Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will Byers sat on the edge of the Wheeler’s couch, pretending to be interested in the Dungeons and Dragons campaign Mike was excitedly explaining. The problem wasn’t the game — it never was — it was the way Mike kept glancing at the door, checking the clock, bouncing his knee like he was waiting for someone better to show up.

Will already knew who.

“She said she’d be here at four,” Mike muttered, fiddling with one of the D20 dice. “I hope Hopper didn’t ground her again.”

Will smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yeah. Maybe.”

He hated how small his voice sounded. He hated how Mike didn’t even notice.

The clock ticked louder than it should have. It was stupid, Will thought, to feel like this. To sit there like some abandoned puppy waiting for scraps of attention. Mike wasn’t doing anything wrong. Mike had a girlfriend. And girlfriends were… good. Normal.

But none of that changed the way Will’s chest tightened every time Mike’s eyes lit up when El entered the room.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time — not long ago, really — when it had just been the two of them. Talking for hours about comic books and movies, riding their bikes until the sun dipped below the horizon, laughing until their stomachs hurt.

Now, Will was lucky if he got a full conversation before Mike was glancing at the door again.

The front door swung open with a squeak, and just like that, Will might as well have disappeared.

“El!” Mike practically launched off the couch, knocking the dice off the table. He grinned, wide and messy, rushing to meet her like he couldn’t stand being a second farther away.

Will stared at the spot where Mike had been sitting, an empty indentation in the cushions.

“Hey, Mike,” El said, smiling shyly as Mike pulled her into a hug.

Will looked away. He didn’t want to see that.

“You came!” Mike said breathlessly. “We were just setting up the campaign! Well — I mean, we can do something else if you want—”

Will pushed himself off the couch, forcing a grin onto his face. “It’s fine. We don’t have to play. Whatever you guys want.”

El tilted her head at him, the way she always did when she was trying to figure out something she didn’t understand. Will wondered if she could tell how fake he was being.
Sometimes it felt like she could see right through him.

They ended up halfheartedly starting the campaign anyway, with Will as the DM. Mike barely paid attention. He kept whispering jokes to El, making her giggle, their knees bumping under the table. Every time El smiled at Mike like he’d hung the stars himself, Will felt another small crack splinter down his chest.

By the time they wrapped up, Will could hardly remember what the quest was even about.

“That was fun,” El said politely as she gathered her stuff. Mike stood to walk her to the door, their heads bent close together. Laughing about something Will hadn’t even heard.

Will packed up the dice alone, swallowing down the lump in his throat. It was fine. He didn’t care. He didn’t.

Except he did.

When El finally left, with one last soft goodbye and a quick peck on Mike’s cheek that made Will want to sink into the floor, Mike turned back, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

“Man, she’s awesome,” Mike said, collapsing onto the couch. “Right?”

Will nodded, busying himself with straightening the game board. “Yeah. She is.”

Mike didn’t seem to notice the shortness in Will’s tone.
Or maybe he did and chose to ignore it.

“You know, I was thinking — maybe El and I could start our own campaign,” Mike continued, oblivious. “Just the two of us. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Will’s hands froze on the box. His stomach twisted.

“Yeah,” he said stiffly. “Sounds awesome.”

The silence stretched, heavy and awkward.

Mike frowned. “Are you mad or something?”

Will laughed — a sharp, humorless sound. “No. Why would I be mad?”

Mike looked genuinely confused, like he couldn’t imagine why Will wouldn’t be thrilled about being replaced.

Will shoved the box into his backpack and stood up, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I should go,” he said, avoiding Mike’s eyes. “My mom’s probably waiting.”

Mike stood too, fidgeting. “Will, come on. Don’t be like that. It’s not like I’m ditching you.”

But he was.

He had been for a while now. And maybe it wasn’t fair to blame him. Maybe it wasn’t even his fault. People changed. Grew up. Got girlfriends. Moved on.

But Will hadn’t changed. Not really. He was still the same scared, quiet kid who just wanted his best friend to look at him the way he used to. Like Will was enough.

“I’ll see you later,” Will muttered, pushing past Mike and out the door before he could say something stupid. Something honest.

The cool evening air hit him like a slap. He didn’t even get on his bike right away, just stood there on the Wheeler’s lawn, gripping the handlebars so tight his knuckles turned white.

He was pathetic.

He should be happy for them. For Mike. El deserved to be happy too. But every time he saw them together, it felt like someone was carving pieces out of him, bit by bit.

And the worst part was, Mike didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Will blinked hard, willing the tears back. He wasn’t going to cry over this. Not here. Not now.

“Will!”

Mike’s voice rang out behind him.

He considered pretending he didn’t hear. But some part of him — the stupid, hopeful part that never learned — made him turn around.

Mike jogged down the porch steps, breathless.

“Wait,” he said. “Don’t go.”

Will swallowed. “Why?”

Mike opened his mouth like he wanted to say something — something important — but then just shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at the ground.

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

Will let out a shaky breath.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, voice cracking despite his best efforts. “You’re so busy with El — and that’s fine, that’s great — but it’s like I don’t even exist anymore.”

Mike’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

“That’s not true.”

Will laughed bitterly. “Yeah, it is. It’s fine, Mike. Really. You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Mike said, stepping closer. His brows furrowed like he was trying to solve a puzzle he hadn’t even realized was there.

Will shook his head. He needed to get out of there before he said something he couldn’t take back.

Something like I love you.

“Goodbye, Mike,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

He got on his bike and pedaled away, the wind stinging his eyes, and told himself it was just from the cold.

Chapter Text

Mike stood frozen for a second, watching Will disappear down the street, the echo of his last words ringing in his ears.

Goodbye, Mike.

Something twisted in Mike’s chest — a sharp, panicked feeling he didn’t totally understand — but he knew he couldn’t just stand there.
Couldn’t let Will ride away thinking he didn’t matter.

Without thinking, Mike sprinted back into the house, grabbing his bike from the garage. His heart hammered against his ribs as he shoved his feet onto the pedals and tore off down the road.

He didn’t know what he was going to say.
He just knew he had to find him.

⸻

The wind cut cold against Mike’s face as he rode, scanning every turn and side street. Hawkins was quiet at this time of evening, the sky stretching out dark and heavy overhead.
It felt huge. Endless.
And somewhere out there, Will was alone and hurting — because of him.

It shouldn’t have taken this long for Mike to figure it out. All the times Will had smiled a little too tight, laughed a little too soft. All the times Mike had caught him looking, not at the games or the maps or the quests, but at him.

Mike had been so stupid.
So wrapped up in trying to be what El wanted, trying to keep things normal, trying to be the person everyone expected — he hadn’t seen the one person who had always seen him.

Will.

Mike rounded the corner near the edge of the woods and spotted a familiar figure sitting slumped on the curb, bike tossed carelessly in the grass.

Will.

Mike braked too hard and almost wiped out, stumbling off his bike and running the last few steps.

“Will!” he called.

Will didn’t move at first. Then he slowly looked up, and Mike’s stomach dropped at the expression on his face — not angry, not even really sad.
Just tired.

Like he was already preparing to lose Mike.

Mike bent over, panting, trying to catch his breath — from the ride, from the panic, from everything he’d been too afraid to admit until now.

“You… you didn’t let me finish,” Mike said, voice rough.

Will shrugged, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. “You didn’t have to. I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Mike snapped, louder than he meant to. Will flinched, and Mike immediately regretted it. He dropped his voice. “You don’t get it at all.”

Will looked away, picking at the frayed strap of his backpack. “You have El. You don’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Mike said fiercely. He stepped closer. “I do need you.”

Will laughed, brittle and hollow. “Yeah? For what? DMing your games? Being your backup when El’s not around?”

Mike’s heart ached at the way Will’s voice cracked on the last words.

“No!” he said. “It’s not like that — it’s never been like that.”

Will finally met his eyes, and for a second, Mike forgot how to breathe.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” Will said quietly. “You were everything to me. Everything. And now… now I’m just the guy you used to be friends with.”

Mike shook his head, stepping so close he could have reached out and grabbed Will’s hand. He almost did.

“I see you,” Mike said. “I always see you.”

Will looked skeptical, wounded.

Mike ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. Words were never his thing — not when it mattered.
He had to say this right. Had to say what he should’ve said a long time ago.

“I know I’ve been a shitty friend lately,” Mike said, voice low. “I got so caught up in… everything. With El. With trying to be normal. And I thought — I thought that was what I was supposed to want. A girlfriend. A normal life. All that stuff.”

He swallowed hard. Will was staring at him, not moving, like he was bracing for impact.

“But the whole time,” Mike said, “the person I wanted to talk to about everything — the person I missed when they weren’t around — it was you.”

Will’s mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to argue, but no words came out.

Mike took a deep breath, feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cliff.

“It’s always been you, Will,” he said. “You’re not just my best friend. You’re… more.”

Will blinked rapidly, his whole body tense, like he didn’t dare believe it.

Mike forced himself to keep going, even though every nerve in him screamed to run away.

“I’m an idiot for not seeing it sooner,” he said. “For not telling you. But I see it now. I see you. And I’m not letting you just walk away thinking you don’t matter.”

The silence between them was thick and buzzing. Somewhere far off, a dog barked. A car rumbled down the road.

Will stared at him like he was trying to memorize him, like he thought if he looked away Mike would disappear.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mike said quickly, scared he was pushing too hard. “I just — I needed you to know. I needed you to know that you’re not some… background character in my life. You’re the main one.”

Will’s face crumpled then, all the hurt and hope and heartbreak spilling out at once.

“You mean that?” he whispered.

Mike felt something break open inside him — something good, something terrifying.

“I mean it,” he said. “Every word.”

For a second, neither of them moved.
Then Will dropped his bike, closed the few feet between them, and threw his arms around Mike like he was drowning and Mike was the only thing keeping him afloat.

Mike stumbled back a step, then wrapped his arms around Will just as tightly, burying his face in Will’s shoulder. Will was shaking, whether from the cold or from everything crashing down at once, Mike didn’t know. Maybe both.

“I missed you,” Will said into his jacket.

“I’m right here,” Mike said, his voice rough. “I’m not going anywhere. Not again.”

They stood like that for a long time, the world fading away until it was just the two of them, just the sound of their breathing and the creak of trees in the wind.

Eventually, Will pulled back slightly, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

“You’re still with El,” he said hesitantly, like he didn’t quite trust it yet.

Mike shook his head. “I talked to her. Before today. We… kind of knew. It wasn’t working. Not really.”

Will looked at him searchingly. “And you’re sure about this? About… me?”

Mike smiled, the kind of smile he hadn’t felt in months — real and wide and easy.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

Will laughed, shaky but genuine, and Mike felt like he could breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” Mike said. “For making you feel like you weren’t enough. You always were.”

Will nodded, his hand brushing lightly against Mike’s — tentative, asking permission.

Mike laced their fingers together without hesitation.

“You know,” Mike said, grinning a little, “this is way better than any dumb campaign I could’ve made up.”

Will laughed again, and this time there was no bitterness in it. Just warmth.

“Yeah,” he said. “It kind of is.”

They sat down in the grass together, bikes forgotten, hands still tangled. They didn’t talk much after that. They didn’t need to.
Just being there, together, was enough.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Mike felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

With Will.

Always with Will.