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Truth or Dare is fucking stupid.
Inhibitions are lowered by the flimsy confines of a social contract so easily breakable that no one even bothers to attempt deceitfulness. In fact, they welcome it. Secrets, normally so hard to keep even with the most ironclad willpower, long to break free. Behavioral limitations similarly grow exhausted and welcome the reprieve offered by a free pass.
In other words, it's the underage/legal equivalent of inebriation.
Mike explains all this (and more!) to an increasingly annoyed Max, who cuts him off mid-diatribe to shout, “Who wants to play… Truth or Dare!”
“Fuck yeah! Let’s do it!” Lucas crows.
El grins, “Sounds fun! I want to play!”
“Are you fucking kidding me,” Mike deadpans. “I know where Mom hides the key to the liquor cabinet. Can we just do that instead?”
“Whoa! Yeah, I vote for Mike’s plan,” Dustin says.
Mike opens his mouth, ready to recruit El and Lucas to the cause, when he feels the soft nudge of an elbow pressing into his side.
Mike locks eyes with Will, who doesn’t even have to say a word. His wide eyes reflect the crackle! crack! of the roaring firepit in the Wheelers’ backyard, wordless panic etched into his scrunched brows and pursed lips.
One look, and Mike knows he’s lost.
“Okay, fine… Truth or Dare, it is,” Mike says. And despite his misgivings, the atmosphere shifts into one of breathless anticipation.
El scoots her camp chair in closer to the fire. Lucas snuggles his blanket tighter around his shoulders. Dustin leaps up from his seat to grab a last-minute can of Coke from the mini fridge in the basement, and Max rips open a fresh bag of Funyuns and starts chomping.
“Is this okay with you?” Mike murmurs to Will.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Will whispers back, looking so grateful that Mike feels guilty for even suggesting the drinking. He’d been an idiot, speaking before thinking like that. Of course, Will doesn’t want to play drinking games. Of course, the idea of getting drunk reminds him of his asshole dad.
Mike plucks at the candy necklace around his neck, swiveling it around until he finds a blue bead to nibble on. El swears they each have a distinctive flavor, but he’s not sure he buys it. If he screws up his eyes when he chews, he can almost taste the ghost of... blueberry. Blueblackraspberry? Bluegreenredyellowgrapelimeberry?? Yeah. That.
“Okay, Max, it was your idea, so you start,” Dustin says. “Truth, or Dare?”
Let the games begin.
“Truth.”
“What is the biggest secret you’ve ever kept from Lucas?” Dustin asks.
The group all turns to Max, rapt with attention.
She smirks, and Mike can tell she’s got something good.
“I cannot stand the way he chews his food,” she says, right as Lucas crunches down on the particularly crispy Funyun he stole from her bag.
“Hey!” he shouts at her around his obscene mouthful. “What the hell, Max?”
Max shrugs. “I literally wanna punch you in the face. Like all the time.”
“Is that why you always turn down my invitations to come over for dinner?” he asks.
Max laughs. “I only agreed to answer one question, dumbass. Your turn. Truth, or Dare?”
Lucas is still sulky, but Mike can tell he’s being a bit performative about it. Audience participation is at maximum teasing right now, and even he has to admit that it makes this stupid game a little fun.
“Dare,” Lucas says, staring daggers at Max, daring her to do her worst after destroying his ego.
A flash of triumph smolders in Max’s eyes. “I dare you to take Dustin’s can of Coke and chug it without stopping until it’s gone.”
“—And bring me a new one!” Dustin interjects, even as he offers up his current can.
“—And bring him a new one,” Max adds with a self-satisfied nod.
Lucas shakes his head at her as he takes the can from Dustin.
“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” they chorus as Lucas downs the soda in painful gulps.
He grimaces and clutches his stomach when he’s done, the can clattering to the concrete amid the cheers.
Mike sneaks a glance at Will. He’s grinning and pink-cheeked, looking like he’s having the time of his life. And maybe Mike hasn’t been fair about Truth or Dare. Maybe it’s not so bad—
Lucas lets off an impressive belch that has the girls groaning and the guys applauding. He turns to Mike and says. “Okay, your turn, Mike. Truth, or Dare.”
Mike deliberates. If he picks Dare, Lucas will make him run laps around the house. He’d threatened as much earlier, and besides, they all know how much Mike HATES running. It would be the pinnacle of shitty comeuppance for being such a curmudgeon about even playing this stupid game.
“Truth,” Mike says.
“Do you currently have a crush on anyone?”
It takes every bit of willpower not to panic. Not to turn his head to the person sitting right next to him and give himself away.
Mike rolls his eyes. “What the fuck, Lucas? You have an entire universe of shiny, unexplored questions, and you pick that tired old rag out of the dumpster? What is this, Middle School?”
“Just answer the question, Mike!” El says, laughing.
“Yeah, answer the question,” Lucas says. “And don’t lie,” he tacks on, pointlessly.
Of course, Mike isn’t going to lie. He’s just going to be an absolute shit about it.
“Yes.”
“Yes? Okay, so, who?”
“That wasn’t the question! You asked if I have a crush on someone right now, and the answer is, yes.”
Dustin balls up his used M&M wrapper and tosses it at Mike’s face. “Boooooo! You cheater!”
Mike holds up both palms. “It’s not my fault that Lucas can’t word a question to save his life!”
After being thoroughly abused by his peers (minus Will, because Will is a saint), Mike tags El. “Okay, El, Truth, or Dare.”
“Dare,” she says, without even having to think about it.
Mike is notoriously uncreative about Dares. “Um… I dare you to… howl at the moon?”
Will peels over with laughter. “Oh my God, Mike!”
“You are so dumb,” Max mutters at him.
El cracks her neck and shakes her hands out, as if gearing up to do some incredible athletic feat. She bows her neck back and howls at the moon.
“That was it?” she says to Mike when she’s done. “Easiest Dare ever. Will! Your turn!”
Everyone turns to look at Will, who scrunches his face up in thought. God, he looks so cute. (Stop thinking stupid things. He’s not into you anymore, remember? You were way too late by the time he came out to everyone at the Squawk…)
Will’s looking at El. El’s looking at Will. They’re exchanging microexpressions that flicker back and forth faster than Mike can process them. The tweak of a brow, the widening of eyes. A small smile quirking El’s lips, a pleading shake of Will’s head.
I’m gonna do it, she nods.
I beg of you, he clasps his hands.
“Dare,” Will finally says, and if possible, he looks even more terrified.
The group waits with bated breath. If Mike is lackluster at playing this game, El is the ultimate chess master.
“I dare you…” she says, drawing the moment out, eyes glittering. Will practically cowers in terror. “To eat that candy necklace off of Mike’s neck while he’s still wearing it.”
The group erupts around them in teasing, taunting refrains, whooping, cheering, and gleeful grins. Mike doesn’t hear them. He doesn’t—he can’t—Oh, God.
I hate you, Will mouths at El before swiveling to face Mike.
“Uh… okay, I guess I’m doing this,” Will says, his shaky voice undermining the grim determination on his face.
“—No hands allowed!” El adds when she reads the intent in Will’s outstretched fingers. Will drops them, defeated.
Mike holds stiller than carved marble as Will crosses the space between their armrests. He doesn’t look Will in the eye—doesn’t look at anyone in particular. He finds a smear of dirt on the siding of his house and latches onto it, forcing himself to breathe through the insane battle of longing and mortification racing through his blood.
In the dark, they can’t see the way his face blazes with a heat that has nothing to do with fire. Mike’s face is the fire, burning like a beacon when Will tucks his cheek against Mike’s shoulder, his nose brushing the skin of Mike’s neck when he carefully plucks the first candy bead between his teeth and crunches down.
The wetted elastic twangs against Mike’s neck with a soft thwap! that sends goosebumps skittering in all directions.
Mike listens to and feels the crunch of the candy reverberating through his collarbone.
The others cheer Will on. Mike chances a glance in El’s direction, and sees that she’s smiling at him, would-be innocent with a coquettish tilt of her chin.
He should never have confided in her about his crush.
Mike looks away again just as quickly and just in time for Will to strain closer for a second bead.
Okay, so maybe this isn’t so bad. The first one was rough, but he can do this for— (commencing mental calculation) forty-some-odd more candy beads, right? No one has to know how it feels when Will’s lips brush his skin, like an electric zap, the delicious sensation making Mike clench his thighs together and curl his toes in a way that is entirely inappropriate for present company.
Will makes it through three more beads before pulling back and rubbing his neck.
“No, you have to keep going!” El laughs.
“It’s hard to reach him—my neck—” Will rubs at it, grimacing.
It might be a trick of the firelight, but Will's cheeks are now glowing a bright, incandescent red.
“Sit in his lap!” Max suggests, to which Lucas and Dustin (fuck them, honestly) start chanting “Lap! Lap! Lap!”
Mike is so glad his parents are gone for the weekend.
“It would make this easier,” Will murmurs, gaze flicking up to meet Mike’s, and—
Like earlier with the alcohol, Mike finds himself powerless to refuse Will anything.
Mike nods and holds out his arms.
Will settles in, knees nestling in on either side of Mike’s thighs, hands planted on shoulders. He’s lighter than Mike expected he’d be, but give it a few minutes, and his legs will probably start to feel numb. Mike isn’t sure where to rest his hands, so he settles them against Will’s legs, keeping as still as possible.
“Tilt your head back,” Will whispers.
Mike does as he’s told, and it is such a relief to make eye contact with the moon and stars instead of his friends’ stupid smirks.
Will’s nose brushes a tingling line from Mike’s jaw down to the candy necklace. He’s soft and warm, and his hair smells like tart apples. Mike knows these things already, but has rarely allowed himself to drink them in such concentrated doses before. His eyelids flutter shut as Will begins to bite bead after bead off the elastic string, the crunch, crunch, a soothing rhythm as the rest of the circle chats about Mike-doesn’t-give-a-shit-what right now.
Mike’s fingers twitch against the worn denim of Will’s jeans. Will’s breath hitches between bites. Mike curls his fingers into the fleshy muscle—he can’t fucking help it. Will buries the tiniest whimper into Mike’s neck, where only he can hear, and it goes straight to the Bad Place. The Good Place, most nights in bed when no one can see him, but right now, with Will sitting right on top of him, it’s a worst-case scenario.
Will freezes when he clocks it.
“Do you… like this?” Will whispers between bites.
“Shut up,” Mike hisses back.
Will adjusts his weight, scooching even closer to Mike, as if he’s chasing it. As if he likes it, too.
Mike gasps, hips unconsciously bucking with the increased friction.
Their friends are right fucking there. And even if they’ve lost interest in watching Will’s obscene necklace-eating, Mike has to be careful. He wills himself not to move a muscle, even as Will grows bolder.
Fingertips trace Mike’s collar in slow, shivery lines, tongue slipping between lips to tickle Mike’s neck with every bite. Now and then, Will’s teeth brazenly scrape at the skin of Mike’s neck, and Mike’s Bad Place gets Worse (Better).
It must only take a minute or two for Will to finish eating Mike’s candy, but it feels like an eternity of fireworks going off between Mike’s nerve endings, his brain running marathons around questions like Is this really my life right now? and Does Will like me back? and What happens next?
Will finishes with the big yellow candy heart charm in the middle of the necklace before pulls back, lips wet, cheeks undeniably scarlet. He chews slowly, his eyes never once leaving Mike’s.
Mike desperately tries to communicate in the last few seconds of exquisite lap-sharing and thigh-squeezing.
Are we cool? Did I just ruin everything?
Will’s fingertips tease the empty elastic, stretching it away from Mike’s neck before releasing it with a cheeky snap!
Max, El, Dustin, and Lucas all catch on, their collective cheer breaking the spell.
Will’s off his lap before Mike can blink, and the rush of cold he leaves behind is enough to stun Mike into silence.
El’s dare seems to make the others even bolder for their second round.
Will makes Dustin do a mock audition for a musical, to which Dustin gamely sings Do You Hear the People Sing? at the top of his lungs. Dustin makes Max kiss El’s bare foot. Max forces Lucas to play Fuck, Marry, Kill with the other three boys.
Lucas turns to Mike, who can already see the follow-up question to his last Truth lurking behind those devious eyes.
“Dare,” he says. He's just endured the most mortifying public lap dance of his life. Running some stupid laps around his house is nothing compared to that.
Lucas narrows his eyes at Mike. Mike sticks his tongue out in a ha, ha gesture that he knows he’s about to pay for, but what the hell. He can do anything right now—
“I dare you to kiss your crush.”
—Anything but that.
“How do you know that my crush is even here right now? What am I supposed to do, hop in my car and drive across town?”
Lucas shrugs, calling Mike’s bluff. “If necessary.”
El watches him, expectant.
(Will watches him, expectant.)
Mike is so fucking done with this game. “I forfeit, then,” he announces. Dustin, Lucas, and Max boo at him. El shakes her head.
And Will—
The basement door snicks quietly shut. Mike darts a glance at Will’s chair to see him gone.
“Nice going,” Max scoffs.
Mike puts out both palms. “What?!” His voice is too squeaky. Too panicked. He darts a look at the basement door again, dread curdling his insides. Is Will mad at him? Did he just royally fuck things up?
Dustin is shaking his head.
Lucas throws his hands up, “Oh, my God, Mike! That was it! That was your moment!”
Grumbling, the group starts to gather their things. Apparently, the party is over.
“Hold on, hold on!” Mike shouts. “Did all of you plan this?”
El looks at him over her shoulder. She’s rolling up her blanket into a tight ball. “Well, Mike, the party has grown a little tired of you two dancing around each other this year. We thought it would be nice to give you an excuse to act on your feelings.”
“—Yeah, and now Will thinks you hate his guts,” Max cuts across.
“Aww, shut up, Mayfield!” Mike yells at her.
“Make me, Wheeler!” she yells back.
He hates that she’s probably right.
“You should go catch Will before he bikes home. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until Monday at school, and that’s bound to be even worse,” Dustin reasons.
That sick, twisting feeling in the pit of Mike’s stomach intensifies, reminding him of another argument long ago, when Will biked off into the rain, leaving Mike stranded in his garage and feeling like a piece of shit.
Mike sprints around the house while the others continue cleaning up their mess and catches Will, just as he’s pedaling down the driveway.
“Wait! Will!” Mike calls, panting as he struggles to catch up. All this, and he still is being forced to sprint.
Will brakes, planting his toes into the asphalt as he waits for Mike to catch up.
Mike trots up to Will, noticing at once that his shoulders are hunched forward, his cheeks streaming with tears.
“Oh—Will…” Mike groans. “Will, I’m so sorry. I was such an asshole just now.”
Will dashes his palm across his cheeks. “It’s okay, Mike. I, uh, I don’t blame you. I mean, I’d never want you to be put in a position like that. Especially if you don’t—”
“—It’s you,” Mike cuts him off.
“W-what?”
“It’s you. My crush.”
Will opens his mouth to protest or to question further, but Mike doesn’t let him get a word in edgewise. He closes the distance between them and plants a deliberate kiss on Will’s parted lips.
Will gives in with a muffled sigh, the bike clanging to the ground in a graceless heap between his spread legs.
Mike cradles Will’s face in his hands, and Will clings to his forearms, mouth slanting hungrily against Mike’s, taking in each kiss like a starving baby bird.
Around them, the night sings with life. Crickets chirping, cars whooshing down distant streets, the hum of a garage door grinding closed for the night. The moon glows with uncanny brightness against the green carpet of the Wheelers’ front lawn, and Will's mouth tastes like starlight and sugar.
Mike breaks away, only to rest his forehead against Will’s. A promise that he’s not going anywhere and that this isn’t over.
“I did like that, by the way. The, uh, candy necklace thing, I mean. I mean, I hated everyone watching—”
Will huffs a laugh. “I liked it, too. I had no idea that it was possible. That you could feel that way about me.”
His voice is filled with wonder and edged in disbelief. Mike resolves to obliterate the latter until Will knows that it’s not only possible, but inevitable.
“Sleepover tonight?” Mike breathes into the space between them.
Will nods, forehead knocking against Mike’s.
“I never stopped liking you, by the way. I lied about that when I came out. I didn’t want to freak you out.”
Mike shakes his head, thumbs caressing Will’s cheeks in tender sweeps. “Oh, Will, you could never freak me out. I thought I was too late in returning the feelings. I’m so glad to be proven wrong.”
This time, their kiss has an unfortunate audience. Dustin hangs out the window of Lucas’s car as they back out of the driveway, cat-calling at Mike and Will to “Get a fucking room!”
El and Max cackle with laughter in the back seat.
Mike directs an enthusiastic middle finger at them. “Fuck you, Dustin! Also, I won the game!”
They peel down the street, leaving Will and Mike to their newfound revelations.
Later, after they’ve passed many minutes glued by the lips, Mike bends to retrieve Will’s bike. They walk back to the quiet house together, Will’s arm looped around Mike’s waist, Mike sending a shy smile his way.
“Got anymore of those candy necklaces?” Will asks.
“You bet. Only this time, it’ll be my turn…”