Archive of Our Own ^beta

It takes roughly three and a half hours to get to Providence, Rhode Island from New York City by train.

For some reason, this surprises Mike despite the fact that he’s already nearing the end of his three and a half hour journey. It doesn’t feel like this is his stop. That he was this close to his best friend yet still so far at the same time.

Then again, the entirety of the past school year has felt like a lifetime in itself. Mike thinks back to the first day he set foot in his NYU dorm, watching Nancy scrutinize his school-provided mattress and dig through the wooden closet for any sign of previous ownership while he dragged his suitcase through the door. He’d wandered to the window and stared down at the city streets below, crowded with honking cars, contrasted against his memories of the sleepy streets of Hawkins, feeling as though he’d set foot on an alien planet.

He remembers how rough the noise had been the first few nights, giving him a new understanding of the phrase ‘the city that never sleeps.’ But at some point—and Mike couldn’t remember when this happened—he got used to it. He got used to the chaos, the crowded streets, the bustling sidewalks, and even the rats scurrying along the subway tracks. And at the same time, Lucas and Max were three thousand miles away getting used to the never-ending sunshine in California (first time for Lucas, second time for Max), while eight hundred miles away, Dustin was getting used to the similar but different chaos of Chicago. And then there was Will, less than two hundred miles away, getting used to his new life in Rhode Island.

Phone calls were scheduled, letters were regularly sent, and Mike didn’t lose contact with any of his best friends. But that was more true for Will than anyone else, because the last thing Mike wanted was a repeat of that horrible year when the Byers moved to California. Mike knows most of the name’s of Will’s friends at his art school and what classes he’d taken this year. He’s listened to Will praise one of his professors for her genius use of shadows while complaining about how much homework a different professor assigned. He’s done all he can to stay close to Will, except for the one thing he hasn’t managed to do until now: visit.

In Mike’s defense, it’s not as though he didn’t want to visit Will. But his own classes had proved more demanding than he expected, and Will had expressed similar stress during their phone calls, so it never seemed like the right time for one of them to hop on a train. Now though, Mike is done with his freshman year. Yesterday he’d submitted his final portfolio for his short fiction writing workshop, and today he made it to his train.

Will still has a few days left before his last final is due. It had been his idea to invite Mike to RISD until his classes were well and truly finished, where they would then fly back to Hawkins together for summer break. And now Mike knew how easy it was. How all he’d had to do was get himself to Grand Central with his suitcase in tow and buy a one-way ticket on the first train he saw heading to Providence.

The train pulls into the station, letting out a halting screech as the conductor tells the passengers this is the final stop. Mike gets to his feet and nearly decks a little old lady in the face trying to yank his suitcase out of the overhead compartment. Several dirty looks and a string of apologies later, Mike finds himself stumbling out of the train station in search of the bus Will told him over the phone would take him to campus.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for him to find the bus. He finds himself bouncing his leg the whole ride there. He isn’t sure why, but he’s nervous about seeing Will again, as though he hasn’t seen Will since starting college. But they spent plenty of time together during the winter break back in Hawkins, and he wasn’t nervous to see Will then.

Maybe the difference lies in the fact that he’s not going to be seeing Will in their shared hometown, but in a place Mike’s never been before. Despite hearing so much about it from phone calls and letters, RISD is Will’s. There are no shared memories here. Not like Hawkins, which is steeped in every good, bad, and traumatic aspect of their childhood. There’s none of that baggage here in Providence. It’s just a place that Will lives now, and Mike has never visited.

Also, there’s the fact that Mike is supposed to meet several of Will’s college friends during his few days here. It was something Will had originally suggested in that walking-on-eggshells voice he used when he was worried he was asking for too much. But towards the end of his spiel something in Will shifted. All at once he lost his hesitance and simply told Mike that he wanted him to meet his new friends. And it wasn’t as though Mike could say no, even if the idea of spending the few days he had with Will before they go back to Hawkins around a bunch of strangers doesn’t exactly sound like fun to him.

There’s something else, too. Another reason for Mike to be nervous, nagging in the back of his skull and manifesting itself in the nervous tapping of his foot against the bus floor. But he doesn’t want to turn that over in his mind right now. Not yet.

By the time the bus reaches his stop, Mike is ready to jump out of his skin. He forces himself to get up at a normal pace, thanking the bus driver and grunting as he drags his suitcase onto the sidewalk. Then, in the shade of the bus stop, he pulls out Will’s last letter which details exactly how to find his dorm, with a hand-drawn map included. Unsurprisingly, the map proves very helpful, with Will knowing exactly which landmarks Mike would need to guide his path.

He reaches East Hall and follows someone inside. Given the fact that he’s a nineteen year old with a suitcase on a college campus nearing the end of finals week, no one gives him a second glance as he hunts for a way up to Will’s floor.

And then, Mike’s there, standing in front of Will’s door only slightly out of breath from having to hoist his suitcase up the stairs. He double and then triple checks the number on the door with the number Will wrote in his letter. Then, once he’s sure he’s in the right place, he folds the letter and tucks it back into his jacket before knocking.

Through the door, he hears hurried footsteps and a voice that sounds a lot like Will’s going, “don’t worry, I’ll get it,” Mike finds himself smiling before Will even opens the door.

And suddenly, Will’s standing in front of him. He looks mostly the same as he did during winter break, maybe with slightly shaggier hair and a bit more of a tan, but it’s him.

“It’s about time you got here,” Will teases in place of a hello, “I was starting to think you’d gotten on the wrong train by accident.”

Mike huffs. “I should’ve never told you about that time I got lost on the subway.” But he can only pretend to be annoyed for so long before he’s grinning again and reaching for Will. “C’mere, man.”

Will hugs him without any of the tension or uncertainty that seemed to radiate off of him in waves when Mike had visited him in California. And Mike breathes easier than he did back then too, no longer carrying the weird mixture of guilt and unidentifiable nerves he’d felt every time he looked at Will’s face after not speaking to him in so long. Mike’s nerves from the bus ride seem to fade as well now that he’s actually here, standing in front of Will. They hug tightly, and Mike is suddenly very glad they’ll have a few days without the others around. To catch up as Mike and Will, not as The Party.

“So this is my room,” Will says a few moments later as Mike follows him inside. His dorm is suite-style, meaning there’s a small common area decorated with a single couch and a door leading to a small bathroom, with three different bedrooms branching off.

Will’s bedroom is the closest to the front door. As soon as Mike steps inside, he feels something soft under his shoe and sees a paint-stained tarp spread out across the floor. Something in the vague shape of an easel sits in the corner of the room, but a blanket thrown over it prevents Mike from seeing if it’s currently in use.

“Uh, yeah, that’s my final project,” Will says when he notices Mike looking at it. “I was actually working on it when you knocked.”

Glancing back at Will, Mike notices dark paint staining his fingertips and frowns.

“Why’d you cover it?” Mike asks.

Will turns away from Mike, bending down to roll up the cloth tarp. “Well it’s not finished yet,” he explains.

“So you don’t want me to see it?”

“Not yet,” Will tells him, still not looking at him as he shoves the rolled-up tarp against the wall. “I’m still messing with it a bit.”

Will’s answer bothers Mike more than it should. “But you always show me your art. You know I don’t care if it’s unfinished.”

Standing up again, Will gives Mike a flat stare. “This is different, Mike. This is literally for my final grade. I need to make sure it’s what my professor wants.”

“Meaning you don’t want my opinion on it,” Mike concludes.

“You’re not the one grading it.”

“But I don’t have to give my opinion!” Mike argues. “I’m not an art critic or anything. I just wanna see it so I can tell you how awesome it looks.”

“You don’t know if it’s awesome. You don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s your art, that’s all I need to know. Everything you draw is great,” Mike tells him as a matter-of-fact.

Will looks as though he’s fighting back a smile. “You should tell my professor that.”

“I will if you want me to. I’ll walk right up to him and tell him he’s an idiot if he doesn’t give you an A.”

“Mike, I’d really prefer if you didn’t make enemies out of RISD faculty while you’re here,” Will says as he crouches down to get something from under his bed. “Now can you help me pull this thing out?”

It turns out the ‘thing’ Will was getting is an air mattress. They take turns pumping air into it until Mike’s arms feel like rubber and the mattress is at least somewhat tolerable to sleep on. As Mike finds a place for his suitcase and settles in, he gets a proper look around the rest of Will’s dorm room for the first time.

The room is cleaner than Mike’s dorm room usually was, although a sock hanging off the edge of the laundry hamper in the corner tells him this might be a recent development. Will has several band posters hanging on the walls around his bed and a pile of sketchbooks stacked on his desk. While parts of it remind Mike of Will’s old room in the house he grew up in, it feels different at the same time. Not only because it’s a dorm room that will be totally cleared out in a few days time, but it just feels more like Will. Not the Will Mike knew when they were children, but Will as he is now—all grown-up.

With Mike’s bed for the night all prepared, Will asks Mike if he’s hungry and Mike nearly cries tears of joy. He’d only had a cup of coffee and a bagel from his dining hall this morning before catching the train, and later forgot to get food from the train station. It’s late in the afternoon now and his stomach hasn’t let up, so he nods gratefully.

Will goes to the bathroom to change out of his paint-stained shirt and into something clean. Then, the two leave the dorm behind and head out into Providence.

“I think my friends are going to be at the place we’re going to eat,” Will tells Mike once they’re walking. “We usually get food there around this time. Or, at least the few of us that are left. Most of the group already finished finals and went back home.”

Mike raises an eyebrow as they cross the street and leave the cluster of residence halls behind. “We’re not going to a dining hall?”

“I mean, we can if you want. Except that RISD’s dining hall food isn’t great.”

Mike hums even as his stomach swoops with anxiety about meeting Will’s friends right here, right now. “Oh, that’s- yeah, that makes sense.”

Will pauses walking and turns to look at him. “Is this okay? We can hold off meeting everyone till tomorrow, if you’re tired from the train.”

Although Mike is tempted to say yes, because he’s been enjoying just hanging out with Will one-on-one, it only takes one look into Will’s hopeful eyes to make Mike shake his head. “No, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Okay, great.” Will beams, and Mike forces himself to smile back.

During their walk, they pass by a few other students. Or rather, Mike assumes they’re students not because of anything that identifies them as art students, but because all of them seem to know Will. A guy wearing a leather jacket nods and says, “hey Will,” as he passes. A group of girls with teased hair giggle and wave at Will from across the street. A different girl with long, dark hair pulled into a braid actually stops Will and asks him how his final is going, not even sparing Mike a second glance as Will briefly tells her about his struggle with color blending. She even hugs him before she leaves, wishing him luck and telling him to call her if he needs any help.

Will doesn’t seem surprised by any of these interactions. He grins at everyone, giving easy hello’s without any of the nervous energy he used to carry when walking through the halls of their high school. At one point, they pass two guys sitting on a grassy hill, passing a joint between them. The guys both eagerly wave at Will to come join them, but Will only shakes his head and tells them he’s going somewhere. It’s then that Mike realizes what’s going on.

“Dude,” Mike says once they’re out of earshot of the guys with the joint, “are you one of the popular kids here?”

“I wouldn’t say that. College doesn’t really have ‘popular’ people.”

“I mean-” Mike flushes, because it’s the same at NYU, popularity doesn’t exist like it did in high school so of course RISD is the same. But it’s the only word he can think of to describe the adoration Will seems to be experiencing from his classmates. “You know so many people. And everyone seems to like you.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m actually close friends with all these people,” Will shrugs. “I just talk to a lot of people in my classes.”

Mike looks away from Will at this, the flush on his cheeks darkening. Although he’s had to speak to his classmates plenty of times during workshops, he wouldn’t consider himself this friendly with most of them. For the most part, after he’d found his way into a small group of friends during orientation week, he stuck with those guys and didn’t branch out any further. And he’s fine with that. He likes his group and doesn’t need anyone else. He’d assumed Will was the same way, but it doesn’t seem like that’s the case.

They end up at a diner. Through the door, Mike can hear The Smiths playing on a jukebox. Following Will inside, Mike sees rows of vinyl booths populated mostly by students. Will leads him past several booths until they reach one on the far end of the diner.

“Will! There you are!”

There are three people—two girls and a guy—sitting in the booth. A girl with bleached hair so short, she and Mike could go to the same barber, beams at Will before her eyes flicker to Mike.

“Oh my god, is this him?” She asks Will.

Will smiles like he’s embarrassed as he nods. “Yup, this is him.”

“Wow, Mike Wheeler in the flesh,” the other girl says. Her hair is made up of dozens of long braids with colorful beads woven into them. She also smiles as she gestures to the empty space next to her side of the booth. “You guys should sit. We haven’t ordered yet.”

“Thanks Charlene,” Will says as he slides into the booth beside her, leaving just enough space on the end for Mike.

As Mike sits down, he asks, “So Will’s told you guys a lot about his friends back home?”

“I’ve mentioned you guys a few times,” Will quickly answers as he busies himself with a laminated menu. “Mostly the DND stuff.”

“You sound like an awesome DM, man,” the guy tells Mike. He offers a hand across the table. “Name’s Erik Kang, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Mike shakes Erik’s hand. “I’d, uh, introduce myself but I think you already know my name.”

“I’m Candace,” the short-haired girl tells him.

“Charlene Adams,” the girl sitting on the other side of Will chimes in.

“Nice to meet you guys,” Mike says, awkwardly lifting his hand in a wave. He’s heard Will say these names before—Charlene, Candace, Erik—but now all the stories Will has told him over letters and phone calls solidify with faces for the first time. He glances around the table, unsure if he should say anything else, when a shoulder presses against his own.

“Here, you should pick out what you want,” Will says, sliding the menu in front of him.

Mike is relieved for the moment of reprieve this gives him from being the focus of the conversation. As he takes the menu, he bumps his leg against Will’s under the table as a thanks. Will nudges him back, and Mike feels some of his nerves ebb away.

It’s not long until a waitress comes by and takes their orders. As soon as she’s gone, Candace fixes her gaze on Mike again.

“So Mike, what do you think so far?”

Mike blinks. “Think of what?”

Candace gestures vaguely into the air. “All of it! The school, Will’s dorm, his painting-”

“I haven’t shown him that yet,” Will cuts in.

“Even though I told him I would be really nice about it,” Mike countered, glaring at Will.

“That’s literally the problem. I can’t have you praising it and making me think it’s done when I still have things I need to fix-”

“Okay, whatever, Will’s being a perfectionist again nothing new,” Candace interrupts. “He hasn’t shown it to any of us either, just for the record. But even if you haven’t seen the painting yet, what did you think of everything else, Mike?”

Mike shrugs. “Uh, it seems nice so far? But I only got here a few hours ago so I haven’t had much of a chance to see it.”

“You go to NYU, right?” Charlene then asks. Mike nods and Charlene lets out a dreamy sigh. “I love New York, but it’s a bit too much for me sometimes. Providence is nice because it’s more laid back but you still have things to do.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that. I love the city but I’m happy to get away from it for a bit,” Mike replies.

“Well you’re still coming to the party tomorrow, right?” Candace suddenly asks.

Mike frowns. “Party?”

Beside him, Will buries his face in his hands. “I hadn’t told him about that yet, Candace.”

“Oh, well you have to come,” Candace says, ignoring Will. “It’s the last party before everyone goes home for the summer. It’s being held by a TA for our class, and she loves Will. She’ll make sure you guys get all the good drinks.”

Mike is starting to get the impression that he’d be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t love Will at this school. But it makes perfect sense. Will had always been one of the kindest and most creative people Mike knew back in Hawkins, but the stupid popular kids at their school never bothered to get to know him. In a way, Mike is relieved to hear that the people here actually recognize how great of a person Will is.

So distracted by thinking about how wonderful his best friend is, it takes Mike an extra second to process the rest of what Candace said.

“Um, the party, yeah-”

“I’ll let you guys know tomorrow if we can go,” Will says, cutting Mike off. “I gotta finish painting my final first.”

Candace groans. “I swear to god Will Byers if you don’t show up I will drag you there myse-”

She’s interrupted by the waitress appearing with their food. Burgers, fries, and a singular chicken sandwich for Erik gets passed around and the waitress asks if they need anything else. Before she’s even left Mike has taken a large bite of his burger, hoping Candace won’t ask him more about the party while he can’t answer.

Thankfully, the topic shifts as they eat. The others talk about their last class and how terrifying Professor Wyld is. Candace curses her past self for her subject choice for her painting, while Erik worries he’s not going to get it done in time. Charlene says she’s already finished but she’ll give it a final look-over tomorrow, while Will offers kind words to all three of them about their projects.

The class talk gives Mike a chance to observe Will in a way he hasn’t been able to since he got here. He’s still carrying that ease Mike noticed during the walk to the diner, and it takes Mike way too long to realize it’s because Will is confident now. At one point he teases Erik about some part of the conversation Mike missed, but suddenly he’s smirking and leaning across the table and it almost sounds like he’s flirting-

Mike inhales a piece of his burger and struggles to keep himself from making horrible choking sounds at the table. As he fights for air, he watches Erik roll his eyes while Candace wraps her hand around Erik’s arm protectively.

“Back off, Byers. You know Erik and I are already committed to having a lavender marriage after we graduate.”

“Relax, Candace. He doesn’t mean it. Will’s out of my league anyway,” Erik reassures her.

Will rolls his eyes. “Oh shut up.”

“Look man, only one of us got asked out four times during the first month of classes and it wasn’t me,” Erik counters.

Mike chose a bad time to take a sip of his coke, and this time he can’t keep himself quiet as he chokes on the drink.

“Seems like Will might not have mentioned his heartthrob status to Mike,” Candace notes as Will pats Mike’s back.

“No,” Mike forces out, his voice hoarse. “He didn’t.”

“I didn’t think it was important!” Will defends. “Besides, they were all girls, so it’s not like I said yes to any of them.”

Mike glares. “You got asked out by four different girls?”

“Will’s the resident heartbreaker of our class,” Charlene tells him. “So many girls had their hopes and dreams shattered when they found out he doesn’t swing that way.”

All at once, Mike is hit with the realization that they’re being serious. Of course he didn’t think Will’s friends were lying about him getting asked out, but it didn’t really sink in until now.

And with that, another realization settles heavily into the pit of his stomach—Will might not only have been asked out by girls. If he didn’t tell Mike about breaking girls' hearts, he might also have neglected to mention going on dates with guys as well.

…could Will be seeing a guy right now?

Before Mike can let the question turn sour in his mind, Candace’s voice breaks into his thoughts again.

“What about you, Mike?”

“Huh?”

“What are the girls at NYU like?” She asks, resting her chin in her hands. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Beside him, he feels Will shift away from him ever so slightly. Desperate not to lose the main thing tethering him to this conversation, Mike scoots over and presses their legs together again.

“Uh, no, no girlfriend,” Mike says, trying to focus on the warmth of Will’s leg against his own instead of the sudden pounding of his heart. “The girls are nice but nothing really… went that way this year, I guess.”

“You dated Will’s sister for a long time, right?” Charlene asks. “And you’re going to see her when you guys go back to Indiana?”

Both Will and Mike stiffen at this.

“I mean, yeah, but mostly when we were kids. Then we realized we were better off as friends,” Mike explains, reluctant to get into a conversation about his trainwreck of a relationship with El right now.

“Well, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of girls at the party tomorrow,” Candace says, smirking at him.

Mike keeps his eyes on his food, even though his mouth still tastes sour as he shrugs. “It’s up to Will if we go.”

Under the table, he feels Will nudge his leg again, and Mike breathes a sigh of relief. From his peripheral vision, he thinks he sees Will do the same.

Mike keeps quiet for the rest of the meal. The others seem to sense he’s no longer up to answering questions because the attention shifts away from him and back to their classes. They talk about what they’re all taking in the next school year, and Mike only half-listens. He’s hungry enough to still finish his burger, and by the time the meal ends his heart rate has gone back to normal.

They all walk back to East Hall as a group. At first, Mike is a little annoyed by this, but then Will falls to the back with him and they stay a bit behind the others for the rest of the walk. They don’t talk, but they don’t need to talk. It’s enough for Mike to get some space and know that Will is right here with him.

Soon, they say their goodbyes and retreat to Will’s dorm. Although it’s not very late, Mike is more exhausted than he thought he’d be by the day’s events. He and Will don’t speak much as they both get ready to sleep, partly because Mike is too tired to make much conversation, but also because he has plenty of questions about what he learned during the dinner burning in his mind that wouldn’t exactly be wise to put into words. But once Mike has climbed onto his air mattress bed and curled up underneath Will’s spare blanket, he hears Will say on the bed above him,

“Thanks for, uh, going tonight. The others really liked you,” Will tells him, his voice low and quiet in the darkness.

“I mean, I’m flattered but I don’t really feel like I talked that much,” Mike says. “Sorry about that, by the way. I wasn’t trying to be weird or anything.”

“You weren’t weird at all. I know it was probably a bit overwhelming,” Will reassures him.

“No- well, okay, it was kind of a lot. For the most part I was just surprised by how much they knew about me.”

Above him, he hears Will groan. “Look, I swear I wasn’t, like, telling everyone your life story-”

“No no, it’s okay,” Mike interrupts, not wanting Will to think he’s upset. “I’ve talked about you to my friends too.”

A beat of silence. Then,

“Really?”

“Dude, you’re one of my best friends. Of course I tell people about you,” Mike says, almost offended by how surprised Will sounds. Then, because they’re talking, Mike picks out the safest of his lingering questions to ask, “How much do they know about El?”

It’s innocuous on its own, but there are several questions layered underneath that he knows Will can hear.

“They know she’s my stepsister, that her name is Jane but that a few of us call her El as a nickname, and that she, uh, had some health issues in high school that put her behind which is why she’s only finishing her GED now.”

“Health issues.” Mike nods. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Easier than explaining, y’know, the whole superpower thing. And the… other stuff.” Mike doesn’t miss Will’s hesitation when saying other stuff. As if he was worried that saying the name Vecna out loud again could summon him from beyond the grave.

“Do they know about-” Mike stops himself, trying to phrase it in a way that won’t suck Will straight back into those terrible memories. “There’s the ‘official’ story about your disappearance.”

“They don’t know any of it.” The answer is short. Sharper than usual, for Will. “I didn’t think there was any reason to tell them.”

Mike lets out a breath. Feels as though he’s teetering on the edge of something he should back away from. “Yeah, that makes sense. I guess there’s no way for those guys to find out anyway, unless they go digging through the last decade of Hawkins newspapers.”

Another silence envelops the room. Nerves buzz in Mike’s chest, only growing stronger as the quiet drags on.

Finally,

“The nightmares haven’t gone away,” Will tells him in a near-whisper. “It’s not every night anymore, and sometimes I can even go a few weeks without them. But it’s enough that I had to warn my roommates about it when I moved in.”

A lump forms in Mike’s throat. “What did you tell them?”

“I talked about the ‘earthquakes’ that happened in Hawkins and blamed it on those. Didn’t mention the quarantine stuff, but I said the military had to stick around for a while to keep things under control.”

Mike nods despite knowing that Will can’t see the movement in the dark. It’s nearly identical to what he told his NYU friends and roommates. But there was one night after midterms, when they were splitting a shitty bottle of peach schnapps and arguing about the merits of using your fucked up childhood experiences in your writing. After listening to his friends talk about their own childhood struggles in a drunken haze, he ended up mentioning how his best friend went missing and was presumed dead at one point, with a body being pulled out of the quarry that was believed to be his, for a time, and that that day was the one thing he could never write about.

Of course, the next day Mike had woken full of regret and a terrible hangover. But thankfully, his friends never brought it up again, and neither did Mike.

“Do you-” Will’s voice pulls Mike out of his head again, “Do you get them? Nightmares?”

Mike stares at the white stucco ceiling turned purple by the shadows in the room.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I do.”

Will considers this for a moment. Then, he sighs.

“At least we’re in the same boat with that.”

Mike nods again. “Yeah, at least we are.”

The next morning Mike wakes to an empty room.

He rolls onto his side, head pounding like he has a hangover despite the fact that he didn’t drink yesterday. He grimaces as he sits up and looks around Will’s room. His bed has been made and the blanket covering the easel has been removed, revealing that Will has taken his painting with him.

It’s only as Mike is stumbling to his feet that he notices a note left on Will’s bed.

Mike,

I didn’t want to wake you, so I went to work on my painting in one of the art studios. I’ll be back in a few hours. If you’re hungry the dining hall is pretty cheap, but I’m warning you: the coffee tastes like shit.

Despite Will’s warning, Mike knows he’s going to need that dining hall coffee if he doesn’t want to fall back asleep. He stumbles out of the room and to the bathroom. Afterwards, before he can duck back into Will’s room, he hears an unfamiliar voice.

“Oh. Hey there.”

Still half-asleep, Mike turns around and sees a guy with glasses standing in the doorway of another bedroom, a takeout coffee steaming in his hand. It takes Mike’s tired brain a second too long to make the connection that this must be one of Will’s roommates.

“Uh, hi. I just, uh-” He gestures vaguely to Will’s room.

The guy raises his eyebrows. “Oh, got it.” He takes a sip of his coffee and huffs. “Don’t really know how Will has the time to have another guy spend the night when it's finals week, but good for him, I guess.”

Mike blinks, struggling to understand what the guy is saying through his grogginess.

“I’m Mike,” he says instead.

“Pete. One of the roommates.” He gestures to the third door. “Mateo and Shane had the double, but those two moved out already.”

“Got it.” Mike isn’t sure if there’s anything else he should say to that. Instead, he points to the cup in Pete’s hand. “Where’d you get that coffee?”

“Dining hall,” Pete tells him, followed by a grimace. “It’s terrible but it’s convenient. If you want some you just gotta go down to the first floor and follow the crowd of dead-eyed eighteen and nineteen year olds. They’ll lead you straight there.”

“Thanks.” Mike hovers in Will’s doorway before awkwardly pointing behind him. “I’m gonna, uh, go get changed.”

Pete nods and steps further back into his own room. “Good luck finding the coffee.” As he shuts his door, Mike hears Pete mutter something to himself that sounds suspiciously like, “can’t believe my gay roommate has more game than I do.”

When Mike is tired, he isn’t very smart. This is something he’s known about himself for a very long time. It can take him ages to properly wake up, and until then his brain operates on a fourth of its normal processing power. So while Pete’s strange comments linger in Mike’s mind, it’s not until he starts pulling on his jeans that a very important realization hits him.

The night before, he’d slept in just his boxers and an old t-shirt. He hadn’t bothered to pull on a pair of sweatpants before he walked to Will’s bathroom. Meaning that he’d had that entire conversation with Pete in his boxers.

It’s then that the rest of it finally clicks into place. How unlike Candace, Erik, and Charlene, Pete didn’t seem to have any clue who Mike was. Meaning that to Pete, Mike was a random guy who’d spent the night in Will’s room and walked out the next morning in his underwear. And Mike hadn’t done a single thing to explain who he was or why he had spent the night there.

“Oh god,” Mike mutters to himself as he falls to the air mattress, still only one leg into his jeans. “I’m an idiot.”

Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it), Mike doesn’t see Pete again when he leaves Will’s room to get some coffee. Pete’s door is closed and he considers knocking so he can clear up the misunderstanding, but the idea of doing that makes Mike want to crawl out of his skin. What the hell would he even say? Yeah, uh, just wanted to clarify I didn’t sleep with Will. I’m an old friend of his actually. In an entirely platonic way. We haven’t had sex. Ever.

Yeah, Mike’s sure that would go well.

However, Mike’s realizations aren’t over yet. Once he gets to the first floor, he does what Pete said and follows a group of exhausted-looking students with paint in their hair to the dining hall. There he grabs a rubbery-looking breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee that smells like crude oil. He sips it as he walks, wincing at the taste, but the caffeine seeps into his system and has woken the rest of his brain up by the time he gets back to Will’s room. So that’s when he remembers a certain word Pete had used.

“Don’t really know how Will has the time to have another guy spend the night,”

Another guy.

Another.

Mike thinks back to the diner. To his realization that Will hadn't been telling him everything about his college social life like Mike thought he was. Now Mike knows that not only has Will been asked out by multiple girls, but that, according to Pete, Mike isn’t the only boy to have spent the night in Will’s room.

Suddenly, Mike has no desire to eat his breakfast sandwich, though whether that’s because of his revelation about Will or because the terrible coffee is making him nauseous, he can’t tell.

It’s not like he has a problem with Will inviting guys over. If anything, he should be happy that Will is finally getting out there and seeing people, away from the bullshit he dealt with back in Hawkins. But the more he thinks about it, the more he imagines Will going on dates and laughing as he tugs a faceless boy into his room, the worse Mike feels.

A voice in the back of Mike’s head tells him he knows at least part of the reason why he’s feeling like this. It’s been hanging over his head like a dark cloud, nagging at him and reminding him of what a shit friend he’s being by keeping this from Will. Of all the people who would understand, it’s him. But it’s not as though Mike’s actually lied to Will. He hasn’t lied to anyone. It’s just something that hasn’t come up.

At least, that’s what Mike decides to tell himself as he finishes his coffee. Then, instead of stewing on it longer and making himself a miserable, anxious mess, he digs into his suitcase for the comics he thought he’d have time to read during the semester but didn’t end up getting to.

For the next few hours, he forgets about his worries and the conversation with Pete and focuses on Spiderman. When he finishes one comic he goes straight to the next, even though he knows he should be taking the time to explore Providence while he’s here.

He’s halfway through the fourth issue he packed when he hears the door open. As soon as he catches sight of Will though, all of his terrible feelings from earlier return.

“Oh, you’re here,” Will says, obviously surprised.

Mike frowns. “Uh, yeah? Where else would I go?”

Will shrugs as he carries his painting—still covered—over to the easel. “I dunno, I thought you might want to get out and see the city.”

“Wouldn’t be any fun without you,” Mike says without thinking.

This makes Will pause for a beat, before he smiles. “Oh, ok.” He drops his backpack to the ground and makes his way over to the reading corner Mike has fashioned for himself with the air mattress, blanket, and pillows stolen from Will’s bed. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, of course,” Mike says, closing the comic and scooting over.

Will settles beside him. The air mattress dips under their combined weight, and Will’s shoulder presses hard into his own. Mike’s heart is pounding again, and he wonders if Will saw Pete before coming in here.

“How did painting go?” Mike asks before Will can say anything, gesturing to the covered easel.

“Fine. I’m still not totally satisfied with it, but I think the only thing I can do at this point is add some final details before I turn it in tomorrow.”

“Are you going to let me see it at all?”

Will rolls his eyes. “Maybe later tonight. Or I’ll show you tomorrow morning before I turn it in.”

“I can’t believe you’re basically done and you still won’t let me see it.”

“Not yet,” Will insists, nudging Mike’s knee with his own. “Did you do anything today besides read comics in my room?”

The subject change makes Mike’s mouth go dry. Will isn’t acting like anything is amiss, which means he probably hasn’t seen Pete yet. Mike needs to explain himself before he does.

“Uh, well, I ran into your roommate this morning,” Mike starts, setting the comic aside.

“Pete?”

“Yeah, Pete. He’s nice.”

Will nods. “Yeah, we’re not best friends or anything but he’s friendly enough.” It’s then that Will seems to pick up on Mike’s nervousness, because he frowns. “Did something happen with him?”

Mike shakes his head. “No, not like- no, he was totally friendly, like you said. I just-” he squeezes his eyes shut. “I was, like, really tired this morning when I saw him. And I might’ve, um, given him the wrong impression.”

Will’s frown deepens. “What kind of wrong impression?”

“He said some things that didn’t really make sense to me because I was so tired, so I just ignored it. But then later I realized what he was implying and-” He cuts himself off with a groan. This is getting worse by the second.

“I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m your one night stand or something,” he finally spits out.

“He thought-” Suddenly, Will laughs. “Oh, yeah, okay, I can see why he might’ve thought that.” He’s smiling as he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Pete doesn’t care about that stuff.”

Mike isn’t laughing though. Because Will doesn’t even seem surprised by Pete’s assumption. Like this is a frequent enough occurrence that it’s only natural for Pete to think Mike is another guy.

It takes Will a moment to pick up on Mike’s silence. When he does, his laughter stops immediately and his smile shutters.

“Wait, I didn’t even-” he shakes his head. “Sorry. I hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable. When I see Pete again I’ll make sure to tell him things aren’t like that.”

Shit.

“No, that’s not-” he shakes his head. “It didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Mike hesitates. He knows he shouldn’t bring this up. But he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to sleep tonight unless he knows. “There was actually, um, something specific Pete said I was just wondering about. Something about how he didn’t know how you had the time to bring another guy to your dorm. And I just- you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to but…” he trails off, unable to put the rest of the question into words.

But Will knows Mike well enough that he doesn’t need to finish the question. Will’s face flushes red as he turns his head away.

“Look, it wasn’t- okay, yeah, I’ve had a few guys over before,” Will explains, bringing his knees to his chest. “Most of them were just, like, casual making out and stuff. Nothing serious.”

Will’s sudden nervousness is such a contrast to how relaxed he’s been since Mike got here that it jars him back to his senses. “Will, I’m not mad or grossed out or anything. I’m just surprised you didn’t… I don’t know, I thought you would’ve told me you’ve been seeing people.”

A bit of the tension seeps from Will’s shoulders at Mike’s reassurance. He looks over at Mike again and flashes him a teasing smile. “Oh come on, Mike. You’re telling me there haven’t been any girls at NYU you didn’t tell me about?”

There it is again. The dark cloud hanging over Mike’s head. Words that have been on the tip of his tongue every time he’s picked up the phone to call Will over the last few months. Not a lie, but a lie by omission.

Mike can’t bring himself to answer. Can’t remember how to form the words. He stays silent, wringing his hands in his lap as he feels more than sees Will’s realization set in.

“Oh,” is all Will says after a beat.

“There- there was one girl,” Mike finally manages to force out. “Early in the fall semester, I invited her over and we started kissing but it didn’t really… it was awkward, basically. And she left pretty soon after she got there.”

Will shifts closer to him then. Their legs press together all the way from their hips to their ankles. “Is it about El?”

Mike quickly shakes his head. “Oh, no, it’s not that. I meant it when I said we were better off as friends.”

“Okay,” Will says slowly, “what is it then?”

Mike’s still wringing his shaking hands together. His heart pounds in his ears as words he knew he was going to have to say at some point sit stuck in the back of his throat. Finally, he sucks in a sharp breath and blurts out,

“I’ve had guys over. In my dorm.”

Will stares at Mike. “Wait, you-” he pauses, his brows furrowing again. “You had guys over in what way?”

“It was mostly just, like, making out,” Mike says, hiding his face in his hands now. “And the first time I was drunk but I couldn’t- I didn’t know what I was-” He cuts himself off, wondering if it would be too much to ask the universe to obliterate them all via meteorite right this second. He’s pretty sure the universe owes him one anyway.

“Mike, I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.”

Mike clenches his jaw. “It’s exactly what you think I’m saying.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Well I don’t really know what to call it.”

“Wait, so you-” Will shakes his head. “You’re saying you’ve… experimented?”

Finally, Mike lifts his head from his hands and meets Will’s eyes.

“I like guys, Will.” He sucks in an unsteady breath. “I don’t know if- I could be bi, but I could also be-” he hesitates again. Hates himself for how emotional he’s getting now. “I might be gay. I- I think I am, actually.” He groans and shuts his eyes. “Fuck. I thought I’d gotten over all my weird nerves about it but you’re the first person I’ve actually said it out loud to.”

Will is silent for a long moment. Then he says, “I’m the first person to know?”

Mike winces. “I mean, my friends in New York know I’m into guys. But I never, like, tried to actually say what it was.”

“Until now,” Will murmurs.

Mike nods. “Until now. “ He swallows down a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I thought about bringing it up over winter break but I was still figuring out so much shit in my head and the rest of the Party was always with us and I just- I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. But still, I’m sorry.”

“Mike, you don’t need to apologize,” Will shakes his head. “Just- come here.” And suddenly Will is pulling him into a hug, and a wave of relief washes over Mike. He collapses against Will, the dark cloud above his head burning away as he wraps his arms around Will’s back.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Will says again, and Mike feels the words reverberate through his chest. “I get it, Mike. Believe me, I know exactly how hard this is.”

Mike’s eyes begin to burn and he squeezes them shut, willing the sensation to go away. The last thing Mike needs right now is to start sobbing into Will’s shirt like he’s a little kid. He’s already gotten through most of the emotional bullshit that came with his realization. Countless nights of getting drunk and sobbing in his friend Bridget’s arms as she reassured him it would be okay, that no one could tell just by looking at him, that everyone else like them was also this terrified when they realized.

(He remembers one night in particular, after Bridget had finished his last bottle of vodka so he couldn’t, listening to her tell him how she’d actually gotten sick when she first realized girls weren’t supposed to look at other girls the way she did. As he listened to Bridget, he thought about Will. Wondered if he’d had a similar reaction when he realized he was gay. How hard it must have been for him to hide that from the rest of the Party. How if Mike had actually faced this when he was younger, and Lucas or Dustin shouted at him that it wasn’t their fault he didn’t like girls, how absolutely terrified he would’ve been that they knew.)

“I should’ve told you sooner, though,” Mike insists. “If anyone deserved to know, it was you.”

Will pulls back. “What, because of-” then he cuts himself off, because Will Byers understands the way Mike Wheeler thinks better than anyone else in the world. “Mike, you already apologized for that, and I forgave you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get it then,” Mike argues. “Like, when I look back at it now, I was already starting to suspect something was wrong with my relationship with El, and the idea that it could be because of me scared me. So I took that out on you. And obviously I felt bad about it later, but I wasn’t letting myself think about why what I’d said bothered me so much. Now I know how much that must’ve hurt you, and I don’t get why the hell you stayed friends with me after that.”

“Well, I won’t lie, on a scale of shitty things you’ve done, that’s pretty high on the list,” Will admits. “But you’ve also saved my life multiple times from nightmare dimension monsters. And you stuck with me when I was possessed. So you have your positive qualities too.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “I don’t think any Upside Down stuff should be counted on, like, the same scale.”

“Fine then. You’ve defended me from bullies plenty of times. You were my first friend. And you’re the only person from back home who still sends me letters.”

“What?” Mike frowns. “The others aren’t sending you letters?”

Will shakes his head. “Do they send you letters?”

“Well, not really, but I still talk to Lucas and Dustin on the phone.” He huffs. “Max too, I guess. She’s actually been better about keeping up with the schedule than the guys have, even though we just end up insulting each other for most of our talks.”

“I call them too,” Will says. “But the calls don’t happen super often, except with Max, like you said. Not even from El since she’s so busy studying. But you never miss a call or a letter.”

Mike’s own cheeks burn as he turns his head away. “I just don’t want to repeat what happened when you moved to California,” he admits. “I almost lost you as my best friend because I was being an ass. I won’t let that happen again.”

“Mike.” A warm hand resting on his own is what makes Mike look back over. Will is staring at him with an intensity that he’s not used to seeing. “You weren’t the only reason things got so weird with us. I was dealing with a lot of my own problems too.”

“Yeah, but-”

“You were a kid,” Will continues, cutting Mike off. “Yeah, you could’ve handled things better, and I could have too, but we were both kids. So don’t put all the blame on yourself like you always do.”

While Mike wants to argue with the like you always do comment, he knows Will is right. Even if he still thinks he deserves more of the blame for how bad things got between them, neither one of them was really great at communication back then. Hell, Mike still sucks at communication. But at least he’s self-aware now.

Mike turns his hand so that his and Will’s palms meet. He laces their fingers together and when Will squeezes his hand, his heart skips a beat.

“I’m still not letting you get out of our call schedule,” Mike says after a moment.

Will laughs. “Good. And I’ll keep sending you letters.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Byers.” When this makes Will grin, a strange warmth spreads through Mike’s chest. “Now, what time does that party start? Because Candace kind of scares me and I don’t want her hunting us down.”

The party wasn’t what Mike had been expecting.

Well, maybe it was exactly what he expected. He’d already figured out that Will had found his place in the gay community at RISD, so it made sense that most of his friends—including the ones who invited him to parties—were also either gay or just cool with that stuff.

Mike had found a similar environment at NYU. He didn’t have as many friends as Will and hadn’t made much of an effort to connect with others, but Bridget always knew where to find small house parties where no one would blink twice if two boys were being touchy or two girls went off into a room alone together.

As soon as Mike and Will walked into the apartment Candace had led them to, Mike had spotted two guys kissing in the corner of the room with no one else paying them any mind. The sight had been enough to make him stumble, but thankfully Will had caught him with one hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder.

That had been an hour ago. For some reason, Mike can still feel the imprint of Will’s hands against his sweater.

“Hello? Earth to Mike?”

He startles out of his thoughts when Candace snaps her fingers in his face.

“What?”

Instead of answering, Candace gestures to Charlene standing beside her.

“I asked if you’d come with me to get more drinks for everyone. I can’t carry them all myself,” Charlene repeats.

Mike glances at Erik and Will, who are both still nursing their vile vodka and sprite mixtures. Candace has already tossed hers back, but she’s leaning against the wall, her gaze fixed on a group of students playing darts on the other side of the room. She’s watching as a girl with curly brown hair steps up to take her turn, and Mike gets the sense Candace isn’t going to move from her spot anytime soon.

“Yeah, sure.”

Charlene smiles sweetly at him. “Thanks. Does everyone want the same thing?”

Erik shakes his head. “I’m still working on this.”

Will considers the drink with a grimace, before his eyes focus on the empty beer can Mike has in his hand in place of a red solo cup. “Can I get a beer?”

“Sure,” Charlene nods. “Candace?”

“Get me something strong,” Candace says, still watching the curly-haired girl with pink-tinted cheeks.

Mike and Charlene leave the rest of the group for the kitchen. A few kids are standing by the window above the sink, passing a joint around and blowing the smoke outside. Mike and Charlene both inch by the group to reach the liquor bottles lined up on the counter.

“So I don’t mean to be nosy,” Charlene starts as she grabs a bottle of tequila and a bottle of club soda, “but I wanted to ask: are you doing okay? You’ve seemed really spaced out tonight.”

Mike hasn’t necessarily been spaced out, he would say. But since that afternoon, he’s been struggling to keep his focus on anyone that’s not Will. Even when Will’s not talking to him directly, he finds his gaze drifting over, noting how broad Will’s shoulders are now, how sharp his jawline has become, how he seems almost taller than before even though their height difference has remained the same since junior year of high school.

But it’s not like he means anything by it. It’s been nearly six months since they last spent time together in person. Of course he would be noticing all the ways Will has changed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired,” Mike lies. He spots a cooler on the ground and reaches deep into the ice, underneath all the other beer cans to find the coldest one for Will. His hand is numb by the time he claims his victory, but considering Will doesn’t even like beer that much, the least Mike can do is make sure he doesn’t get a lukewarm one.

Charlene pours the tequila and club soda into a red solo cup, adding a very generous amount of tequila in the ratio. Mike suspects that’s for Candace. Even though Charlene doesn’t look up from the cup, he gets the feeling that she doesn’t believe his excuse. But she doesn’t ask, and that makes Mike feel guiltier than he expects.

“Thanks for, um, asking though,” Mike says as he stands back up. “I’m not always good at parties.” At least that part isn’t a lie.

“Neither am I,” Charlene admits as she hands Mike the tequila soda to hold. “But I think you should know your staring isn’t subtle.”

Mike flinches. “What?”

“You keep staring at Will.”

“No I’m not. I’m just… zoning out.”

“Uh-huh.” Charlene doesn’t seem convinced. She turns to the counter again and starts filling a second red solo cup with vodka and a lukewarm bottle of orange juice.

“Who’s that for?”

She holds the cup towards him. “You. I think you need it.”

Mike considers the offered drink. Then, he tucks Will’s beer into the crook of his elbow so he can take the cup. “Thanks.”

He sips the screwdriver as Charlene makes herself one as well. Then, the two head back out to the main party, where a girl Mike recognizes as the one who let them into the apartment is talking to Will, Erik, and Candace.

“I’m just so happy you guys were able to- oh hi!” The party host, who Mike is 75% sure is named Wendy, smiles when she spots Charlene and Mike. “Oh, you got more drinks! Did you find the cooler? And the juice? I think there’s more in the fridge if you need. And if we run out of vodka just let me know.” She’s speaking so fast, it’s difficult for Mike to keep up. He can’t tell if she’s drunk or just incredibly hyper.

“We found everything we needed, Wendy,” Charlene reassures her, and Mike silently cheers himself for getting her name right. “How’s your night going? You’re letting yourself have some fun too, right?”

“Of course, of course. Don’t worry about me,” Wendy says, waving off her concern. Her gaze then flits to Mike. “And Mike! I hope you’re having fun. I think it’s so sweet you came to visit Will. His essays about you guys always made me so curious-”

“So Wendy, how much grading do you have to do for Wyld before you’re free for the summer?” Will says suddenly, cutting Wendy off midsentence. His face is flushed bright red, and beside him, Erik looks like he’s struggling to hold back laughter.

Mike isn’t going to let this get away that easily. “Wait, Wendy, what did you mean by essays about us?” He asks before Wendy can answer Will.

“Sometimes for assignments, the students have to write short essays explaining the meanings behind their pieces. Will once turned in a painting depicting a scene from your DND campaign, and he wrote all about you and your other friends. I thought it was just so sweet.” She beams, oblivious to Will burying his face in his hands behind her. Then, she seems to spot something over Mike’s shoulder because her eyes go wide. “Oh! Lily’s here! I should go say hi.”

With that, Wendy hurries away. Mike catches Will’s eye as he lifts his head from his hands.

“So.” Mike smirks as he hands Will the beer. “You wrote about me in an essay.”

“Not just you,” Will argues, glaring at him. “I wrote about everyone.”

Mike takes a step towards Will, the vodka from the screwdriver Charlene made him starting to hit as he grins. “What was the painting of? Did you-” He gasps. “Did you draw me?”

“I drew one of your NPCs, not you,” Will tells him. “Also, you know I’ve drawn you before.”

“Yeah, but it’s been years. Pretty sure the last time you drew me was when I still had those stupid bangs.”

Will stifles a laugh. “They did look kind of weird. But it’s not like I have room to talk since that was when my mom was still giving me that bowl cut.”

Of all things, this is what seems to knock Candace back into the conversation. “You had a bowl cut?”

Mike nods. “He had it until we were halfway through high school-” He’s cut off by Will punching his arm. “What? You’re the one who mentioned it!”

“No no, we’re not moving past this. I need photographic evidence.” Candace looks at Mike. “Please tell me you have an old yearbook with you or something.”

Mike shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t. But basically just imagine-” he reaches out for Will’s face and places his hand in front of his forehead, “a bowl cut this long going all around his head.”

“Actually, I had one of those too,” Erik chimes in. “Though I convinced my mom to stop cutting it like that when I was in middle school.”

Will groans. “I hate all of you.”

“Hey! I haven’t said anything about your hair. We’ve all had bad haircuts before,” Charlene says.

“Except for Charlene. I don’t hate her,” Will amends.

“Yeah, well I still need-” Candace cuts herself off before she can finish her sentence, her eyes going wide as she looks at something behind Mike. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Erik looks over before understanding washes over him. “Oh.”

Mike frowns and twists around so he can see what the others are looking at. At first he can’t pick out anything unusual, until he notices a handsome, dark-haired guy talking to Wendy near the dartboard.

“Will,” Charlene says, her voice suddenly low, “when was the last time-”

“It’s been a while,” Will says, and Mike turns back to see Will looking at the guy as well. “I… I think I’m gonna go say hi.”

Mike, too startled by the sudden mood shift to ask what’s going on, watches as Will brushes by him to join Wendy and the dark-haired guy’s conversation. As soon as Will walks up to them both, the dark-haired guy’s eyes widen before his face softens, and then the two of them are hugging in a way that makes Mike’s stomach turn.

“Uh, am I missing something?” Mike asks, unable to tear his eyes from Will and the guy.

“That’s Jamie,” Charlene murmurs. “Will’s ex.”

“He has an ex?”

The words hit Mike like a slap in the face. Ex as in ex-boyfriend. Will’s ex-boyfriend. Which means that Will had left something out earlier that day when he told Mike about the guys he’d had over.

“When did they…” Mike trails off, unsure if he wants to ask when they started dating or when they ended things.

Thankfully, Erik seems to understand. “They got together about halfway through fall semester. Things seemed to be going really well, but then Will told us they broke up basically a week after we got back from winter break.”

Mike listens, but he continues to watch Will and ‘Jamie’ talk. Wendy seems to have excused herself from the conversation. Now Will is smiling and nodding at whatever stupid thing Jamie is telling him, and even though they pulled apart from the hug, they’re still standing far too close for Mike’s liking.

“They don’t seem to be on bad terms,” he says, wondering if he sounds as bitter to the others as he does to himself.

“It wasn’t a bad breakup,” Charlene says. “At least, that’s what Will told us. He never really went into detail, but he just said they didn’t work together.”

“Then why is Will still talking to him?” Mike mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

Charlene seems to be the only one who heard, because from the corner of his eye he sees her give him a worried look. He’s still watching Will and Jamie as he remembers the red solo cup in his hand, and decides to down his second drink in a single go.

“Maybe I should’ve put less vodka in that,” Charlene murmurs.

Erik looks at Mike and then follows his gaze over to Will and Jamie. Then he passes Mike his cup of vodka and sprite. “I’m done with this, if you want it.”

Mike downs the lukewarm vodka and sprite mixture and stacks the cup into his other one. He’s not sure why he’s suddenly so desperate to be drunk, but he knows he can’t stand the sight of Will talking to his ex.

Jamie was probably an asshole and that’s why Will broke up with him. Will’s such a nice person, of course he would go say hi and talk and laugh with his ex who treated him like shit. If anything, he’s probably looking for a way out of the conversation right now but doesn’t want to seem rude.

Or maybe… he’s not. The thought is even more unwelcome than the idea that Will is stuck in an awkward conversation with an ex he doesn’t like. At least if that’s the case, Mike knows he’ll leave as soon as it feels socially acceptable. But Mike would like to say he can read Will better than most people. He’s always been able to figure out when something makes Will nervous or uncomfortable, even when Will himself doesn’t want to say anything about it. He’s learned Will’s tells over the years, from identifying signs of possession to just being anxious.

Will’s smile isn’t forced. His shoulders are relaxed, and he’s leaning into Jamie’s space so naturally, it’s like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. If Mike narrows his eyes, he can swear he almost sees a faint flush on Will’s cheeks. Right now, all of Mike’s learned instincts about Will are telling him that he’s actually fine where he is.

Speaking of alcohol, his own drinks have really started to settle into his bloodstream now. The room is swaying ever so slightly, and Mike loses the little brain to mouth filter he had left.

“I think I should go over there,” Mike says out loud to no one in particular. “Make sure this guy isn’t bothering him or anything.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Charlene says, placing her hand on Mike’s arm. “Trust me, Jamie’s a nice guy. He won’t say anything to upset Will.”

“But they broke up. There had to be some reason for that,” Mike argues, feeling himself tilt forward before catching himself. “What if this Jamie guy is secretly a dick to the people he dates?”

“Then Will would’ve told us,” Candace counters, frowning at him.

“You don’t know that,” Mike snaps without thinking. “You guys don’t even know Will. You think you do but you don’t.”

“If you really know him so much better than we do, then why did we know about his relationship and you didn’t?” Candace snaps back.

Mike flinches. He’s had the same question playing on repeat in his head for the last twenty minutes. Why did Will keep so much from him? Is it because he thought Mike might be weirded out hearing him talk about dating guys? Or was there something else?

“Candace, come on, that’s not fair,” Mike distantly hears Charlene say through the blood roaring in his ears.

He hears Candace say something in response and can feel her looking in his direction, but he isn’t paying attention to her anymore. He isn’t paying attention to any of them anymore. His legs seem to have switched onto autopilot as he walks past Erik, shrugging off the hand he uses to try and hold Mike back, and makes his way straight towards-

“Will! There you are!” Mike says with as much cheer as he can muster.

Will jumps at Mike’s voice. “Oh, uh, hey Mike.”

Mike doesn’t even look in Jamie’s direction as he slings an arm across Will’s shoulders. “What’s going on? Why’d you ditch me?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize how long we’d been talking.” Will tenses under Mike’s arm. “Uh, Mike, this is Jamie. Jamie, this is Mike, I’ve told you about him before.”

Surprise flashes over Jamie’s face, but he schools it quickly as he holds out a hand to shake. “Yeah, I remember. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Mike is tempted to ignore the offered hand, but forces himself to shake it anyway. If he squeezes Jamie’s hand just a little too tightly, Will doesn’t need to know.

“Yup, it’s me. Will’s best friend,” Mike says with a bit too much emphasis. “So you and Will are in the same class?”

Jamie shakes his head. “No, actually. I can’t draw for shit. I’m a photographer.”

“He’s also a writer, like you, Mike,” Will adds.

Mike narrows his eyes. “I didn’t know they taught creative writing here.”

“They don’t,” Jamie clarifies. “I just do it as a hobby.”

“Oh. Well I’m an English major at NYU, but I’m also getting a minor in creative writing,” Mike says.

“Damn, that’s cool. What’s your preferred genre?”

It’s starting to annoy Mike how genuine Jamie’s questions seem.

“Fantasy, but most of my classes so far have been focused on contemporary stuff.”

Jamie grins. “Oh, fantasy’s cool. I’m more of a sci-fi guy myself. Have you ever read any Ursula Le Guin?”

Unsure of where this is going, Mike nods. “Yeah, I really liked the Earthsea books.”

“Earthsea’s a great kids series,” Jamie says, making Mike clench his jaw. “Her stuff for adults is more sci-fi focused. I really enjoyed The Left Hand of Darkness.”

Mike doesn’t miss the subtle dig Jamie is making about his taste in books. He curls the hand not resting on Will’s shoulder into a fist at his side.

“You know, The Hobbit is one of Will’s favorite books,” Mike suddenly tells him.

Jamie looks to Will. “It is?”

Will, still visibly nervous, nods once. “Uh, yeah, it is.”

“You never told me that,” Jamie says.

“Maybe he didn’t want to because he thought you were going to say it was childish,” Mike says.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Mike,” Will suddenly snaps, shrugging Mike’s arm off of him. “It just didn’t come up. That’s all.”

“Hey, look, I’m sorry if I accidentally offended you. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jamie holds his hands out in a placating gesture.

“Hey man, you don’t need to apologize to me. It’s not your fault you don’t know Will that well. You’ve only known him a few months after all.”

Jamie frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yeah Mike,” Will says, a warning clear in his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Despite the fact that Mike knows he’s making himself look like an ass, he can’t seem to shut himself up.

“Doesn’t mean anything. It’s just that I’ve been friends with Will for basically his whole life so I know him better than you.”

“It’s not a competition, Mike,” Will snaps.

“It’s okay, Will. I think I know what Mike’s doing.” Jamie steps closer, and it’s then Mike realizes Jamie’s half an inch taller than he is. The realization makes him bristle as Jamie leans in close so his mouth is right by Mike’s ear.

“Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Mike,” Jamie taunts, too quiet for Will to hear.

Jealous? The word makes Mike recoil. He’s not jealous. What would he even be jealous of? It’s not like Will and Jamie are still together, but even if they were it shouldn’t matter to Mike. Will’s his friend. He shouldn’t be jealous because his friend is dating someone else.

“I’m not-” Mike stumbles back, his vision starting to swim. He narrows his eyes at the blurry figure of Jamie in front of him. “Fuck you, man.”

“Hey!” Will protests, but Mike ignores him as he storms away.

He goes straight to the kitchen where the stoners have disappeared, and starts rifling through the bottles on the counter to try and find one that still has liquor in it. Everything has been emptied out at this point, except for dregs at the bottom of a few rum bottles. He’s considering drinking it anyway when he feels someone walk up to his side.

“Will-”

“It’s not Will,” Charlene tells him, her voice soft. “He’s busy apologizing to Jamie on your behalf right now.”

Mike scowls. “He shouldn’t be. Jamie’s a fucking dick.”

“What did he say to you? I saw him whisper something in your ear.”

Gripping the edge of the counter for balance, Mike shakes his head. “It- It was something stupid, that’s all.”

“If it was stupid, why do you seem so upset about it?” Charlene leans against the counter beside him.

“Because-” Mike hesitates. Squeezes his eyes shut as the world spins around him. “He said I was jealous.”

“And you’re telling me you weren’t?” Charlene asks, doubt filling her voice.

Mike cracks open an eye to glance to his left. Charlene is watching him with an unreadable expression.

“No, of course not,” he says, but even he can tell it sounds like a lie. “What would I even have to be jealous of? It’s not-” he hesitates, “it’s not like that between me and Will.”

“You sure about that?” The question is gentle, but it makes Mike feel like he’s been punched in the chest. Nausea is rising up the back of his throat, and Mike isn’t sure if he wants to punch a wall or run out the door and take the first train back to New York. His ears are ringing and his thoughts aren’t making any sense. Jamie’s words keep echoing in his ears- jealous jealous jealous.

Mike wonders if this is what it’s like to lose his mind.

“I’m too drunk for this,” Mike says, his voice cracking.

His legs fail him then, and he slides down the cabinets to sit on the ground in front of the sink. It’s pretty gross, considering all the liquor and juice that’s been spilled on the floor here, but he doesn’t have the strength to move somewhere else.

For some reason, Charlene sits down beside him.

“You know,” she starts, even though Mike really wishes she’d go away right now, “you’re the only one of Will’s friends from back home he actually told us about.”

Mike’s head snaps up, and suddenly he doesn’t want Charlene to go away. “What?”

“I mean, he’s mentioned names before. Like his brother, Jonathan, and his sister, Jane. But then there’s… a guy named Lucas, I think? Then, I don’t know, Dusty or something.”

“Dustin,” Mike corrects, his mouth dry.

“Okay, Dustin. Then there’s another girl too. Her name starts with an M, I think.”

“Max.”

“See? I barely know their names, let alone their last names,” Charlene tells him. “That’s because Will doesn’t talk about them like he talks about Mike Wheeler.”

Hearing this makes some of the nausea in Mike’s throat ebb away, as a familiar warmth starts to grow in his chest.

“What are you trying to say?” He whispers.

Charlene shrugs. “Just that, from my outside perspective at least, there’s something different between you and Will. Different from the way most friends would act.” She stands up and brushes off the back of her jeans. “I think it’s something you should think about.”

With that, she leaves Mike to his misery on the kitchen floor. He stays there for a while, avoiding the eyes of the other partygoers who have to step around him to get to what remains of the booze. They probably assume he’s stoned or something, and he figures it’s better that way.

Too soon though, Will appears in the kitchen doorway, and stares at Mike with a mixture of anger and exhaustion. When Mike doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even move, he walks over and crouches in front of him.

“It’s late. I gotta get up early to turn in my painting tomorrow.”

Mike nods. “Okay.” He fights to get to his feet, his vision spinning when he tries to move. After watching him struggle for a few moments, Will sighs and offers him a hand.

When Will’s fingers wrap around his, Mike’s heart rate jumps, and he thinks about what Charlene said again. But as soon as he’s standing, Will drops his hand and Mike tries not to feel hurt about it.

When they pass through the living room again, Mike sees that Candace has joined the darts game with the curly-haired girl. Erik and Charlene are cheering her on, although Charlene turns to give Mike a small smile as he walks by. Jamie, meanwhile, is nowhere to be seen.

Despite it being May, there’s a chill in the night air that snaps Mike back to his senses. They walk back towards East Hall in an oppressive silence, and every time Mike glances at Will, he’s keeping his gaze trained on the ground.

It takes about twenty minutes to get back to the dorm. The walk sobers Mike up and by the time they’re entering Will’s dorm, Mike has regained enough common sense to recognize that Will has every right to be pissed at him right now.

Will leaves the room to take a shower without sparing Mike a second glance. Rifling through his suitcase, Mike finds a bottle of water and downs the whole thing in a single go. Then, after stewing in his embarrassment for another few minutes, he forces himself to get up and change into pajamas.

The entire time, both Charlene and Jamie’s words circle around his thoughts. According to both of them, he’d been acting jealous. And the thing is, Mike knows he’s always been a bit possessive when it comes to Will. Even when they were little, it took ages for him to fully accept Lucas—and later Dustin—into their friend group. One day, after he’d stormed off of the playground because Will and Lucas had gone on the seesaw together without Mike, his mom asked him why he didn’t want to make more friends. He’d told his mom it was because Will was his best friend, and he didn’t want to share him with anyone else.

It was a cute story that his mom loved to tease him about. Mike had never thought about it more than just him being a bit of a dick as a kid. But in truth, Mike’s possessiveness over Will had never really gone away. Sure, he’d gotten better at hiding it, but there’d always been a delineation in his head between his friendship with Will and his friendships with the rest of the Party. He’d always told himself it was just because Will was his first friend, but now he finds himself wondering if that’s really all it was.

Once he’s done changing, Mike knows he should lay back down and try to fall asleep before Will comes back. It’ll be less awkward that way, even if it makes the inevitable morning confrontation worse. But before he can lay down on his air mattress, his eyes catch sight of the covered easel in the corner of the room.

He wanders over to the easel. His fingers play with the edge of the blanket covering it, even though he would never look underneath without Will’s permission. Still, he finds himself staring at the square outline of the canvas, trying to guess what Will decided to paint for his final.

Suddenly, Mike is thinking back to another painting. One Will gave him in California under the guise of a lie, telling him all these things about how El commissioned the painting and that she needed him. It took Mike a while to figure out Will lied, and he eventually did confront Will about it. Will apologized, of course, and said that he thought Mike needed to hear that about El. That he had been trying to help both of them.

Mike had known Will’s explanation was a lie. But he’d been afraid to push for more. Afraid of pushing Will away again like he had in California. So he’d let it drop, and neither one of them brought it up again. But sometimes Mike still wondered what the truth actually was.

“If you wanna look at it, you can,” a voice says behind him.

Mike jumps, dropping the edge of the blanket like he’d been burned. Will stands in the doorway to the bedroom, having changed into pajamas and dragging a towel over his wet hair.

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t worry. I know you didn’t,” Will reassures him, although he doesn’t smile at Mike when he says it. “But I’m saying you can see it now if you want. I don’t think there’s anything else I can do with it at this point.”

Will doesn’t sound angry. In fact, he doesn’t sound like he’s feeling much of anything. He just seems… tired.

“Are you sure?” Mike asks, his voice smaller than he expected. “If you don’t want to show me it’s okay.”

Will sighs. He shuts the door behind him and tosses the towel onto his bed, before walking over to the easel. Mike steps back and watches as Will tugs the blanket off.

It takes a second for Mike to realize what he’s looking at. Then, he recoils as he looks into the Upside Down for the first time in several years.

Will has painted the front of his childhood home. There’s the small front porch, flat roof, square windows. But there are dark vines wrapping around each of the windows, carving paths into the walls and spreading onto the roof. In a way, it reminds Mike of mold.

The house is bathed in dark blue and black shadows. The trees beyond the house are barren of their leaves, spindly limbs stretching towards a cloud-covered sky. The air is thick with white puffballs, rendered in a perfectly hazy, not-fully-there kind of way by Will’s paintbrush.

“What the fuck, Will?” Mike breathes as he stares at the painting. “Of all the things you could choose to paint, you painted the Upside Down?”

Will clenches his jaw as he stares at the canvas. “I thought it would help,” he explains. “I thought that maybe if I turned it from a memory into something I created, if I brought it back through brushstrokes I could control, and then let my professor criticize it like any other piece of art, it wouldn’t… feel as real anymore.”

“Did it work?” Mike asks, although he can already guess the answer.

“No.” Will shakes his head. “If anything, I think it made things worse.”

Mike stares at the painting for a moment longer. Then, he looks at Will. “That’s why you didn’t let your friends see it.”

“I didn’t want them asking me all about what it was and how I got the inspiration for it.” He reaches for the blanket to cover the painting again, and Mike is silently grateful. “It’s hard, you know? Having this huge thing that happened to me that I can’t talk about to anyone for the rest of my life.”

Mike nods. “Yeah, I get it. I mean- I’m sure it’s worse for you than it is for me, given how much more shit you went through. But I’ve felt the same way around my friends.”

Will is quiet for a moment as he drapes the blanket over the easel. Mike breathes easier the second it's out of sight. Will, however, still seems tense as he drops his hands to his side again.

“That’s why I broke up with Jamie,” he says suddenly.

“Because you couldn’t talk to him about…”

“Yeah, basically.” Will walks over to his bed and settles himself on the edge of it. Mike hovers nearby, until Will scoots over to give him more room. Mike sits down beside him. “It’s not like- we hadn’t even gotten serious enough where I would’ve wanted to talk about all of that. But I could never stay over at his dorm or let him stay here in case I woke up screaming. I know I could’ve told him the same lie I told my roommates, but I didn’t want to have to lie to someone I was dating, you know?” He stares at his lap, frowning. “I just- I felt like we couldn’t actually connect. Not about anything important. And even if we hadn’t all signed those government NDAs, I don’t think I’d ever be able to explain it properly to someone who wasn’t there. Even if they believed me, they’d never actually get it.”

“I get it,” Mike says quietly. “It sucks.”

Then, Mike figures he must still be a little drunk because he gets the idea to reach out and grab Will’s hand. He expects Will to pull away, but to his surprise Will doesn’t. Instead, he lets Mike lace their fingers together, and watches as Mike rubs his thumb over the back of Will’s hand.

“I don’t usually wake up screaming so I never thought about having to lie about the nightmares,” Mike says after a few minutes. “But one time, I met a guy at a party and we ended up going back to my dorm.” His heart starts to pound as he relays the story, but Will is quiet as he keeps his gaze on their hands.

“It was only the second time I’d, like, done anything with a guy. We made out a bit and then, I don’t know, I guess I got really tired and fell asleep. I had a nightmare and woke up. But when I opened my eyes and felt someone’s arm around me—someone I didn’t recognize—I panicked. I pretty much fell off the bed and of course the guy woke up, and I couldn’t even speak for a few minutes because I was trying to figure out what was a dream and what was reality.” Mike scoffs. “The guy thought I was having a panic attack, which, I guess I kind of was. He was really nice about it and tried to calm me down, but I ended up basically begging him to leave, even though it was four in the morning.”

Will doesn’t say anything for a moment. But then he’s scooting closer, so their shoulders are pressed together. “What was the nightmare about?”

Mike wants to turn his head away, to look anywhere but at Will, but he forces himself to look Will in the eyes. To remind himself that Will is here, alive and well, letting Mike hold his hand.

“I saw your body in the quarry again,” Mike tells him. “Except it wasn’t you as a kid this time. It was you now. You were dead and… and I hadn’t been able to do anything about it. I hadn’t been able to save you.”

“Mike,” Will says, his voice soft, “you realize that it’s not your job to protect me, right?”

Mike blinks quickly as he shakes his head. “I mean, I guess not. I was never any good at it anyway, so it doesn’t really make a difference.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out sounding forced and awkward. “Look what happened tonight. I thought I was ‘protecting’ you from your shitty ex and I just ended up acting like a dick.”

“Is that what all that was?” Will asks, and Mike can’t tell if he sounds amused or annoyed. “You were trying to ‘protect’ me?”

The word jealous rings in Mike’s mind again. He avoids Will’s eyes as he shrugs. “That was part of it.” Then, before Will can ask what the other part was, Mike continues, “I’m sorry, though. I was acting like an ass.”

“You were,” Will agrees, “but Jamie didn’t need to make fun of your taste in books like that either.”

“So you did pick up on that.”

“Of course I did. Jamie’s always been a bit pretentious. But you overreacted. Majorly.”

“Yeah.” Mike hangs his head. “I know I did. And I’m sorry about that.”

“I accept your apology.” Will squeezes Mike’s fingers again. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Jamie before.”

“It’s your life. You’re not obligated to tell me things like that if you don’t want to,” Mike says, even though that’s been bothering him since Candace pointed it out at the party.

Will sighs. “It wasn’t really about you. I mean, it was, but it’s not because I didn’t trust you or anything like that. It’s just that-” he pauses, furrowing his brows. Mike watches Will consider his words, and after a beat, Will looks away. “I guess it just felt too early to tell anyone from back home. I wanted to see how things went before making a big deal out of it.”

Mike can tell Will is lying. There’s another reason he didn’t want to tell Mike about Jamie. But he gets the sense that it wouldn’t do any good to push Will on this right now. Besides, his eyes are growing heavy, and he can see that Will is tired too.

But Will is warm where he’s pressed against Mike’s side. It’s comforting to have Will’s hand wrapped in his own. It’s keeping Mike from drifting too far into his own head, tethering him to this moment, right here, sitting on the edge of Will’s bed. He doesn’t want it to end.

But then, he yawns. Loudly. Will stifles a laugh and Mike glares at him even as his eyelids start to droop.

“You look a bit sleepy,” Will teases.

“Nope. Definitely not-” Mike cuts himself off with another yawn.

Will grins. “I think it’s someone’s bedtime.”

“Fuck you,” Mike mumbles, slumping into Will’s side.

“Come on, Mike,” Will says, trying to push Mike off of him. “Don’t you want to stretch out on your super comfortable air mattress?”

“Not comfortable,” Mike says into Will’s shirt. “Pretty sure it’s half-deflated by now.”

This makes Will fall silent for a moment. Mike lifts his head from Will’s shirt and sees Will deep in thought about something.

“I was just kidding. I promise the air mattress isn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, but you’d be more comfortable on an actual bed, right?” Will asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m not going to take your bed from you,” Mike argues before Will can even suggest it.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Will counters. “I was actually going to say that, uh-” he glances between Mike and the rest of the bed before seeming to come to a decision. “I think we can both fit up here.”

“Wait, you mean you want us to share-”

“Only if you want to,” Will quickly says. “If you think that’d be, like, weird, that's okay. I just thought- the floor definitely isn’t comfortable and-”

“No,” Mike says, cutting him off, “it’s not weird. We used to share every time you slept over anyway.” Never mind the fact that the last time they’d shared a bed had been when they were ten.

“Yeah, exactly,” Will says, obvious relief washing over him. “It’s not weird.”

Not weird, but certainly not something Mike had expected. But the idea of sleeping in Will’s bed is infinitely more appealing than staying on the air mattress again, so Mike nods along as he disentangles himself from Will and climbs under the blankets. Will gets up to turn the lights out, leaving the room dark except for a small nightlight in the corner, before walking back to the bed and climbing under the covers beside him.

The difference between sharing a bed when they were ten and sharing a bed now is that a bed like this can’t fit both of them as easily as Mike’s childhood one did. They’re not touching, but it would only take a tiny shift for Mike’s arm to press against Will’s. In the soft gloom of Will’s room, Mike can make out Will’s face sitting only inches from his own.

If Mike moved even the tiniest bit closer, they would be-

Mike doesn’t let himself finish that thought, because he’s still drunk. That’s the only reason why he suddenly got the urge to kiss Will. No other reason. Completely unrelated to what Charlene told him at the party.

Will must’ve heard his breathing change, because he asks, “You okay, Mike?”

They’re so close, Mike can feel Will’s breath on his face when he talks. A shiver runs down Mike’s spine.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. “I’m fine.”

Then, before he gets another stupid urge, Mike forces himself to turn onto his other side so he’s facing away from Will.

Maybe he imagines it, but he swears he hears Will let out a disappointed sigh before he feels Will turn away as well.

“Night then,” Will says.

“Goodnight,” Mike replies.

Despite his exhaustion, it takes Mike longer than he expects to fall asleep.

When Mike wakes, it’s still dark out.

For a moment, he stares at the ceiling in confusion. His head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton and his mouth tastes terrible. Exhaustion gums up his thoughts and he wonders what woke him up when he clearly hasn’t been asleep for that long.

Then, he hears a sharp gasp behind him.

“Shit.” Mike is suddenly wide awake as he turns over and sees Will sitting up in the bed, fingers twisted in his hair and knees pulled up to his chest. “Will?” Mike sits up as well but doesn’t try to reach out for him. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Will gasps out. “N-Nightmare.”

Mike had already figured that part out. He pushes the blankets off his legs and scoots closer, still keeping a gap between them as his hands hover over Will’s shoulders.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, remembering the times that Will would violently flinch away from anyone who tried to comfort him after a Vecna nightmare.

He can barely make out Will’s small nod, but it’s all Mike needs to see before he’s gently tugging Will’s hands away from his head. Will lets go of his hair and Mike laces their fingers together, wincing at how tightly Will grips his hands.

“Do I feel cold?” Will forces out between gritted teeth. “Do my hands feel cold to you?”

“No, not at all. Your hands actually feel really hot right now.” He scoots closer to Will so their knees are touching. “It was the Mind Flayer, wasn’t it?”

“I- I felt it in my head again,” Will says, and Mike realizes he’s trembling. “I know it’s gone. I know that. But the dream was so real.”

“Will, look at me,” Mike says.

Will opens his eyes to meet Mike’s in the dark. His breaths are still coming in sharp gasps, and his grip on Mike’s hands is so tight, Mike’s fingers have gone numb. He doesn’t try to pull away though. Doesn’t even consider it.

“Tell me who I am,” Mike continues.

“You’re Mike Wheeler,” Will says, “you’re my best friend. My first friend.”

“What’s your mom’s name?”

“Joyce Byers.”

“Your brother?”

“Jonathan.”

They continue like that, Mike asking Will to name El as his sister and Hopper as his step-dad. Then he moves onto the Party, asking Will how and when they became friends with Lucas, Dustin, and Max. With every question Will answers, his breathing starts to slow, and his panic subsides little by little as he proves to himself that the Mind Flayer isn’t in his head. Until eventually Will says,

“I think I’m okay now.” He’s stopped shaking now, and he’s no longer cutting off the blood circulation in Mike’s fingers. “Thanks for that.”

“Of course,” Mike says, making no moves to pull his hands away from Will’s. “I’m glad I woke up. I didn’t hear you scream.”

Will’s gaze falls to his lap as he shrugs. “I tried to stop myself from doing it. That doesn’t usually work, but when I opened my eyes and saw you next to me, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Mike frowns. “You had a terrifying nightmare about the time you got possessed by the fucking Mind Flayer, and your first thought was that you didn’t want to wake me up?” Will nods. “Don’t do that. If you have a nightmare and I’m here, I want you to wake me up.”

“But-”

“I’m not lying,” Mike says, cutting off Will before he can protest. “And if I’m not here, like if I’m back in New York, you can always call me. You know I have a landline in my dorm.”

“But won’t the phone ringing wake your roommates up?” Will asks.

Mike huffs. “They can deal with it. If they have a problem I’ll tell them it’s an emergency.” When Will still seems reluctant, Mike lets go of Will’s hands. He doesn’t think as he brings his hands up to Will’s face, and tilts his head up so he’s forced to meet Mike’s eyes again. “Will, I’m being serious. I don’t want you to have to deal with these alone.”

For a moment, Will doesn’t respond. He stares at Mike with wide eyes, and in the back of Mike’s mind, he knows it’s probably weird for him to be holding Will’s face like this. But he refuses to pull away. Instead, he brushes his thumb over Will’s cheek, and after a beat, Will lets out a breath and leans into the hand.

“Okay Mike,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut. “If it’s really bad, I’ll call.”

Mike frowns, wanting to tell Will it doesn’t have to be ‘really bad’ to call. But he knows how stubborn Will is about asking for help, and figures that’s the best he’s going to get from him right now.

Silence falls between them. Mike knows he should let go of Will’s face now, but Will seems to be relaxing into the hand Mike is using to run his thumb over Will’s cheekbone, and Mike can’t bring himself to pull away.

“You know,” Mike whispers, his heart suddenly pounding, “the Mind Flayer hates heat. So it might help if we, um-” he hesitates as his tired brain realizes just how weird this might sound to Will. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

Will opens his eyes as Mike pulls his hands away. It’s difficult to read Will’s expression in the dark, but Mike almost thinks Will is trying not to… smile?

“Were you about to suggest we cuddle to keep the Mind Flayer away?” Will asks.

Mike looks at his lap. “Like I said, it was a stupid idea.”

He waits for Will to agree. For Will to pull back and say they should be getting back to sleep. Or maybe, he waits for Will to tell him it would be better if he went back to the air mattress. As the silence between them drags on, Mike is about to suggest it himself when Will grabs his hands again.

He doesn’t say anything as he climbs back under the blankets, tugging Mike down with him. Once they’re both stretched out, Will turns so his back is pressed against Mike’s chest. Then, he reaches behind him for Mike’s arm, pulling it over himself and placing Mike’s hand on his waist.

“Is this what you meant?” Will finally whispers.

Mike can barely hear Will over the blood roaring in his ears. For a moment, his hand is frozen on Will’s waist. But then as the seconds tick on and Will stays close, Mike lets his hand stretch out until he feels his thumb hook under Will’s shirt.

He feels Will shiver as he traces small circles into his hip. Then, Mike lets himself shift closer, until his nose is pressed into Will’s hair.

“Yeah,” Mike whispers back. “It is.”

This is dangerous. What they’re doing right now isn’t something friends do. Mike knows this, and yet he doesn’t want to pull away. In fact, he can’t help but think about how right this feels. Like the last puzzle piece in his relationship with Will has finally slotted into place.

His conversation with Charlene replays in his head. There has always been something different about his relationship with Will. Even when they were kids, it wasn’t the same as his friendships with Dustin and Lucas. It was something more. And now Mike thinks he’s finally figured out what that difference was.

It’s that he’s in love with Will.

The realization isn’t as scary as Mike expects it to be. It’s something he’s always known, deep down. If anything, it brings Mike a sense of peace to finally admit it to himself.

“Mike.” Will’s whisper brings Mike out of his peaceful haze. “Are you awake?”

Mike hums in response, not trusting himself to use his words as his mind drifts between dream and reality.

“What did Jamie say to you tonight?” Will then asks.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mike asks, his voice slurred with sleep.

“No. He said I should ask you.”

If Mike were more awake, he would say it doesn’t matter. Say it was something stupid and not worth repeating. But he’s still hovering in that feeling of peace, falling asleep with his arms wrapped around a boy he’s been in love with for most of his life.

“He said I was jealous,” Mike murmurs into Will’s hair.

Will sucks in a sharp breath. Mike continues to trace circles against his skin.

Several minutes pass in complete silence. Then, Will finally asks,

“Was he right?”

Mike doesn’t answer, hoping Will assumes he fell asleep.

Besides, he has a feeling Will already knows the answer anyway.

The next morning, Mike wakes up alone in Will’s bed.

His head pounds as he sits up and stretches his arms above his head. There’s still a terrible taste in his mouth, and his throat hurts every time he swallows. He blinks a few times and looks around the room, the events of the night before slowly filtering back into his mind.

He remembers falling asleep with Will in his arms. The realization that hadn’t scared him nearly as much as it should have.

Mike is in love with Will Byers. Even in the light of day, it doesn’t feel like the kind of world ending realization that would’ve sent him into a crisis a few years ago. It’s just the simple truth.

But now Mike has to deal with a much scarier question: does Will feel the same about him?

He thinks back to last night. How Will was the one to pull Mike close and drape his arm over his waist, both of them knowing they weren’t doing it to keep the Mind Flayer away from Will’s nightmares.

But Will could have had his own reasons for agreeing to that. Maybe he was more shaken than he looked after his nightmare. Or maybe he’d felt Mike’s desperation, and didn’t want to upset him by rejecting him. That would be worse than Will rejecting him outright. The last thing he wants is Will pitying him.

Because regardless of what happened last night, Mike woke up alone. Will left before Mike woke up. Like he didn’t want to face the awkward conversation they were inevitably going to have, where he would tell Mike they shouldn’t share a bed together like that again, and that Mike probably shouldn’t visit him at school again either. And it’s not as though Mike can blame him. He hasn’t been very nice to Will’s friends, and he nearly got in a fight with Will’s ex for no good reason. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, out of nowhere he asks Will to cuddle when Will had just woken up from a horrific nightmare.

The more Mike thinks about it, he wouldn’t be surprised if Will kicks him out of his dorm when he gets back from wherever he’s gone. He probably deserves it.

Burying his face in his hands, Mike groans to the empty room. If only he hadn’t realized he’s in love with Will. Then things would be so much simpler.

When Mike lifts his head again, he looks around the room to try and gauge how long it’ll take him to pack up his stuff. Maybe it would be better if he leaves before Will gets back. He’d leave behind a note apologizing for his behavior, and see if he can switch to an earlier flight to go back to Hawkins.

As he’s looking around the room, Mike notices the easel in the corner is uncovered again. But this time, there’s no canvas sitting on it.

Oh. Will had to turn his painting in today. That must be why he left before Mike woke up. Not because he hates Mike, but because his final was due.

…Mike’s an idiot.

Deciding he should get up to try and find some water before he convinces himself of more stupid and untrue things, Mike pushes the blankets aside and when he sets his feet on the ground, he hears something crinkle under his foot.

Looking down, Mike spots a scrap of notebook paper on the ground. Picking it up, he reads,

Mike,

I had to go turn in my painting, but I’ll be back soon. I left a water bottle for you on my desk since you’re probably hungover after last night. If it’s really bad, there’s a bottle of aspirin in my desk drawer.

The note is short and doesn’t say anything that sweet, but Mike finds himself smiling at it anyway. Whatever Will’s thoughts about last night are, at the very least, Mike now knows he doesn’t hate him.

He finds the water sitting on Will’s desk just like he said. Mike downs most of it in a single breath, relieved to get the horrible hangover taste out of his mouth.

Now up, Mike goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and, thankfully, doesn’t have another run-in with Pete. When he’s back in Will’s room, he thinks about changing into normal clothes and going downstairs to get some coffee and breakfast, but the idea of being around all those other people in that noisy cafeteria is so unappealing, Mike would rather suffer his hangover without any coffee.

Not to mention, he’s still exhausted. Will might not be back for a while, so Mike might as well catch a few extra hours of sleep while he can.

He crawls back into Will’s bed. Morning sunlight is streaming through the blinds, so Mike shoves his face into Will’s pillow to try and block it out. The pillow smells like Will, and this comforts Mike more than it should. Soon, he starts to drift into sleep again.

But then, he hears the door and his eyes fly open.

“Oh, Mike, were you still-” Will hovers in the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No no,” Mike says, shaking his head as he sits up again. “I was already awake.”

Will looks relieved as he shuts the door behind him. Mike watches as he kicks off his shoes and sets his bag down. Despite the fact that Will doesn’t seem uncomfortable, he can tell that there’s something off. There’s tension in the line of his shoulders, and he seems to be avoiding looking in Mike’s direction. He also makes no move towards the bed. Then, Will notices the half-empty water bottle on his desk.

“You saw my note?”

“Actually, it fell on the ground so it took me a bit to find it,” Mike explains. “I was glad when I did though. When I first woke up, you were gone and-” he hesitates before saying, “I got worried.”

“Worried like you thought a demogorgon showed up in Rhode Island?” Will asks in a slightly strained voice, like he’s trying to tease him but not quite hitting the mark. “Or worried as in-”

“Worried that you’d left because you were uncomfortable, because of, um, last night,” Mike says before he can second-guess himself.

Will’s blinks. “Oh. You remember that?”

“I wasn’t that drunk, Will,” he says quietly, forcing himself to meet Will’s eyes.

Surprise flashes over Will’s face. Nerves twist in Mike’s chest as he waits for Will to say something, and after a few moments-

“That’s good,” Will finally says, looking relieved.

Will then picks his way around the abandoned air mattress on the floor, and Mike scoots to the other side of the bed so Will can sit on it. Whatever tension Will had been carrying when he walked into the room is gone now, and Will flashes Mike a smile as he settles on the edge of the bed.

“So what have you been doing since you woke up?” Will asks.

“Uh, I drank the water you left me and brushed my teeth. Then I came back in here and was about to go back to sleep when you walked in.” Suddenly, Mike gets hit with the best idea he thinks anyone has ever had in the history of humanity. “You and I should take a nap.”

Will laughs. “Right now?”

Mike nods. “Why not? You turned in your last final and our flight isn’t till tomorrow morning. What else do you have to do?”

“Well… I was planning on showing you around Providence a bit more, since you haven’t really seen much besides the campus.”

“With the rest of your friends?”

“No. Just us.”

Mike glances down and sees Will’s hand resting on the comforter. Before he can talk himself out of it, Mike reaches out and feels a flutter of something like excitement when Will immediately takes his hand in his own.

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Mike starts to tug on Will’s hand, “but I don’t think there’s any reason we can’t put it off for a few more hours.”

Will rolls his eyes, but lets himself be pulled towards the pillows.

“Fine. But it’ll be a two hour nap, max.”

Mike grins. “Sounds good to me.”

Will sits up again to take off his jacket and tosses it on the ground. Then he slides off his jeans, leaving him in just boxers and a t-shirt. He climbs under the blankets and once he’s laying down again, Mike realizes that even though he wants to be close to Will again like last night, he doesn’t actually know how to initiate it.

He settles for laying his head on the same pillow as Will, so their faces are only inches apart. He doesn’t reach out for Will though, despite how badly he wants to.

Similar to the night before, Will makes the decision for him. He reaches out, his hand ghosting along the edge of Mike’s jaw and cheek before he cards his fingers through Mike’s hair. A shiver runs down Mike’s spine. Then, Will puts gentle pressure on the back of his neck, urging him closer.

After a bit of maneuvering around, Mike ends up with his face pressed into Will’s shoulder, and an arm thrown over Will’s waist. Their legs are tangled together, and Will has his fingers in Mike’s hair.

Mike knows it should feel strange to be wrapped up in his childhood friend’s arms like this, but like the night before, all he can think of is how this feels completely right. Something has shifted in his and Will’s relationship, and Mike knows they’ll never be able to go back to the way things were before.

And for some reason, that doesn’t scare him in the slightest.

They wake up in a warm tangle of limbs and blankets. Despite Mike’s pleading, Will drags him out of bed, insisting they can’t spend Mike’s entire last day here sleeping. Mike wants to disagree that he’d be very happy to do just that if he was sleeping in Will’s arms the entire time, but he holds himself back.

Will takes Mike to all of his favorite spots in the city. They get actually good coffee from a coffee shop Will frequents on quiet mornings, and then Mike has what is possibly the best sandwich of his life from a tiny shop they have to enter through an alley. They explore the Brown campus for a while, talking about recent stories Mike has written and paintings ideas Will has, before they go back to RISD to go through the museum.

As they pass through the galleries, Will tells Mike all about his favorite pieces of art there, talking about the style and the methods the painters used. Mike knows he’ll forget most of it, but he loves seeing Will so excited, so he asks plenty of questions to keep Will talking.

Around sunset they go to a place called Prospect Park, which sits on a hill overlooking the entire city. Even though the sunset is beautiful from up there, Mike finds himself staring at Will as he’s silhouetted by the sun, and wonders how the hell he didn’t realize his feelings earlier considering how stupidly pretty Will is.

Mike thought that spending time with Will would feel different now that he knows he loves him. But he’s surprised to find that it’s like nothing has changed at all. Will is still Will, and Mike is still Mike. He’s spending the day with his best friend, just the two of them and no one else, and while everything has changed, at the same time it’s like nothing has changed at all.

Later that night, they’re back at Will’s dorm packing up their things for their flight tomorrow. Mike’s suitcase is easy to put back together, but Will has to actually pack up his entire dorm into two roller suitcases, which is a considerably more daunting task.

“Mike, can you grab my sketchbooks and put them in a pile over here?” Will asks at one point as he’s crouched over the second suitcase. Currently, he seems to be attempting to play Tetris with several cases of art supplies. Mike would much rather gather sketchbooks than deal with that, so he nods and gets to his feet to gather them.

He picks up the small stack of sketchbooks on Will’s desk and carries them over to the suitcase. They’ve deflated Mike’s air mattress and put it away to make room for the suitcases, but Mike also takes it as a sign that Will isn’t against the idea of them sharing a bed again tonight. Which maybe should be obvious, considering Will also napped with him for two hours earlier in the day, but still.

“Here you go,” Mike says, setting the sketchbooks down as carefully as he can. Once they’re out of his hands, Mike actually takes a moment to look at the small sketchbooks, and realizes that, besides for the Upside Down painting, he hasn’t seen any of Will’s art since he started art school.

Will, of course, notices Mike’s staring. “You can look through them, if you want.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Will nods, still struggling with the art supply cases. “Yeah. Just don’t expect anything great. It’s mostly just mindless drawings I made when I was trying to get inspiration for my paintings.”

“All of your art is great,” Mike shoots back as he picks up the sketchbook on the top.

Will’s written the starting date at the front of the sketchbook. The one he’s holding was only started a month prior, so Mike assumes it’s the most recent one he’s been using. He flips through the pages, grinning at Will’s doodles of birds and squirrels and the occasional fantasy creature. There are a few more detailed sketches: most are of people Mike doesn’t recognize, but he recognizes Charlene’s beaded braids and wide smile, and Candace’s spiky hair and dark eyebrows among the faces.

It’s obvious how much Will’s art has grown during the year he’s spent at the school. Compared to his childhood drawings of Mike and their friends, these drawings, even the messy sketches, are just better. Every person’s unique facial features are clear even when they’re only made up of a single line or two. Hair blows in unseen wind, eyes crinkle when people smile, and even though the sketches aren’t ‘realistic’ Mike can’t help but think that they feel alive.

When he goes through that sketchbook, he reaches for the next one in the pile. This one is from a few months earlier. The content is similar, though there’s more drawings of things in nature like flowers and trees, along with a page of drawings of two figures Mike immediately recognizes as Max and Lucas.

“Why did you draw Max and Lucas here?” Mike asks, looking over the sketch of Max doing a trick on her skateboard while a tiny Lucas cheers in the background.

Will glances over and smiles. “Oh, no reason. I think I’d just talked to Max on the phone that day and randomly started missing her, so I drew her.”

Mike traces the pen lines that make up Max’s ginger curls with his fingers. “Do you do that a lot?” He asks, quieter than he means to. “Draw people when you miss them?”

Will nods. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Have you drawn me?” Mike then asks.

For a moment, Will says nothing. Then, he turns to the pile of sketchbooks and flips through a few of them, looking at the dates on the front until he finds the one he’s looking for. He hands it to Mike and gestures for him to open it.

When Mike opens the sketchbook, he sees it’s from January. Then, when he flips to the next page, he finds himself looking into his own face. Drawn over and over and over again.

Of course, other members of the Party make appearances, as well as Will’s other school friends, but Mike sees his own face more than anyone else’s. Everything from the line of his nose to exactly how his hair curls is rendered in thin pen lines or pencil sketches. He can even tell when Will is drawing him at different ages, with some drawings depicting both of them as round-faced, wide-eyed children, and others showing Mike as he looks now.

“I know yesterday you said I hadn’t drawn you since you were fifteen,” Will says, not looking at Mike. “I thought about mentioning that I’d sketched you, but I didn’t want to seem, I dunno, creepy, I guess.”

Mike shakes his head. “It’s not creepy. Not at all. If anything it’s…” he trails off, tracing his fingers over the lines of his own face Will has drawn with such care. His chest feels tight, and he looks up from the sketchbook at Will. “I’ve missed you too, you know.”

“Really?” Will smiles. “I had no idea.”

“I’m being serious,” Mike huffs, shoving Will’s shoulder. “Almost every day in New York I’d be thinking of things like, ‘I wish I could show Will this’ or ‘Will would love it here.’ Even though we were talking on the phone all the time and writing each other letters, it wasn’t the same as this.” He gestures between the two of them.

“No, I get what you mean. It’s not the same.” He leans away from the suitcase, his shoulder brushing Mike’s. “I’ve always wanted to go to New York though.”

“I think you’d really love it. It’s a lot, but there’s so much to do everywhere all the time. And there’s always a bunch of cool art stuff going on.”

“Do you think you’re going to stay there after you graduate?” Will asks.

Mike blinks. His college graduation feels so far away, he hasn’t really thought about what his post-education plans will be. He’s had the vague idea that he’ll try to publish his first novel and see where things go from there, but he doesn’t have anything more specific than that.

“I’m not sure, but I’d like to stay if I can.” Mike raises his eyebrows at Will. “What about you? Where do you wanna go after you graduate?”

“I’m not sure. But a lot of people have told me I’d really like New York. And like you said, there’s a really good art scene over there.”

“Yeah?” Hope blooms in Mike’s chest as he imagines what life could be like if he and Will both ended up living in the city. “You know, rent can get kind of expensive there. You might need to look for a roommate.”

At some point during the conversation, they had both leaned back against the wall. Their shoulders and arms are pressed together, and Mike can feel the heat radiating off of Will’s hand inches from his own.

“Really?” Will’s smirking now as he leans closer to Mike. “Is there anyone you suggest?”

“Well, there’s this one guy I know. He’s tall, has dark hair, plays DND and wants to be an author.”

“Sounds like a nerd.”

“Hey!” Mike gasps in fake offense. “We’ve left our nerd days behind us, Will Byers.”

“I never said I was a nerd,” Will corrects. “Just that you were.”

“Man, popularity changed you,” Mike says, shaking his head.

Will shoves his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Things go quiet between them for a moment. Their smiles fade, but warmth still hangs in the air between them. Will’s hand is even closer to Mike’s than before, and after a moment of consideration, Mike reaches out to tangle their fingers together.

“We could do it,” he says, quieter this time. “Imagine if we got an apartment together after graduation. You could work on your art while I write my novel.”

To Mike’s surprise, instead of smiling at this, Will frowns.

“Don’t do that,” he says softly. “Don’t get my hopes up for something we both know probably won’t happen.”

“What?” Mike shifts closer, trying to see Will’s face where he’s turned his head. “I’m not- I’m being serious, Will.”

Will sighs, and suddenly Mike’s hand is cold as he pulls away. “Sure, you’re being serious now. But what about in three years, after you’ve met a gir- after you’ve met someone at NYU and fallen in love and want to move in with them?” Will asks, having to correct himself mid-sentence. “What about this summer, when it’s not just you and me, but it’s the rest of the Party, and things go back to the way it always is between us?”

The words punch Mike square in the chest, and he feels like he can’t remember how to breathe as he stammers out, “What- what do you mean, ‘the way it always is between us?’ How has it always been with us?”

“Just- not this!” Will says, gesturing to the way Mike’s knee is pressing into Will’s thigh. “You holding my hand, and cuddling with me after I have a nightmare, and acting so fucking weird around my ex-boyfriend that he thinks you’re jealous!” He lets out a breath and buries his face in his hands. “I can’t do this again, Mike. I can’t get my hopes up again.”

Mike feels like he’s missing something very important here. His heart is pounding and his head spins as he tries to understand what Will means by the word again.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Will.”

Will doesn’t lift his head. “I thought I’d gotten over you. I told myself I had,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by his hands. “I saw other people. I dated someone else. I did everything I was supposed to.”

Mike is fairly sure he’s forgotten how to breathe at this point. His chest feels like it’s splitting in two as the words gotten over you echoes in his mind.

“You… had to get over me?” Mike whispers, certain his voice will break if he tries to speak any louder. “Meaning you- you liked me?”

At this, Will lifts his head slowly out of his hands, his brows furrowed as he meets Mike’s eyes. “Um, yes? You knew, Mike.”

“What? No I didn’t!” Mike shakes his head. “How the hell would I know that?”

Will stares at Mike for a long moment, as if he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. “I wasn’t exactly good at hiding it.”

Mike feels like his entire world has just been turned on its head. “When was this?”

“Pretty much from the time we were twelve to when we all left for college,” Will tells him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You really didn’t know?”

Twelve. Will had liked him since he was twelve years old. And Mike, who refused to confront any of his own emotions until they became impossible to ignore, had completely missed it.

“No,” Mike says. “I didn’t know.”

“Not even when I almost confessed to you in California?” Will asks, frowning again.

“California? What are you-”

Oh. Wait.

“The painting,” Mike whispers. “That’s- That’s why you lied.”

All those things Will told him, about how El felt, about what she needed from him… Will had been talking about himself.

Will hangs his head, letting out a deep sigh. “I thought you figured it out on your own, and the reason you never brought it up was because you didn’t… you know. And it was just going to be one of those things we never actually had to say out loud to each other.”

Mike thinks back to his fifteen year old self, as he watched Will hand him one of the most beautiful pieces of art he’d ever made for him and tell him all the ways he and El were perfect for each other. Will’s words had made Mike nauseous, but he hadn’t been able to figure out why. Later, Mike thought he’d seen Will’s shoulders shaking. But he’d been so caught up in his thoughts about El, trying to understand why he couldn’t seem to tell her he loved her, that he decided not to reach out, even though he knew he should have.

If only Mike could go back in time so he could grab his fifteen year old self by the shoulders and shake him, tell him that he was hurting both himself and El by staying with her, and that he needed to look at the boy standing right in front of him for once.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” Mike says quietly. Then, even though it feels like he’s carving his chest open with a dull knife, he forces himself to add, “and I’m sorry my timing is so bad. I- I wish I’d known earlier.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ll get over it.”

“Wait, what?”

Although the last thing Mike wants to do is look at Will right now, the surprise in his voice makes Mike open his eyes again. Will has straightened up where he’d been slumped against the wall, and is staring at him with an intensity that makes Mike want to shrink away.

“What?”

“What do you mean by that?” Will asks. “That your timing is bad?”

Mike gets the feeling they’re running in circles with this.

“I- You know,” Mike stammers, his face heating up. “I’m too late. And that’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should’ve gotten my head out of my ass sooner.”

“What are you saying?”

Is this some kind of revenge for Will? Making Mike die of humiliation?

Well, he probably deserves it for what he’s put Will through.

“Do I really need to say it?” Mike whispers. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Mike.” Will’s voice sounds like it’s going to break. “Please.”

Fuck. He can’t refuse Will. Not when he asks like that.

Besides, he’s been hurting Will for years without realizing it. If he’s going to pay any kind of penance, it might as well be this.

When he looks up again, Will is sitting right in front of him. Mike’s left knee bumps into Will’s right one, and that tiny brush of contact is enough to send an electric jolt through him.

Will is staring at him, expectant. Mike can barely hear himself think over the pounding of his own heart.

“I’m in love with you,” Mike finally says. “I only realized it last night, but it’s always been you, Will. And I think that’s why I was never able to tell El I loved her. And that’s why, even when I realized I liked guys, something still felt off whenever I was with anyone else. Because of you.”

It’s the most breathless rush of words that has ever spilled out of Mike’s mouth. His hands are shaking and he feels like an open wound, everything laid out for Will to see.

An eternity of silence follows. Mike once again wishes for that meteorite to hit earth, because if he has to keep sitting here in the aftermath of his confession with Will staring at him, he’s going to lose his mind.

Then, in a voice so soft Mike has to strain to hear it, Will asks,

“You love me?”

Mike nods. Will stares at him for a moment longer, like he’s waiting for Mike to take it back, to say it was a joke, to say he misunderstood.

Mike doesn’t do any of those things.

And suddenly, Will’s hugging him. Mike stays frozen for a moment, startled, before his mind catches up and he wraps his arms around Will’s back and pulls him close. They’re both shaking, Mike realizes, and he hears Will laugh into his sweater before he pulls back enough to see his face.

Will is smiling. He’s smiling so brightly, it’s like looking into the sun. Mike can only stare at him in awe, thinking that Will is possibly the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Then, Will brings his hand to Mike’s cheek, and Mike feels his face flush as Will starts running his thumb over his cheek.

“You love me,” Will says again, and this time it’s not a question.

This is when Mike’s brain finally registers what Will’s smile means.

“Wait, you-” his voice falters, but Will nods anyway, knowing what Mike is asking. “But I- you said you’d gotten over me!”

“I said I thought I had,” Will corrects. “I tried. I really did. But it didn’t work.”

Mike feels like he’s still playing catch-up.

“So you…”

Will’s smile fades as he brings his other hand up to Mike’s face. He cradles both of his cheeks in his hands, as Mike brings his own hands down to Will’s waist.

“I love you, Mike. I never stopped,” Will tells him, his face only inches from Mike’s. His gaze then drops to Mike’s lips, and Mike’s mouth goes dry. “And I’d really, really like to kiss you right now.”

“Please,” Mike gasps.

And then Will’s lips are on his.

Mike’s had his fair share of kisses before, good and bad. He’d like to think he’s pretty experienced with kissing, but the moment Will kisses him, Mike realizes he’s been missing something very vital, because it’s never felt like this before.

At first, they’re both hesitant. Will is gentle, and Mike pushes back softly. Even though it’s slow and chaste, Mike’s heart feels like it’s going to break his ribs because of the fact that he’s kissing Will.

But then, something shifts. It’s like a barrier gets broken, because suddenly Will’s kissing him harder, and Mike eagerly responds in turn. One of Will’s hands moves to cup his jaw, while the other twists into Mike’s hair. Mike gasps when Will lightly tugs on his curls, and he finds himself slipping his hands under Will’s shirt. Will shudders when Mike traces his spine with his fingertips.

Mike’s mouth opens and he feels Will’s tongue run over his teeth. Mike then leans closer and captures Will’s bottom lip between his teeth, and Will makes a noise low in the back of his throat that makes Mike wonder if any of this is real, because it feels too good to be true.

After a few minutes, they both pull back, breathing heavily. Will’s lips are red and swollen, and there’s a dazed look in his eyes that Mike knows must be mirrored in his own.

Then, Mike gets an idea.

He leans in close again, but instead of kissing Will’s lips, he brings his mouth to the soft skin between Will’s shoulder and throat. Will shivers as he places a few closed-mouth kisses there, before he finds a low enough spot and begins to suck.

“That’s- That’s kind of ticklish-” Will giggles, and Mike smiles against Will’s throat before resuming. Will lets out another breathy gasp before Mike finally pulls away, pressing one last gentle kiss to the dark bruise already forming.

Then, he goes back to the closed mouth kisses, trailing his way up the side of Will’s throat and to his jaw. Will captures his lips again and they kiss for a bit longer, before Will then pulls away and presses his forehead against Mike’s.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. They breathe each other’s air as Mike traces random shapes against Will’s spine, while Will cards his fingers through Mike’s hair.

Finally, Mike remembers how to use his voice and says, “You’re really good at that.”

Will smiles. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Not so bad?” Mike pretends to scowl. “I’m better than Jamie though, right?”

At this, Will pulls back to see his face, and looks like he’s struggling to hold back a laugh.

“I can’t believe it. You actually were jealous of him last night.”

“In my defense, I didn’t actually realize I was until Charlene told me I was acting like an insane jealous boyfriend.” He runs his hands up and down Will’s sides. “When your friends told me he was your ex, I got so pissed for no reason and wanted nothing more than to go over there and drag you away from him.”

“I mean, that’s basically what you did,” Will points out, although he seems more amused than annoyed about it now.

Mike groans. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“I already told you it’s okay.” He presses another quick kiss to Mike’s lips. “Besides, even though you were pissing me off, I also think you’re kind of hot when you’re jealous.”

Mike almost chokes on his own spit at this, his face blooming bright red as Will laughs above him. While girls have said he’s cute in a kind of weird way and guys have said he’s easy on the eyes, he can’t remember if he’s ever been called hot before. So to have Will of all people call him that makes his brain completely shut down.

“Mike?” Will says when Mike doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Did I break you?”

“A little,” Mike answers hoarsely, and Will laughs again.

“Well, then I guess I’m just going to have to keep calling you that until you get used to it,” Will teases as he leans in close again.

They spend the next few hours alternating between kissing and talking, learning the shape of each other’s mouths and figuring out what Will and Mike will look like now, with this new dimension added to their relationship. And they agree to wait a few weeks into summer vacation before telling the Party, because both Mike and Will want the chance to learn what exactly this is without others' eyes on them.

Then, Will realizes how late it is and that he never finished packing, and the two of them frantically shove everything they can into Will’s suitcases, and Mike ends up having to sit on each suitcase while Will zips it up.

That night, Mike falls asleep with his head on Will’s chest and their legs tangled together, and neither one of them has a nightmare.

The next morning is a blur. Mike stands in the corner, half-asleep as Will packs up the last of the stuff in his room he couldn’t pack the night before. Then, they work together to drag Will’s two giant suitcases into the main suite of the dorm, and Mike finds himself dreading getting on the shuttle bus to the airport with these things.

Will does one last check of his room. Mike hears him make a surprised sound, and Will runs out holding a wad of fabric he can’t identify.

“I’m pretty sure this is Candace’s jacket,” Will tells him. “I need to give it to her before we leave. I’m going to run to her dorm and I’ll be right back.”

“You’re leaving me?” Mike whines, grabbing the front of Will’s jacket. “You’re abandoning me when I haven’t even had coffee yet?”

Will rolls his eyes but doesn’t push Mike away. “I’ll be gone for five minutes.”

“You hate me,” Mike pouts.

“When you’re annoying I do,” Will agrees. Mike gasps, but before he can protest, Will pulls him into a soft, closed-mouth kiss. Then, he pulls back and says, “but I’m also in love with you for some reason, so I put up with it.”

Mike wants to make a smart retort, but he’s too tired to think past the fact that Will said he loved him again, and the words make Mike’s thoughts go all mushy.

“How romantic,” is the best Mike can get out.

Will laughs and hurries out of the dorm suite, the door slamming shut behind him. Mike hovers awkwardly between the couch and the wall, surrounded by three suitcases.

Then, he hears someone clear their throat, and Mike jumps.

“Jesus Christ!” He exclaims when he spots Pete standing in the doorway to his room. “Were you standing there the whole time?”

“I opened my door to say bye to Will, but you two were a bit preoccupied,” Pete explains, giving Mike a knowing look.

It’s then that Mike realizes Will probably never got around to correcting Pete’s misunderstanding about that first morning. But then again, it’s not like that matters now, so Mike only grins and leans back against the wall.

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that.” Mike actually isn’t sorry at all, but he feels like it’s the right thing to say.

Pete shakes his head. “It’s fine. I just-” he pauses, furrowing his brows. “Can I ask you something?”

Mike narrows his eyes. “Depends on what it is.”

“It’s not- look, I just wanna know how Will does it,” Pete says. “Like, I’ve made friends and all that, but every time I try to bring a girl back to my dorm things just don’t work out. So, like, I don’t know if it’s a gay guy thing or if Will is just a really charismatic guy-”

“I think it’s just Will,” Mike says, cutting Pete off. “He’s pretty great.”

Pete groans, dropping his head against the doorframe. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Just then, Will reenters the dorm, no longer holding Candace’s jacket in his hand. He spots Pete in the doorway and the two share a short goodbye, Pete opting not to mention the question he had just asked Mike.

After that, Pete closes his door again, saying he has to finish his own packing. Then, it’s just Mike and Will again.

“We better get going,” Will says, glancing at the clock on the wall. “We don’t want to miss our flight.”

“I wouldn’t mind missing our flight and having to stay here another day,” Mike says, smirking.

“I refuse to pack these suitcases again, so unless you want to sleep on a bare mattress tonight, we can’t stay.” He drags both of his to the door and raises his eyebrows at Mike, waiting for him to follow. “You ready to go home?”

Home. It’s a word that doesn’t exactly fit what Mike thinks of Hawkins these days. It’s a place he knows he’ll never fully leave, largely because the nightmares he still has won’t let him. It’s where he grew up, it’s where he met the most important people in his life, and despite all the pain they went through there, it’s a place he won’t ever hate. Not fully. But it’s not his home. Mike doesn’t even know if he really has one of those anymore.

He will, though. One day. Maybe it’ll be New York, or maybe it’ll be somewhere else entirely. In the meantime though, he knows if Will is with him, he can be happy just about anywhere.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling at Will. “I am.”