✮˚.⋆⸻ especially you
★ pairing — mike wheeler x will byers
★ synopsis — nothing confuses will byers the way that mike wheeler does
★ warning/tags — one shot, minor angst, yearning, epilogue timeline, Will feels guilty, Mike is oblivious, Will confesses, mentions of Eleven’s death, happy ending, physical intimacy (kissing, touching etc)
Mike said it like it was nothing.
They were halfway through packing up the D&D board in the Wheeler basement, the night already stretched too thin when he said it, dropping the words into the space between them.
“I just think it’s kind of crazy,” Mike stated, not looking at Will, “how some people can mean so much to you without even trying.”
Will’s hands stilled, breath hitching as his expression softened into a small frown.
It’s not a confession. That’s the problem. Mike said it so casually, like an observation, like he isn’t carving open Will’s chest and filling it with want, need.
“Oh.” Will replied after a second too long. “Yeah.”
Mike nodded, satisfied and began talking about something else, college or Hawkins or the future that kept inching closer whether Will was ready for it or not. Will didn’t listen.
He was too busy thinking about what Mike just said.
The way Mikes voice softened into a whisper, the way he smiled to himself afterwards. Will wondered who it was meant for. El had disappeared 18 months ago, leaving Mike behind, his happiness with it. Perhaps it was meant for her, but maybe it wasn’t.
Will thought back to their conversation on the cell tower, the stutter of his heart in his chest as Mike had confidently announced their friendship.
The ache that followed was filthy, disgusting, ugly as it hit fast and low, coiling in his stomach. Will’s jaw clenched, a pang of guilt shooting through him, crawling up his spine.
El had sacrificed herself for God’s sake, had told Mike she loved him in her final moments before becoming nothing but a distant memory.
Who was Will to stand here, craving the one thing that was truly hers?
“You’re quiet.” Mike huffed, quirking a brow as he folded his arms over his chest. “You okay?”
Will painted a calm expression onto his features, staring back at Mike with a weak smile. “Of course, just…thinking.”
“Thinking?” Mike echoed back, letting out a soft exhale through his nose, slowly closing the distance between them with an expression full of concern.
That face. The puppy dog eyes, the knitted brows that made Will’s chest tighten even more, never forgotten feelings threatening to spill from his lips at the sight.
Will loved everything about Mike that hurt. The fights in the rain. The brush of knees which neither pulled away from. The bump of elbows when walking that each boy ignored. The silently shared looks that lingered a moment too long to be friendly.
“About us.” Will shrugged, gaze darting around the familiar basement as a shaky sigh escaped his parted lips.
“Us?” Echoed Mike, his tone laced with oblivious confusion.
“When we were on the radio tower.” Will began, his words carrying a quiver of caution as he turned to fully face Mike. “I really thought you hated me.”
Mike’s face dropped at that, the corner of his lips twitching into a frown. His dark eyes met Will’s as he instinctively took a stepper closer. “What? Will, i could never hate you.”
Will’s face contorted into one of unbridled pain, brows knitting deeply as he let out a pathetic scoff. “That’s the problem, Mike. Thats always been the problem. You just-“ A lump formed in his throat, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.
“You’re confusing.” Will finally huffed out, his jaw clenching as he stared anywhere but the taller boy’s face. “You confuse me.” He corrected himself as he finally met Mike’s lingering gaze.
“How?” Mike’s voice came out slightly defensively, his nose crinkling as it always used to when they were kids.
“You keep giving me these…signals. But then you call me your best friend, and i just…don’t know what to do anymore.” Will practically whined, arms folding over his chest as if to offer a blanket of protection over him.
“Signals..? Will what are you talking about?” Mike scoffed, placing his hand firmly on Will’s shoulder.
Will froze.
His mind raced at the contact, pushing all rational thoughts from his head as he grabbed Mike’s wrist, a fire blazing in his eyes.
“Like this. You’re always touching me. Always watching me. Yet you brush it off like it’s nothing.” Will muttered, the two boys chest to chest. “Tell me. Tell me it meant nothing to you. That its all in my head. That I’m fucking crazy.”
Mike’s breath hitched, fingers twitching before he surged forward and grasped Will’s face in his hands.
The kiss wasn’t sweet. It was desperate. Messy. Years of yearning poured into one single, intoxicating touch.
Will’s back hit the bookshelf, grasping at Mike’s collared shirt with breathless exhales against his lips, Mike’s name spilling from them like a prayer.
They pulled back to look at each other, both boys lips parted with heavy inhales.
“Mike..” Will whispered, just as he had done before. Before everything. When it was just them alone in the world.
“Crazy…together, right?” Mike smiled softly, a rare occurrence as of late. But he did. He had smiled at Will like he did on that first day of kindergarten. Except this time his gaze held a certain fondness to it. A fondness that carried into his hesitant touches against Will’s waist.
Mike’s long fingers were gentle, slow in their movements as they brushed against the exposed skin beneath Will’s shirt. His eyes were wide and searching Will’s with a newfound sense of longing and desperation.
Will simply stared back, the fabric of mike’s shirt still bunched in his grip as he spoke. “Yeah…crazy together.” He said with an amused, slightly hesitant laugh.
They weren’t kids anymore, that was certain from the way Mike was holding him now, though Will felt like a child again. Felt small in Mike’s embrace like a safety net he could fall into and finally take a breath of air. Finally allow himself to escape the guilt and the self-loathing that engulfed him each day.
Maybe they would go crazy together.
And maybe Will was perfectly okay with that.
