Chapter Text
The Hawkins bus station smelled faintly like old vending machines, damp winter air, and exhaustion baked permanently into the walls.
Mike sat slumped in one of the plastic chairs near the gate windows holding a paper cup that legally qualified as battery acid while trying very hard not to think too much about the last forty-eight hours.
Which was impossible.
Because every time he stopped actively distracting himself, his brain immediately supplied Will kissing him against the hotel door.
Will standing in the ballroom choosing himself.
Honestly it felt less like memory and more like emotional waterboarding at this point.
Outside, buses hissed loudly against the curb while gray morning clouds drifted slowly over the town.
Mike looked exhausted.
Because he was exhausted.
He’d slept maybe three hours total. His suit was wrinkled beyond salvation. And Nancy had texted him approximately fourteen times already:
Patricia threatened litigation.
Derek accidentally stole centerpiece candles.
Mom says you left your good shoes.
Call me before your flight.
Normal family weekend.
Mike rubbed both hands over his face tiredly.
Boston suddenly felt very far away.
Not physically.
Just—
Emotionally maybe.
Like he’d left Hawkins one person and returned somebody else entirely.
Which sounded horrifyingly literary.
Mike blamed sleep deprivation.
The automatic station doors opened behind him with a sharp hydraulic hiss.
More travelers shuffled inside dragging luggage.
Mike barely looked up.
Then froze.
Because…
Will Byers stood near the entrance holding a duffel bag and looking unfairly beautiful in the most casual outfit Mike had ever seen him wear.
No wedding suit. No careful polished performance.
Just faded jeans, dark sweater, curls slightly messy anda messenger bag hanging off one shoulder.
Softer somehow.
Younger almost.
More real.
Mike stared openly. Will spotted him immediatey.
And smiled.
Small at first.
Then warmer when Mike continued looking visibly stunned.
Mike stood so abruptly he almost dropped the coffee.
“What—”
Excellent start.
Will walked toward him slowly through the station crowd.
And God.
Even now Mike’s body reacted instantly; heartbeat faster, lungs forgetting basic tasks, entire nevous system apparently still obsessed.
“What are you doing here?”Mike managed finally.
Will stopped in front of him.
Close enough now that Mike could smell cold air and the expensive cologne Will had worn for the wedding still lingering faintly on his skin.
“Well,” Will said carefully, “technically I need to get back to New York.”
Mike blinked once.
“Technically?”
Will’s mouth twitched slightly.
“Yeah.”
The station noise blurred strangely around them for a second.
People moving. Announcements overhead. Engines outside.
Will shifted the strap of his bag slightly higher on his shoulder.
Then quieter.
“But I was thinking…”
Mike waited.
Will looked briefly down at the floor.
Then back up through his lashes in a way that nearly killed Mike instantly.
“…maybe if someone invited me to Boston first,” he said softly, “I could stop there before New York.”
Oh.
Oh.
Mike’s entire brain short-circuited immediately.
Because Will looked nervous now. Actually nervous.
Like he genuinely wasn’t sure what answer he’d get.
Which felt insane considering Mike would currently let this man ruin his credit score willingly.
Mike laughed softly before he could stop himsef. Warm. Disbelieving.
“Yeah?” he asked.
Will nodded once.
Still watching him carefully.
Mike adjusted his grip on the coffee cup mostly because otherwise he might do something embarrassing like grab Will immediately in the midde of a bus station.
“Well,”he said, trying and failing to sound normal, “full disclosure.”
Will’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“My apartment looks like a depressed literature professor lives there.”
Will smiled immediately.
“That bad?”
“I own one pan.” Mike pointed vaguely.“And I’m emotionally attached to it.”
Will laughed quietly.
God.
There it was again.
That sound.
Easy now. Real.
Mike stepped slightly closer without fully meaning to.
“You’d probably hate it,” he added softly.
Will looked up at him.
Eyes warm. Bright. Certain now in a way Mike hadn’t seen before.
“I don’t think I would.”
And just like that—
Somewhere between the storm and the wedding and the bus station coffee—
Everything began.