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College felt, for a very long time, a far away future to Will. At first, it was only because he was way too young to wrap his head around a life beyond his home in Hawkins and the bullying he suffered in middle school. At least Will had his friends to play D&D and bike around town with, right? Somewhere to belong. Then came the Upside Down, the Demogorgons, the Mind Flayer, Vecna. In different points of Will's life, there was nothing beyond the Upside Down, beyond the chill he would get on his neck whenever Vecna was close; Will was once connected to it and part of him was changed forever.
After the final battle, it was like a weight was finally lifted. All of his friends and family were right there, alive and well, and Hawkins became an ordinary small town again.
The party all ended up going to different colleges scattered throughout the states, with Jane and Dustin sharing an apartment — and a very obvious romance developing between the two —, Lucas and Max also sharing an apartment, but Will decided to live alone and Mike didn't fight him on it. The truth was, he needed to experience life without Mike for once; maybe then Will wouldn't be lying when he said that he was over his "Tammy."
It was a nice change of pace, though, living without Jonathan or his mom. Will learned how to take of the house, his clothes, make his favorite dishes, and he could sketch and paint all day — both for pure enjoyment and assignments. Will often played music to fill up the space and danced along to it.
Life was good.
One night, Will was in the living room sketching some ideas for his new assignment; he was freshly showered, the TV was on some soap opera for the background noise, and he had Chinese take out, too. Needless to say, Will wasn't expecting his doorbell to ring so late on a Friday night — and quite impatiently so.
"Coming!!" Will yelled out.
Will also wasn't expecting to see Dustin of all people holding Mike upright.
"What-"
"Hey! So, I- we apologize for the very late night visit, but I found Mike drunk out of his mind at a bar today and he refused to go home. Mike kept repeating he needed to see you. So… here we are," Dustin explained with an apologetic smile, then nudged Mike, who kept his eyes on the floor the whole time, "There he is, you saw him. Can I take you home now?"
Will was speechless. Mike lifted his gaze to Will, almost unsure of who he was looking at — his cheeks tinted red and those stupid glasses sitting too low on his face —, until Mike's face lit up completely. Mike threw himself at Will, wrapping his arms around Will's neck and burying his face in his shoulder, making Will stumble a couple steps back. Different emotions flashed on Will's face: shock, confusion, settling with embarrassment as his face grew red like Mike's.
"Mike! Stop being a big baby, get off of Will!" Dustin attempted and failed to pull Mike away, only making Mike hold Will tighter.
"I am home, Dustin!" Mike yelled back, albeit muffled.
Will couldn't even process the implications of that sentence because Mike was holding him a little too tight, "Mike, you're suffocating me…"
"Sorry, sorry," he loosened his embrace, "but I'm not going- hic, anywhere."
Maybe Will was getting drunk too from the strong smell that was coming from Mike or the suffocation did something to him, but Will felt lightheaded and a familiar warmth bloomed inside his chest. Will initially didn't know what to do with his hands, but he figured if Mike wasn't going to let go…
"Just let him stay," Will concluded while looking at Dustin who was in disbelief, placing his hands on Mike's waist for stability, "I'll get him home tomorrow when he's sober. Thanks for taking care of him."
"But I- hic, am home…" Mike whined like he was almost in tears.
Will's stomach flipped and he decidedly ignored the comment.
"Fine," Dustin sighed, and he started to walk away, "Good luck then, dude, you'll need it."
"Thank you," Will chuckled and closed the door, "Dustin is gone, you should have some water then a shower, what do you think?"
Mike didn't let go, but his voice had gone softer and whiny, "Don't you have water- hic, in the shower?"
Will blinked. Then started laughing wholeheartedly, to the point of tears.
"Why are you laughing?" Mike asked, almost embarrassed.
"Nothing, I just-" Will breathed deeply a few times to stop laughing, "Are you going to drink the water from the shower?"
"… Maybe, if you want me to," Will could hear a small smile from Mike's response.
"I want you to drink tap water, not shower water," Will corrected, "Come on, let me go so I can walk."
Mike, visibly hesitant, slowly dropped his arms while avoiding eye contact. He was also swaying, so Will made sure to hold his forearms just in case. They walked towards the kitchen and Will made Mike sit down on one of the chairs of his dining table to grab the glass of water.
The silence was comfortable, but also full of questions that Will was itching to ask (he could also feel Mike's gaze following him wherever he went as well, which was certainly unnerving): why was Mike at a bar? Since when was he a drinker, if at all? Why did he want — no, need — to see Will and refused to leave when Mike's actual home was less than half an hour away?
Will would be lying if he said he didn't like Mike's hugs — they somehow always felt like the safest place in the world, a place where his body could finally relax fully, and enjoy the scent that always just felt like Mike —, but it wasn't like they did it a whole lot lately. Especially as passionately as Mike did just now.
Mike took big gulps, and Will watched his Adam's apple move on each of them. Suddenly he was thirsty too.
"Do you want to tell me why you don't want to go back to your apartment?" Will asked, not unkindly, pure curiosity. He used the same cup as Mike did to fill up his own water, trying not to think about the placement of his own lips being the same as Mike's.
Mike's eyes were almost puppy-like, fighting the swaying of his body.
"Too quiet. I miss you."
Will choked, and Mike's eyes widened for a moment. Maybe alcohol made Mike a little too sincere.
"Well, um," Will cleared his throat, putting the cup aside, "I'm going to fill up the bath for you. Wait here."
He needed the night to be over as soon as possible.
"Wait, wait!" Mike grabbed Will's wrist, pure desperation inside his eyes, "Please, don't leave me. Please."
Will didn't know what to think or do, his heart screamed to fall into Mike's arms, but his mind screamed back with the reminder that Will was supposed to be getting over Mike. Why was he acting this way anyway? They've been best friends just like they promised. Will wasn't distant — not in the emotional sense anyway —, so why was Mike acting like Will was about to leave the apartment entirely? It was his apartment!
"Mike, I'm going to be just in the next room. I'm not going anywhere," Will softly answered.
He didn't listen, only repeated: "Don't leave me."
Will noticed that Mike genuinely looked like at the edge of tears, shoulders tensing, and panicked.
"Okay, okay, okay, I'm not leaving," Will placed a hand on Mike's that held him in place, "Why don't you come with me? That way you can see me while I prepare you a bath."
Mike's shoulders relaxed and relief washed over his face. He nodded, and slowly stood up to follow. Will held one of Mike's forearms so he could lean on Will while trying not to fall on his face, a small smile forming on Mike's face like he was daydreaming. Will made a mental note to tell Mike to never drink again, if he couldn't hold his alcohol.
"But please, take those glasses off. You look like your dad, it's kind of freaky."
Mike sat on the closed toilet — immediately placing his glasses on the sink — and Will, knelt by the bathtub, turned on the tap to a warm — but not too warm — temperature. The bathroom was quiet, the running water filling up the space, and Mike's gaze remained unwavering towards Will. Did he miss anything that Mike maybe would've wanted before said bath? He was going to get clothes for him, if that was his concern.
"Mike, are you okay?" Will asked, turning to look at him, "If you need anything, you can let me know."
Mike hummed, looked down and kicked the mat underneath his feet, occasionally hiccuping. Is he pouting?
"I'm… sad."
"Okay…" Will said, slowly. He turned off the tab when it filled the bath, then sat in front of Mike. "Why are you sad?"
It was so silent — Will almost ached for the echoed sound of water again — and sitting on the floor wasn't exactly comfortable, but Will was determined to not make Mike feel guilty for it. They shared a look.
"You- hic, you don't want to be with me. You wouldn't want to be with me."
"What do you mean?"
Mike looked away from Will, voice trembling. "You don't want to live with me. You wouldn't- hic, want to be with me."
As if that explained much.
"Mike, there's nothing wrong with the idea of living with you. I in fact did for 18 months, remember?" Will lowered his chin to meet Mike's eyes, "I just needed a space for myself for a while, that's all. You're still my best friend."
Mike blinked a few times, "Right."
Will stood up — he was done with the awkwardness, "I'll step out for you to bathe. Can I trust you to not fall and hit your head somewhere?"
"No," Mike responded instantly, "Stay."
In what world was that a normal thing to say? Stay while I get naked and bathe in your bathroom, inside your apartment I refuse to leave for some reason? Drunk? Will supposed the drunk part of Mike just… acted this way, but one thing was certain:
Mike Wheeler would be the death of Will Byers.
Will felt heat traveling to his face and ears, and then mortifyingly heat shot downstairs too from the mere imagery of Mike taking his clothes off in front of him.
"Mike, I- I can't stay in here while you're naked," Will answered.
"Why not?" Mike whined. "We- hic, we've seen each other naked before-"
"Half naked!" Will promptly corrected, "And not only were we really young, but it was only for swimming. Never to- stay inside a bathroom together."
Mike seemed to have no arguments against that, but he also didn't exactly agree either. Will sighed.
"Fine, I'll-" Will waved his hands around unhelpfully towards the open door, "I'll get you a towel and spare clothes. Get inside the bathtub in the meantime, and yes, I will come back."
Will left before Mike could argue more. He truly could not believe that this was now his Friday night; Will totally didn't have other things to do, like clean the apartment or something. Oh God, how was he was supposed to pretend seeing Mike shirtless didn't affect him — let alone completely naked!
Mike Wheeler, his lifelong crush, was naked in his bathtub, drunk and speaking nonsense.
Would it be weird to say he was excited? Will wasn't a pervert, just- too in love, but he did feel like a pervert just remembering Mike of all people was naked in his bathroom, asking for him to stay. Will deeply considered putting on a blindfold, just to not have any chances of making Mike uncomfortable, but he then concluded that the blindfold would be a whole lot weirder.
Breathe in, breathe out. Back in the bathroom.
Thankfully, Mike hadn't drowned while Will was out; his head laid at the end of the tub, hair wet, eyes closed. The bubbles on the water's surface covered most of the sight of Mike's body underwater, but Will wasn't going to be the one to check what wasn't covered. Mike's shoulders were showing though, and they were incredibly distracting. The water glistening like his skin was made of porcelain, the definition of his collarbones, his Adam's apple moving slightly, his freckled nose-
Will cleared his throat, suddenly aware that he was just standing there. Mike looked at him immediately.
"I brought you some pajamas, they might be a little too short on you, but it's all I got," Will chuckled. Mike smiled, and oh, his eyes looking up at him could make his knees buckle, "I'll leave the towel here."
Will placed the clothes on the closed lid of the toilet, then hung a blue towel next to his yellow towel, not far from the bath. Will turned to leave the room, praying Mike had forgotten about asking him to stay, but there was no one up there listening.
"Wait," Mike's voice sounded sleepy, dragging the word unnecessarily but he was certainly fighting the tiredness tooth and nail, "You said you would stay. Why did you lie?"
Will turned back, "I didn't lie, I just- forgot for a moment. I'm here."
What the hell was he supposed to do in the meantime?
"Just sit on the floor or something, I don't bite," Mike said, sitting up in the tub.
Will did exactly that, though hesitantly. If it wasn't for the wall of the bath, maybe they would be touching shoulders, sharing warmth in a steamy bath-
He should stop right there.
"Will."
He swallowed, "Yeah?"
"Do you hate me?"
"Of course not," Will looked at Mike, completely baffled by the question, "Why would you think that?"
Mike's eyes seemed to shine with the artificial light, but Will couldn't tell if it was because he was nearly crying or not, which further concerned Will. It was so… intense too, like a sadness buried deep into his soul, yet almost like he was- he was admiring something. Yearning for something.
Or someone.
"Because you- you left me," Mike's voice shook.
Will turned towards Mike, "What do you mean? We're still friends. That's what we agreed on."
Mike looked forward again, sinking down in the water until only his neck up was visible. A lonely tear went down his cheek.
"I guess so."
His voice was so small, quiet like Mike didn't even want to hear himself speak. Will tried to not panic, he really needed some straight answers from Mike, otherwise he would only be able to talk with a hangover Mike instead of drunk Mike. What could possibly have caused this? They were in contact, Will hadn't said anything wrong — or so he hoped — at any of those periods of contact, Will was trying to be considerate of Mike's current state… What else could it be?
"Let's… get you cleaned up first. We can talk more after you do, okay?" Will lowered his chin to make eye contact again with Mike. He only nodded, "You can use my shampoo, conditioner and soap that's over here," Will pointed at the built in shelf on the wall.
Mike shifted his gaze from the water, to Will, then finally to where Will had pointed like the products had personally offended him somehow. Still, he was willing to follow Will's requests, quickly working through each product. When Mike sat up to reach up for the products, Will saw part of his chest and immediately looked away out of respect for his privacy — despite Mike somehow being deeply uncaring for it right now.
Will couldn't help but think of the now burned image inside his brain of Mike shirtless, noticing details that became more prominent over the years, like the many freckles scattered on his shoulders and part of his neck. They were slightly lighter than usual, but still visible, and his muscles were more defined than Will remembered, with soft edges to them — a lean look rather than a gym look.
Eventually, Mike was finally done with the bath and Will only looked back at him once Mike informed Will he was dressed. He was awfully quiet though, which made Will's skin itch because normally silence between them was not an issue, but right now it felt like there was something genuinely bothering Mike.
The sweatpants and jumper Will got for Mike were slightly too small for him, showing off a bit of his ankles and wrists, but he looked as handsome as ever — the damp curls forming just above his ears and his sharp features never failed him.
However, as Will laid Mike down on his bed, he suddenly looked so young and reminded Will of someone he hadn't seen since his possession fiasco. Mike refused to leave his side, even if it was downright dangerous for his safety; he just made sure Will didn't feel alone, calling him a spy and staying over night in the increasingly freezing room.
Maybe it was Will's turn to return the same love.
"Will," Mike mumbled, gaze unwavering.
"Yes?" Will responded, sitting next to Mike.
"Do you have nightmares about the Upside Down?"
Oh.
"Uh, yeah, I do. On occasion."
They were especially prevalent right after leaving Hawkins, like the city couldn't let go of him even thousands of miles away, it had to disturb Will. He learned over time to avoid stressors that could trigger a nightmare or an episode — days where Will couldn't get rid of the chills and questioned if his body was even his anymore, if there was any residue of the upside down inside him waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I… I do, too," Mike answered softly, "I have nightmares that I'm back at the lake where they found you — fake you, of course —, but for some reason I'm completely alone. So, I run towards your body and just… the feeling of your weight on my lap and your skin is so cold, Will, and I beg and beg for you to come back. Sometimes you do talk to me, but you speak so… differently — your voice changes and you speak like Vecna did, holding me personally responsible for what happened to you."
Will was speechless, he would've never guessed Mike held so much guilt over what happened.
"Mike…" Will said softly.
"And sometimes you make good points," Mike interrupted, "I should've asked you to stay over or biked you home or just something, something much earlier. And then I treated you like shit when El became my girlfriend and just-" Mike pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes, "Time and time again I messed up or lost an opportunity with you, and I don't want to make the same mistake again."
"But Mike," Will slowly pried Mike's hands off his face and let it linger on his forearm as he spoke, "I'm okay, we're okay now. I got an apartment, I'm in college, I have a part time job, and all of this couldn't have happened without you insisting I was alive. You believed in another dimension before believing I was dead, that has to count for something, no?"
Mike exhaled shakily, then sat up, holding Will's hands like they were made of porcelain.
"The problem is I wish- I sometimes wish you were a girl. But then that wouldn't be you, you know? For so many years, it made me so confused and scared and I just felt wrong, while you were thriving without me so I thought that I was just too late. You didn't need me anymore, but then I thought, that's exactly how I make mistakes, right? Assumption after assumption, but never just taking the step forward to just try, so…"
Will's eyes were wide and his heart was racing, but he couldn't speak. He needed to let Mike finish.
"Consider this me trying. For once."
This couldn't be real, could it? Mike Wheeler was insinuating that- he was-
"… Mike, what does that mean exactly?"
"I want to be with you, Will," Mike answered earnestly, "I want you and I've loved you for longer than I was willing to admit."
Mike Wheeler, his best friend, the one who he yearned for longer than a decade, the one who Will had come to terms with the fact he'd never feel reciprocal love from.
Mike loved Will — no, loves Will.
"You- you love me?" Will stammered.
"Yes, a lot," Mike said visibly shy, but earnest nonetheless.
"You-" A beat, "You know what that means, right? It's not gonna be easy, like we won't be able to be publicly affectionate in some places."
"Yeah, that's okay. We can make up for that at home."
At home, at home, at home, at home-
"We're probably never gonna get married."
"I wouldn't say never, you know. I'd move countries, if it was something we really wanted," Mike shifted on the bed a bit, still holding Will's hands, "but if it never happens then… as long as I grow old with you, I'm okay with that."
Was this another Vecna vision?
"I don't want to hide our relationship from our friends and my family."
"I can… come out slowly to them, or all at once. I figured I should fix things with you first, then decide how I'm gonna come out."
"You…" Will breathed out, "really thought about this."
"I have."
Or some drunken mistake?
"Are you going to take it back once you're sober?"
"No."
No hesitancy, no stammer, not even a glance away.
Gosh, Mike would be the death of Will.
Will's eyes never left Mike's, the moment felt so fragile while Will wanted to jump and scream of excitement, over and over again. If you told his 15 year old self that Mike would eventually confess to him — a love confession —, he'd call you insane, delusional even. But it was happening, right there and then.
Mike started to hunch over, eyes heavy and limbs going slack for a moment, before his head snapped back.
Will laughed and lightly pushed Mike back to the bed, "You should sleep."
"Wait, wait, wait," Mike frantically held onto Will's hand, "Are you going to be here when I wake up? I don't- you're not mad at me, are you?"
"No, I'm not mad," he chuckled, "I just need proof that you won't just… brush it all off once you're sober. You're also struggling to stay awake."
"I can…" Mike's eyes close, his voice tired and gentle, "I can try to stay awake for you. If… If you want."
"No need, just sleep," Will whispered with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "I'll be here. Always."
Will caressed Mike's face, feeling his nose up to his forehead, then into the dark curls — over and over again. Occasionally, Mike would lean onto the touch, and Will allowed his touch to linger longer each time.
His shoulders relaxed and the hand once holding Will, like he might run at any moment, dropped to Mike's torso.
"Good," Mike whispered so quietly that if Will hadn't been paying attention, he would've missed it.
Eventually, Mike's breath grew steady and Will never felt so much love inside of him before, threatening to spill all over the place. All he could do was cry — cry of relief, of frustration that it took this long; of joy, of too many thoughts and emotions pouring and solidifying inside of his mind and heart.
Cry for the boy who was bullied relentlessly and internalized that queerness meant he would amount to nothing, cry for the boy who wanted to feel normal for once after his childhood was stolen from him, cry for the boy who put his feelings aside for the sake of others, and cry for the boy who was forced to come out to a room full of people.
Will was never given much of a choice. His life was built upon on other's assumptions, prejudices, and unfortunate circumstances, shaping how Will saw himself. However, for a reason beyond his understanding, Will was being offered the easiest decision in his life on a silver platter: accept Mike's words and allow himself to be loved or send Mike straight home the next morning.
Will wouldn't even fathom choosing the latter.
The steam from his coffee curled up and dissipated into the air, the weather lady explained that it'd be unusually sunny for a rainy season, and Will felt like the sofa might swallow him whole again. After Mike fell asleep, Will stayed for almost half an hour longer just admiring the man beneath him — the sharpness of his cheekbones contrasting just how soft he looked under the moonlight, wrapped around one of the two blankets Will had; occasionally moving around like Mike had to take up all the space on the queen sized bed —, then once yawning became impossible to ignore, Will prepared himself for bed.
Or rather, his sofa.
Will felt strange sleeping next to Mike, because facing the very real and slim chance he just won't remember what he said and did last night was terrifying to the point of chills. Or that Mike would remember, but he'd be too scared to hold on to his promises.
With only a spare blanket, pillow, and a mind full of questions, Will made himself comfortable and dreamed of Mike's torso under his fingertips instead of the blanket, holding Mike against his chest.
The next morning, Will woke up much earlier than he'd like to on a Saturday, but he would guess it was a sign to prepare himself mentally.
Will continued a painting he had been meaning to finish, one depicting a vast hill with yellow and dark blue flowers and a radio tower to the left. The sky was a soft blue, and clouds just as soft across the sky; it was a serene depiction of a place that had so many bad memories, but Will promised himself to make them less painful. To remind himself of moments where Mike had tripped and almost rolled away or when Dustin accidentally let his lunch fall to the grass, feeding all the bugs instead of himself. To see beauty in the worst moments.
His fingers were full of dried botches of yellow, blue, and green when Will heard his bedroom's door open. As Mike fixed one of the legs of his sweatpants that were halfway up, Will noticed how his curls were sticking out in different directions and his right cheek had a vertical red mark; lips also a little more plump than usual and eyebrows tight knitted. It was truly endearing.
Mike's eyes searched through the apartment before landing on Will, his eyes softening and eyebrows relaxing. Once they were close enough, Mike let his head fall to Will's shoulder, startling him slightly.
"Why did you leave me?" Mike mumbled.
Will chuckled, "Are you still drunk?"
"No," Will could hear a smile in Mike's voice.
"Do you want breakfast?" Will asked while caressing Mike's back.
"I do."
After much whining about not being able to be attached by the hip, Will washed his hands in the bathroom while Mike waited on the table. Will's hands shook a little while leaving an ibuprofen and the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Mike, thinking to himself, "It's not that big of a deal!"
"I thought you'd appreciate a painkiller," Will explained, "There's some apple juice in the fridge or I can get you water."
"Thank you. Water will do," Mike said shyly, but that soon disappeared as he slipped back into a familiar banter, "I see you still don't recognize that apple juice is nasty, while orange is the best option, always."
Will grimaced with a smile, "Orange juice is too sour. I don't see why on Earth you'd want something sour if you can have it sweet."
"That's… a good point," Mike relented while Will laughed, giving him a glass of water, "But orange juice continues to be the better one."
"Whatever you say, Mike," Will responded, sitting down with his own plate of scrambled eggs.
They sat in silence for long moments and Will could feel the elephant in the room begging to be addressed — especially with Mike's sudden affection earlier. How much does he remember? Does he regret it? Will he just pretend like nothing happened?
"Will," Mike's voice brought Will back to reality.
Both of their plates had grown empty for a while now, and Will didn't even notice.
"Yeah?" Will responded.
"I didn't forget what I said," Mike said, and Will squirmed under his soft gaze and soft smile, "I figured I should wait a little bit instead of just- throwing information at you, but I think I'm doing more harm than good."
Will couldn't exactly argue with that; he felt like he was about to vibrate out of his own skin.
"Okay… What do you want to say about it then?"
Mike reached out for Will's hand on top of the table, "I wasn't lying when I said I love you. I really do, Will, and I'm more than open to- to go with whatever you need. If you need time or you want to take things slow or you want to do something else, I don't care, because what I care about is you."
Time felt like it narrowed down to this very moment; cars angrily honking at each other and people talking louder than a normal person should became merely white noise to Will's ears. Mike was sober, holding his hand and eye contact, saying point blank:
"I love you too, Mike," Will responded, voice shaky and vision blurring, "I don't think there was a moment in my life I didn't."
Mike's eyes welled up with tears along with Will's, but his touch never became slack or tight enough to hurt. It was steady — grounding and gentle to pull the strings of Will's heart a thousand times more and give him something to be focused on.
"But I do want to try take things slow because I-" Will sniffled, then shakily exhaled, "I do want to have… dates with you. I want to experience love outside of my apartment, you know? Like, I know we need to be safe, but I don't want to feel like a dirty secret. I hope I'm making sense."
"Of course," Mike said, drenched in kindness and sincerity, "We have time now. We're a team, remember?"
Mike kissed Will's knuckles, lingering for a second longer than needed.
"Always."