seen him die and come back to life, maybe a few too many times.

The quiet stretched. Mike shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe we should just—”

“I’m not into women.”

Will’s voice was steady. Calm. Almost eerily so—nothing like the shaky confession Mike had once overheard him make to his family.

“…”

“More simply,” Will continued, staring at his lifelong friends, though his eyes seemed to look past them, “I love men.” He swallowed. “Do you hate me now?”

His voice wavered at the end—weak, but defiant all the same.

“Are you stupid?” Max snapped immediately. She lunged forward, throwing her arms around him and pressing a loud, messy kiss to his cheek.. “Hate you? For what?”

“Yeah, that’s—”
“No, yeah, hating you would be ridiculous—”

Lucas and Dustin stumbled over each other, glancing between Will and Mike.

“We already knew.”

“Uh—okay, well, I wouldn’t say—”

“No,” Lucas interrupted. “I would. We totally knew. And we love you.”

“Thanks for falling into my back, Lucas,” Dustin muttered dryly. “Great friend you are.”

Will laughed quietly, a wet, breathless sound as he rubbed his tired eyes. “Wow. That was… way more anticlimactic than I expected.”

“That’s on you,” Max rolled her eyes, though her grip on him didn't loosen. “You can’t expect emotional theatrics from these nerds.”

Mike stayed silent, staring down at his hands. He was proud of Will—awed by his bravery—but his own throat felt tight, clogged with words he couldn’t quite say yet. All he could manage was a small smile; he felt weirdly pathetic.

Will lay back down in the grass. This time, Max followed, and Will draped an arm around her, letting her use him as a pillow.

“We’re proud of you,” she whispered into the cooling air.

“Thanks,” Will replied, his voice drifting. “I love you guys. All of you.”

Above them, the blackness of the night began to dissolve. Soft purples and oranges started bleeding into the early morning sky, illuminating the path out of Hawkins.

“I can’t believe we’re actually graduates,” Mike said, giving his head a slow shake. It felt surreal, like he was watching himself from too far away. “Even Max made it through—”

“What the fuck does that mean, Wheeler?”

Mike blinked at her, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I’m not saying you’re stupid—okay I am, a little—but we both know you missed, like, years!” He grinned, already sloppy with laughter.

“I’m just smarter than all of you,” Max shot back, “and I worked my ass off to catch up. Put some respect on my name.”

“Now that we’re done,” Dustin said, his voice taking on a rare, sober gravity, “let’s just say it. Where are we going? Get it out while we’re still drunk.” He looked around expectantly. “No reactions. Everyone just says it. Rip the Band-Aid off.”

Lucas and Max exchanged a glance, a silent communication.

“We’re staying in Hawkins,” Lucas said. “Together. At least for now.”

“Cambridge, Massachusetts,” Dustin announced proudly, pumping his fist into the cool air. “That’s right—Harvard, baby.”

Will laughed, a bright sound that made Mike’s chest ache. “Congrats, Dustin. But what happened to no reaction?”

“Shut up, Byers,” Dustin said. “Where are you headed?”

Will softened, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the sun was beginning to bleed into the early morning air. “New York.”

Mike stayed quiet, listening, watching. He loved his friends—he really did. Still, he felt the burn in his chest, the dull ache of something ending. The finish line was here, and another race was waiting to begin.

So why did he still feel so hidden?

His gaze caught on Will as he spoke—the way tonight had settled into him, the way he looked freer than ever, happier, more himself.

Mike wanted that.
He wanted to be like Will.
He wanted to be with Will.

Will had come out for himself—Mike knew that—but there was something else in it, too. A quiet invitation. Proof that it was possible to choose honesty, to choose happiness, with the people you trusted most.

Mike clenched his jaw, breath hitching as silent tears welled in his eyes, making everything blur.

“Hey, Mike—” Dustin’s voice pulled him back, and he realized everyone was looking at him now. Concerned. Will’s concern was different; the others probably just thought he’d been rejected from every college he applied to. “You okay?”

Mike blinked hard and took a breath. “Yeah—sorry—I was just…” The words clogged in his throat again, worry crawling up his spine.

Will’s hand brushed against his—accidentally. Intentionally.

Look at what matters. I want you here.

Mike focused on him, right beside him, and suddenly the air in his lungs didn't feel like lead anymore. He realized it then—he was sick of telling a story, sick of the performance he’d been working so hard to stage for years. He wanted to tell the truth, even if the world ended right here on this curb. Just this once, he wanted to be the man Will loved, not the character Hawkins expected.

“I’m…” He looked down, then slowly, carefully, slipped his fingers into Will’s, intertwining them. “I’m staying with Will. We’re going together.”

For a moment, the silence was painful.

“I knew it—I told you guys—”

“No, this is—how did you know? Will told you, didn’t he? There’s no way I’m paying you—”

Their bickering faded into the background. It was just them; Mike and Will, standing in the street, hand in hand, surrounded by their friends.

The world didn’t end. It was only just beginning.