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It’s been several hours since the attack downtown. The attack that resulted in Will single-handedly taking down three demogorgons. Truthfully, he’s still not entirely sure how he did it. But when he was looking down at his friends — at Mike — through the eyes of the demos, it was almost like the power exploded out of him. Like it was instinctual. Innate.
But that power had drained him. After collapsing to the ground and wiping the blood from his nose, the last thing he can remember is Mike — the look of unabashed pride on his face — before the world went black. He remembers random scatterings of consciousness after that. His mother’s voice. The warmth of Mike’s arms as he carried him. The rise and fall of his chest against his cheek. By the time he had awoken fully, he was lying on the couch in the WSQK with six pairs of wide eyes looking down at him.
He endured the excessive fawning from his mother, who had practically pulled him into her lap and hadn’t let go since. He answered every question thrown his way the best he could, without going into too much detail. He couldn’t tell them about the film reel that played in his head, or about the impact Robin’s words had on him. He may feel a new sense of peace and self-acceptance thanks to her, but that doesn’t mean he’s inclined to tell a room full of people exactly where his preferences lie. Or with whom. That’s too personal.
Throughout the interrogation, Mike had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, parallel to the couch, with his arm resting on the cushion near Will’s legs. He was quiet, not asking a single question after his initial Are you okay? when Will had first woken up. But whenever Will would look over at him, Mike would be staring right back, his eyes filled with a quiet sense of relief and his mouth turned up in a soft smile. Will isn’t sure what to make of it, but regardless, Mike doesn’t leave his side, even as time ticks by with frenzied movement and voices of the others around them as they try and contact those still stuck in the Upside Down.
But after several hours of no response, they come to the reluctant conclusion that nothing else can be done at the moment, and exhaustion begins to creep in one by one — Erica, Lucas, then Murray — each of them slipping off to one of the makeshift bedrooms. Will can see Mike battling with himself to stay awake, but he ultimately loses, slumping further over the cushion as sleep takes him. His head rests on his arm, and the new angle leaves his elbow pressing gently into Will's calf, sending a surge of warmth up the rest of his leg. Will watches Mike from where he’s still leaning against his mother’s side. He sees the cut on his eyebrow, blood lightly soaking through the bandage. The freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. The curls resting on his forehead, strands defined by the water that has since dried. Despite everything they’ve been through, he looks so peaceful. He looks beautiful.
A lot of people don’t believe in love at first sight. And maybe they’re right. Maybe you can’t actually be in love with someone when you first lay your eyes upon them. But for Will, the love he has for Mike is probably the closest you can get to it. He has loved Mike for as long as he can remember. Some of his earliest memories are with Mike, and even if he can’t recall everything, he can always remember exactly how it felt in that moment. Love feeling just as tangible as any physical detail. He’s not sure exactly when that love began to change into something romantic — there was never a specific lightbulb moment. The feelings just slowly began to bubble under the surface until one day, they were threatening to boil over, and he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. So he stopped trying. He’s in love with Mike. Will Byers is in love with Mike Wheeler. It’s the same as saying the sky is blue and the grass is green. It just is. It runs so deep, it’s like a physical part of him. It’s as innate as him being a sorcerer.
“I’m gonna try and get some sleep…Do you guys need anything?”
The voice comes from behind the couch, an octave too loud, causing Will’s and Joyce’s heads to snap toward the source. Robin. He had almost forgotten she was still awake. She’s clutching a notebook and the walkie in one arm as she shifts her weight tirelessly between feet, despite the visible exhaustion in her features. Mike stirs slightly, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before ultimately falling shut again.
Will holds a finger to his lips and shushes her gently, then points to Mike. “Quiet, he’s sleeping.”
Robin’s eyes widen as she covers her mouth with her hand guiltily. “Sorry,” she whispers, stepping closer to the couch.
“It’s okay.” Will smiles. “We’re all good here, I think. Thanks.” Joyce nods in agreement.
Robin gives them a quick thumbs up, beginning to turn away but pausing, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “Mr. Demo-Slayer, can I just say…that might’ve been one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. I thought I was a goner, and then it just…snap-crackle-popped right in front of me.”
Will can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him as he ducks his head sheepishly. “It was kind of all thanks to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“When the demos were after you guys… Well, I uh…I heard your voice. What you said when we were in the tunnels.” He pauses, glancing to the side at his mother, who’s watching him patiently, then looks back to Robin again. “It helped. More than you know.”
Robin’s expression softens. She brings her free hand to Will’s cheek for a moment, gently holding his face. “I’m glad. But that was all you. You’re braver than you give yourself credit for, you know.”
Will blushes despite himself, ducking his head again as Robin pulls her hand away. He doesn’t really know what to say without going in circles about who was more responsible for what happened, so instead he lands on, “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” she says, squeezing his shoulder once before turning and heading up the stairs to the bedrooms.
He smiles to himself as he stares after her. Robin is probably one of the strangest people he’s ever met. Not in a bad way — the opposite, really. Her ability to be exactly who she is is inspiring to him. He’s so grateful that he accidentally walked in on her and Vickie in the hospital, because despite the way that sight rocked his entire world, the subsequent friendship and guidance he’s gained from her afterward has been nothing short of life-changing. Knowing that there are other people out there who are like him — and that they are happy — gives him hope that he can have that too.
He glances back down at Mike, who’s still fast asleep. His body is trembling slightly, and Will can see the goosebumps on his arm where his blue sweater has been pushed up. Without thinking twice, Will grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and sits up, carefully draping the soft fleece over Mike. In his sleeping position, the blanket doesn’t stay up that well, but he curls into it, and it eventually seems to help with the shivering.
He can feel his mother’s eyes on him as he does it, and his stomach flips at the thought of her reading the action for what it is. The love he feels for his best friend. The meticulous care he yearns to give him. So, it catches him off guard when she finally speaks. “She’s grown on me. Robin. She seems good for you.”
There is a slight edge to her voice that has Will quickly meeting her gaze. Her lips are quirked up at the corners, and her eyebrow is cocked knowingly. It takes Will a minute to process what she’s insinuating, because the idea seems so ridiculous. But when realization sets in, his eyes widen, and it takes everything in him not to burst into laughter.
“Oh god, Mom, no,” he says, shaking his head frantically. “We’re not… No. Just no. It’s not like that. We’re just friends.”
Joyce’s face clouds with a flush of embarrassment. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I just thought… I don’t know. You two got close pretty quickly.”
Will shakes his head, his heart pounding in his chest. His mother has never directly asked him about crushes or dating, and Will always greatly appreciated it. But deep down, he always wondered if maybe she already knew about him. Mothers always seem to know things. Especially his mother, who seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to Will.
Will was always what people would call a sensitive kid, which is just a nicer way of saying Your kid’s a faggot. He’s been called every name under the sun, starting with his father as early as kindergarten, and his mother has heard it all. There’s no way she’s never had the suspicion that maybe all of those people were right.
He wonders what she would say if he told her. He wonders if she would still love him. She seems to love him now, even if she may suspect. But he knows it’s different when you still have the benefit of the doubt on your side. Maybe that’s why she asked about Robin. Maybe she was holding out hope that he was actually into girls. But thinking about it now, he gets how his and Robin’s friendship might look to anyone else. It’s likely his mother is genuinely asking because of how his adoration for Robin comes across.
What if he just told her?
Would it be the end of the world?
No, the end of the world is already happening, and it has nothing to do with his sexuality.
There was a time when he told his mother everything, but as he grew, he had more and more things to hide. It’s exhausting, and he’s so tired of holding everything in. Jonathan knows. Robin knows — at least he’s fairly sure she does after everything she shared about Vickie. And it feels so good to have other people know this about him. Other people who love him regardless.
He wants that with his mother. He doesn’t want to hide who he is from her anymore. And maybe Robin’s words are still fresh on his mind and coursing through him, but he decides this is the time to do it.
Will clears his throat, keeping his gaze fixed toward the end of the couch so he doesn’t have to look at her reaction. “It’s okay.” His voice has started shaking, but he tries his best to keep it steady. “I get how it might look. She’s just…She’s been helping me a lot. Helping me be okay with…with who I actually like.”
He looks at Mike as he says it, and with the angle of his gaze, it has to be obvious to his mother what he’s implying. His heart pounds erratically in his chest, and his fingers are shaking so badly that he has to squeeze his hands together in his lap.
A tear streams down his cheek against his will as he glances at her desperately. Please get it. Please don’t make me say it. Please still love me.
More tears fall as he braces for her reaction.
Her face softens instantly with understanding, and before Will can process, she’s pulling him into her chest, almost cradling him as silent sobs begin to wrack his body.
“I know, baby,” she soothes, running her fingers through his hair. “I get it, it’s okay. I love you so much. Always. Nothing will ever change that.”
The relief he feels is so sudden and overwhelming, it knocks the breath out of him. His whole body relaxes as he allows himself to sink into the warmth and safety he hadn’t realized he’d been craving this badly. He lets himself be held by her for a long time, reveling in the quiet comfort of her arms.
Eventually, his sobs taper off into uneven breaths, and he adjusts his body so his head is in her lap as he looks up at her. She smiles gently down at him, wiping away the rest of his tears with her palm, then runs her hand along the light stubble forming on his jaw.
“You know, sometimes I don’t even realize how fast you’re growing up. Sometimes, I still see you as the sweet, innocent little boy who would spend hours at the kitchen table, showing me every drawing he did and making me hang them on the fridge. Or who would run around the house in the wizard costume that Jonathan made, pretending to cast spells on us until he was rolling on the floor with giggles.” She runs her fingers through his hair again in a soothing, repetitive motion. “But sometimes…as much as I wish I could keep you as my baby forever, I treat you like you’re still that little boy. And Will, I’m sorry for that. As you’ve grown up, and as the world has changed and turned into something…crazy, it’s become harder and harder to protect you from it. But you’re growing up to be such a kind, strong, and brave man, and it’s just been hard for me to accept that you don’t need me to protect you from it anymore.”
Eyes threatening to well up again, Will takes his mother’s hand in his own, squeezing tightly. “I’ll always need you, Mom. I just…I need you to trust me.”
She nods as she squeezes his hand in return. “I know. And I do. I promise.”
She leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, knowing that in any other scenario, she probably wouldn’t get away with it without protest. Will welcomes it now, feeling lighter now than he ever expected. A comfortable silence passes until Joyce squeezes his hand again.
“So… Does he — Does he know?” She asks gently. Her head tilts toward Mike, and Will’s face instantly heats up.
“No,” he whispers. “I mean — God, no. I don’t think I could ever tell him.”
“You don’t think he feels the same?”
He shakes his head quickly, then hesitates for a moment. “I —”
The thing is, the chance of Mike liking him back is realistically not likely. Will is just a classic, doomed case of falling in love with your childhood best friend, only this time, there’s the added disadvantage of that friend being a boy. Statistically, it’s just not going to happen.
However, since moving back to Hawkins and into the Wheelers’ house, things have been...different. After hardly any contact from Mike while in California — not even so much as a letter — it’s like a flip has been switched, and Mike has been glued to his side ever since. For a year and a half, it seemed like the only time apart had been at night when they went to their separate bedrooms (or the basement in Will’s case). Every waking moment would be spent together — eating meals, biking to school, watching TV, babysitting Holly.
Mike and El broke up shortly after returning to Hawkins, and though they decided not to tell anyone, Mike couldn’t hide it from Will, and he’s pretty sure his mother and Hopper figured it out not long after. So, with Mike no longer dating anyone, all the time spent together has been reminiscent of when they were kids. Will doesn’t mind this at all, though. In fact, it’s been the happiest he’s been since before they knew the Upside Down even existed.
But lately, there have been moments when it’s felt different from how it used to be. Or maybe Will is just more aware of it, given his realized feelings for Mike. Either way, he’s noticed how often Mike touches him now. It’s nothing crazy, just a random brush of shoulders at the dining table, or Mike grabbing his arm to get his attention, even when the contact isn’t necessary. Additionally, he’s caught Mike staring at him more. There have been times when Will would be painting or sketching in his notebook, and he’d look up to see Mike quickly diverting his gaze, face flushed.
Will has never let himself think about what these things could mean, too scared to get his hopes up when in reality it’s probably nothing. But when he found out that Robin was like him, he couldn’t help himself. He had to know if he was seeing things that weren’t there, even just for his own peace of mind. So when she told him, A brush of the knee, a bump of an elbow, a shared look, and how the snowball turned into an avalanche, Will felt the first inkling of hope surge through him that maybe his feelings weren’t as one-sided as he thought.
But when he worked up the courage to test the waters, outright flirting with Mike for the first time in his life and signaling to him, Hey, if you pick up on this, I’m interested, Mike’s reaction had been…confusing. Will could not for the life of him make out his expression. He had smiled back at him, and his cheeks seemed to pink up slightly, so Will is fairly sure Mike knew it was flirting, but he didn’t really reciprocate. All his previous words and expressions could be simply chalked up to him hyping Will up about his newly acquired abilities. Mike didn’t react badly to it — everything is still the same between them — so that’s relieving at least. But he used to be able to read Mike so easily, and since California, it’s become almost impossible to know what he’s thinking most of the time. So as it stands, Will doesn’t know where that leaves them.
Finally, he shrugs. “I — I don’t think so.”
Joyce presses her lips together, then glances over at Mike, who’s still sound asleep against the end of the couch. Her expression turns thoughtful. “I won’t pretend to know what’s going on in that boy’s head,” she whispers, huffing a soft laugh. “But I’ve seen how he is with you.”
Will’s heart rate spikes. “Mom — “
“What you two have has always been different from how it is with your other friends.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “Do you think he would be sleeping at the foot of Dustin’s bed like this? Or Lucas’s?”
Will goes to deny it, but he knows she has a point. He knows that if it were any of their other friends in his position, Mike wouldn’t be camped out uncomfortably on the floor, refusing to leave like this. He would visit and maybe have a nap in a chair across the room, but he wouldn’t hesitate to take a break. He would go get food or go home to sleep before eventually returning. But every time Will has been in the hospital or sick or infected with the Mindflayer, Mike has always been there, never leaving his side. It seems like it should be such an obvious revelation, but in reality, it’s always been this way between them, so it takes an outsider pointing out how it’s not normal for everything to come into perspective.
He’s suddenly hit with a wave of nausea from how high his blood pressure is spiking, and he finally sits up, returning to his original position leaning against his mother’s side. “No. No, he probably wouldn’t.”
She smiles knowingly. “You know, growing up, you and your brother used to follow each other everywhere. Jonathan always tried to be the brave one, but in reality, he always looked to you first. He always watched what you were doing.” She pauses, voice growing warmer. “And when you met Mike, it was the first time I saw you do that with someone else.”
“What do you mean?”
Joyce reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “I mean, you trusted him. Right away. And you don’t do that with many people.” She hesitates a beat, then adds. “But as you grew up, it was like your dynamic changed, and you began looking to him first. Closing yourself off a bit. You let him lead and decide things even if you knew it might not be for the best sometimes.”
It’s quiet for a moment as she lets her words settle around them. Then she sighs softly and continues. “Listen, baby, I can’t know either way, but if he does feel something, he might not understand it, and he’s probably terrified of it. I know he cares about you and trusts you deeply, so what I’m trying to say is that I think it might be time to be brave for both of you. You be the leader for a change. Tell him how you feel. Or at least…who you are.”
Will exhales shakily, looking down as he wrings his hands in his lap. “Mom, I — I don’t want to make things weird with him. Or ruin anything.”
“You won’t ruin anything by being who you are. Not with him.”
“You don’t know that.”
She smiles. “I do. Because that boy has stuck with you through things that most adults couldn’t handle. He loves you. Whether it’s in the same way as you or not, it doesn’t matter. But I think it’s possible that he does, and if the world might be ending soon, don’t you want to find out for sure?”
He glances up at Mike then, his throat tight with barely restrained emotion. He watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest for a moment. The flutter of his eyelashes on his cheeks. The way his lips are parted just slightly. The sight brings him an overwhelming sense of peace.
He exhales. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”