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It's during the waiting period, when Mike catches Will alone. (Waiting, and waiting, and waiting, for the Merge to be at the right point for Steve's plan. Mike can't take it anymore honestly, the worry for his sister, who he has become quite close with, his baby, and this… thing with Will. Both of them too much to handle, alone, but together, it's a real nightmare. But Mike is used to nightmares, so, he figures he can deal with one issue while waiting for the other to resolve.)
“So,” he starts, upon closing the door to the room Will has hidden himself away in, leaning against it as he studies Will's expression. (Slight furrow to his brow, downturn of his lips. He's confused, he's nervous. Mike has never really been good at the out loud side of things, much better at putting things on paper, or dissecting body language like the frogs in 7th grade. And he passed that lab with a 100 percent. He thinks, if he were being graded on Will’s body language, he’d get extra credit.)
Will turns to face him, and Mike’s already high anxiety spikes even more. (He- Will was looking at him, when he said he had a crush. But he said had. Past tense. Mike is so fucking afraid, but if Will had the courage, if everyone is okay with Will being different, maybe it's okay for him too.)
“You uhm. You're- I- Who is Tammy?”
Will blinks, and his face is lit up with a blush. (He looks so pretty when he blushes, Mike thinks, always has.)
“Tammy is… well. There's someone else I know, who's like me. Tammy was her first crush, you know. One who didn't like her back.”
Mike blanches, alarm bells going off in his head. Will had looked at him. Which means he thinks that Mike is his Tammy. Mike is not Tammy, he’s Mike, he’s Will’s Mike, he thinks, a little desperately. That's not- surely he doesn’t think that. Mike had… well he had tried to be a little obvious. Brave, but not enough to make a move, just enough to flirt, a little. He started the day after he and El had broken up, when she looked at him and said “Mike, I think… you do not love me like a girlfriend. You love me like Lucas and Dustin.”
She was right, of course. He had said “And Will?”. She looked at him with sadness. “It is okay, Mike,” she had said, and that had been the end of it. She had stood up, and left Mike on the couch in his basement, alone, and a little terrified. But mostly- relieved. He didn't have to… pretend anymore. Well, in front of El, anyway. The others- well, he kind of figured they'd figure it out, but they didn't. (They used to know each other so well, Lucas would know Mike was upset based on how he held his pencil. But now they've drifted. It breaks Mike’s heart, honestly. Because he does love his friends, and he hates change, but he feels so powerless to stop it. And honestly, why would they want to be friends with him anyway, if he's so different. But that had been before- before Will had sat in front of all of them, and told them he didn't like girls, and no one had a problem with it. They had even hugged him, assured him they wouldn’t leave him. But Will has always been lovable; maybe it’s a Will-specific sentiment. Which is stupid to think, he knows, but Mike is nothing if not afraid.)
Mike had thought he and Will were getting closer again, able to read each other without talking, practically psychic again. But evidently not, because if Mike is right, if he's not delusional, then he thinks that Mike doesn't want him. (As if. Mike needs Will like he needs oxygen, like he needs water. His laugh is the prettiest sound he's ever heard, his face described with honey sweet words in hidden notebooks under Mike’s bed, the warmth that radiates from him like sunshine. To him, Will is- he's everything. And Mike is so, so terrified, because Will had said had. Mike doesn’t know what he'll do, if he missed his chance.)
Mike hums, tilting his head back against the door. “Well- this girl you know. She never… talked to Tammy, right?” He asks.
“No, Mike,” Will says, and he sounds so sad but-
“So how did she know?”
Mike hears Will pause. He can practically hear him thinking. “What do you mean?”
“Like… how did she know Tammy didn't like her? She never asked. She never told her anything.”
Will is silent for a beat too long. Mike opens his eyes and moves his head to look at Will. Will is staring at him in confusion. “Mike, we live in Hawkins. The chances that Tammy liked her are…”
“Low,” Mike interrupts, shrugging, “but not zero. It’s never zero, and I mean, weirder things have happened. We're about to stop two dimensions from merging. You were kidnapped by a monster when we were twelve.”
Mike is praying, to god, to any god, to anyone that's out there, if a higher power even exists, that Will is going to understand. I'm not Tammy. I want you. I love you.
“Mike, come on,” Will sighs, looking away, “don't- try to make me feel better. It’s okay, I've accepted this guy isn't like me. That's perfectly fine, it's not his fault.”
Mike sighs. Guess there really is no one listening.
“This guy,” he starts, stepping away from the door, just a couple steps. Closer to Will, as close as he can be while still having this courage, this fire inside of him.
“What… was he like?” Mike is like, pretty sure it's him. Eighty percent. But that's not one hundred and- well. If he confesses, and it’s not him, was never him, then he'll never be able to face Will again. It's already a little pathetic, doing this when he knows Will doesn’t like him anymore. He had said so. But well- maybe it'll make Will feel better. To know there was a chance. That he’s not alone. And really, all Mike wants is for Will to finally be happy, and if he's over him, if that happiness can be found in someone else, Mike supports it. He knows he loves Will, has since they were 7 years old. (He can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but he thinks it was in between the time Will drew his first piece of art for Mike, and the time Will kissed his knee better when he scraped it on the playground.) He doesn’t think it'll be possible to stop. But he'll be okay, eventually, if Will is happy. If it's another boy he kisses, and talks to in his morning voice with sleep still in his eyes, another boy that he loves, that he'll learn like he learned Mike- maybe even more than Mike- then so be it. (And it would be, more than Mike. Because they know each other inside and out, they do, but they don't know anything physical. This guy would learn the shape of Will, get to kiss him whenever he wanted. It makes Mike a little sick to think about, actually, but whatever, that's not a concern right now.) And Will had been so scared. So, so afraid. And so brave, telling everyone who he really is. Much braver than Mike has ever been. And Mike is so, so proud. But he looks sad, too, like even knowing he's different puts a weight on his shoulders. Maybe, if Mike tells him, he'll feel better. He'll know he's not alone, never has been.
“He…” Will trails off, thinking. Mike loves his thinking face. It’s so cute, and has been the cause of many failed study sessions on Mike’s part these past 18 months. (Not that he needs them, really. Study sessions are mostly an excuse to stare at Will, to get close to him when he needs an explanation, or help with a question. His favorite is math, because then he gets to hold the pencil and crowd Will while he writes the complicated, drawn out processes in their advanced pre-calculus class. Maybe that makes him selfish, but god, it's hard not to be, when Will is involved. He’s an addict, and William Byers is his drug of choice.)
“He’s kind of an asshole,” Will starts, smiling softly, and Mike can't help but hope it's him. Because Will’s expression, he doesn't- he doesn’t look like he's over this guy. Or maybe he is. Will hasn't exactly been… forthcoming, with his emotions lately.
“But usually not to me. And I mean he's- he's really pretty. In my opinion.”
Mike is sure he's blushing, and he's kind of glad Will isn't looking at him.
“Yeah?” he asks softly, studying Will’s side profile. One he already knows by heart, could probably draw with perfection, despite not being good at drawing. Even though he knows it so completely, knows he could picture it half dead and out of it with perfect clarity, he can’t help but look. Will really is gorgeous. It’s like his eyes are magnetized to Will, all he wants to do is look. If Will let him, if it wouldn't come off as weird, he'd stare for hours, and do nothing else but invent new ways to describe the way his beauty feels to him. (Like sunshine shining through tree leaves in the summer, like the quiet stillness in the air when snow has freshly fallen, like the flicker of a flame lighting up a dark room. All things he’s written down before, when the feelings in his chest threatened to suffocate him, to swallow him whole, if he didn't release them somewhere.)
“Yeah,” Will confirms, still not looking at Mike.
Mike, always an overthinker, always anxiety riddled, is losing courage. He can’t. There’s too big of a possibility that it's not him. Too many unknowns, too much at stake. He slowly nods.
“Cool,” Mike mutters, suddenly feeling quite nauseous at the thought of Will liking another boy, and turns to leave.
“Mike.”
Mike pauses, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. For asking me about it. It um. Makes me feel… normal.”
Mike slowly lets his hand drop from the doorknob, and turns back around.
“I- I have to tell you something,” he says, and he can feel his heart in his throat, but he has to do this. He- he has to help Will feel like it's okay. Anything for Will.
Will tilts his head slightly, smiling softly at Mike. He reminds Mike of a puppy, sometimes. God, he really does love him.
He's come to terms with it, really. He's known for… a while. Since he was fourteen, and tried to hide it by spending all of his time with El, by trying to force himself to be normal. But it gets exhausting, pretending. And he was so, so tired. And he hated himself for it, the fact he wanted Will like he should've wanted El, but also for the fact he was lying. To everyone, to himself, to El. He thought he could fix whatever was wrong with him, put the pieces of himself together in a picture his family would actually love. But he couldn't. And Will moved away, and Mike knew he would never be fixed, when he missed Will more than El, when he woke up from dreams of seeing Will again with tears streaming down his face. He wrote so many letters, ones he knew Will would never see, hidden in the same notebook he waxes poetic about Will in. But it's been almost two years since he saw Will again, and they've lived in the same house the entire time. Mike has had quite a lot of time to get used to being in love with Will, the fact it's not going away. And, just a little, to accept he's not broken. Just a little different. Like that time Nancy went to a pottery class, and returned with a lopsided tea set.
“Go on,” Will says, nodding his head very slightly.
“I'm. Um,” Mike looks away, palms starting to sweat. He doesn’t understand why this is so difficult, because Will had just done this to a room full of people, and Mike is only doing it in front of one. One he knows is like him, so why does it kind of make him feel like crawling out of his skin and never returning?
Will nods encouragingly.
“I'm… different. Too,” He says, stilted, and Will’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“You mean like…”
“I'm different. The way you are,” and wow, for how hard that was, it's very relieving. Like he’s had a boulder sitting on his heart for years, and by admitting this to someone, anyone, it's lifted.
“As in, you like boys?” Will asks, blinking rapidly.
Mike stares at him blankly. “I'm not quite sure what else I could mean…?”
Will blinks some more. And then he takes several rapid steps towards Mike, and envelops him in a hug so tight Mike thinks he might suffocate. (And he would, happily. Suffocate that is, in Will’s arms.)
“Thank you,” Will says, his breath warm against Mike's neck, “for telling me. I know it was hard.”
Mike brings his arms up, wraps them around Will. “Yeah. Thank- thank you, Will. For giving me the courage.”
Will pulls back, beaming. He doesn’t move very far away. And then- “What about El?”
Mike makes a stilted gesture with his hand, “Oh, we broke up. Like, months ago.”
Will stares. “I'm sorry?”
“We broke up. Months ago. She… she realized I didn't… love her, the way I claimed.”
Thinking about El makes Mike remember a different conversation. One to do with a painting gifted to him in the back of a pizza van.
“Will,” he starts, seriously, staring directly into his eyes. (Kind of distracting, looking into Will’s eyes. He wishes he could drown in them.)
“I know that you… that you lied. About the painting.”
Will freezes. “What painting?”
“Will, come on. The one you gave me in the van. El didn't commission that. She doesn’t- she doesn't even know what dnd really is.”
Will starts rambling, strings of apologies falling from his lips, eyes wide and panicked.
“Will. Will. Will,” Mike says, trying to make him stop, to make him listen.
“Will,” he shouts, grabbing Will’s shoulders. “It’s okay. You- you were just trying to help. I just- The things you said. That… was that a lie, too? Or was… I mean, since you made the painting on your own, did… Did you mean it?” Mike is so, so nervous.
Mike watches Will drop his shoulders like a puppet with its strings cut. “I'm sorry,” he says, and Mike sucks a breath in through his teeth. Will really did use to love him. He really, really did, and Mike is absolutely not confessing because that’s so embarrassing, and he couldn’t take the soft look filled with pity he knows he would get from him, if he said anything. Couldn’t take being next to him every day, when Will knows that Mike’s heartbeat starts getting faster if Will so much as looks at him. Definitely couldn't take being his best friend, when he knew there was a possibility that they could've been more.
“I… yeah. I meant it. Then.”
Fuck, Mike is going to cry. He's trying not to, but god. Of course, of course, it’s just when he accepts maybe he’s not broken, and it’s okay for him to want to kiss a boy, the one boy that would ever want to kiss him has managed to get over him.
“Great. Cool, cool, cool. That’s- It’s reassuring. Thanks. Uhm, I’m. I’m gonna go,” Mike says, the words squeezing themselves past the lump in his throat, forcing their way out of his mouth with pure willpower. (Will probably knows something is wrong because when Mike is upset, when he's nervous, he starts to ramble. Nonsense words, sentences full of filler. Will had known this since they were in elementary school.)
He steps back, turns around, and is about to take a step, when Will grabs his hand. And fuck, Mike can never deny him anything, so he turns back around, blinking tears out of his eyes.
“I lied,” Will says, and Mike nods slowly.
“Uhm. Yeah, that’s what we just… talked about.”
“No, I mean, I lied when I said I was over the guy.”
Oh. Okay. Okay. That’s- well. That means- it means-
“Okay,” Mike starts, because he has to be completely sure, because if he fucks this up- “just to clarify, I’m the guy. Yeah?”
Will goes bright red. Mike feels his breath hitch. “I wasn’t going to say it that bluntly, but yeah. You… you are.”
“Perfect,” Mike mutters, and then he’s pulling Will in.
Will stumbles, and Mike kind of has to steady him with two hands on his waist, and Will’s arm is trapped in between their bodies in a really odd way, and it’s kind of painful, when their lips meet, because Mike had yanked Will towards him with too much force, but it’s good.
It’s really fucking good, actually, and Mike wishes he had powers too, so he could pause time and do this forever. Will’s lips on his feels like coming home, feels like a drink of water after days in the desert, like the first breath after the staying underwater competitions they used to have in the summer. (Will would always cheat, Mike knew, because he could open his eyes underwater, and he’d see Will briefly go up to take a lungful of air. He let him pretend that he didn’t, though, always let him win, because Will would grin with all his teeth when he won, and Mike loved looking at it, even then.)
Will seems to finally snap back into reality, and Mike is being pushed backwards into the wall, and he hears Will’s fingers click the lock on the door as his back makes contact with the hardwood, and Will is on him with a hunger.
If he thought the first kiss was perfect, this one- well. He’s a writer, and he doesn’t really have words right now, because Will had yanked his hat off before he pushed him backwards, and placed a hand on the back of his head to protect it, and Mike thinks that maybe the warmth from Will’s hand is seeping into his brain and making it melt. Any second now, brain matter will be leaking through his ears.
Will’s other hand is apparently a never still machine, moving down his torso, up to his neck and then down his shoulder and arm, until it comes back up and settles on Mike’s hip, and Mike curses the stupid fucking jacket he's wearing, because it means he can barely feel Will’s hand there.
Will is a lot more courageous than Mike, he already knows this, but the knowledge solidifies in his head when Will’s tongue darts out to touch Mike’s bottom lip.
Jesus fucking christ, Mike might die here, before he ever even has the chance to get near Vecna tonight.
Mike’s mouth opens automatically, and Will hums into the kiss, and that makes Mike remember he has hands too, because they’ve just been kind of still on Will's back, and Mike wants to draw more sounds out of Will. Wants to swallow them down, devour him.
He might be a little obsessed with him. A lot obsessed with him, actually.
And it might be a little crazy, because it’s their first kiss and everything, but the world might end soon. The world might end tonight, and you know, no regrets, or whatever. (He doesn’t want to think about the possibility it's their last kiss, either. Because it very well could be and that's terrifying. Mike- well. He wanted to die, for a little while there, when the world split open and he was still pretending, and Will barely spoke to him. But it's better, now, and he wants to live. He wants to be an author, though he hasn't told anyone but Nancy, and he wants to be there for Holly, and his friends, through everything normal about life, instead of the real life nightmare they're in now.)
One of Mike’s hands stays where it is, on Will’s back, holding him in place, keeping him close. He wishes they could be closer. He loves Will so much it makes him sick sometimes, a physical ache in his chest. It makes him want to be closer always, close enough to feel his breathing and hear his heartbeat drowning everything else out. He thinks that if some entity appeared, and offered to merge him and Will into one, he'd say yes. Maybe, only if they kept their separate consciousnesses, but then again, maybe not, because then he wouldn’t get to kiss him, and Will just did something with his tongue that made Mike let out a really embarrassing noise, and he would like to keep doing that, please.
Mike’s other hand slips lower, to grip Will’s waist, bruising, trying to ground himself. It’s just so much, having Will like this, the whiplash from thinking Will didn’t love him anymore, directly into this.
When Mike tightens his fingers, Will whines into his mouth, and Mike swallows it down hungrily, greedily. So greedy, Mike Wheeler, always wanting more, anything Will will give him. He takes and takes and takes, a brush of the fingers here, a longing look there, anything he thinks he can get away with.
And just when Mike has pulled away, is trailing kisses down Will’s jaw and listening to his heavy breathing in awe, like a full symphony to Mike’s ears, the sound of a fist on wood sounds throughout the room.
Mike blinks as Will pulls away from him and has a brief conversation with someone outside the door. He thinks he hears Robin’s voice, but he isn’t quite sure, because he’s busy staring at Will. Will, with his reddened and shiny spit-slick lips, dilated pupils, and flush to his cheeks. And- Mike did that. Mike made Will look like that, and it’s a little mind-blowing, and a lot mesmerising. Because Will is already the prettiest person Mike has ever seen, but like this, Mike thinks he might be an angel.
Will turns to him, urgently, gesturing to the door. Mike stares. “What?”
“Mike, your sister is looking for you,” Will whisper-yells, pointing at the door.
“Oh. Well. I don’t know, tell her to get over it.”
“It’s not even her at the door, Mike, do you ever listen?”
Mike shrugs, looking around for his hat. “No, not really.”
He hears Robin laugh from outside the door and say something about telling Nancy that Mike is fine, but Mike, whose brain is always thinking of several things at once, remembers he hasn’t told Will something. Three little words, that he has to get out before they face what could very well be their doom.
So Mike steels his courage, and looks at Will. And Will looks at him, blinking, waiting for him to talk. Will, who Mike loves, who knows him so well that he knows the look on Mike’s face means he has something to say.
“Um,” Mike says eloquently, suddenly very afraid, which doesn’t actually make any sense, because Will literally just had his tongue in Mike’s mouth, but Mike is very, very good at overthinking.
Will waits a few seconds more, and then, “Are you… okay?” Mike can hear the hesitance in Will’s voice, the fear blooming.
“Yeah! Yeah, I- I’m great actually, well, as great as I can be given- given the situation, which, isn’t as great as I want, but greater than I thought I could be. So. I’m- yeah, I’m okay.”
Will stares at him.
“I- I just had something to say, you know, but, you know how I am, always forgetting, and stuff, and this is kind of scaring me, so-”
“Mike,” Will interrupts, amused, taking a few steps closer, putting his hands on Mike’s shoulders.
Mike can’t actually feel the warmth of Will’s hands, due to the stupid fucking jackey vest he has on, but he imagines he can.
“I love you,” Mike breathes, staring into Will’s eyes, relaxed by his closeness, by the fact he knows Will loves him too, even though he hasn’t said it yet. Mike Wheeler knows Will Byers inside out, which means that now his brain has caught up, he can recognize the difference in the way Will is holding himself. The slight uptick of his lips, the relaxed lines of his muscles, the fact he’s looking at Mike with an emotion Mike has never seen directed to anyone else.
Will blinks, and then smiles, leans in to kiss Mike again, and Mike really enjoys that, is giddy when Will’s lips touch his and it’s sweet, none of the hunger or desperation present from just a couple minutes ago.
“I love you too,” Will whispers against his lips, and Mike feels the words more than he hears them. It feels like a prayer, like a promise. (To stay alive, to survive, and then to stay with Mike, after.)
Mike feels laughter bubbling in his chest, floating up and escaping through his teeth, an uncontrollable grin on his face, and he laughs softly into Will’s mouth. They’re kissing, but not really, because they’re both grinning so wide they can’t do much of anything but clack teeth and briefly feel the press of lips.
Will pulls away, and his eyes are bright bright bright, and Mike is sure the lovestruck look on Will's face is mirrored on his.
“We- we have to go, soon,” Will whispers, forehead resting against Mike’s.
Mike hums. “I know,” he breathes, “but I think we can stay here just- just a little longer.”
Will hums in agreement, and wraps one arm around Mike, the other finding its way to Mike’s face, thumb delicately rubbing against Mike’s cheekbone.
Soon, they’ll have to leave this little locked room at the squawk. Soon, they’ll have to go face Vecna again, fight for their lives, for their friends' and families’ lives.
But right now, in the hazy bubble of love they’ve created, they’re just two teenage boys. Just boys in love, enjoying each other's presence, before the end of the world.