Chapter Text
New Years Eve, 1988
Will feels weightless.
After downing several drinks that have found their way into his hand throughout the night, Will is struggling to think about much else apart from how much he wants to dance. He stopped understanding why he was so against going to Stacy's wild New Year's party many drinks ago and is so glad he let Lucas and Dustin convince him to come. He's hugged too many people to count, and he hasn't stopped giggling, but he doesn't care.
Will is standing in the kitchen, talking to a girl from biology class (Mandy? Amanda? He can't bring himself to remember right now) when he spies his friends in another room. He excuses himself and makes his way over, managing to only sway every few steps.
"Lucasssss!"
His friend looks up, raising his eyebrows at Will's uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
"Hey, dude. You look like you're having fun." Will dissolves into giggles and notices Lucas share an amused glance with Dustin. He looks around, unable to see the reason why he came over in the first place.
"Have you guys seen Mike? I've looked literally everywhere for him." Will feels his eyebrows draw into a frown. He tries to tamp down his disappointment. He was convinced Mike would be here.
"I don't think so. I'm gonna go find Jane, but I'll let you know if I find him." It's Dustin that addresses Will this time. Even though Lucas is tonight's designated driver, he seems to have opted not to drink. That's probably a good idea. Will is having a hard time organising his thoughts right now, but most of them are a chant of MikeMikeMike, anyways.
"Thanks, Dustin. Have fun!" He pats Will on the shoulder and presumably goes to find his sister.
"I think I saw him go through there with this girl." Lucas' statement is punctuated by him pointing to a hallway behind Will.
"Oh." Will feels his heart drop to his feet and shoves aside the sudden urge to cry. Mike likes girls. It's not a big deal that he would want to spend time with one. Alone. Will thinks he actually hates being drunk. All the feelings he would usually leave simmering deep down inside him are attempting to surface. It makes Will scared that he's going to do something stupid.
"Do you want me to help you find him?" Will wants to cry again at the genuine concern in Lucas' voice.
Will shakes his head a little too frantically to be believable. "No thanks. I'll be fine. See you later." He ignores the pitying glance and stumbles towards the dark corridor, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
Hoping to dull some of these annoying fucking feelings, he accepts a swig of tequila from one of his inebriated classmates and immediately splutters. He knows being more drunk probably isn't a good idea, but he's seventeen, for God's sake. He reckons he'll be fine.
Making his way through Stacy's labyrinthine home, Will unsuccessfully searches for Mike. Turning away from the third unsuccessful door, he doesn't notice the figure rapidly approaching until the two of them collide. Will's hands come up instinctively, and he is greeted by the familiar frame beneath his fingers.
"Mike?" Will's heart speeds up as he notices the way the other boy is trembling.
"Hey." Mike's voice cracks around the single word. He swallows hard, and Will notices the way his eyes dart around but never seem to make contact with his own. "I—" Mike can't get any further before he bursts into tears.
Will's heart aches. In all the years he has known him, he has only seen Mike cry a handful of times. Forcing himself to push aside his shock, he closes the space between them, threading their fingers together. He hates himself a little for the small part of him that relishes the contact.
"Let's go." If the circumstances were any different, Will might have found it funny how sober he suddenly feels. He weaves through the party, keeping an ironclad grip on Mike. He seems to be holding on to Will just as tightly. Eventually, the pair are spat out somewhere along the side of the house. There doesn't seem to be anyone around except for a couple sucking face in the distance. Will figures it's as secluded as they're going to get.
As soon as they stop, all the energy seems to drain out of Mike. He slumps against the wall, sliding down to land in a tangle of limbs on the ground. Will, not fully confident in his coordination, tentatively situates himself next to his friend.
Will shivers, the winter chill slicing through his haze of alcohol-induced warmth. Mike glances over, scooting closer until their sides are almost flushed. Will looks to Mike, noting the small divot between his eyebrows and how his full lips are turned down at the edges.
Taking a deep breath, Will nudges his leg against Mike's. "Are you okay?" Mike slides his eyes over to Will's at the words, but they dart away shortly thereafter.
Mike sighs. "Yeah. I just..." He trails off. Will leans his shoulder against Mike's, the pressure featherlight. Just to let him know he's there.
"You can talk to me. Only if you want to." At this, Mike turns to look at Will, whose heart aches at the anguish that underpins his expression. Mike heaves a sigh, head falling back to rest against the wall behind him.
"So. I was, uh, talking to this girl." A memory from earlier in the night flashes to mind. Mike talking to a pretty brunette over by some couches while Will was engaged in a fierce round of beer pong with Jane and Max. He's ashamed of the spike of jealousy that materialises at this recollection.
"And she wanted to find somewhere quieter to, um. Make out." The last part is said almost in a whisper. Will turns to fully face Mike, whose gaze is fixed firmly on the floor. He consciously pushes aside what feels strangely similar to grief, focusing on Mike.
"And it was... fine." A shuddering sigh escapes Mike. "But then... she wanted to—" A sob wrenches its way out of Mike, cutting him off.
Will doesn't think. He wraps his arm around Mike, drawing him close. His friend's dark curls are nestled against his cheek, and he breathes in the familiar scent. He wishes he could draw out all his pain, keep him in his arms, and protect him forever. Will doesn't know how long they stay like that, quietly breathing together.
"I think I might be gay." The words are so quiet that even as close as he is to Mike, Will barely hears them.
Will freezes. He thinks for a second that the alcohol might have affected his auditory processing capabilities because that is the absolute last thing he expected Mike to say. He doesn't quite know how to respond. So he decides not to say anything. Instead, he wraps his other arm around Mike and draws him even closer, until he can barely tell where one of them ends and the other begins.
"It's okay. I've got you." And Will means it. The sensations of the party melt away as his world narrows down to the boy next to him. Will has the most clear-headed thought he's had all night.
He's going to love Mike forever.