#writi88

For protection, Mike told the party one day when Lucas had eyed it at his side. Dustin could only nod, solemn. "For peace of mind," when Mike noticed Will said nothing.

He was staying at the Wheeler's now. Same reason as before, for peace of mind. Mike told his mom he wanted him close, to watch him. Be by his side like three years ago in that shed, at the lab. Joyce agreed, reluctantly. Will had been pleading with her already.

But now, Will was considering… if it had been a mistake.

Mike wasn't buff or anything. Just enough that his arms stretched the seams of his old shirts. He stopped wearing sleeves around the house. Tanks were easier, he said. It was better to wear with the heat in the house, he also said. Something like that. Not to show off or anything.

Will was losing his mind.

He didn’t ask questions. At the Wheelers’, he mostly stayed in the basement, kept his head down, and tried—really tried—not to stare at Mike. Sometimes he even skipped dinner. He was scared he’d be too obvious, or maybe act too weird and someone would notice. Tonight was one of those nights.

But it didn't matter.

No matter where he was, living with Mike made it impossible to function sometimes. Every time Mike walked by—sweaty from working out, or fresh from the shower with damp hair curling at the edges—Will’s eyes followed him involuntarily. It was automatic; like breathing. Like panic.

He just wanted to go up to Mike one day after a shower. Get on his knees and slide his pants down until his cock sprang free, maybe even catching Will by his lips, practically begging for him to suck it. He could already see Mike groaning, hitching his shirt up to expose his toned stomach and nicely formed pecs. He'd run a hand into Will's hair, pressing his face against his cock--

There was a gentle knock at the door.

Will breathed through his nose, willing his growing hardness to go away. It didn't take much effort as he already gotten weeks of practice.

“Will,” Mike said, voice low. “You down there?”

Mike.

Before he could answer, the basement door creaked open. And there he was-- Will watched as Mike stepped onto the stairs, closing the door quietly behind him.

Tank top. Damp hair. Shoulders slightly broad and toned, catching the low basement light.

Mike came down slowly, that familiar soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey.”

Will swallowed and straightened. “Hey.”

Mike scratched the back of his neck, muscles flexing. “Just— I thought you might’ve left or something. To Hopper's cabin."

Will blinked. “Why would I leave?”

Mike shrugged, stepping a little farther in. “Dunno. You’ve been kinda… quiet lately.”

Will’s eyes dropped to the floor. Of course Mike noticed. “I’m always quiet.”

"Not like this."

Will wanted to kiss him. Kiss him hard, kiss him sweet and never let go. Mike knew him too well, and yet...

“You didn't join us for dinner,” Mike said, dropping into the armchair across from him. “Mom saved you leftovers.”

Will nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Thanks. Just… I wanted to be by myself for a second.”

Mike leaned back, arms draped along the sides of the chair, casual in a way that made Will’s mouth go dry. His eyes scanned the basement like he needed an excuse to be here.

“I don't mean to push Will. I just- I don't know." Mike took a breath. “I… I worry.”

Will wished Mike was closer, next to him. He would hold him so close. “You don’t have to, Mike."

“I know,” Mike replied. “Doesn’t stop me.”

Silence folded in around them. There was a soft creak of floorboards from movement upstairs. The silence - it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm. Almost a sort of nice heaviness.

“I like it better when you talk to me,” Mike added, voice barely above a murmur.

Will’s chest tightened. He looked down, hands tightening around the blanket at his waist.

“I’m trying,” he finally said. “It’s just hard when you look like—” He stopped himself. What was he even saying?

Mike leaned forward slightly. “Like what?”

Will’s heart stumbled. “Like..."

Mike waited for him to finish, brows gently raised, plush lips parted in quiet anticipation. His eyes held a steady focus, wide and clear, catching the light in a way that made them look almost glassy.

Will stared at him in almost defeat.

"Like that.” He said quietly. “You're all strong now and..." He knew his face was rapidly turning a shade of pink, though he pretended not to notice. "You’re wearing these...muscle tops."

Mike was still for moment before he let out a soft, surprised laugh. He looked down at his tank like he was seeing it for the first time. “What—this? It’s just comfortable,” he said, tugging at the strap. “Mom also always has the thermostat at 80, so...”

Will wanted to crawl under the couch.

Will was in the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, wiping the mirror. He took a look at himself for a moment. His hair grew over the summer and he hadn’t been eating much. He looked… He didn’t like how he looked. Something in his appearance made him unsure; one moment he knew exactly who he was, and the next, he no longer recognized the person staring back at him. It was as if the face before him was someone else’s.

He clicked the bathroom light off.

In his room, he changed into his pajamas and hoped to sleep the insecurities away, though it was useless. They chipped at him with each breath he took and, no matter how often it affected him, it always hurt like it was the first time. He just felt all so wrong. In bed he tossed and turned until he couldn’t anymore, covers coming off. Laying still, a pale strip of moonlight lay across his chest. The cicadas sounded louder and the TV, droning. He tried to quell the familiar burn of an oncoming cry tightening his throat.

“I wish,” he whispered, trying to steady his voice, “I wish I had someone. Someone who would like me for me and that’d be okay. Where I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t have to change myself at all. And— and I wish…” He thought of the other day when he went to visit Lucas. Erica had warned him it wasn’t a good time, but he figured it was nothing until he was at Lucas’ bedroom door. It’d been cracked open enough where he could see what Lucas and Max were doing, or beginning to do.

“I wish I had someone,” he started again, closing his eyes, “someone to hold me too. To ki—kiss me. To show me what that feels like.” A flush began to color his face and he bit his lip, feeling strangely conscious under the moonlight. He pictured, faintly, someone drawing him close, whispering that Will was all he would ever need. It was his favorite daydream, and he lingered in it, savoring the quiet promise of relief. Again and again, he replayed the scene, letting it soothe him until his breath steadied and his eyelids grew heavy.

And then the cicadas were quiet. He no longer heard the TV.

But it was strange. He was still awake.

Will blearily peaked an eye open to the darkness.

A man was hovering him, arms on either sides of Will’s head.

“Hello, Will.”

His voice was light. He was staring at Will calmly, barely looking any older than his age, yet something about him told of maturity, of coming from an older time. He appeared almost made from marble.

Will couldn’t move. Fear had already paralyzed his bones.

“William.” The man said.

Will whimpered as the man gave a simpering smile. His too white teeth glinted with his paleness, his fangs noticeable above all. Will began trembling, his lips parting. He wanted to scream.

“You called for me and I heard you.” The man leaned close. His breath was cold. “I found you after this all time.”

Will shook his head, or at least he tried to. He only could lay there, eyes wide as the man nuzzled his neck, breathing him in. He scrunched his eyes shut. His heart began to pound. His body began feeling hot and his chest tight. He didn’t realize, but his hands, his arms - they were around the man’s back, hugging him closer.

“Will,” The man huffed a laugh into his neck, “as always, your body remembers me.”

This time, Will managed to shake his head—barely. "Though you never called me that," the man eased back, his gaze warm with something unspoken. “My name. It's Micheal."

The dread melted from Will in an instant then. It was as if it had never been there at all.

Out of his control, Will suddenly hugged Michael closer, bringing his body flush with his. Another sound escaped him, a gasp of relief, of… gratitude? He felt so different, so foreign, as if he were in a dream and who he was was not himself. And yet, he felt at total peace. In his mind, he felt a haze so heavy and a name that was now already at the tip of his tongue. He knew he felt in absolute love in this dream, in this haze.

“Mike.” He breathed.

He felt the man smile against his neck, hugging Will even closer. “That's me." He murmured.

Will smiled drunkenly, his hand now in his Micheal’s hair, the other still holding his back. His lips began to move though he felt not present. “Mike.”

“Fuck, Will.” In Will’s haze, he barely registered Mike’s heavy breathing before warm lips found his neck, sending a shiver through him. It was so ticklish that Will let out a breathy giggle, gently tugging at a handful of Mike’s hair, hoping to pull him away and make him stop. He felt a flicker of confusion when his hand did the opposite, pressing Mike’s face deeper into his neck, his fangs grazing his skin. At this, Mike’s movements grew urgent, lifting Will’s hips suddenly as he began slipping off his pants. Will didn’t even know who Mike even was, but he helped raise his own hips anyway, laughing shyly. The cool air hit his ass and Will felt his dick stiff and already leaking, some precum catching on his thighs.

Before he could let out a moan, Mike’s lips were on his, his tongue already sliding against Will's, over and over, hot and cold all rolling against each other. He moaned against Mike’s lips, unable to properly speak, unable to feel anything but complete rapture. He was so lost he barely realized his thighs had been spread apart and Mike was between them, undoing his own pants, freeing himself. Will felt it then, the hardness of Mike’s cock pressed against his as Mike aligned himself, groaning into Will’s mouth.

"It's been too long." Mike said, breathy as he held both of their dicks, rubbing himself against him. "I missed you, Will. I missed you so much."

It was already hot mess of precum, or just cum, Will couldn’t be sure. Somewhere in all the kissing, he felt he came already. He’d never done this before, with anyone for that matter, and here he was - moaning as Mike grabbed him by his jaw, making him stick out his tongue as he slid his own against it, kissing him deeply again and again, as if his life depended on it. Will nearly couldn’t breathe but he didn’t care. Never in his life had something felt so right as this. At some point, Mike then held either sides of Will's face, whispering his name over and over, trying to keep him still while his hips rutted jerkily, his own cock rubbing wetly against Will’s. And then Will was gone again, his eyes rolling back as he felt another orgasm hit him, cum dribbling all over Mike’s cock and some spilling on their chests.

“Mike.” His voice cracked. He had no idea what has happening anymore, only feeling his cock pulse in sensitivity and his throat so dry in how breathless he was. In his delirium, a memory flickered in his mind. A dream within a dream.

It was Mike, smiling at him. He was buttoning his waistcoat, giving him a gleeful eye. “You do know I’ll reject her proposal, right?”

Another memory. Mike, shirtless, burn wounds littered over his chest. A heart-shaped one over his cheek. Will saw a hand that looked much like his own come to ghost over it and Mike closed his eyes, leaning against it. “Will.” He murmured.

“Mike.” He heard himself say. In memory or in this dream, or in real life, he couldn’t be sure. He couldn't be sure what this was.

Will opened his eyes, not knowing when he closed them. Mike had sat up on his knees, raising Will’s legs to rest on either sides of himself. His dark hair was ruffled over his eyes and in the darkness of Will’s room, he looked like a breathing statue.

“Do you remember me now, Will?”

Will blinked sluggishly, breath still coming in quick bursts. It was only a moment before he lifted his hand hesitantly, and Mike leaned in, watching as Will’s fingers brushed the spot on his cheek where the heart-shaped burn had once been.

It’s several moments later and through the window, the burn of the late afternoon is gone. All that remains is the light from the moon. It illuminates some of Will’s face, sides partially obscured from some of Mike’s pillows. His lips are parted and his shirt is rumpled up to his collarbones. There, in his nakedness, his puffy nipples are somewhat perky - stuck between sleep and warmth and arousal. Mike’s eyes go south to Will’s soft belly that rises and lowers. It’s a little firm with slight ab indentations. It’s a little more than perfect.

“Is Will sleeping?” Mike stands still but El’s voice doesn’t get any closer from behind him. She stands outside the doorway.

“Yeah.” He says.

Eleven nods, he knows. “Your mother. She is asking for you to join dinner. Meatloaf.”

He half-turns. His hair is a mess over his eyes and he’s sure if he turns anymore, she will see Will the way he’s left him. When he tries to meet her eyes, she is looking down at her feet.

“Okay.”

She raises her eyes and Mike can see she misses him. In what way, he isn’t sure. “Okay?” She asks.

Their eyes continue meet evenly for a moment. He knows as well as she does that lying is tired game for them both. “Actually,” he looks off, “can you tell her I’m not hungry?”

“You would like to watch Will?”

Eleven’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes though she lingers, hoping for an opposite answer regardless. Mike just gives her a simple nod.

“Joyce will come up after dinner.” She presses.

Mike shrugs. “Tell her I’ll watch him tonight.”

He turns back to Will before she says anything else. Before someone else comes down the hallway and wonders where he is. He hears Eleven breathe through her nose and she is frustrated.

“Okay, Mike. I will let her know.”

And she leaves. The door slowly moves to the way it was, shut and locked…now with a pointed click. Mike squints in annoyance, his own words haunting him. I love you with and without your superpowers.

Will mumbles something in his sleep. His heart thuds and he realizes he’s back to being alone. It’s just him and Will. As it should be. But it’s different now.

His arousal is gone. He’s in reality. He almost did something. But no…he wouldn’t have.

(Will had fell asleep but then he looked knocked cold, had felt cold— was it the mindflayer, was it… him? Mike had raised Will’s shirt, splaying his hand on his chest, feeling the warmth, seeing rise and fall of it—and then he sat at Will’s side. Frozen, it seemed like. How could he get up? Felt like hours passed when it was just minutes. His hard-on thrummed with each hard beat of his own chest, the sight of his actions were in no comparison to the sight of an almost naked Will Byers.

When he finally got up, he thought he couldn’t take it anymore. Will’s soft nipples, his nice pecs and the peek of his briefs —)

The burning thought itches heavy on his skin.

I would have.