Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mike froze on the spot, blinking dumbly for a couple times. "You.. what?"

"I love you," Will confessed softly. It wasn't rushed, nor uncertain — as though it was something he had already made peace with. All those years ago. "I think I always have- actually. I knew I did. That's why Chance never fazed me one bit. It was because I was.. deeply.. madly.. irrevocably.. in love with you."

Mike's breath leaves him in a shaky exhale, and he couldn't help but feel those little spurts of fireworks in his heart.

He felt a touch on his shoulders that felt like waking fire, and he slowly leaned down just enough that his forehead nearly brushes Will's, his voice barely more than air.

"I.. I love you. I always have. Ever since we were little." He shook, feeling his vision blur from returning tears. But now it was of happiness. "I just didn't know how to say it without ruining everything- I was scared."

Will smiled - small, soft and unmistakeably for him. He could realize how different it was towards everyone, as if he was his epitome of joy. And he was blinded from jealousy to even realize sooner.

"You didn't," He says. "You played it."

Mike laughed quietly, something warm and disbelieving loosening in his chest.

And for the first time that night, the music inside him finally settled down, letting him rest. His heart leaped from it's trust fall, and he bit his lip, trying to hold himself back.

"Can you say that again..? I feel like.. I'm dreaming or something." He sheepishly asked.

Will only gave an amused laugh, "Oh you dork.." He stayed looking at him with admiration before leaning up to give a feverish kiss against his cheek, hands reaching to hold him close. "Between you and that jock.."

And then another kiss at the other side.

"Mike Wheeler, I choose you."

The raven haired boy swallowed nervously at his words.

For a second, he can't move – can't even speak. Because it felt as if he would, the moment would shatter – like glass struck at the wrong angle. His hands curl at his sides, and then slowly found its way to Will's waist, a bit hesitant. But it anchored itself there, unable to move anywhere else to prove himself it wasn't a dream. It was real.

"Yeah?" He whispered, voice still shaky like as if he still needed confirmation even until now. "You.. you're sure? Me? Mike Wheeler? The weirdo who can't play sports for his sake.. and has weird dream piercings..?"

"Yes, you, Mike Wheeler. The guy who can't play sports and has weird dream piercings.. who is also my best friend." Will nodded immediately, almost laughing with amusement at his starstruck expression all over again. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I choose love. I choose you."

And that did it for him - it broke down the dam of emotions, letting it flow loose.

Mike let out a breath that was yet again feeling as though trapped in his chest for years, and he leans in fully this time, pressing his forehead against Will's. He closed his eyes, letting himself exist in this — through this closeness, this certainty.

"Okay," He smiled happily. "Okay."

The brunet's thumbs brushed small absent circles against the back of Mike's neck, his arms rested on his shoulders as they stood in the middle of the hallway, grounded. It was affectionate in a way that made Mike's heart stutter all over again, twice more than he could ever imagine.

"Hey.." Will murmured, as though remembering something important. His eyes fluttered open, gazing up at the freckles on the taller man's skin that kissed it sweetly. "There's.. there's something I want to you though, I hope.. that's alright?"

Mike opened his eyes, slowly meeting his gaze. He smiles softly, "Right now?"

He gave the same expression in return, a little shy this time. "Yeah. I mean- I mean if you want. It's not.. loud there- or crowded. It's just.. me." He rambled, cheeks red. "It's.. the art club exhibit - you know? The one I was talking about.."

That was all it took for Mike to nod instantly, slowly stepping back to intertwine their fingers together. "Lead the way."

They then walked side by side down the dimly lit corridors, shoulders bumping ever so often like as if neither of them wanted so much space between them. The gym noise, as much as it was fading completely, still resonated through the speakers as Will pushes open a door near the back of the school – passing by the band's studio, Will's art club's room.

The room smelled faintly of dried paint and paper even from afar, and something familiar.

The door was left ajar as they entered to be enveloped by soft warm lights that were strung along the walls, illuminating the beautiful canvases propped carefully on easels and some on the wall.

A small yet unofficial exhibit – clearly thrown together by the art club, quiet and almost hidden away from the contrasting chaos inflicted by their prom night.

Mike slowed down as he takes in the sight of each artwork with amazement, feeling Will's gaze stuck on him – as if he was anticipating for something to happen soon.

"Oh," He breathes with surprise.

Will watched his face closely, smiling ear to ear. "They let us put it up tonight, Just for a few hours." He said sweetly, passing through the makeshift doorway – which was just a bunch of shining long party streamers that were taped on the ceiling that brushed past them.

Mike stepped inside, eyes moving from piece to piece with fascination. There were landscapes, abstract swirls of colour from one part of the gallery, and then ones of balanced sharp and soft lines that somehow conjured up a person's face.

And then he sees it.

There was a painting that stood out from the rest, near the far wall that only stood with one hue occupying it's vibrancy: Blue.

It was like as if he was staring at a mirror – because right there, he could see himself.

He, who had this half body position, leaning onto a his guitar that was probably resting forgotten at his feet – wearing the clothes he once wore one band practice when Will visited with his little sister and the rest. The colours were cool toned yet still felt warm to his heart, gentle even – familiar in a way that made Mike's throat tighten.

"That's.. me." He whispered out, glancing over to Will who beamed with the acknowledgement of his handiwork.

Will nodded shyly, hand letting go of him as it twisted together nervously – almost fidgeting. "I didn't mean for anyone else to really.. get. I just- I just needed it to exist somewhere. They asked to draw a muse, and.. I just thought of.. well, drawing you."

Mike turned back to him, eyes sheening with happiness. "I.. I became your muse?" He croaked out, heart skipping a beat. "Me?"

Will couldn't help but preen at the feeling, smiling with teary eyes. "Ofcourse you. It always has been. You've occupied by sketchbook way too much." He whispered. "And I guess we both thought the same, and expressed it in our own ways..?"

Mike broke into a shaky chuckle, "I suppose the same goes to you with my song writing." You're a poem meant to be written with love, Will Byers.

He then reached for his hand with no hesitation this time, fingers threading together as if they've always known how. He tried to calm the clammy feeling the other had by squeezing gently, grounding them both in the quiet silence.

"I'm really glad you showed me." He finally said, seeing Will shy away before giving a soft squeeze back.

"I'm really glad you stayed."

"Always."

They stood there together, surrounded by the beautiful colours and possibility that this night gave, finally slowing enough for them to breathe. And this time, neither of them were afraid of what was coming next.

They stepped over to the painting closely, and Mike gives a tentative hum, "I think you didn't get my nose right." He teased, making the other blush with embarrassment.

"Well- I mean- it would've been great if you just stood still. You moved a lot! You always do!" Will blurted, trying to defend himself.

"Hey, calm down, I'm just kidding!" Mike bursted into a fit of laughter, shaking his head. "I can't believe you flamed me just for doing what a guitarist does best."

Will pouted sulkily, looking down. "You just set me up."

"I'm sorry, baby." Mike cooed absentmindedly, saying the pet name as if it was something they've already done since before – he said it so casually, leaving Will staring at him with wide eyes, and red cheeks.

Will squeaked with surprise, "You just–"

But Mike was meanwhile oblivious (or perhaps trying to avoid being confronted at what he has just said), still looking at the painting when Will shyly leans in again, close enough that their shoulders touch — close enough that the warmth was impossible to even ignore.

The brunet cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I- are you okay?" He tried out.

Mike gave a delayed nod, before slowly shaking his head. He then laughed under his breath. "I'm - yeah. I just.. there's something that I should probably admit."

Will raised an eyebrow, amused. "That.. sounds ominous. What's wrong?"

He then gave an encouraging smile, one that Mike practically melted to every time.

He huffs out a nervous chuckle and leaned it, brushing a soft kiss against Will's temple, staring down at him with much love. Then another, closer this time – lingering a second too long. And he was tempted to do more.

"I was the one who asked the DJ to play The Clash," He admitted, voice low like it was meant to be a secret oath only for both of them. "Earlier. Before the song? I kinda.. had to pay to make you smile, because I thought that it would be great to do so before I would possibly ruin the night with my confession."

Will blinked once – then twice. "You.. did? That was you?" He exclaimed, laughing.

Mike nods quickly, cheeks rosy pink. "Yeah.. I figured if I couldn't say it out loud or back out before this, I could atleast..ask the universe to do it for me?" He said more of a question, biting back a smile. "And we know Mr. Jones hates The Clash.."

"I was about to say that!" Will giggled, scrunching his nose. "I noticed him. He was covering his ears, acting so dramatic!"

"He was probably going to track down whoever requested that– and perhaps.. lower my grades before the graduation?" Mike joked, shrugging his shoulders.

Will only gave a sweet melodic laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. He pulled Mike closer by the front of his tuxedo blazer, eyes sparkling. "You're ridiculous. That's the most Mike Wheeler thing you've ever said."

Mike grinned, ducking his head down to plant a soft kiss against the corner of his lips – hesitant to go to the real deal without asking.

The atmosphere grew more warmer as their laughter died down, and Will's half kissed eyes flickered it's gaze to his lips, before silently asking bashfully with his eyelashes batting slowly, "C..can we.."

Mike gave a small nod, before slowly letting their lips meet again – but to the place he had wished to touch the most. It was slow and filled with longing – more sure. His hands reached over to his waist and pulled him closer, feeling fingers curl the back of his hair as if to try it's best to meet him half way.

When they pull apart, the moment is interrupted by a sudden crackle from the speakers overheard in the room.

"Attention everyone," The announcer, Tammy Thompson, let her voice boom, cheerful and oblivious making the sound squeak, the two of them scrunching their noses with a laugh. "We have the results for our Prom King and Queen!"

Will froze infront of him, barely noticing how confident Mike was between the two of them. "Oh gosh.. I swear why did you even nominate me here? This is stupid–"

Mike snorted, "You're fine."

They let Tammy babble around for a little while, until the sudden announcement for Prom King started, their breaths uneven.

"And your Prom King for this year is— Will Byers!"

And for a moment, Will stared at the speaker with wide, dilated eyes.

"What?" He sputtered, dumbfounded. He could hear loud claps and cheers from the speaker, and then a honk from the car outside – which was probably Chance, who desperately tried to make it him for the second time.. and failed. "No, that– what?"

The cheers remained to erupt faintly in the gym, the sound muffled but noticeable.

Will turned to Mike, doe eyes wide – letting out a panicked half-laugh. "Mike– I didn't– I didn't even give a campaign, how did I win this?"

Mike pressed his lips together, clearly fighting a smile as he watched his outburst.

But Will noticed.

"Mike," the brunet whispered. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"..Okay." Mike let go of him and raised his hands, surrendering with a fake look of sadness. "You caught me. But you can't really ask questions, alright?"

Will narrowed his eyes, but still held this speechless smile. "What do you mean.."

Mike exhaled slowly, before blurting: "I voted for you."

Will blinked softly, shrugging his shoulders but finding it confusing. "That's.. sweet, but I don't understand why—"

"No." Mike interrupted quickly. "I voted for you– Like.. everytime."

And then silence filled the room for a fleeting second.

"... Every time?" Will repeated softly. "By every time.. what do you mean..?"

Mike rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "I may have done something bad – made a couple of deals in return for your favour.. I can't exactly explain how, it's a long story." He said earnestly. "I genuinely don't know how, the system shouldn't have let me but.. it did. With the help of people. And.. well, yeah. So I just kept going, and I can imagine the crowd of angry mobs at my doorstep after this moment because I didn't do the stuff in return.."

Will stares at him for a long second from the rambling, then bursted out laughing with his forehead dropping against Mike's shoulder. They could hear Tammy Thompson calling his name repeatedly as if to find him, but failed to do so – the boy barely wanting to head over.

"You made people vote prom – practically hacked prom.." He says between his laugh, finding this hilarious. "For me."