Archive of Our Own ^beta

The WSQK radio station was quiet at night. Way too quiet. Especially after they all started talking about what they should do next and none of them actually decided yet on what they are supposed to do right now. Hopper and Eleven are still on the upside down, and god knows where Jonathan, Dustin, Steve and Nancy are inside that place as well. Hopefully they are somewhere safe.

Don't get it wrong, Will is content to see that his mom's plan finally involves him doing something to help instead of being kept inside four walls, treated as if he was made of porcelain. But he would be lying if he said he's a hundred percent happy about everything that happened in the last 24 hours.

He's proud, of course he is. He just saved Robin, Lucas and Mike. At the same time. He saved Mike. God, just the thought sends butterflies to his stomach. Will never even dreamed about being able to do something like this some day. Sure, he imagined Will the Wise doing similar things, but never him. Not like El does. Yet, tonight he managed to save those he cares about.

Those he loves.

His eyes snap straight from his hands that are on top of his lap to Mike, and a shiver goes down his spine when he finds his best friend already looking at him. Will swallows as he feels himself starting to blush, his brain ceasing to function properly. Mike holds Will's gaze, as if his dark eyes were waiting to see who would look away first. Challenging.

He's been doing this… considerably way too many times for the past couple weeks. Will even took the liberty of starting to call these moments “competitions”. Competitions that he keeps losing, by the way.

Every. Damn. Time.

And if he learned anything in the last couple weeks, is that there is only one way to “win” these.

Will has to smile.

Yup, that simple. It doesn't even matter how small or shy the smile is. Every time he manages to gather enough courage to do it, he can see Mike blushing slightly and looking away first. Therefore, “losing”.

He doesn't remember exactly when these started.

When Mike started to, accidentally, bump their elbows more times than normal at school. To feel Mike's hand on his back every time he walks past Will at the Wheelers house, as if he has to squeeze himself into a tiny space, even though there's whole room for him to move. Or even when Will would catch Mike staring across the room, making him quickly look away, pretending nothing happened.

What he does remember — and he remembers it very clearly, mind you, is when he started to question himself about it. When he actually asked himself if that's a friend thing or… more. If, perhaps, he wasn't just imagining things or daydreaming.

It was just a random night at the Wheelers. Wil was tired of being at the basement alone since Jonathan was somewhere with Nancy, so he stopped doodling on his sketchbook and went upstairs.

He found Mrs. Wheeler in the kitchen, super busy while working on dinner all alone. He offered help and she gave him a big, warm smile, accepting it at the same instant. The least he could do to thank the Wheelers for their hospitality during these last months was to help out around the house in some way, so he always tries to offer help whenever he can. Mrs. Wheeler handed him a knife and requested him to chop the carrots she was going to use on the salad, pointing at free space at the counter he could use.

Will's gaze wandered around the house; from the kitchen, he could see Holly, painting something at the dining table with her new crayons — so focused on it she probably wouldn't notice even if a demodog showed up in front of her. Will smiles, knowing he acts the same when working on a piece. He could also hear Mr. Wheeler watching TV in the living room. Trying to, at least. He could hear Mike's dad complaining about how the antenna wasn't working again.

Mike…

There was no sign of Mike as far as he could see from where he was.

Will had barely seen him since they both got back from school. His friend had been strangely quiet all day, barely paying attention to the party conversations, only nodding and agreeing with everything they said. Which is weird. Will even tried to ask if anything had happened, if he was okay, but Mike just replied, "I'm fine" and walked away. Then, once they got home, before Will could say anything, he watched Mike go straight to his room, not a single word coming out of his mouth.

Which was really weird behavior coming from Mike.

He never shuts up most of the time around the party, especially when they are talking about anything related to Star Wars, which they were. It's not like Will was complaining. He won't admit it out loud, but he likes when Mike is being loud by his side, complaining about whatever he wants.

Mike likes to complain all the time, that's a Mike thing.

“Do we still have orange juice?” Will froze as Mike's voice echoed around the room.

His eyes turned to Mike almost immediately, noticing his friend wearing a white t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants that are a little too short at the ankles, and Will was almost certain they're Mike's old pair of pants from when he was 14.

Mike met Will's gaze, his steps hesitated for a second before he continued walking — and Will was almost certain his friend's eyes were slightly red and maybe a little swollen, almost invisible to anyone who doesn't pay attention to Mike Wheeler 24/7. Like Will does.

He wanted to ask about it. Wanted to understand why his friend refuses to talk to him, or anyone, about whatever is troubling him recently.

Is it about El? Will wondered.

Mike knows he can talk to Will about anything, even if Will gets hurt in the process — especially when it's about Eleven.

Will didn't ask. Instead, his hands went back to chopping the carrots.

Mike broke eye contact when he walked past Will, and Will could hear him opening the refrigerator door, looking for the orange juice he asked his mom about.

“Yes,” Mrs. Wheeler answered. “But don't drink too much! There's just enough for everyone to drink at dinner.” She continued to clean the dishes, her back turned to them.

Will continued chopping the carrots, trying his best to concentrate on the task, which was twice as difficult the moment he felt Mike's gaze burning into the back of his neck.

His heart became a loud mess. If it weren't for all the noise Mrs. Wheeler was making while washing the dishes, Will was sure everyone would hear the loud ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.

His vision barely focused on the task at hand, and for a second he cursed himself for letting Mike have such an effect on him. It's not like Mike was looking directly at him right in front of him, but the two have been friends for so many years that he didn't even need to look back to know Mike was staring at him.

Knowing this only made him feel self-conscious. Will shifted his weight from one leg to the other, trying to find a comfortable enough position to stay until Mike left the room and he could breathe again. In fact, he paid so much attention to how to pose in front of Mike that he didn't even notice he pushed the knife forward a little too far, causing the tip to slightly cut his index finger.

“Ouch!” Will yelped, dropping the knife at the counter and looking down at his finger.

“Oh my, are you okay, sweetie?” Karen asked, looking back at him, clearly worried.

“Um, y-yeah, don't worry. It's nothing.” Will dismissed it, seeing the cut was superficial and it wasn't even bleeding much, just beginning to form a drop of blood.

“Okay, be careful with that knife! Don't wanna scare your mom telling her you hurt yourself helping me out.” Karen chuckled nervously, working on the dishes once again. “Are you sure you're okay? We have band-aids, if you need.”

“Yes, it's okay, really. Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler.” He returned the smile, even though she wasn’t looking at him anymore.

For a split second, Will forgot the reason why he was suddenly careless with the knife. He was about to take the knife once again when a sudden movement and warmth on his back knocked the air out of his lungs.

Shit. Will gasped softly as he felt Mike's breath on the back of his neck. Warm. Familiar. His chest nearly touched Will's shoulders, so close he could smell Mike's shampoo.

“Can I see it?” Mike whispered close to Will's ear, which made him shudder all over.

Will blinked once. Then again. His heart was beating so hard he thought he was about to have a heart attack.

Too close. Too damn close.

He could feel Mike's left hand on his lower back, burning the skin through Will's shirt, and he fought the urge to lean into it. To try to feel more.

Mike's right hand extended near his own, long fingers waiting to hold something; to hold him.

Will's body acted before his mind could, moving his hand closer to Mike so he was able to see it better. Mike instinctively took his hand, carefully holding it. He trailed his fingertips painfully slowly through Will's skin, from his wrist to his hurt finger, and Will could tell Mike had been playing more the guitar recently as he could feel more calluses on Mike's fingers. His hands were cold against Will's warm skin, which made him tremble under Mike’s touch. Will could feel his own cheeks burning.

He didn't dare to look at Mike; didn't trust himself enough to shift his gaze. A gaze that was fixed on Mike's fingers pressed onto his skin.  What he could tell, though, was that Mike probably had that cute face he always makes when he's focused on something. Eyebrows furrowed, lips firmly pressed together in a thin line. Concentrated.

Just imagining it made Will's heart flutter.

Mike stepped away in a blink of an eye, without a warning, and Will immediately missed the warmth of Mike's body pressed to his — his skin burning where he had been touched. He was able to breathe a little with the space Mike had created between them again. His brain completely ignored Mrs. Wheeler's voice when she told them briefly that someone was calling and she would be back in a minute.

The sound of dishes being washed was then replaced by the sound of Mike rummaging through the cupboard. He could hear small boxes moving around behind him like Mike was looking for something.

Will barely had any time to process what had happened when he heard a soft “Hey,” behind him. A voice Mike only ever uses with him.

Will breathed slowly before turning around — his right hand grabbing the counter hard, his knuckles turning white because of it. He looked everywhere but the boy’s face in front of him. Mike was not as close as before, but he was still close. Maybe a step away compared to where he was seconds ago.

Close enough Will could almost feel Mike's hot breathing against his face. Will adjusted himself, trying to be cool, keeping his breathing steady.

This is fine. This is totally fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? We’re friends.

“Hey.” He answered, his voice almost cracked.

Will's gaze ended up on Mike's face again, like a magnet. He was looking at Will with those big sad puppy eyes, holding a band-aid on his right hand while he kept his left hand up; like he was asking Will to politely give him his hand so Mike could help. Mike's eyebrows furrowed, almost saying “Please, let me do it.” without any words.

They never need words to talk to each other.

Will feels his insides melting at it.

He nodded and bit his bottom lip, extending his hand towards Mike. A small shock went through his body when he felt Mike's hand on him again, stepping closer. Mike pulled Will's hand close to his face.

Probably to see it better, Will supposes. No way there's another reason.

On top of Will's finger, there was still that tiny drop of blood above the cut, and the fluffy part of the band-aid quickly absorbed it while Mike positioned it correctly. His calloused fingers gently adjusted the band-aid around Will's finger, yet still firm enough to fit snugly and protect the cut.

Will couldn't take his eyes off Mike.

He doesn't remember being this close to him before. It's been a while. Maybe a few years. Will noticed how Mike's freckles aren't like when they were kids; they're more faint now. Less spread across his face, and more concentrated in the nose area. Will imagined himself tracing these freckles with his fingertips, mapping each of them carefully. Connecting them like constellations. He wondered how it would feel under his lips, as he dreamed of kissing Mike's freckles ever since he was 14 years old.

A stupid, completely dumb dream. He shouldn't have thought about it. Not when he doesn't even know if El and Mike are still together.

And the fact that neither Mike nor El talk about it, doesn’t help. To anyone, that is. Ever since they came back from California, their relationship status has been a blur. The only thing Will knows for sure is that they don't talk about each other anymore. They still talk to each other, but every time someone brings either of them up into the conversation, they start to act weird, changing the subject.

That doesn't stop Will from feeling bad about… this. Whatever this is that is happening between Mike and him.

Will froze.

He felt a gentle caress on the palm of his hand. Will followed Mike's gaze, who was staring intently at their hands together — both Mike's hands were holding Will's as if it were the most precious and delicate thing he has ever held before. Will's heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Suddenly, he couldn't remember whatever was worrying him a second ago.

“Does it hurt?” Mike asked slowly, caressing Will's wrist with his left hand.

“No.” He whispered.

The air felt fragile, somehow. Like it would shatter if he talked too loud or moved a single muscle. As if Mike would've run away if Will wasn't careful enough. Will could hear his own heartbeat, feeling his warm blood pulsing through his ears.

That was… a lot. Mike has always been one to show affection through touch. He has no problem hugging his friends or putting a hand on their shoulder, like he did a year ago at Hopper’s cabin when they moved back to Hawkins. But this? Being less than a step away from Will while holding his left hand even after he'd already bandaged it? Getting that close? That's not friendly behavior, even for Mike Wheeler.

And Will knows that. He knows that that felt different. He knows that that wasn’t like the other times Mike touched him. That time it was... intimate.

His eyes flicked back up again, holding his breath when he saw Mike's sight fixed on him.

Will couldn't even tell where his iris began and his pupil ended. Mike's eyes are so beautiful, that dark shade of brown he tried to recreate with his paintings so many times before he finally got it right. Will would stare at them for hours if he could and he would never find it boring.

“You sure?” Mike asked again.

God. Will felt like he would faint.

“Y-Yeah… I'm sure.” He breathed.

A beat.

Mike's eyes were still slightly red.

Will still didn't know why.

“Are you okay?” He questioned. Sweet. Curious. Mostly, worried.

Will felt Mike squeeze his hand. Not firmly, just— enough. Maybe to ground himself? Will wasn't sure. But he saw nothing that indicated Mike was uncomfortable about the question.

Neither of them looked away. It seemed like Mike was considering what to answer, taking his sweet time while observing Will’s features with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Now I am.” Mike answered quietly, almost like a confession, rubbing his right thumb through Will's knuckles.

Oh. Will blushed even harder at that.

The tension between the two could be cut with the same knife that cut Will's finger, at this point. He noticed Mike sighing softly, with something behind his eyes that Will could not read. And he definitely thought he's lost more blood than he first thought, because when he licked his lips nervously, Mike's eyes drifted down at his lips for two, three, four whole seconds before returning to Will's eyes.

Will was probably dreaming, right? No way that was actually happening. Probably a hallucination. Mike would never look like that at him—

“Will, honey!” They both immediately dropped their hands, and Mike took a step back to where he was drinking juice earlier, the moment Mrs. Wheeler's voice rang out through the kitchen.

“Y-Yes?” Will somehow managed to talk without choking on his own saliva.

“Your mom just called to let you know she won't get here in time for dinner.” Karen exclaimed as she headed back to the pans, clearly not noticing whatever was going on between them.

Which is fine.

It's not like they were doing anything wrong, right? Just a friend helping another with a small bruise. It's totally normal.

Yet, the feeling of almost getting caught doing something wrong lingered. Will could still feel his heart hammering inside his chest, which wouldn't happen if what they were doing was purely friendly.

“Oh, um, okay.” He manages to answer. “Thank you.”

When he looked back at Mike, he was finishing his orange juice and heading to the sink to wash his cup. Acting like nothing happened. Like that was common. Like, maybe, Will imagined all of that — except that, when he looked down at his finger, the band-aid was proof that it did happen.

Honestly, most of the time throughout these 18 months he thought he was seeing things. Believing his feelings for Mike were starting to interfere with how he perceived reality. But now, all that would echo inside his head was Robin's words.

(You know, like a brush of the knee, a bump of the elbow, a shared look…)

Her words keep ringing in his head every time he notices Mike doing something similar to what happened in that kitchen, and god, Mike is doing it so much it's driving Will crazy. He's freaking out about it more than the whole “end of the world” problem. Which is insane. He should be concentrating.

But he can’t.

Worst thing is, it doesn't even look like Mike is going crazy together with Will this time. In reality, he looks way too calm about everything that's been happening between them. Like it was nothing.

Mike's eyes are still on him, unreadable.

Will wishes he could read his mind, understand what is going on inside that head of his.

Mike is still a bit dirty thanks to all that happened at MAC-Z, and his hair is still a little messy but, oh my god, Mike looks so good, Will might combust right here, right now. In fact, he could easily go over to Mike, raise his hand to his forehead and brush away the few strands of hair that are in front of his eyes…

Will blinks. Maybe Mike is the one reading Will’s mind, because he sees how Mike tilts his head slightly to the side, watching him calmly. Analyzing him. The look he's giving Will is almost… smug, like he's enjoying seeing Will’s reactions. And the little smirk Mike gives him just makes him sure of it.

Asshole. Will squints his eyes, holding back a smirk. He’s ignoring completely how electric this feels, because right now he doesn’t even remember how to act like a normal person. He should probably breathe again, that would be a nice start. Put his heart back into place.

That is, if he manages to either look away or smile. It's easy, not a big deal at all. Friends do this, right?

You know the answer to that — a little voice in the back of his mind reminds him and Will could roll his eyes at it.

Okay, sure, he doesn't do this with Dustin or Lucas, and he knows Mike long enough to know damn well he doesn't do this with the rest of the party. As long as he remembers, Mike didn't do this with El either, which is… something. But Mike and Will were always different from the party in this sense. Ever since they were younger, their mothers could tell they were closer compared to the other boys. Maybe it is just their own little thing. Maybe Mike just treats Will like this because this is Mike we're talking about.

Problem is: this whole argument would have made sense before. Perhaps a year ago when they were inside a pizza van in California, talking about a particular painting. Will would’ve accepted it, saying it makes sense.

Now, though?

(It all just kind of accrued, like a snowball rolling down a hill, until it was obvious.)

(How obvious?)

Yeah, he definitely can't believe in that excuse anymore.

Feeling more confident now, Will decides to lean back on the sofa and cross his arms, smirking at Mike. You could barely count it as a smile, with how tiny it was, but it seemed to do the trick. Mike holds back a smile and Will can see his cheeks slightly pink before he turns his face away, now paying attention to whatever Murray was talking about.

Will really shouldn't think too much about it. Really shouldn't allow himself to feel this big comfortable hope growing inside his chest every time Mike does stuff like this.

But he physically can't.

Not after what Robin told him. Not after noticing so many small things Mike's been doing these last few months. Is stronger than him at this point.

“Joyce, please, let's just think about it, for a moment—”

“I am thinking about it, Murray!”

The smile on Will's lips drops as he listens to his mom and Murray discussing the plan, now more angry at each other.

Ah, yes. How could I forget?

The big ass problem in the middle of the room, which he actually should be worried about instead of how his best friend looks at him across the room.

They didn't manage to help the kids. He couldn't save them from Vecna. They were kidnapped anyway, Will’s powers didn't prevent that from happening. And even if he's trying really hard to not focus on this specific part, he can't help but feel useless because of it.

Maybe if I had realized I had these powers sooner…

Will bites the inside of his cheek as the thought goes by his mind, not even listening to what the others were talking about anymore.

“Well, I'm gonna… I don’t know, try to contact Hopper and Jonathan again.” Joyce sighs.

Will snaps his gaze at her. He notices his mom is clearly upset by the others’ reaction to her plan before she leaves the room.  Murray follows her, complaining about something Will doesn't really pay attention to. He just talks way too much and Will doesn’t really understand half of what he says most of the time, anyways.

He also watches the Sinclair siblings getting up from the sofas and immediately starting to argue. Something about how Erica thought Lucas should've gone to the hospital to deal with that wound instead of using the first-aid box they had at the station. Will chuckle lightly at the scene.

Mike is still on the sofa, now with his head down. If his eyes are closed or looking at the ground, Will cannot tell. A very selfish part of him wishes Mike would look at him again, as dumb as it sounds.

After a second, Will decides to get up from the sofa as well. It would be nice to go after his mother. He feels bad after seeing her sad pout when she left the room. He can barely take one step when he feels someone holding his wrist and pulling him, yelping at the action. He doesn’t even need to look to know who it is.

Robin has been dragging him around so much lately that he’s not even surprised when he turns and sees her in front of him. Her left hand is on his shoulder while her other hand continues to hold the ice on her head. She has a huge smile on her lips, and Will smiles along with her, even though he doesn’t know exactly why she’s smiling.

“So… Sorcerer, huh?” She whispers while wagging her eyebrows at him, clearly referencing Mike. Will’s eyes widen, blushing when he realizes.  After all, his best friend was still there, sitting on the couch, and he could probably hear them both.

“Robin.” Will tries to warn her with his eyes, seeing out of the corner of his eye Mike adjusting himself on the couch.

Robin seems amused by his reaction, but thankfully she decides to not provoke him anymore, letting her hand fall from his shoulder.

“Byers, you just killed those demos! With your mind! That is, like, fucking awesome!” She says excitedly. “Seriously, I swear to god, I thought I was going to die right then and there and that I wouldn’t even be able to say goodbye, you know, to all of you. Oh, and by the way, that thing they say about seeing life before your eyes before you die? Bullshit. Total bullshit. All I could see was that thing jumping on me—”

“Doesn't Mrs. Byers need your help with the radio?” Mike’s voice interrupts Robin’s rambling, which makes both her and Will look at him. “You know, to contact the others?”

Mike's eyes aren't on them. His head is still down, resting it on his right hand. Will finds Mike's tone weird. He doesn't remember ever hearing him sound like this before.

“Um, I think mom already knows how to use the radio, Mike.” Will frowns at his friend and Mike looks up at them. His face is neutral, but his eyes… His eyes are sharp like daggers, ready to throw them. Not towards Will, but Robin.

“I don't know, since they both are getting along better now, I thought your mom would like the company.” Mike keeps staring at Robin.

What is going on right now?

Robin slowly glances at Will. She squints at him, as if she knows something Will doesn't. And he clearly doesn't. He's more confused than anything right now. How is Robin okay with the way Mike just talked to her? How is she smirking, eyes wide? Why is she smirking in the first place?

She opens and closes her mouth a few times before choosing to simply smile at Will, shortening the space between them.

“Avalanche!” Robin's lips move without making a sound.

Will frowns ever harder, opening his mouth to try to ask “What?”, but his brain can't make sense of any of what's going on right now. How does that have anything to do with this?

“Actually, little Wheeler, you are correct!” Robin turns to Mike again, joining her hands in front of her body. “I did tell Mrs. Byers I would help her with understanding the radio better. You know, with so many buttons and all, wouldn't want her to press something she's not supposed to.”

Mike raises his eyebrows and nods. “Good.”

“Yeah! If you two need anything, scream.” She steps away. “Actually, no. No screaming. Just use the walkie-talkie.”

Robin starts walking towards the stairs, but doesn't leave the room before sending a knowing smile at Will.

Will's gaze wanders between the stairs and Mike, who is now resting his head on his hand again, eyes closed.

“Okay, what—what was that?”

“What was what?”

“You.” He says, as it was obvious. “Being rude to Robin for no reason.”

“I wasn't being rude to her—” Mike tries to argue.

“Yes, you were, Mike.” Will interrupts him. “And it's not the first time you've interrupted her like that…”

“I didn't—” Will glares at him and Mike sighs. “Okay, fine. Maybe I did… Once.”

Will scoffs. “Maybe?”

“I don't—I just—” Mike presses his fingers on his temples, grimacing. “Look, she talks a lot and I'm having a headache right now, okay? Some silence would be nice.”

Will sighs, relaxing his shoulders at the information. It's so hard to see Mike with a headache, he barely has them. Usually Dustin is the one that complains about it most of the time.

Will bites the inside of his cheek at the sight of Mike's pained expression. He hates seeing Mike like that. The way his eyebrows are so close to each other and how he wrinkles his nose makes Will wanna kiss his pain away.

That's when he notices.

Mike isn't rubbing a specific part of his right temple, as if he was avoiding it. Will squints his eyes and takes a step closer to where Mike is sitting.

He manages to see there's still blood coming out of Mike's temple; red and angry.

“Is that blood?”

Mike freezes. He replies after a second, uncertain. “...no?”

This motherf— If Will could kill him right now, he would.

He walks to Mike until he's close enough to lift his head softly, holding his chin up. Mike's eyes immediately close because of the light going straight into them.

“I thought you said it was just a scratch?” Will questions while he uses his other hand to move Mike's hair away from the wound so he can check how bad it is.

“It is just a scratch!” Mike yelps, now with his eyes open and some pink on his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Will pinches the bridge of his nose. How come he's in love with this idiot? “You—it is still bleeding and you say—you're unbelievable.”

Mike avoids eye contact, but Will can tell he is holding back a little grin. As he said, unbelievable.

“Wait here.” The breath of disappointment slips from Will's lips as he drops his hands from Mike's chin and walks towards the bathroom, looking for the first-aid box Lucas used some minutes ago.

He returns with the kit in hand, seeing that Mike is still sitting on the sofa. Waiting, just as Will had asked.

Will sits next to him, close enough to tend to his wound, but too far away to feel the warmth of Mike's body. Their knees just some inches away from touching. The box is opened in Will's lap and he takes out gauze, antiseptic, and a healing ointment. He sets the box behind him and extends his right hand, reaching Mike's face again.

His hand fits into Mike's jaw and he gently pulls him a little closer. His eyes are 100% focused on Mike's injury, analyzing where he should begin. Trying his best to ignore Mike's gaze on him, Will applies one of the gauzes, which he had already moistened in the bathroom sink, to the small cut on Mike's temple, cleaning the area carefully without pressing too hard on the wound. He notices Mike grimacing, but remaining quiet.

“You really don't need to… You know?” Mike's voice is tiny and Will notices he moves a bit closer, putting his left leg up on the sofa.

“To what?” Not knowing what he meant.

“To do this.” Mike points at his temple.

“Well…” Will sighs, a grin on his lips. “I think we're even now.”

He doesn't need to check to know Mike is smiling back at him.

“At least I didn't cause my own injury.”

“Oh, screw you.” Will chuckles. “It wasn't my fault, I got distracted.”

“Mhm. Good thing I was there to help.” Will can hear the teasing in Mike's voice. If only he knew…

“Right, cause I was so going to lose my finger because of it, huh?” Will rolls his eyes, tilting Mike's head to clean his cheekbone better.

“Dude, you never know! What if you had an infection because of it? That could totally happen.”

Now Will lets out a laugh, in awe of Mike's theory.

“Sure, Mike. Whatever you say.”

He still feels Mike's gaze on him as he finishes cleaning the trail of blood from his skin. The brunette forces himself not to look away from the wound. It's almost an irrational fear, or rather, a certain apprehension about looking at Mike when he knows his friend is already staring at him.

Apprehension of what might happen. Or of what might not.

Will adjusts himself on the sofa and mirrors Mike, throwing his right leg onto the sofa and bending it for better balance as he leans over to continue tending to Mike's wound. Their knees touch and a shiver goes down his spine, but neither of them move. They never do. He notices Mike's hand is on top of his own knee, his fingers almost touching Will's knee.

“So… you and Robin.” Mike says way too casually.

So smooth. Will raise an eyebrow.

“What about it?”

“You two seem… closer.” He can now feel Mike's breathing on his face. 

“I mean, yeah.” Will's face lit up with the words. “She's really cool.”

Honestly, becoming closer to Robin is one of the best things Will ever did. He never felt so free. To find someone like you, who understands you. And being able to talk about things he never did before, is really nice. Like, really nice.

Mike simply mumbles a "hm" and shifts in place while Will patiently waits for him to stay still before continuing cleaning the blood from his face. Something about Mike was off though., Like he didn't like the answer.

“What is your deal with her?” He asks before he can think about it.

“What?” Will doesn't need to look at him to know he's frowning like that was the most dumb question ever. “What are you talking about?”

“Don't play dumb, Mike. I know you don't like her—”

“That's not true!” Mike answers too quickly, his voice higher-pitched than usual.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! I'm fine about you and her being—” He hesitates. “Together or whatever. I'm fine.”

But I didn't ask that, did I? Will thinks, holding back a smile.

If he didn't know any better, he would say Mike is jealous. Which obviously he's not, he can't be.

“Together? What are you on about?” He tries his best not to laugh and his eyes are drawn to Mike’s face without him realizing it.

Mike’s cheeks are slightly more red now and he's pouting. Eyebrowns together in confusion. Cute.

“You know, like… together.” He grimaces as the word falls off his mouth and Will rolls his eyes playfully.

“Me and Robin are only friends, Mike.” He feels like explaining, even though he knows he doesn't need to.

“Oh.” Mike raises his eyebrows. Will notices his fidgeting hand, now slightly touching Will's knee. “That's… that's cool. I mean, she looks cool.”

“So, it wouldn't be cool if I was dating her?” Will hears himself ask boldly, enjoying teasing Mike a little too much for his own good.

Mike's eyes widen and he opens his mouth once, twice, three times before he manages to formulate a response.

“No—I mean—yes!” He stutters. “It would be… okay? I guess—I mean, it's not like it would be fine either, she's too old for you and—”

Will's laughter, stuck in his throat, escapes a little, but he manages to hold it back, covering his mouth on his own shoulder. Mike can be so cute sometimes and he doesn't even realize it; even when he's being a complete dumbass worrying about something like this.

“Don't—hey, why are you laughing? It's a valid concern!” Mike asks indignantly, and that's all it takes to make Will finally laugh.

He drops his hands from Mike's face and laughs so much his stomach hurts, not being able to answer Mike properly. And even seeing Mike all confused about him laughing, Will can hear him following him, listening to his little giggles as Will tries to catch his breath.

“I'm sorry,” He tries to control his little giggles. “It's just so adorable, you panicking like crazy over that…”

Mike freezes, and it takes a second for Will to realize he just called Mike adorable.

Shit.

“Uhm, I mean—just—just come here, I gotta finish this.”

There's a little smirk forming in the corner of Mike's lips and Will makes sure to grab his face again to continue cleaning the wound and pray Mike won't question him about it.

“So you think I'm adorable?” Mike teases him.

Will's prayers weren't heard, apparently.

“No. Actually, I think you're an idiot.”

“That's not what you said though—”

“Ugh, shut up, Michael.”

“Okay, William.”

There's this new warmth between them, messing with the butterflies inside Will’s belly like a nice spring day. He can still feel Mike's eyes on him, not moving even for a second.

Mike's wound and face are now clean, and Will throws the used gauze onto the coffee table, turning to grab the antiseptic and apply it to a new clean piece of gauze.

“So I've been thinking—” Mike murmurs.

“That's dangerous…” Will scoffs.

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Will grins at him, hearing Mike's smile as he talks. “And second, I was going to ask if you're, like, really okay? You know, even after being a total badass back there, you're still probably tired, right?”

Mike's soft voice sends a warmth rising from Will's chest to his face and he tries really hard to focus only on Mike's wound now, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“You're the one with a big ass cut on your temple.” His voice sounds a lot more confident in contrast with his heart hammering inside his chest.

“It's not even that big. And it doesn't even hurt that much.”

Will raises an eyebrow towards him before pressing the gauze with antiseptic onto the wound. Mike takes a sharp inhale through his teeth and grimaces.

Will almost felt bad. Almost.

“Ow.”

“You were saying…?” He proudly smiles when Mike glares at him.

“Shut up. It's just a small cut, I don't care about it, I care about—” He doesn't finish it.

Will looks at him slowly.

About…? He desperately wants to ask, feeling that big hope inside his chest inflate again. Surely his mind isn't filling in the blank with "you". He certainly isn't. Even if he hates himself for knowing that, in fact, he is.

They are still looking at each other. Mike's eyes are wide. Vulnerable. And even so, Will cannot read him at all. He hates it. It's usually so easy to see Mike.

Both look away at the same time. Will continues pressing the gauze at the wound; Mike continues tapping his finger dangerously close to Will's knees.

Then he touches him, so gently that Will wonders if he really felt it or if it was his mind playing tricks on him again. But the touch lingers, now with Mike's whole hand caressing Will's knee. He inhales, unsure of what to do, how to react.

(It all just kind of accrued, like a snowball rolling down a hill, until it was obvious.)

With the little courage he has, Will looks down, looking for where he's feeling Mike's hand on him.

(Let's say the, uh, snowball became an avalanche.)

Mike's fingers are definitely on his knees. This certainly isn't his mind imagining things.

Avalanche…

He remembers Robin whispering it before leaving him and Mike alone in the room and his heart stops beating for a second.

Mike couldn't—there's no way he would—

It kinda makes sense, though… All the looks, all the longing touches, the way Mike talks to him, with longing smiles and slow blinking.

But El…

He shakes his head. Probably not the moment to think about it. Not when Mike has his hand on Will's knee.

Slowly, Will finishes applying the antiseptic to Mike's wound and drops the gauze on the coffee table, but his right hand remains on Mike's jaw — his pinky resting on Mike's neck, feeling his heartbeat beating faster than normal.

“You didn't answer me, by the way…” Mike moves his fingers again, holding Will's knee gently. Will swallows nervously.

“Hm?” He looks at Mike's wound, pretending there's still something to be done.

“About how you're feeling… If you're okay?” Mike says with a delicate tone, and Will melts at his concern.

Their eyes meet once again, both shy, looking expectantly at each other. Mike's eyes are shining, his mouth slightly open. His curls look so soft, Will wonders how it must feel to touch them. To run his finger through it. Just then he realizes how close they are. If he moves forward just a little bit, their noses will touch.

Will tilts his head slightly, smiling softly. “Now I am.”

The reference to Mike's words some weeks ago makes him open a warm smile as he squeezes Will's knee, sending a little shock through his body. The energy around them is electric, warm, and Will can feel the same tension he felt in the kitchen that day.

Only this time it is different. There's intention behind Mike's eyes, more certainty, more will. Desire, like he needs something from Will and he will take it.

“Cool…” Mike breathes, raising his free hand to Will's that is on his jaw, holding it in place. He leans into Will's touch, turning his face just slightly to touch his lips on Will's skin, closing his eyes. He can see how long and thick Mike's eyelashes are against his delicate freckles.

“Mike…” He can hear his voice shaking under his breath. Wheeler's eyes open a bit, slow, like he was drunk.

“Yeah?” Their noses touch and their eyes move down in sync. Mike's lips look so kissable, so soft. Will's heart is in his throat, desperate to leave, and Mike keeps moving closer and closer, and Will is moving forward without even realizing it and—

Oh.

Oh.

Their lips touch, so delicately that Will stops breathing to make sure it's actually happening. Make sure this isn't a dream. He doesn't even remember closing his eyes and — holy shit, they're kissing. Mike is kissing him. It's undeniable. It's unbelievable. It's too much and too little at the same time. Will wants to feel more, wants to move his lips against Mike's, but a part of him is still apprehensive. Apprehensive because he's not sure if this is right. If he can do this while Mike's girlfriend—or—ex—girlfriend is in the Upside Down, fighting to get back here.

Back to Mike.

He barely has any time to continue spiraling when his mind goes blank as he feels Mike's hand, which was on Will's knee, on his neck, pulling him closer. Him and all his coherent thoughts melt away at the touch, and it helps him breathe again.

Mike moves first, pressing their lips closer and actually kissing him, moving their lips together. Will simply follows him, slowly, savoring the sensation of having his first kiss with Mike Wheeler; his first best friend, his first love. The butterflies that were swirling wildly in his stomach are now scattered throughout his body, having a party. Every touch burns, and god, it feels so much better than what he could ever have dreamed of.

His hands tremble as he holds Mike, sliding his left hand into his hair as if he needs it to steady himself. The hair isn't completely dry at the roots yet, but Will doesn't even notice — all he notices is how soft Mike's curls are against his fingers, how the texture is exactly as he imagined. 

Mike lowers his left hand and holds Will's waist, who lets out a sweet yelp suppressed by the kiss. And apparently, this only makes Mike pull him closer, almost as if he wanted Will in his lap.

This causes Will to regain some of his remaining consciousness, and he tries to distance himself a little, just enough to talk.

“Mike—we shouldn't—” Mike kisses him between words, shushing him, letting out a broken groan. Desperate.

Mike's hand finds the hem of Will's shirt and he moves it up, sliding his hand to touch Will's skin, stealing a gasp from him.

“I—Mike,” He tries to argue. “We… we can't—” Mike squeezes his waist in response. Hard. Impatient.

“Screw it.” He whispers against Will's lips before kissing him again, deeper this time. Messy. Hot. “I need you.”

Will lets out a whine — half complaining, half loving it — as Mike pulls him onto his lap, steadying himself while holding Mike’s shoulders. Mike's hands roam over Byers' waist and back, as if he's wanted this for days, weeks, months, years.

Mike is needy. Fucking greedy. As if nothing is ever enough. As if he always needs more, more, more, more—

And Will can't even fight it, because all that's going through his head right now is Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike. And if Mike wants it, Will will give it to him.

Mike presses his tongue to his lips. Teasing. Asking for more. Will quickly opens his mouth, exhaling when their tongues touch. Hot and wet against each other. He feels dizzy while tasting Mike's mouth. Will's fingers curl into his hair, holding him impossibly closer. Their breathing is a complete mess, their noses pressing against each other's cheeks. Their mouths just fit together. Perfectly. As if they were made for each other.

The world could end right now and Will would be more than happy to die in Mike's arms, kissing him breathless.

The two stop the kiss slowly, leaving only their foreheads pressed together. Their breath, panting and hot, brushes against each other's faces. Mike's hands are still on Will's waist, holding him tightly, as if he's afraid he'll run away. He gently presses the tip of his nose against Will's, trying to get his attention. But Will keeps his eyes closed, afraid of what he'll see when he opens them, of seeing that this is real.

“Hey…” Mike's voice is quiet, his hand slides to Will's face, caressing his cheek gently.

Will bites his lower lip as he listens to Mike. His eyes slowly open, and he's confronted with an image straight out of his dreams.

Mike is flushed, his lips swollen and glistening from the kiss. His eyes are wide open, staring at Will softly, full of care and… something Will doesn't want to name. Not when Mike hasn't said a thing yet.

“Hi.” Mike smiles at Will and he can't contain smiling back.

“Hi…”

“You look…” Mike whispers, moving his thumb close to Will's lips.

“What?” Will asks expectantly.

“...beautiful.” He completes before closing the distance between them again to kiss Will again.

“Oh—” Will is a mess right now. His heart craves another kiss, more of Mike's hands caressing him. But his brain craves answers.

And knowing Mike the way he does, there's no way this boy's gonna say a thing without Will starting it.

“Mike…”

“Yeah?”

“You—” He frowns, his fingers moving circles at the nape of Mike's neck. “What… does this mean?”

Mike smirks, raising his eyebrows. “I thought it was obvious?”

“Not if I'm asking,” Will replies deadpan.

“Wow, okay.” Mike snorts, receiving a glare in response.

“Mike, I'm serious,  I—” Will pulls away, separating their foreheads. Mike looks at him with puppy eyes, clearly not liking the distance. “You can't—I mean, you can't just kiss me and expect me to—”

“What, you don't… You don't feel the same?” Mike asks unsure, almost hurt. Will scoffs.

Again, how can I be in love with this dumbass?

“Feel the—Mike,” He cups Mike's face into his hands, speaking slowly so he can be as clear as possible. “I really need you to use that smart mouth of yours to talk. Cause, so far, you haven't said anything about feelings a single time.”

Mike flushes. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally pouts, looking down.

“I thought I was… being obvious enough—you know, so you can notice I am in love with you?”

Will's eyes widen. His heart skips a beat.

“You…” He whispers, eyes desperately looking for any signs in Mike's face that he's lying — but all he finds is…

“Love,” He continues. “You're in love. With me.”

That damned smile returns to Mike's lips while Will blushes violently.

“I can repeat it if you w—” Mike is interrupted by Will's lips against his, kissing him once more.

They both smile mid-kiss, so lost in each other that they don't even see the lights around them flickering softly in rhythm with Will's heartbeat. He pulls away just enough to laugh, so happy that he still believes he's dreaming. They look into each other's eyes, smiling like idiots.

“Me too. I mean, I'm also in love with you.” He caresses Mike's face, his cheeks burning after saying it out loud.

“Good,” Mike tilts his head. “Otherwise this would be awkward.”

Will giggles.

“Oh, fuck you.” He says affectionately, his smile fading slightly. “I'm serious, I've… I've been in love with you for—years. For as long as I can remember, honestly.”

“Me too,” Mike blurts out, making Will frown slightly, delighted. “I just—I never realized before. I think, deep down I knew, but I—I was scared. Scared of what it meant. For me. For us. How it would change us…”

Mike swallows, his thumb caressing Will's cheek gently.

“But I'm tired of being scared. And I don't wanna have any more regrets.” He states, confidently. “And I definitely want this.’

Will's face lights up at Mike's confession, bringing a big warm smile to his face. He gives Mike a quick kiss on the lips, because he can.

Then he freezes.

Suddenly, he looks at Mike dead in the eyes, face in complete fear.

“Holy shit.”

“What? What's wrong?” Mike asks worriedly. “Is it—”

“El.” Will replies, his heart now tight inside his chest. “You two—Are you—”

Mike sighs relieved, and quickly makes sure to calm him down.

“Oh no, no we're not—I mean, we never talked about it but—”

“Mike…” Will glares at him, but Mike shushes him.

“Hey, we're not together, okay? We're not together.” He reassures Will. “We haven't been for a while now.”

“Oh?” Will should probably sound less happy about it.

“Yeah, like,” He grimaces as he thinks. “I don’t think I ever loved her like that, you know? We were too young and got used to each other, I guess.”

Will blinks. That makes sense.

“But you two haven't talked about it…?” Will questions with one eyebrow up.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess it's normal, right? Nancy said something about how she never actually talked about it with Steve before dating Jonathan, so—”

“Oh my god,” Will chortles. “You Wheelers are the worst.” He covers his face, not believing this is a DNA thing apparently.

Mike holds Will's wrists, pulling them down so he can see his face. He has that stupid Mike Wheeler smile Will loves and hates so much. He points a finger towards Mike.

“You better make sure to talk to her once she's here. She's still my sister and I don’t want to see her hurt—”

“Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it…” Mike starts giving him several little kisses on the face — on his cheeks, his lips, his forehead, his nose, his chin, his lips again — it makes Will giggle non-stop.

“You're such a dork.” Will kisses him again, smiling against his lips.

“Yeah, you love it.” Mike kisses him back, his hands pulling Will close by his waist once again.

Then a memory suddenly appears in Will’s mind, reminding him of another detail he noticed that day.

“Wait,” Will pauses, holding Mike’s face. “That day in the kitchen. You were crying…”

Mike nods, a bit flustered.

“Does it have anything to do with…?” He asks carefully, not completing the sentence. He doesn’t need to, Mike understands what he means.

Mike sighs, an awkward little smile on his lips.

“Yeah, that, uhm—that was actually me freaking out cause I realized how I feel about you…”

“You,” Will bites back a smile. “You leaned on me on the same day you realized you liked me?”

Mike hides his face on Will’s neck, but he can feel his smile against his skin.

“I was freaking out, okay? I wanted to run around the house screaming and to kiss you. Like, a lot.” He leaves some lazy kisses on Will's neck. “I’m actually proud I didn’t just attack you right there.”

A laugh escapes Will’s lips and he kisses the top of Mike’s head. He actually can’t believe Mike can be such a sweetheart and a dumbass at the same time. At least he’s Will’s now, and the thought makes him smile like an idiot.

Mike looks up at him after a second and kisses him so hard they both almost fall from the sofa, making Will yelp with a big grin on his face. He'll never get tired of this, not after knowing he can do it whenever he wants without being scared of Mike's reaction.

Mike deepens the kiss and Will lets out a broken but soft sound through his lips as he feels Mike's warm hands against the skin of his waist. Will bites Mike’s bottom lip, curious to know the feeling. He feels Mike smirk in response and it sends a shiver through his body. Will’s kisses travel down to Mike's neck, tasting a mixture of sweat and, well, Mike, which he devours without a second thought upon hearing a soft sound coming from Mike's throat.

Will tries to shush him, afraid of anyone being able to hear them, but Mike silences him with another kiss, cupping his face.

God, he couldn’t be happier. Fuck the end of the world. Fuck Vecna. The boy he loves, loves him back and they are kissing at the WSQK’s basement. It couldn’t be more perfect.

At the top of the stairs, just close enough to see what was going on, Robin makes a "shhh" gesture towards Lucas, who is speechless at the scene.

“So proud of little Byers.” Robin whispers excitedly.

“Holy shit, man.”

“Shh, dude!” Robin glares at him again, and Lucas raises his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry, I just never thought they would—You know—” He whispers now.

“What, kiss each other sloppy?” Robin wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“Okay, ew. Do not talk about it like that.” Lucas grimaces. “But, yeah, I mean—Will kissing like that? Holy shit—”

Robin shrugs. “Well, that's what happens when two people go through years of yearning for each other without doing something about it.”

“Robin? Is Will still down there?” Joyce's voice echoes and both Robin and Lucas jump with it.

“Robin?” Now they hear Will's voice, and they see both Mike and Will blushing hard, staring at them. “Lucas?!”

“Don't come down yet, Mrs. Byers! He's, uh—”

“Resting!” Lucas helps.

“Yes, he's very, very tired.” Robin continues to yell, sending a thumbs up to Will from where she is.

The last thing she sees before running upstairs with Lucas and closing the door again is Will burying his face in Mike's neck and Mike yelling something like "I swear to god I’m going to kill both of you—".