Chapter Text
“Friends?- no thanks…”
Will had always felt stupid for the flicker of hope that slipped through him at Mike’s words.
“Best friends.”
The familiar burn settled in his chest. He buried the embarrassment beneath the same stupid smile he used whenever something hurt too much to mention.
Mike didn’t notice.
Mike used to notice everything—every pause, every forced smile. He’d call him on his bluff, eyes sharp and patient, until Will told the truth.
Will didn’t realize how much he missed that.
There was a lot of things he missed. Things he knew would never come back to him even if he spent his whole life trying.
One being his childhood.
He had gone through extensive trauma, there was no question. His body being intruded and used as a vessel, being ripped away from his friends to survive in the cold vicious upside down for a week, losing his life for just enough time to be revived only for death to loom over him for the next several years.
But if he was honest, none of it compared to the gut twisting pain of being in love with his best friend.
It’d been only a few months since he let himself hope, since he gently chipped down the walls he’d built himself as a younger boy. He’d taken advice from Robin, read into small gestures, let himself get lost in this world.
Best friend.
But no matter how hard hoped, or how many times he tried, Will knew it was a dream world. A world that would only exist inside the brush strokes of a painting, in the back of his throat, or inside the confines of his heart.
Everyone knew by now what he was, Mike included. No one was quite as disgusted as he’d inicial expected but it didn’t slip past him that Mike couldn’t quite look him in the eye. We wasn’t going to try and pick apart what that meant, but if it was because he was queer—
He doesn’t want to know how Mike would react knowing that he’s the reason.
“Byers.“
A sharp smack of a rolled-up algebra worksheet lands on the back of Will’s neck. A high-pitched, “ow!-“ escapes him as his hand moves to brace the sensitive skin- already reddening from the sting of the paper. “What the hell, Max!”
He shoots her a glare, smiling despite himself. She could hit with much more force than Will expected, still being in the process of recovery from her coma that is. Max throws her hands up in mock defense- barely containing a smirk as she laughs.
“You were zoned out for a solid two minutes- what was I supposed to do?”
Will rubs the back of his neck and blinks at her as the rolled up paper uncoils on its own- until it's flat on Max's desk.
“I don’t know, maybe just nudge me?”
“Right… totally keeping that in mind.” She shoots back, in that defiant sarcasm Will can’t help but find a bit endearing.
“Of course you will.”
Max chuckles, leaning her elbow on the desk, studying Will with lazy suspicion—her cheek resting in her palm.
“What do you have to be thinking about that long anyway- not like we… had much going on a few months ago or anything? Like… saving Hawkins?” she teases lightly, revealing a genuine smile when she finally gets a small huff of laughter out of him.
“Just… zoned out, like you said”
Will shrugs, throwing on a casual grin, watching as Max narrows her eyes until she eventually just buys it. She sighs before looking back down at the same paper she had just previously used as a weapon against his neck.
“Alright, whatever- then help me do this damn worksheet, because Mrs. Callahan is tired of me missing assignments.”
Will squints, he knows she’s had a hard time catching up with everything but she should know there isn’t much she can do to before their junior year ends.
“We have five days left of school, don’t be ridiculous.”
Max rolls her eyes, before turning her head back into the page.
The ceremonious chime of the bell has Will and Max packing up their books and pens for a much-needed lunch. Will always helped her with her backpack, carrying it by one strap over his shoulder, because it was hard for her with the crutches. Although he didn’t mind the extra weight— there’s been a knot building somewhere near his neck that he’s been neglecting.
Will wasn’t exactly thrilled about lunch. The party (luckily) all had the same lunch period, so they found a spot in the comfy corner of the cafeteria next to the windows and claimed it. But all the party meant Mike— which meant staring into his food every day just so he didn't have to meet his gaze. He’d gotten better at hiding it though, just as Mike has gotten better at not realizing it.
Will feels the weight of one shoulder being lifted- briefly throwing him off balance.
-“I can take this-”
Lucas smiles, tossing Max’s backpack over his shoulder.
“Oh, thanks,”
Lucas nods, setting her backpack down next to his seat at the table, as the party slowly filters into their respective spots.
Will fiddles with his food. Taking small, uninterested bites every now and then as he listens to his friends playful banter. Dustin’s talking about a new campaign idea that Mike is strongly and defiantly refusing. He wishes he could be annoyed about it, but simply hearing Mike’s voice feels like a blessing alone so he isn’t able to complain.
“Dustin, why the hell would we set the campaign in Hawkins? We already basically lived through a campaign in real life— plus it would be too familiar—i don’t want to have to relive all that shit.”
The voice of an angel.
“That’s just what makes it more fun, dumbass! A quest to rescue Hawkins from the Upside Down- its genius!”
They go back and forth for a minute, Lucas and Max giving each other looks of blatant annoyance as Will tries his hardest not to meet the dark chocolate eyes that tempt him from across the table.
Will fiddles with an orange from the school lunch, finding getting lost in the silky familiar voice he grew so fond of over the years- it’s changed, of course, since he was a kid. Mike’s voice is much deeper now, but still has that pinch of comfort and nostalgia - not making it any easier to subside those thoughts he’s been trying so hard to disregard.
His fingernails dig into the skin of the orange, pushing and prodding at the weak center as his friends' bickering continues.
“C'mon, Dustin! That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard- no one else wants to play in real life Hawkins.”
Silent and struggling, his fingers finally pernitrate through the rough skin of the orange peel.
The juice bursts directly across the table.
“Oh shit—“
A beat of silence stretches across as the juice sprays the fabric of Mike’s shirt.
Will looks up—and, of course, Mike is looking right back at him.
And god, he looks absolutely breathtaking. He tries to tear his eyes away, but something almost magnetic is pulling them still.
Dustin finally breaks the silence, bursting out laughing. Once Dustin starts, the rest of the party is cackling. Mike looks away, after a beat too long, to laugh along as he lazily wipes his shirt. Will remembers to breathe again and breathes out a laugh a half second late- looking back down at the orange.
“Sorry Mike”
Will mutters down at his food shaking his head.
“No it's- it's okay.”
He “Hey-“ Max pipes in suddenly- “we still going to the palace tonight?”
Will looks up from the table for another brief moment with slightly furrowed brows. When did they decide to go to the arcade? Max's question isn’t directed towards anyone directly, but Mike being Mike-
“Yeah- hell yeah, we are”
There’s a murmuring agreement of nods and “okay”s and “I can drive”, but Will tunes them out. He knows he’s not going.
He can't risk it.
As bad as he wants it to be like old times, taking turns on Dig Dug trying to see past everyone's heads- greasy joysticks from countless kids' fingers- the animated sound effects from every game ringing at the same time, it's just not possible.
It doesn’t hit him until he’s alone in his room.
But then again it’s not like he can do anything about it.
He can’t just… stop liking Mike, because if he could, everything would be perfect right now.
It also doesn’t help that Will is living at Hops cabin with Joyce, making the space between him and his friends even larger than it already feels.
The wooden chair at his desk creaks as he slumps down and Will reaches for a pencil- gripping it between his fingers- tapping the eraser to his bottom lip. He gazes down at a sketch he’s been working
on- the layered marks of graphite laid carefully across the white sheet.
Will does what he always does when he’s feeling this type of complexity, it always makes him feel in control when he draws. He takes an unsteady breath before getting to work, every stroke across the page lifting his mood slightly more than the last.
Dust springs into the cool night air in the parking lot of the palace as Max’s worn Converse hit the rocky gravel.
“Lucas!”
Max waves her hand over to her boyfriend, Mike, and Dustin- almost dropping a crutch in the process. Lucas sweeps her to her feet in a tight hug that leaves her breathless and kicking her feet in the air as her crutches fall onto the ground.
“Oh my god, put me down! Put me down now!” She squeals as he laughs, before finally complying. Dustin rolls his eyes, crouching down to retrieve Max’s crutches.
“You’re gonna break her legs all over again if you don’t stop that”, he retorts, handing Max the crutches.
Mike, seemingly preoccupied, looks around the parking lot with a frustrated complexity in his eyes.
“Where’s Will?”
The group looks around curiously for a long moment, as Max puckers her lips in an awkward gesture, her eyes darting around.
“I thought he’d... heard me at lunch?”
“You didn’t ask him!?”
Mike’s tone raises a solid ten degrees as Lucas moves between the two. “Whoa, whoa”
Mike rolls his eyes taking a reluctant breath and Max looks down, a little begrudgingly guilty.
“Sorry! Jesus- I thought if I brought it up at lunch he’d just know to come-“
Mike scoffs lightly and Lucas shoots him a warning glare.
“Will’s not like that- he’s not gonna come if he doesn’t get invited!”
“Like you would know! You guys barely talk anymore anyways!”
The words come out quicker than she can process them.
Max freezes- the group freezes- and she watches Mike’s jaw tense. She looks away- eyes darting to anything else before landing at the entrance of the arcade.
He takes a slow deliberate step forward. “What the hell is that supposed to mean.”
Mike’s words are eerily calm, making Max’s chest tighten for a moment before she shakes her head regretfully.
“Nothing- forget about it okay? I’m sorry.”
Her voice is uncharacteristically timid, but still defiant as she pushes off her feet, angling her shoulders to walk between Lucas and Dustin as she makes her way to the arcade doors.
The boys share a startled look at each other before turning their gaze back to Mike who appears to be a little too deep in thought—breathing a bit unevenly. Lucas clears his throat, gently trying to get Mike’s attention, his head tilts up to him. When Mike sees Lucas giving him a awkward smile, he takes a small, unsure breath before finally following them inside.
“Hey honey-“
Will lifts his head taking in a sharp breath before flipping the graphite-stained paper face down onto the desk in one swift motion.
“Jesus, you scared me- hey, Mom”
“Ope sorry” Joyce lets out a small chuckle at his startled reaction.
“Just wanted to let you know dinner's ready, come out when you're ready.”
He lets out a relieved breath and sits back in his chair as the grip on his pencil loosens slightly.
“Alright alright- I’ll be out in a minute”
The door closes gently and he is left at his desk feeling a small rush of relieved adrenaline. He stares down at the blank backside of the sketch he’d been working on, for a couple of hours now, with a sense of secret pride. He swears he can see the pronounced edge of Mike’s jaw through the back of the paper.
He follows the familiar routine of the late-night dinners Joyce makes him after her shifts- answering the same questions almost every day at the crowded table. “How was school today?”
“Good mom- everything’s going fine.”
The conversation moves naturally only having to break the script when Joyce asks him, “Aren’t you excited- it’s the last week of your junior year!”
“Yeah duh- of course I am.” He says, playfully rolling his eyes with an endearing smile.
If Will was being honest he’s not really sure if he’s excited for summer though. He knows the group will get together on occasion, but they won’t get to see each other every single day like how it is in school- and something about that scares him. But maybe its for the better.
“Make sure you clear your plate.” Joyce reminds him, flashing a smile before letting herself up to clear her own.
Will gives her a nod and takes a final bite of his food, watching Joyce heads off towards her bedroom.
“Goodnight hun!”
“Night mom”
She pauses just outside her door glancing back for a moment with a mixture of slight concern and endearment.
“I hope you really are doing okay,”
Will's breath hitches for a moment and he sits up a little straighter. “I am, Mom,”
She nods slowly before shutting her bedroom door.
Will sits at the table for a moment longer, thinking about how this really is the last week of school. The last week of Max’s playful banter in algebra- listening to the party’s teasing chatter at lunch- rides home from school with Lucas. He’s gonna miss it for sure.
Something that Will is grateful will stay the same however, is his catching up with Robin every Tuesday at the WSQK. She was the only one Will ever felt entirely comfortable talking to openly about his sexuality. He never mentioned anything about his feelings for Mike, but she picked up on it anyway through the kinds of questions he was asking.
He liked that about Robin.
She was very attentive and respectful but still able to crack several unhinged jokes here and there that would send Will into momentary shock.
He settles himself into bed, setting his alarm clock for school the next morning, and practically sinks into his mattress. Staring at the ceiling for way longer than he should before finally fluttering his eyes shut.
He’s excited to see Robin tomorrow, and though he won’t admit it, he’s excited to see his friends too.
Mike feels the creak of his front door gently rattle between his fingertips as he lets himself in. He stands at the door for a moment longer than usual running a slender hand through his dark hair- realizing one of his fingers must be jammed from one of the arcade machines because it aches more than usual.
The Wheelers' house is quiet in the late hours of the night but still comfortingly familiar. His dad passed out on the sofa with some trash tv buzzing lightly through the living room- the small hum of crickets bleeding through the walls of the house- the steady light from the kitchen spilling into the dim corners of the surrounding rooms.
He picks up some of the muffled words from the tv and it’s the conservative commentators of Crossfire talking something about “traditional values” and how “homosexuality is a moral threat”. Mike ignores the way his chest tightens at the words- before turning away- letting the discomforting voices from the living room slowly dissipate as he heads up the stairs.
The slight groan of each step under his feet gave Mike a uneasy feeling as he made his way to the upstairs bathroom.
He absentmindedly clicks the light on- feeling that aggravated finger aching again. He decides to ignore it and meets himself in front of the sink's mirror.
Mike didn’t have a horrible time at the arcade, but he can’t deny the subtle knot in his stomach- pulsing with guilt as he pictured Will sitting alone at home in the dark room of Hop’s cabin.
He should be thinking about El more.
He never felt this kind of complexity when it came to her— but now that she's gone, he's left in the dark, blindly searching for whatever path he should follow.
Mike rests his hands on the edge of the sink, waiting for the feeling in his stomach to settle.
His gaze drifts to the juice stain plastered on his shirt and he can’t help the endearing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He met Will's eyes for the first time in what felt like forever- embarrassingly staring longer than he should have. “Oh shit-… sorry Mike”
Mike’s ears ring in his head as his Dad’s tv show intrusively re-enters his brain. His hands unconsciously tightens-painfully around the granite before quickly pulling them away like he’s been burned. His god-damn pointer finger is pulsing with an agitating ache.
How the hell could anyone see Will as a moral threat? Will…a moral threat? He almost grimaces at the thought before straightening up and letting out a thoughtful- considering sigh. Will has been a lot shyer as of recently and Mike’s noticed. He thinks back to the day they saved the world- the day that Will sat everyone down in the WSQK and anxiously announced, “I- I don’t like girls”.
Mike feels the sickening feeling in his stomach return as a different faint memory floods back into him like a shot to the foot. “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”. He'll never forget the look in Will's eyes after those words clumsily spilt out of his mouth, but it's not like he could have known at the time.
He's felt something off between them ever since that day at the WSQK. He knows that Will hasn’t changed- he knows he’s still the same Will- but for some reason, since then, Mike has found himself feeling anxious or weird around Will and he doesn't know why. Which is so weird because Will had always been the one that grounded him, he was always the one that made Mike feel safe and was almost never reactive around him- his reactivity is a flaw that he is finding is a lot more prominent than he'd thought.
He studies his thrumming finger leaning his weight on one hip as he tries to figure out what might be wrong- but there’s no redness- no indication of why it might be aching. He bends his finger and pushes it down a little nervously— before pushing down hard.
“shit-“
The sound of a sharp crack slices through the quiet walls of the bathroom and he freezes- bracing for more pain to start swelling again.
His eyebrows furrow when he wiggles his finger and finds that the aching has completely dissipated and a small relief washes over him momentarily.
It's at that moment that he decides he’s going to try to check up with Will at school tomorrow.