-Told you sooner-
(I was gonna post this on AO3 (and I will) but the acc is taking so long to make so I thought I'd post it here first💙)
Summary:Will and Mike both have feelings for eachother,the question is—which one will say it first?
Warnings:none?
Word count:2.8k
Credits for the art: "Lune warden" and "faaremi"
(This is set at the end of ep 7 and then goes into ep 8. Forgive me if my setting descriptions or anything isn't as accurate as I don't remember everything from it unfortunately😭)
Will's eyes darted between Joyce and his surroundings,he didn't know how to tell her. He couldn't,he would ruin everything.
Joyce looks at him,Her brows furrowed deeply trying to figure out what made her Will so nervous. She watched his eyes glisten with ungushed tears that refused to spill—she saw the look of tiredness from him that begged for peace and forgot about rest entirely.
“He showed me the most awful things.”His words felt like poison in his mouth.
Joyce's fingers dug his shoulders, grounding, desperate.
“No—listen to me,” she said, though her voice wavered despite herself. “Whatever he showed you, it isn’t real. He plays tricks. He lies.” She said it like a plea, like if she could say it in a certain way, it would reason with him.
Will shook his head slowly. He was certain
“No,” he said. “He doesn’t.”
“What he showed me—it didn’t come from him. It came from me.” His hands curled at his sides.
“He sees everything, Mom. My thoughts. My memories.” His voice broke slightly. “My secrets.”
His breath stuttered halfway through, and he swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as his eyes began to burn.
Joyce’s heart twisted. She brushed her thumbs under his eyes, wiping the tears away even as more began running down his cheek.
She wanted to say more—to reassure him—but Will wasn’t finished.
“But Max,she told me he's also afraid, which proves I can beat him.” Will continued,his voice shaking.
“But for me to do that you need to know. I think—” He broke off,“You need to know the truth.”
He pressed his lips together, fighting the sob rising in his throat again.
Mike goes down the hall because he left his jacket behind. That’s all. Just one small thing in the middle of the immense chaos. The house is loud with movement and the fear of knowing they were risking it all for one last fight. He’s past Joyce’s room when he hears her voice soften, the way it does when she’s trying to comfort someone. Mike slows, then stops. He shouldn’t try to be listening.He knows that. He turns back, to let whatever this is happen without him.
Then Will speaks.
At first, Mike only hears the tremor in his usual soft voice. The pause of hesitation before he spat the words out. It takes a second for the meaning to catch up to him fully, and when it does, it hits him so hard he forgets how to breathe.
“I’m gay.”The words fell into a quiet sob as soon as they were spoken. Will bowed his head, shoulders curling inward as if he was bracing for —rejection, anger, anything. His hands shook as he tried to wipe his face, embarrassed by the tears that kept coming.She cupped his face gently, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes, her own vision blurred with tears she didn’t try to hide.
“Oh, Will,” she whispered, voice thick with love. She pulled him into her arms, holding him like she always had, like she always would. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. Not with me. Never with me.”She kissed the top of his head. “I love you. Exactly as you are.”
Mike doesn’t know what to do with himself after he hears it. The words landed wrong—too heavy, too real—and for a moment he couldn't think clearly, couldn't even bear to move.
He has spent so long telling himself there was no chance, that whatever stirred in his chest was beyond foolish, something he forced himself countless times to outgrow. He made peace with settling for silence. He learned how to live with it hurting.
But Will proved there was a chance—if there has always been a chance—then every moment Mike had avoided him out of fear, every step back, every time Mike chose distance floods him with guilt so overwhelming it makes him sick. He thinks of all the times he convinced himself love like this wasn’t meant for him, that wanting Will was shameful and disgusting.
He hated the part of himself that yearns, the part that made his stomach flutter whenever Will smiled, the part that never stopped loving him even when he tried to bury it within him. He called it weakness. He called it selfishness. Anything but what it really was.
How Mike learned what real love felt like when He went missing in the upside down. By lying awake at night imagining Will cold and alone, sobbing quietly whilst promising himself he’d never take him for granted again if he ever came back.
That was when it began. Not before the monsters. After. After Mike learned what it felt like to lose him forever.Whilst starting to believe that kind of love made him a freak. Wanting something so deeply and also believing he didn't deserve it.
Didn't deserve to be loved.No one had ever taught him this hatred directly — he learned it quietly, over years, until it started to sound like him. Making him think that silence is better than honesty and that hurting alone is the price he has to pay for wanting something wrong. He aches for Will with a tenderness that is fragile,delicate. He wants to run toward him.
But he wanted to disappear at the same time. He was overwhelmed by the unbearable thought that the thing he denied himself might have been real all along—and that his fear may have cost him the right to go for it now.He wants—God, he wants—to tell Will the truth, to say his intention was to never hurt him, to say he loved him the whole time and was just too afraid to know what that meant. The words burn at the back of his throat, desperate and aching. Knocking now feels selfish, like a way to make Will carry his burden.
Mike found the jacket draped over the banister near the stairs, he put it on with shaking hands. He pulled it on too quickly, fumbling the sleeve and the zipper.His legs felt hollow as he moved down the stairs, each step distant, almost unreal. At the bottom, he stopped and dragged the heel of his hand across his face, rough and hurried. He blinked hard until the tears left, until his expression flattened into something he forced.
No one could see this.
He wouldn’t let them.
Outside, the van waited, and Mike climbed in and took a seat. Shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on nothing. He clasped his hands together so tightly his fingers ached. It felt like if he let go—even a little—everything inside him would spill out.
He waited.
The door slid open.
He stayed still. People followed, voices low, movements blurred together. He didn’t look at anyone.
A few minutes later,the door slid open again.
Joyce stepped in first, with Will following closely behind her.
If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was fine.
His eyes were a little red, but his face was neutral. His shoulders were tense but seemed relaxed, his breathing even. He looked—normal.
The door slid shut.
The engine started.
The van felt incredibly suffocating. The Upside Down slowly consumed the distorted depiction of Hawkins as their journey went to the radio tower but inside the vehicle, the tension was thick. Every instruction reminded them of what was at stake. Stay together. Watch each other. Don’t let anyone fall no matter what happens.
Mike sat quietly, somewhere between the front and the middle, hands pressed flat against his knees, staring at the floor. Mike pressed his palms against his knees, digging his fingers into his jeans, trying to ground himself.Joyce had Will pressed against her chest, arms curled tightly around him, and Will’s head rested against her shoulder.
Mike could see every inch of tension in Will’s body—the fingers clasped so tightly together they turned a pale white, the tiny shivers running through him, the unsteady way he sat that told Mike everything. Every detail stabbed him with a relentless pain that was guilt. How many times had he failed Will without meaning to? How many times had he pulled away when Will needed him most?
How many times had he been too afraid to let the truth escape his mouth, and let himself finally be seen?He remembered the first time he had moved too close in a moment that should have been ordinary and that terrified him. He felt the familiar burn of shame tighten around his ribs, bitter. He wanted to tell Will, but what if he couldn't be what he truly needs?
Will sat up his head slowly lifting off Joyce's shoulder as he sat with his legs crossed. He didn’t feel the reality of everything he had been through —he had survived that, after all—.But there was that lingering quieter, slower, more insidious: ache of not believing he was enough, not believing anyone could really love him for all the pieces he had kept hidden all this time.
He had told himself, so many times, that he had to move on. Believing that coming out finally would've gotten rid of that impossible ache that had seemingly always come and gone.He couldn’t expect Mike to feel the same, and he certainly couldn’t afford to allow himself to have hope anymore. He was careful, trying to keep the longing at bay. The way Mike never let him feel alone—even when the world had felt impossible to bear.The way Mike had looked at him, not pitying, not afraid, just… seeing him.
He told himself it was impossible. He told himself it was a dream he could never have.The part of him that had never stopped believing, never stopped wanting, never stopped hoping never would truly ever leave. He had told himself so many times. You’ll never be enough. Even Mike… even Mike can’t really care. Not like that.Will eyes shut tight and he let himself sink into his memories. He remembered late night talks that seemed friendly..but too friendly but he never allowed himself to assume it was anything more. The way Mike laughed when Will made a dumb joke, and the way he always prolonged the feeling.
The way Mike would linger near him, giving him a space to breathe in a world that had often tried to crush him multiple times. For a brief,passing moment he imagined Mike's hand in his, the soft touch of lips, the gentleness, the care he yearned for. He would keep loving him, quietly, painfully, until the end of everything.
Joyce felt everything settle inside her long after Will’s words were spoken. The quiet, shaking—I’m gay—had landed softly in her chest. She hadn’t reacted with surprise; but what hurt wasn’t the outcome itself, but the years it must have taken Will to say it aloud for the first time. She thought of the nights Will might have cried without trying to wake her, the way he’d always been gentle with his own needs no matter what it was and always putting others before him.Joyce made a promise to herself: whatever came next in this fight and onward, Will would not face it thinking he was unworthy of anyone's love.
Across the van, everyone's posture was tense and rigid. Lucas and Dustin exchanged brief meaningful glances—fear flickering between them. Lucas’s thoughts kept drifting back to Max, alive, recovering, finally back. It gave him something to fight for. Dustin kept muttering half-jokes under his breath, but his fingers fidgeted along the strap of his gear.
Hopper’s eyes never left Eleven. He had already lost his first daughter; the thought of losing Eleven would've been too much to bear. Eleven, meanwhile, sat still,she wasn’t afraid—not the way she used to be and all she wanted was for this to be over and she was ready to end it tonight.
Jonathan and Nancy sat closer together than they realised.There was something softer lingering—unspoken feelings that had never truly died. Jonathan watched Nancy with concern evident in his gaze, and Nancy caught him doing it and looked away,she couldn't afford to be distracted. Not this time.
The moment the van began to slow, every silent thought and exchanged words collapsed into silence.
They all knew what waited beyond the van doors.
The quiet was deafening.
And for a long moment, no one moved.
There was an understanding that they were stepping forward to finish this because there was no other choice and no more time left to waste.
They split into groups, Murray,Hopper,Kali and Eleven heading towards the lab whilst everyone else heads towards the radio towers.
There were two of radio towers, Jonathan
suggested splitting into teams of two.
Joyce,Jonathan,Nancy,Dustin and Steve in one team. Robin,Will,Lucas,Mike in the other.
Joyce hesitated before turning away, her steps slowing just enough to look back.
Her eyes found Will immediately—searching,
“You be careful,” said quietly, voice thick with concern.
Will nodded, small but steady, and Joyce forced herself to turn around and follow her team.
By the time they started climbing, Mike’s hands were already aching.
The metal was slick beneath his palms, rust flaking off with every rung they climbed. The tower rose into the red sky above them.Mike climbed just behind Will, close enough to feel the faint vibration of the ladder every time Will shifted his weight slightly.
Mike told himself to stop staring.
To look up. To focus on his own footing.
He couldn’t.
They were high enough now that the ground below had disappeared from view. The others were ahead, climbing faster, their voices drifting down faint and distorted. The tower swayed— causing Mike’s stomach to lurch.
It happened fast.
Will’s foot slipped on rusted metal, boots scraping uselessly. His body lurched sideways, weight shifting, and the gravity pulling him outward into open air. A sharp, startled gasp tore from his throat.
Mike didn’t think.
He lunged forward, abandoning his own footing, one hand shooting out and tightening around Will’s wrist just as Will’s other hand slipped free. The sudden weight nearly dragged Mike with him.
For one horrifying second, they were both hanging there.
Mike’s arm screamed with the strain, muscles burning, heart pounding so violently it started to hurt. Will dangled, breath ragged, fingers scrabbling against empty air, eyes wide with shock.
“I’ve got you,” Mike gasped, voice breaking. “I’ve got you—don’t let go.”
“I—I didn’t mean—” Will choked out, panic flooding his face. “Mike—”
“Don’t talk,” Mike said, tears already blurring his vision. “Just—just hold on.”
He hauled Will back toward the ladder inch by inch, every movement agony, until Will’s boot found a rung and his free hand latched onto the metal with a desperate grip. Mike pulled him flush against the tower, chest to back, refusing to release him even when he was safe.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Will’s breathing came fast and uneven, body trembling against Mike’s. Mike could feel it — the shaking, the fragile reality of how close he’d come to losing him. Again.
“You almost fell,” Mike whispered, voice wrecked.
“I know,” Will said quietly. His voice wasn’t panicking now. It was something worse. Ashamed. “I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”
Those words snapped something in Mike.
“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head violently. “Don’t apologize.”
He finally loosened his grip just enough to turn Will toward him. They were pressed close against the tower, faces inches apart.
“You scared me,” Mike said, tears spilling freely now, unashamed. “You scared me so bad.”
Will looked at him, really looked at him, confusion and concern flickering across his face. “Mike, it was just—”
“No,” Mike interrupted. “It wasn’t.”
His hands shook as they finally settled on Will’s jacket, fingers digging into the fabric.
“I keep trying to protect you like this because I don’t know how not to,” Mike whispered. “Because every time you disappear—even for a second—it feels like I’m back there. Like you’re gone again and it’s my fault.”
Will’s throat bobbed. “Mike…”
I’ve spent years acting like I’m fine,” Mike continued quietly. “Like I don’t care as much as I do. Like if I keep my distance, nothing would've happened.” A shaky bitter laugh escaped him. “But it’s a lie. I’ve been lying to you. To myself.”
“I heard you,” Mike said, the words tearing out of him now. “What you told your mom. And I walked away because I hated myself for knowing.
“Because I thought if I wanted you—if I loved you—it meant I was doing something wrong. Something selfish.”
His voice broke completely.
Will’s eyes filled with tears, shining in the dim red light of the sky. “You weren't wrong for loving me,I just wish you would've told me sooner” he whispered.
Then Will leaned forward and kissed him.
It was soft. Brief. Trembling.
Mike kissed him back with a quiet sound that might have been a sob, hands tightening just a little.
When they pulled apart, Will’s grip on the ladder was steadier. His breathing slowed.
“I’m okay,” Will said.
“I know,” Mike said. “I just needed you to know why I couldn’t let go.”
