Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They've been driving for about ten straight hours and to say everyone was exhausted and uncomfortable would be an insensitive understatement. They were all tired, Jonathan couldn't keep his eyes on the road, and Argyle was stoned out of his mind, mumbling nonsense here and there, not exactly helping to relieve the tension in the van. Will and Mike's bodies were aching and sore; it didn't help that the van didn't have a heater, so they were freezing in the back, desperately trying to stay warm. Will was using a tarp he found, which Mike found repugnant and went on about how unsanitary it was, but Will chose to ignore him because he was staying warm and Mike was freezing his ass off, so who was really losing here? It wasn't until hour eleven that Jonathan decided to speak up and suggest staying in a motel for the night. No one opposed the idea, and soon they found themselves in an ominous parking lot, with a single streetlight serving as the only light. They all felt a shiver run down their spines.

“Well, this place certainly looks promising,” Mike says, in that Mike Wheeler tone, when he can't just stop himself from uttering something sarcastic.

“It looks kinda luxurious man, like one of those big fancy luxury hotels, you know?” Argyle examines the motel building, squinting his eyes.

Wills sends Jonathan a glare, to which he only responds with an apologetic shrug. Will sighs, walking in through the lobby doors before anyone else. They all follow after him, slowly, resembling lost puppies, but they manage to get inside the building. Jonathan and Argyle go up to the man standing at the check-in, it's a quick conversation, Will had stopped paying attention after ‘good evening’.

He was just so tired, all he wanted to do was collapse onto a bed, even if it had dirty, contaminated sheets strapped to the bed and blankets thin as paper that would definitely not keep him warm enough through the night, even if it was in a tiny, cramped room with a broken air conditioner and faulty electricity. He just needed to sleep, just for a while, for a moment to catch his breath, and turn off his thoughts.

“Will.”

His eyes come open when he hears his name echo in the lobby, the sound lifts the hair on his arms. It's Mike. When he turns to face him, a frown tugs at his lips.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks quietly, inaudible to anyone else but Will, as if he was afraid he was asking a stupid question.

It was a stupid question. Will chose not to mention it though, mostly because this was the first time Mike was taking an interest in his well-being, and as idiotic as it was, Will liked the warm feeling he got in his chest when Mike looked at him like that, like he actually cared.

“Yeah, ‘m fine, Mike,” he replies in a whisper.

Mike's brows come together, forming a wrinkle on his brow. Will watches it closely, he's not paying attention to the way Mike slowly gets closer, or the delicate movement of his eyes; they're both staring, and neither knows why. Mike’s lips part, there's that crease again, and he appeared as if he wanted to say something, but Will would never know because in that moment Jonathan jumps in between them.

“Alright, kiddos, let's go.” he sighs, shaking the key in his hand. Mike steals a glance at Will, he looks so distant, his body tense and frigid, something tugs at the bottom of Mike’s heart; he doesn't know what it is, but he does know that he does not like it.

“Yo, these halls have so many doors, man. See, Wheeler? Luxury at its finest man.” Argyle snorts, his fingers trailing against the faded wallpaper that was peeling at the corners. Mike makes a face, not exactly a nice one, and rolls his eyes. When they arrive at the door, Jonathan unlocks it with the key and pushes it open, allowing everyone else to enter first.

It smelled strangely of burnt hair, which was the first thing Will noticed. If this was any other day, this would have been quite alarming but it was currently hour 36 of being on the road and there was not a single bone in Will’s body with the strength to care. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and dream, only of nice things, please.

Drifting away from the pungent smell, the room was small, as expected, there were only two beds, two very humble beds. Will glanced at Mike, who was already looking at him, and it seemed he had just noticed the same thing because there was a color to his pale cheeks, something rare and definitely not something Will ever thought would ever be reserved for him. A look that fond, so gentle, something he'd only ever seen on his face when he was with Eleven.

Will pulled away first, surprisingly. He sat on the edge of the bed closer to the window, sometimes he liked to fall asleep with the stars. There was a television propped against a wobbly drawer, and he felt relieved.

“You guys hungry?” Jonathan said, breaking the silence.

“Dude, now that you said it, hell yeah. I could so go for some risotto right now.” Argyle nodded slowly, biting his lower lip and looking up, presumably imagining a bite of risotto.

"I could eat," Mike says simply.

Will nods, slumping backward onto the bed and releasing a deep sigh of relief. Jonathan clicked his tongue, pulling out his wallet and quickly scanning through it, his lips drawing upward as he slid the wallet back into his pocket.

“Okay, so good news, I have enough for a pizza. But the only pizza place around here was the one we saw 35 miles ago," he explained to the younger boys. “So, Argyle and I will go pick up the food, so you guys get to stay here and rest, maybe take a shower or something. Yeah?”

Will and Mike slowly nod, indicating that their minds weren’t entirely focused on food. Jonathan looks at Will, he's giving him a look, a look that came familiar to Will, it was permission, reassurance, a double-take, he wants to make sure Will’s completely okay, he needs him to be okay, and Will is quick to send him what is barely a smile, faint and worn, but something to ease his brother's nerves because he knows if he didn't, Jonathan would, by God, drop everything, throw every responsibility out the window just to stay with Will. It’s moments like these that Will is reminded of how incredible his brother really was and how eternally grateful he was to have him.

“Alright then, we'll be back in a bit, do not leave this room, okay guys?” Jonathan looks at Will one more time, his hand on the doorknob. “Will, please don't leave the room,” he stops, hesitating, there's a shift in his tone and if Will wasn't so distracted by the way his voice dropped, he would have maybe noticed the glance he stole from Mike.

“Please, be careful.”

Will feels something tighten in his throat, and his nose crumples up, almost as if he had just stepped into the ripe stench of the motel room for the first time again. To anyone else, that wouldn’t have meant more than it should, but telling by the way Jonathan's eyes softened slightly, tenuous and concealed, he knows deep in his soul there's a message hidden behind those eyes, and of course, Will isn't just anyone. There's an alternative, a secret tucked safely in between the rest of the books, hidden in plain sight, so painfully obvious only to those looking.

This is why, Will is certain Mike didn't notice a thing, not a whisper of movement.

“Okay,” is all Will says, and the power held in the lines of that singular word was enough for Jonathan to believe him, leaving him in trust. His little brother is not so little anymore.

“Okay,” he repeats, smiling. He turns the knob, opening the door as he calls for Argyle with a cock of his head. "Let's go, big boy," he mumbles as Argyle walks out the door.

“Ooh, I like when you call me that Byers.” Argyle teased, a smug grin on his face. Jonathan snorted and rolled his eyes, giving Will one last look before closing the door.

Then just like that, they were alone.

Alone.

It hadn’t hit him that they were being left alone until the second his eyes found Mike's, and the realization dawned on him just as those sickly-looking eyes pierced down his spine. They were alone, and the thought of it all tightened the knot in his stomach, a feeling so cruel it was almost beautiful. They stared at each other in silence, a silence that had Will’s body itching with the urge to move, speak, scream, cry, anything, God, anything. It was then when Mike decided it was the perfect time to stride closer, and whether it was subconsciously or intentionally, Will could hear his heart pounding in his chest. The silence alone was eating at him, the last thing he needed was Mike to invade his personal space, not right now, not like this. But with each passing second, and by every freckle on his face, Will was beginning to melt into the war of Mike Wheeler's stare, and he couldn't find the strength to care.

There's a look on Mike's face, an expression that told him there were words digging, burning with a desire at the tip of his tongue, he wants to say something, and if he doesn't, Will fears he might explode. His heartbeat quickens, if that's even possible; he's in awe of the possibility, of what he might say, of what that look could mean.

His lips part slowly, and Will held his breath.

“I'm worried about El.”

Will feels something break inside him.

Of course.

He could have laughed, but his heart was far too heavy, and suddenly he couldn’t find the humor in it.

Of course.

There it was, it was only a matter of time before he brought her up again. There she was, so present on his tongue, familiar in his heart, forever on his mind. There's a pang in his chest, he can't help but wonder what that feels like. Sometimes he finds himself thinking of her, wishing he could be her, wishing he could be a girl, hoping that Mike will finally look at him the way he looks at her.

“Oh.” Will whispers, barely audible.

Then before he could make a mistake, he catches himself, and reminds himself this was also his sister he was talking about.

“Oh, right, yeah. Yeah, me too.”

And he was, that wasn't a lie or an attempt at a cover-up to not seem like an asshole. He really was worried about her, I mean how couldn't he be, El was his sister, and he loved her. He did; he loved her so much, he feels he's grown closer to her this year than he has with some of his friends; she was just remarkable. She welcomed you gracefully, even with her heart on the line, because she knew, she was aware of the cruelty in this world, better than anyone in fact, but that held no matter to her, she wouldn't hesitate to die for you and Will thinks there's something awfully incredible about that.

That autumn, Will understood why Mike fell for her, and how easy it was to love her.

“I'm just so scared for her, you know? What if she's in danger right now and there's nothing I–we can do about it.” Mike said, exasperated, a desperation beating within him.

"I know Mike, I'm scared too, but you have to understand that sometimes things are out of our control, and Mike, this is out of our control. We just need to trust that we're doing the right thing and believe in El right now; that's all she needs from us." Will says, and every single word that was spoken was drenched in sincerity, making Mike feel oddly inferior.

Mike stares down at the torn carpet, all faded and dirty, and it reminds him of something, and it feels so clear that he can taste the revelation on his tongue, bitter and callous. He wants to look away, he needs to, but his gaze is stuck on the ground, watching the way it's looking up at him, almost as if it knew, taunting him.

“That's bullshit, Will.” The words slip past his lips before he could even register them. and soon they're present in the air, lingering with a sense of agony.

Will.

Will grimaces, his whole body tense; when he says his name like that all he wants to do is cower into himself and curse the day his mother stumbled upon the name. He says it in a cruel way that makes him want to rip himself into shreds, remove himself from his soul, until there is nothing left to identify him with, no body, no name, he wants to become something new, hopefully something better, someone acceptable to society.

Will doesn't say anything, he doesn't even flinch, he has an unreadable expression on that Mike was struggling to decipher. Will nods once, it's firm, and it leaves Mike with such a raw anticipation. Then, without saying anything, he walks over to the bed and timidly sits on it. He then turns to Mike with that same torturous look that had Mike standing on the tips of his toes, and raises his eyebrows, signaling Mike to continue.

“What?” Mike snaps, furrowing his brows.

Will shrugs simply, pressing his lips loosely against each other as he feigns innocence. “I literally haven't said anything Mike '' Will scoffs, a tired tug at the seams of his mouth. "Go ahead, don't be shy." There isn't a fraction of sincerity in his voice, it's drawn dull and sarcastic, and there's a clench in Mike's stomach at the thought that he could have caused that, pulling the strings on this boy's heart until there was nothing but a thread left, holding on scarcely. Mike's eyes soften, just barely, a prickly feeling present in his chest.

Did he do that?

“What? Now you finally decide to stay quiet?”

That gentle feeling doesn't last long though, because before Will could even finish his sentence, Mike is biting back, his face turned in all the wrong ways.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He spits out harshly, his voice carrying a charged malice, and Will knew then he had set something off in that boy's body—something that wasn't meant for him, but it had been building, boiling, chewing on him for so long that he just needed to get it out, explode.

Will laughs bitterly, his laugh is small and weak, but it manages to amplify Mike's anger. “Oh come on, Mike. Do you ever just shut up.” he silently groaned, finding himself with a new profound confidence, coursing through his veins, pumping his blood like oxygen.

Mike draws his head back in surprise, a quiet gasp escaping his mouth. He doesn't know what to do, his lips part slowly but were met with silence, he lost the ability to speak, and for the first time in his life, Mike Wheeler is speechless.

Will bit his tongue in an immediate regret, the look on his best friends face, the downturn, the crinkle, that stupid fucking crinkle that always sits perfectly in between his eyebrows, his heart is nearly breaking, this is not how he wants to see it, not like this. It's all enough to bring him to tears.

“What do you mean by that, Will?” Mike whispers, his voice strained, far too strained for his liking.

Will.

There it was again, that shrill excuse of a name, God, he hated it.

“I mean, come on, Mike! All you ever do is talk about El, it's like you're not capable of thinking about anything else but her. It's kinda pathetic. She's not the only person in the world, there are other people here, Mike.”

I'm here, Mike.

He wants to scream, but he swallows his tongue instead, and the words die in his throat.

Mike’s face scrunches up as he shakes his head in disbelief, almost like he can't believe what he's hearing. His thoughts are clashing with his heart, and he feels them both at the same time, pounding and screaming in his ear, and he's struggling to breathe.

“Are you seriously mad about this? I'm sorry that I care about my girlfr-” He catches himself just in time, the term charred and broken, he winces as he remembered Eleven wasn't his girlfriend anymore. He reminds himself of the fight, the yelling, the tears, something similar to this, comically enough.

He's suddenly there again, in El’s room, sitting silently with a stupid face on as she cried, as she practically begged for him to love her. He was going insane, the tears streaming down her face furiously, one after the other, on a fucking unbearable loop. He watched her like an idiot, mute, frozen, so, so fucking confused, his emotions consuming him. His chest tightened, his ears rang and all he wanted was for Eleven to stop talking, but he feared that wouldn’t be enough, no, he wanted the world to go silent, go completely still, he wanted the earth to tear open and swallow him whole, so maybe then he could avoid all this, prevent the very next sentence El was about to mutter.

“We're done, Mike.”

There was a tug at his heart, but nothing broke. There he was, still whole and intact, he was okay. The world didn't crumble around him, the ground didn't shake, the birds still sang, and his body wasn't melting into the fabric of his clothes, he was here, and okay.

He was so confused, so, so fucking confused.

That was it?

It wasn't like the movies, or how the books described it, or how Nancy would tell it to him. His heart didn't break, and he could still breathe, how was that possible?

Mike wondered.

God, how he wondered.

“My–friend, is that so wrong, Will?” Mike finishes, and he's hoping that Will didn't notice the little slip-up, but he did, he caught it so quickly it was almost amusing, just how fast the color surged to his cheeks. But he didn't mention it, not at all.

“No, Mike. There's nothing wrong with that,” he whispered, and he's tired, he knows he sounds pathetic, his lungs all used and worn, but with the very last strand of strength this boy possessed, he looked up at Mike, and with a simple sigh he spoke.

A sentence that nearly brought Mike to his knees.

“I'm just saying that maybe…if you weren't so obsessed with El, you–you might have remembered my birthday.”

And suddenly, a trigger was pulled somewhere inside Mike Wheeler's heart, and it broke. A single tear streamed down Will’s cheek, and Mike couldn't breathe.

Then Will headed for the door and left without another word, leaving Mike with his heart on the ground, all bloody and cracked, he couldn't breathe, the oxygen had stopped reaching his lungs and the blood wouldn't stop coming, suffocating every part of his body. His head was throbbing, and a million things were running through his mind all at once, everything being too much; he felt so small, he wanted to scream.

He forgot Will’s birthday.

He forgot his best friend's birthday.

He forgot his birthday.

it only hit Mike then that Will had left the room. He had to go after him, he had to find him. He had to fix this, and by God, he was going to fix this.

But he knew what he needed to do first.

Mike left the room with an idea.

—----------------

25 minutes later, Mike found Will sitting by the pool. His knees were brought up to his chest, and his arms were loosely wrapped around his legs. He looked as if he had been crying and Mike felt his stomach turn at the devastating view. You did this, asshole. Mike looked down at the item in his hand, a pathetic excuse of a gift, and his lips twitched in disappointment. He walked closer to him, hesitantly taking a seat next to him. Will didn't dare to spare him a glance, and Mike understood, of course he did, he deserved it. Mike was staring at the side of his face, the only part he was permitted to see, and there, with the moonlight reflecting off his skin and the water brimming benevolently around his eyes, Will Byers looked beautiful.

Mike swallowed thickly, his throat tight. God, why was he so nervous? He picked up the gift bag, wiping the sweat off his other hand on his jeans.

“Hey, Will…I um–I got you something. It's stupid, really, but I just thought–fuck, man…” Mike was stumbling over his words, his mouth was just spitting things out and his mind couldn't stop them. It was as if the English language had lost its meaning for him; all he had were letters but no idea how to use them.

Mike knew Will was watching him through his reflection on the water, and that somehow made him feel smaller than he's ever felt. No, you know what, no. He needed to do this correctly.

And that's exactly what he did.

Mike took a deep breath, a poor ragged thing, and stood up abruptly, slightly startling Will.

“Alright, dude, get up,” Mike says, and Will’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What?” Will responds, ignoring how upset he should be right now; he was never one to be prideful in the first place.

"Get up, come on, stand up," He says nonchalantly, so casually that Will wonders if the chlorine chemicals have gotten to him.

“Why?”

Mike rolls his eyes and lets out a huff of air. Impatiently, he grabs Will by the arm and carefully pulls him up. So they were now standing in front of each other, staring at each other awkwardly.

“Hit me,” Mike says suddenly, and Will has to restrain himself from bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“What?” Will scoffs, some of his laugh escaping him.

Mike smiles, and it's a stupid sheepish smile, but how it made Will's heart jump in his chest. He hates himself for finding it so charming right now, when he was supposed to be mad at him.

“I'm serious, Will, hit me.”

Will shakes his head, left to right in complete disbelief. He's looking up at Mike as if he's truly insane, and to be honest, Mike was toying with the idea himself. When Will doesn't say anything, Mike lets out a frustrated groan, as if he had something to be upset about.

“C’mon Will, hit me! Just fucking hit me, dude. I deserve it!”

Will does laugh this time because there was just no way he couldn't, not when Mike was acting like this. “I'm not gonna hit you, Mike. Are you crazy?”

Mike shrugs, his lips curving into a smirk. “Probably”

Will's mouth opens to, presumably to object but Mike doesn't give him the chance.

"Let your anger out, I know you want to; you'd be lying if you said there isn't even a small part of you that doesn't want to rock my shit. Even I want to punch myself right now, Will, I'm just so punchable, and this is such a great opportunity if you think about it. Some would say too good to pass up. So, fucking come on, Byers! Hit me!” Mike’s voice had gotten louder as he spoke, his hands were waving in the air, and he was aware he was making a scene, but honestly didn't care.

Will was giggling, a charming little thing, and fuck if it wasn't the best thing Mike had ever heard.

“Oh my god, just stop talking please!” Will exclaimed, but this time there was no cruel intention behind the remark, no merciless motive, not a drop of hostility in that boy's voice. Mike could finally breathe.

“I'm not going to hit you–I don't want to, dude. I…I just want an apology Mike.” he says, a little more serious.

Mike nods in agreement, inhaling a ridiculous amount of air, so much so that his lungs began to burn, but this could easily have been caused by the fact that Mike was terrible at apologies, and his chest tightened at the mere thought. But it was Will he owed it to, and he knew stupidly well he'd do just about anything for this boy.

Okay, you got this Mike.

“Will,” he began, a crack in his voice. “I’m sorry, I'm so sorry. I was acting like a complete asshole these last couple of days.” Will gave him a tired look that forced Mike to correct himself immediately. “You know what, fuck that, I’ve been a major asshole this entire year man, I know, and I'm so sorry. You were right; I was obsessed with El, so obsessed that I managed to brush aside the most important person in my life.” Will's breath hitches in his throat, and Mike is tentative to watch the way something glistens in his eyes.

“Because you are, Will. You are the most important person in my life, and I'm starting to believe you’re the only person that matters to me, not like others. I don't think–no, I know I couldn't live without you.” Mike's voice is shaking, he's terrified; the things he's admitting are words he never believed would ever live to see the day, he didn't they’d ever make it out of that scary, suffocating, dark corner of the closet. He never imagined he'd be this brave.

“I meant what I said that day, about meeting you on the swings on the first day of school. It really was the best thing I'd ever done. I couldn't imagine my life without you, Will Byers.” His whole body felt like it was on fire, another word and he was afraid he might burst into flames. But if it meant Will got to hear all the beautiful things he deserved, he figured it wouldn't matter.

“And it was unfair of me to assume you weren't worried about El, of course you are, I guess I was just so wrapped up in my own shit to care. I'm so fucking sorry Will. And oh my god, your birthday, I forgot your birthday. I don't even know what to say to that one man. I am the worst friend to ever walk this Earth, such a shitty person that I don't expect you to forgive me. I would understand.” Mike had to stop to catch his breath, and it was only then that he realized he hadn't cared enough to take a breath of air while speaking; all that mattered was getting the words out there in the world, conspicuous to Will's ears, he was the only thing he cared about in that moment, so much that he'd rather have died of suffocation than tear his eyes away from Will once.

Will's eyes appeared so soft in the moonlight, they were bright on the verge of tears. He was so quiet, so silent, that Mike's skin itched and his ears rang, creating a sound to compensate for the lack of noise. He'd never missed Will's lovely voice so much.

“You are such an idiot, Mike Wheeler.”

Mike has always hated his name, if he was being honest; it's too simple, short, and ordinary, it's never amused him in the slightest. He always thought of the possibility of changing his name one day, renewing himself, and tearing open someone new. But all of that went out the window the second Will Byers decided to say his name like that, so special, so personal, suddenly his name became something cherished, and hell if he'll ever do anything to change that.

“I forgive you.” Those three words alone liberated something deeply buried within Mike's body, an emotion, emancipating a truthfulness. Before he could even think about it, his body was moving for him, and he soon found his arms tightly wrapped around Will.

"Thank God," Mike murmured, his voice muffled against his shoulder. He hadn't realized just how scared he was of Will not forgiving him. As Will reciprocated the hug, his shoulders relaxed and his hands slid around his waist. He wouldn't have been able to live with it.

Right there, just like that, their bodies tangled perfectly together, they felt alive.

“Okay, now I can give you your present.” Mike grins as he pulls away, bending slightly to pick up the gift from the ground. “Or, well, this poor excuse of a present, really. Again I'm so sorry for forgetting Will. I would have definitely got you something tremendously better.” Will shrugs, a faint smile on his face.

Mike hands him the bag, and without hesitation, Will opens it and pulls out what's inside.

He could feel the tears build in his eyes.

“I didn't have many options, as you could probably tell, we're in the middle of nowhere and I had to walk like two miles before I found this 24-hour gas station, I spent like a good 15 minutes trying to find something for you but I didn't have much money either—”

“Mike!” Will said, cutting him off from his pubescent rambling, and thank God he did, because Mike was beginning to think he was never gonna shut up.

“I love it.” Will murmurs under his breath, a sheepish grin on his lips.

Mike breaks out into a smile, the heat surging to his cheeks. He loves it.

“It's incredibly cheesy, but I love it.”

It was a Kit Kat, the chocolate candy bar. To anyone else, this would have meant nothing, some people might have even found it boring, but not to Will, to Will, this was the best possible thing Mike could have gotten him. To think something so simple could mean so much. It was extraordinary. Mike was extraordinary.

“Yeah? You really like it? Or are you just saying that to spare my feelings–because if it is that then that's okay, I won't be upset!” Mike is rambling again, his eyes darting everywhere but Will's face.

Will rolls his eyes, letting out a giggle. He's really missed this; Mike, everything about him made Will feel like a kid again. Just a boy with no worries, a smile on his face every minute of every hour, with his best friend by his side.

Will gently grabbed Mike's chin, his index finger beneath his chin as his thumb slowly pulled him in, and their eyes met.

“I love it, dumbass,” Will says, his hand traveling to cup Mike's cheek.

Mike wants to cry. He wants to cry because he's never been touched like this, with such tenderness, and sensitivity; his fingers feel fragile against his skin, he fears if he moved by a hair he might break him. And he doesn't want to break him, God no, he wants Will to hold him like this forever. He wants to selfishly bottle up the feeling and store it away from sight so no one besides him could ever get to feel like this, everything at once. Will Byers was the greatest high of your life, he was a pipe dream, he was cloud nine, he was warmth, he was oxygen, he was your first love.

Mike Wheeler was intoxicating, and Will Byers has never wanted to die so young.

“I love you.” He doesn't even realize he's said it, not until he feels a cold empty place on his cheek where Will’s hand used to be. He wants to swallow them back, remove them from the Earth, but he can't, the words are there now, chronic in the air, with a presence of something new, bold, different, a good different.

He said I love you.

Will freezes, his heart stops beating in his chest, and his mind is fighting to process those three simple words, because this was the first time in his life that Mike told him he loved him. For the first time in their ten years of friendship, Mike told him he loved him.

Mike loves him.

“I love you too, dude.” He makes sure to add, knowing that's how he meant it as, an illustration of friendship, nothing more, even if it broke his heart to do so.

“I love you, I do, I love you,” Mike says under his breath, and he loves the way the words sound leaving his mouth.

Will raises a brow, an amused smirk playing at his lips. As he walks closer, he cocks his head up higher.

“So I've heard, Wheeler. I love you too.”

Mike is watching the way Will is subtly moving closer, he knows this, so he's aware of his actions when he chooses to take a courageous step forward, putting inches between them. Their breathing had slowed down, almost to match the rhythm of their heartbeats, so flawlessly set together. They both know they're crossing boundaries as they’re doing this, standing so close, whispering such fond endearments to one another, but in this moment as they stood like this, they didn’t care.

“So, are you planning on splitting that with me? Sharing is caring.” Mike jokes, loving the way Will sighs and rolls his eyes, having missed this so much.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding,” He says, daring closer. The vamps of their shoes are touching.

“Yeah, you better be,” Will grumbles, his eyes averting over to the body of water next to him, and it was like an invisible light bulb turned on over his head. He looked back at Mike with an almost dangerous glow in his eye, but since Mike was oblivious to everything, he didn't notice it.

“I am, I'm kidd—” And the next thing Mike knew, he was underwater.

He sprang up instantly, the echo of Will’s laughter ringing in his ears. He gasped for air, his mind still trying to make sense of what had just happened, the freezing water clinging to his body.

“What the hell, Will?!” Mike shouts, his teeth chattering against one another.

Will is still laughing, he can't help himself, the noise Mike made when he fell in keeps replaying in his head. He bends slightly, resting one hand on his knee, and the laughter grows louder. Mike, as dramatic as he is, is clearly not as amused as Will, and he was finding the whole situation uninteresting.

“I'm–I'm sorry, you just–it's just too funny, dude.” he wheezes, talking in between giggles.

Mike notices the position Will was in, defenseless, unguarded, and oh, ho, oh, ho he’s not going to be laughing much longer.

Was Mike mean for this? Probably, but he was soaking wet and freezing his ass off so Will had it coming.

Then before Mike could change his mind, he grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the pool, causing a loud splash. Mike was the one laughing now.

Will shot up in a second, his hands running over his face to wipe the water away, his hair falling back. Mike's laughter faded gradually, giving way to a sudden silence, with only the sound of water hitting the pavement in the background.

Will looked so pretty.

“Okay, that one was on me,” Will admits, giggling softly.

Mike hums, perking his lips up slightly. He just wants to reach out and touch Will, he wonders if that would be okay?

Will is smiling, that Will Byers smile, a play of the lips that wasn't physically possible to look away from. God, that smile. Mike isn't aware of his staring, he doesn't know that Will had noticed, and he didn't even notice when Will moved closer, not until he felt the warmth of Will's body pressed up against him. Mike stopped breathing, and maybe Will saw because the next thing he does is laugh, as carelessly as a sound could get. Mike takes the opportunity, his hands hesitantly traveling to Will’s waist, pulling him in until the tips of their noses met.

“I've really missed that”. Mike whispers.

Will's nose wrinkles a little as he murmurs, "what?"

“Your smile,” he says, so delicately, so fragile in his ears. Will’s smile brightens, he feels so light in the water like this, with Mike’s arms around him, he finally feels peace.

“You're so corny.” Will teases, their noses grazing each other as he giggles.

“What can I say, Byers? You bring out a new side of me.” Mike quips, shrugging. “And if I'm so corny then I'll gladly take back that KitKat, I'm starving.”

Will snorts and lightly nudges him on the shoulder. Mike laughed, bringing Will even closer, if that were possible. Their foreheads were touching, Will could count every single freckle on Mike's face.

“No way, that KitKat’s mine.” Their noses were set side by side, and if anyone chose to lean in just a hair, their lips would touch.

“What? We can't go splitsies?” Mike pouts. Will slowly lowers his eyes to his lips, watching the way they move, every crack, the color, a color that Will decided right then and there will forever be his favorite.

Will nods an idle no, his lips curving into a smirk. Mike's face flushes, he knew Will was staring at his lips, he might have been oblivious but he wasn't that dumb. He knows this, but he doesn't care, because all this meant to him was now he could stare as well, as recklessly, and for as long as was given the chance.

There was something burning in Mike’s body, a spark, something laced with new profound confidence, something that had him leaning in. Their lips grazed barely, and Will was robbed of his air in the best possible way.

Mike closed his eyes, he wasn't confused anymore, he knew what he wanted, he wanted Will Byers, and God, he hoped Will wanted him too.

“We–should.” Will breathes out, putting his hand on Mike's chest, creating distance between them. Mike's stomach twisted in all the wrong ways as he held his breath.

“We should get back to the room…Jonathan and Argyle are probably waiting for us.” He finishes, his voice trembling and slow; he was scared, no, terrified. Even like this, inches away from each other, Mike could feel his pounding heartbeat.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck fuck, he's messed up, hasn't he? He went too far, Will—

Mike’s heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach, and everything feels so heavy, so cramped, the world starts shaking around him. He pulls his hands off Will, they're trembling, he blames the cold.

“Yeah–yeah,” Mike remembers to react, trying not to sound hurt, but there's a crack near the end that makes him shut his eyes in embarrassment.

“Hey, hey, you're shaking, Mike,” Will says, cupping their hands together. “Jesus, you should have said something. I'm sorry for pushing you in.” He chuckles nervously as he pulls himself up onto the concrete. He stood up and extended his hand for Mike to grab.

Mike is hesitant, even if every bone in his body was begging him to just reach out and touch him.

“C’mon, Mike. Whatchu waiting on?” Will raises a brow, smiling stiffly. Mike shakes his head, finally taking his hand, and pulling himself out of the pool.

“Let's get you dried up, Wheeler.” Will sighs, cracking a grin.

When they got back to the motel room they noticed Jonathan and Argyle hadn't come back yet, and it was still just the two of them. Mike was undeniably nervous, to say the least; there was a new tension between them and he wasn't sure how to deal with it; he thought it would be less awkward if there were more people here. But no, they were still alone. Alone.

Alone.

Will emerges from the bathroom holding one towel in his hand and the other loosely hung around his neck. He wraps it tightly around Mike's shoulders, lingering his fingers for a few seconds longer than he should have.

“Better?” Will asks kindly.

Mike nods slowly, his lips pursed gently. He lifts the towel to his hair, drying it up so the room doesn't flood with all the water droplets.

"Here, let me," Will says, reaching for the towel as Mike's hands drop to his sides. Will starts drying his hair, carefully running the fabric through his curls, his nails digging into his scalp; was Mike crazy to like the way that felt?

Mike can't help the smile that appears on his face, not when Will looks this adorable when he's concentrating.

“You're too good for this world, Will.” Mike says.

Will pauses, his eyes falling to meet Mike's. There's a reminiscent of a frown on his lips, and it makes Mike bite his tongue in shame. Will lowers his hands, and the towel falls to the floor, but neither of them notices.

“Don't say things like that, Mike,” Will whispers, it's tight in his throat, fragile, and it causes a knot in Mike’s chest.

"Why not?" He needs to know, urging the words out, unconsciously moving forward.

Will’s frown deepens. “Because–because.” he takes a frigid breath. “It gives me hope.” He barely says, nearly inaudible to the human ear, and Mike’s grateful he's standing so close.

“What do you mean?”

Mike has an inkling, but it isn't strong enough, and there isn't enough faith in the world to get Mike to say it aloud without complete confirmation.

Will bites his lower lip, his gaze falling to the floor. He was practically shaking, and they both knew this wasn't the cause of the cold weather.

God, was he really about to do this?

Will looks back up at Mike, his lips part slightly but they shut just as quickly. Mike takes another step, their noses are inches away. Mike cups his cheeks, tilting his head up slightly so he could look at him.

“What is it, Will?” Mike whispers, and Will could feel the words on his lips.

“When you…do stuff like this, say shit like that…It makes me think that–maybe—” his eyes are filling with tears, and he's beginning to stutter over his words.

“That maybe you like me back.” He finishes, his whole body is tense and cold, regret is nipping at his feet, and all he’s thinking is he'd rather go missing all over again than have to deal with whatever cruel, inhumane, justified, words Mike was about to scream at him.

But they never come.

Mike’s eyes had softened in a way that Will had never seen before. He feels somehow relieved, but it’s far too early to take a breath, and it's with a swift motion that Mike closes the gap between them.

It takes a moment for Will to register the fact that Mike was kissing him. Holy shit Mike was kissing him. Will reciprocates immediately, his hands traveling up to his neck. Mike takes this as permission to deepen the kiss, their lips moving flawlessly against each other, it's passionate and emotional, intense and hungry, and it's ten years of feelings being poured out into one kiss. Mike brings his hands down to Will’s waist, drawing him in closer, their chests pressed against each other tightly. Mike wanted him close, after so many years of lost time, every moment he took for granted, he needed him close. Will smiled, and Mike could feel it brush his lips.

“What? Am I a bad kisser or something?” Mike jokes, breaking apart, his voice raspy and starved. Will giggles, pausing to catch his breath.

“No, no. It's just…I've been dreaming about this ever since I knew what crushes were.” Will laughs, and his heart is light in his chest at the realization that he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

Mike smiles brightly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I'm so in love with you, Will Byers. I'm crazy for you,” he confesses, and that sheepish grin grows wider.

He is, he's head over heels for him.

And it doesn't pain him to admit it anymore, he's free, he's cured. He's capable of love, he's finally able to show the most lovable boy in the universe what love really is.

Chapter Text

“You're in love with me?” Will breathes out, tilting his head back slightly.

Mike lets out a quiet laugh, his knees growing weak as he stares into his kind eyes. “Yeah, of course, I am, Will. Were the three times I confessed not obvious enough?” Mike teases, another laugh. Will’s lip twitched, and he shook his head timidly, his gaze falling to his shoes. He didn't look as happy as Mike felt.

Mike doesn't like that.

“Hey, hey, Will. Look at me” Mike says quickly, desperately, his hands practically flung to cup Will’s face. “Is something wrong? D-did I say something wrong? Fuck, was it the joke–it is, isn't it? I'm sorry, sometimes I make stupid jokes in serious situations because I'm always afraid of messing things up, which is pointless now I guess since I ended up doing something stupid anyway–”

Mike was cut off by a giggle, a curious noise that froze the words on his tongue; Mike suddenly forgot what he was talking about.

“Mike! Stop, please, it's okay. It's okay, it's just… it's not that.” Will's voice had weakened, sending shivers down Mike's spine, and his grip had tightened subconsciously. He furrowed his brows as he waited for Will to continue; all he wanted was for Will to feel comfortable enough to talk to him, but Jesus was the silence killing him.

Will took a deep breath, slowly pulling Mike’s hand off. There was something crawling up Mike’s body, digging its nails deep into his flesh and clawing its way to his chest where it lingered around his heart. Mike couldn't move, he feared that if he did, whatever was causing the burning in his skin would be merciless enough to rip his heart right out of his chest, and here, standing in this suffocating silence, Will was either going to repair his body, rid him of every cruelty, provide him of the warmth he so perilously needed.

Or.

“You-you're being serious…right?” Will finally says. Mike holds his breath, and it hurts to do so. “You're not just messing with me? There isn't a camera hidden here somewhere, and no ones gonna like jump out and start laughing? This–this is real right? You actually like me?”

Oh.

Mike moves forward and, without a second to spare, wraps his arms around Will, embracing him completely. He clutches onto him tightly, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck; he feels the tears surge to his eyes, he doesn't care. Will hesitates at first, his body tense in confusion; though his feet are melting onto the carpet, he has no idea what to do. So, he simply reciprocated the hug.

Oh.

“Jesus, Will,” Mike mumbles.

Will barely heard him, yet he stood confused.

Mike steps back slightly, his hands rising to cup his face once more, an action he was growing fond of. His eyes were glossy, taunting a trip of tears; he needs to blink, he should blink, but he just can't pull his eyes off Will, not even for that mere second.

Mike can nearly hear his heart mending.

“Of course, I like you, dude. Will, I love you! I am–so, so in love with you it's crazy.” Mike breathed out, loudly, but gentle in Will’s heart. Will sighed in relief, practically dissolving in his touch.

It's crazy.

Crazy together.

“Yeah?” he asks, and it's stupid, he knows it's stupid but he can't help but ask, he just needed to make sure.

“Yeah,” Mike answers, because he knows how much Will needs to hear it, and he never wants to defy him of anything ever again.

Will smiles faintly, it's kind, so kind, and that smile alone is enough to convince anyone that Will Byers was the nicest boy in the world. Mike is sure of this, but he doesn't need a smile to know this, even if that smile ran his head dizzy.

“Okay.” Will whispers, his cheeks burning in color as the water still clung to his body. It was damp, it fought to bring him down, heavy and sticky, but nothing, absolutely nothing, could rob him of the happiness he was carrying at that moment.

“Will,” Mike says, and it creates a drastic friction between the two. Will's hair stood up and his chest tightened, but in a good way, the kind that cures you.

Mike shifts closer, a glow in his eyes that nearly sends Will spiraling. “Will…” he says again, the tremble in his voice revealing a wave of anxiety. He inhales a quick breath of air, and with every fraction of confidence he possesses, he speaks.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Will breaks out into a sheepish smile, nodding quickly. Mike’s eyes lower, and his lips ache as he imagines kissing Will all over again, and again and again until his lips go numb and his legs can't hold him up anymore. He wants to dive into each distinct tear and crack, and get lost in between them, losing himself just as his soul found him. He's never wanted to kiss anyone this badly before, not like this, as if he didn't, his whole body would catch on fire from desperation, wanting, need.

“Mike, I pray you never have to ask me that again. The answer will forever be yes.” Will says with an intimate shift in his eyes, he's looking at Mike so closely that if it hadn't been Will, Mike would have looked away or backed up, anything to break the tension, but this was Will, and Mike has never felt so light.

“Yeah? You sure? You're totally okay wi–”

“Mike just shut up and kiss me!” Will cuts him off, giggling softly. Mike can feel the heat surge to his cheeks, a nervous laugh peering through.

Mike didn't waste another second and leaned forward, pressing their lips together. And it was everything Mike could have ever wanted. Perfect. He brings his hands down to his waist, pulling him in closer until their chests meet. Will wraps his hands around his neck, loosely holding on. Mike swears he could disintegrate in his arms, his warm hands blending into his skin as if he belonged in his blood, his chest pressed up against his as if their hearts could morph into one, their bodies tangled together as if their spirits were destined to come together, written in a prophecy created at the beginning of time. They were made for each other, and this kiss proved it all.

Mike deepens the kiss, drawing a hand to the nape of Will’s neck. Will has never been high before but he figured it had to be something quite familiar to whatever he was feeling right now. It doesn't feel real.

Jesus, was it real?

Will has been wanting this for so long, dreaming of it, wishing for it. He can't help but wonder if there's a possibility he's making this all up. Was it a dream? Was he dreaming? It would make sense, of course it would. He's stupid to think Mike would ever reciprocate his feelings—

His thoughts are interrupted as Mike slowly begins to guide him to the wall. It's a tender and innocent movement but God, does it weaken his knees.

Oh, not a dream.

“Will,” Mike whispers against his lips, low in a way he's never heard before.

Definitely not a dream.

Just as Will summoned the strength to form letters and answer, there was a faint click, and before their minds could register what it was, the door came open. They both jumped away from each other, so drastically that they practically ended up on opposite sides of the room. Jonathan walked in with a pizza in his hand, Argyle close behind.

Jonathan cast a quiet glance toward Will, a bold and confident look that made sure to reach Will’s senses. It was almost like he knew…did he know? Did he see? Shit shit shit.

Fuck, did Argyle see?

Will looked over at Mike, and he looked just as terrified as he felt. His face was pale and frozen in place, as if he'd just finished watching a scary movie, or, in this case, when the brother of a boy you'd just made out with walked in, along with his friend who you barely knew. Yeah, he’d take rewatching The Shining alone in a dark room over this any day.

Jonathan cleared his throat as he positioned the pizza box atop the wobbly coffee table. Argyle didn't waste a second in reaching for a slice, oblivious to the almost insane visible tension set in the room.

“Will, come get a slice, man,” Jonathan said.

Will didn't feel so hungry anymore.

“Yeah, sure, in a minute,” he mutters tiredly, a sudden wave of reality crashing down on him like a ton of bricks.

Jonathan narrowed his brows, taking a step closer. “Hey, are you okay?” he quickly asks, concern bleeding in his eyes. Will swallows back a groan. He’ll admit that sometimes all the repeating and constant questions of worry get to him slightly. He knows they mean well, he knows this, but there are times when he feels like if someone were to ask him if he was okay one more fucking time, he’d snap. It can’t be just because he was tired, or he wasn't so hungry, or he lost track of time and got home a little late. It was never simple; it just couldn't be apparently.

“Yeah, I'm fine, just tired is all.” Will shrugged, a worn-out action, seeming like it hurt to achieve it. Jonathan nods, but he doesn't seem convinced, and Will knows he isn't, but he doesn't press on, which Will praises.

God, he was on top of the world just a minute ago, how did he get here?

He knows Jonathon wouldn't say anything, he's so sure of it that it should be enough to relax him but Jonathan wasn't the only witness in the room. He doesn't know where Argyle stands on this sort of thing, and he believes Jonathan wouldn't befriend anyone who…well, didn't approve. Not to mention, he probably wouldn't even remember it the next morning.

Okay, Will, see there's nothing to get worked up about. Everythings fine.

He really wants to believe that. He steals a glance from Mike, a frown stuck on his face. He hopes Mike can believe it too.

They all sat to eat on the floor. Ten, fifteen minutes must have passed where the room was silent, that was until Argyle decided to do something about it.

“Yo this pizzas smacking man.”

Everyone shared the same look, as if to say, 'how do we respond to that?' Will simply bobbed his head in a sort of agreement, having taken only two bites compared to Argyle's fourth slice. Mike put on that same annoyed roll of the eyes look, not exactly amused. Jonathan smiles idly, taking another bite from his pizza.

Then, the conversation took an interesting turn, bizarrely.

“So, Wheeler, ever had your first kiss?” He says it casually, as if it didn't cause Mike to choke on his food. Will froze, his eyes darting up to meet Jonathan’s. Though he was preoccupied with calming Mike down, patting him on the back until he caught his breath.

Mike shakes his head violently fast, his mouth opening and closing in rapid movements as he mutters inaudible nonsense. Argyle’s unnervingly flat expression doesn't seem to shift even slightly; there was honestly something daunting about it.

Argyle takes a bite of his pizza, not breaking eye contact with Mike for a second. “So? Have you mini Nancy? He says this with his mouth full of food. Mike cringes at the lack of manners, and even more so at the godawful nickname. It was almost enough to take his mind off the question, but as his eyes accidentally glimpse Will, he’s brought right back.

Mike takes a deep breath. “Uh, yeah I have, with my girlfriend–ex-girlfriend,” he admits awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room, especially Will. He lacks the courage, and frankly, the resistance, to see Will's face without embracing him in a hug.

He just wants to back to the moment before, where they were alone, free to do anything they wanted, anything.

“Anddd have you kissed anyone after that?” Argyle asks, as innocent as he could, which wasn't very subtle. And then it was like something clicked in both their minds.

He knows. This bastard fucking knows.

And he’s having fun with it.

Jonathan seemed to have caught on too because he suddenly turned to Argyle with a dead glare, a look that to literally anybody else would mean to shut up immediately, but as everyone knew well, Argyle wasn't like others.

He went on.

“Come on, man. ‘M falling asleep here.”

Mike clenched his jaw, looking down harshly at the table as if the inanimate object had personally done him wrong. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and he cowered into himself, shrinking and shrinking until his bones ached and his lungs collapsed in on themselves. God, why am I acting like this? It's just a simple fucking question, yet it was like he was chemically imbalanced to reject it, to cower in its presence, to fear. Mike sucks in a sharp breath.

It was more than just a question, wasn't it?

It's not just one question, but a lifetime of them, forever. He knows what this means for him, if he chooses to act on his true desires, if he loves Will the way he wants to love him, and if he wants to be who he really is. Mike feels the tears build in his eyes, he tilts his head up slightly to keep them from falling. There it was, that cold dreadful, haunting realization drowning itself within him. He feels almost empty. Like he'll never smile, never laugh, never be happy again, or ever enjoy life to its fullest like he's thought to; because truly, he won't, not the way he was supposed to, not the way he was expected to. He'll never have that big family with the wife and kids, no tree-lined street with a painted mailbox on every driveway on a suburban road, no weekly date nights, no respected job with a good salary, nothing like his parents' lives. That's all he knows, and that's what he's supposed to want, right? To have a life like his parents.

But what if he doesn't want that? Would it be okay? No.

It wasn't fair.

No, no, no, don't cry. Don't you dare cry, Wheeler.

Was it even worth it? Was any of it worth it?

He forces the tears back, clenching his eyes so tightly that they had to disappear. He looks down and opens his eyes, only for them to land squarely on Will. And he begins to think. He thinks of a future, an alternative, the life he'd get if he did end up choosing himself, meaning he also chose Will. He wouldn't be married, technically no, but that wouldn't stop him from getting down on one knee and asking for Will’s hand in marriage. It wouldn't dare stop him from calling Will his husband, because as far as he cared, he was. He’d never have kids, not any of his own, but if he's living the rest of his life with Will, he knows he’d never have a moment of regret or loneliness. A life with Will Byers was all he needed. He might never have that big family house in a suburban neighborhood, not here in Hawkins anyway; maybe they move to a place where they could buy a house together with a little fewer glares received from those people. Maybe somewhere like California. And as for the weekly dates, of course he would have them; sure, he wouldn't be able to kiss his boyfriend in public, but they could secretly hold hands under the table as they dine. They’d know, and that's all that mattered because he knows that the second they return to their house, Mike can kiss him all he wants. The job, God the job. He figures that as long as he has Will by his side, he can put up with whatever job he ends up with. Nothing like his parents’ lives. But he doesn't want his parents' lives, he wants a life with Will, with his Will (the apple of his fucking eye), even if the whole world hated him for it, he was going to love this boy until the day he dies.

Will Byers is why it's worth it.

Then somehow with this new confidence Mike found himself with, he was able to say. “Yeah, I have. And I loved it.” Mike Wheeler had done it, he stunned the room into unconditional silence.

Argyle just sat there with a smug grin on his face, taking another bite of pizza with grace; he seemed satisfied, of course he did, that fucking douche. Jonathan looked up, stunned, as if he couldn't believe Mike's words had come from his mouth.

Another click.

He knew too.

Jesus, what was the point in hiding it.

And then there was Will, who you could tell was trying his hardest not to smile, though he wasn't doing a very good job. Apparently, that was like their specialty.

“And who was this lucky lady, Wheeler?” Argyle asks, taking a slow sip from his coke. Mike sneers lightly as he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, cut the shit man. I know you both know.”

Jonathan shifts his body uncomfortably, unsure what to say. He did know, but he wasn't planning on saying anything about it. Argyle shrugs, staring at him blankly, leaving Mike to wonder if there was a single thought behind those eyes. Well, there must have been since he managed to get him to confess.

Props to him, or whatever.

Mike turns to Will, he has his head faced down but he could see he was blushing, the color visible in his ears.

“Yeah, we kinda saw you guys kissing. We didn't want to say anything, and we weren't,” he says sternly, his brows arched as he glared at Argyle. “But someone here didn't get the memo. Sorry," he says in a way that makes Mike think he really means it, and Will already knows he does.

A chill runs down Mike’s spine, the spark of confidence dimming slightly. It was easy to think about it, with the intention of the words never leaving his mouth, but the actual reality setting in was far much scarier.

“And–and you're like…okay with it?” Mike asks quietly, his voice drenched in fear. Jonathan’s eyes softened, an understanding, he can feel the sincerity in his bones. Mike has never been looked at like that, not by his parents, his siblings, his grandparents, his uncles, or his aunts, not by any form of a parental figure. So with Jonathan looking at him like that, a suffocating weight lifts off his shoulders, and it feels freeing. He understands. He's okay with it.

“Of course, I am, Mike. Will’s my little brother, there's nothing about him that would ever make me love him any less. That includes you, man. If Will likes you, I like you.” Jonathan reassures him with a gentle grin, switching from Mike and Will as he talks. Mike exhales, a moment of relief, and inhales, a sign of comfort.

He has somebody who's okay with it. For now, that's all he needed.

“Just don't break his heart, Wheeler, or else I'll have to kill you.” He adds, a gesture of wit, but something in the quip of his tone told Mike that maybe it wasn't that much of a joke.

“Jonathan!” Will cries out, a rush of color surging to his cheeks. Jonathan cracks a sly grin, keeping his eyes fixed on Mike, waiting for an answer.

But Mike doesn't worry. “I'd never do that to him. I promise,” he says looking right at Will, and they both know he means it.

Mike thinks he'd rather die than ever do anything to harm that boy again.

Mike then looks around the room, glancing at each person. A smile appears on his lips, he's surrounded by people who support him, he could cry. That's more than he could say about his own family; he's never felt this open around any of them. Yeah, he could definitely cry. Mike’s smile grows wider.

Mike grabs Will, who was about to stand up, by the wrist and pulls him down, placing a big wet messy kiss on his lips. Will hesitates, jerking back, but returns just as quickly as he remembered he had nothing to worry about. It's a sweet, sloppy kiss, but it does right to put a huge smile on both their faces.

"I love you, I don't care how many times I've said it tonight, I do, I love you. I don't think I'll ever get tired of saying it.” Mike whispers against his lips, their noses brushing. Will bites on his lower lip to contain his bubbling laughter, man, he felt so giddy, and it was like he was a kid again, discovering ‘The Clash’ for the very first time.

Mike reminded him of music, the best kind.

“I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing it.” Will murmurs, pressing a kiss to his button nose.

And like music, it had a way of consuming your whole world, altering your perceptions, and ripping open a new euphoric feeling, making you feel like you're the only person who matters; to him.

“Christ, get a room, lovebirds.” They hear Jonathan say from his bed, where Argyle is snickering beside him.

“Shh, leave them be, Byers! Don't you remember what it was like to be young and in love, man?”

Jonathan furrows his brows and gives him an irritated look. “No,” he says bitterly, and very sarcastically.

“Sheesh, that's some tough luck then, man. Don't worry, you'll find someone.” Argyle reassures him, patting him on the shoulder before turning on his side. He was asleep in less than three seconds.

Mike rolls his eyes, while Will stifles back a giggle. Mike no longer cares about the rest of the people in the room, not when Will laughs like that, a pure, heavenly sound that causes a skip in his heartbeat.

“I love you too.” Will grins, closing the gap between them.

He was so head over heels.

Never again, Mike swears it. As long as he lives, he promises to love Will Byers the way he deserves to be.

(and he does well to fulfill that promise)

But that's another story for another time.