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Will felt a bit like he had felt after coming out of the Upside Down the first time. His throat was half-closed, his limbs were shaky, and the sense of relief pumping through his veins was overwhelming.
They knew. They all knew, and they all stayed. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t going to be alone.
People started filing out of the room, taking up positions for the final crawl. Most of his friends smiled at him before they left, or patted his shoulder. He wasn’t alone. He felt less alone than he had since he was five years old, and a boy on the swings made a best friend for life just by asking.
Speaking of, though.
Will knew that there was a difference between the abstract of desire and the reality of it. He knew there was a difference between just not wanting something and actively wanting something else. He knew that a future without friends was not the only thing he was afraid of.
Joyce and Jonathan hung back, staying with Will. He was sitting down again, trying to make his head stop spinning, trying to get over the adrenaline rush.
“Joyce!” Hopper yelled from outside. “Let’s go!”
Will rubbed at the tear tracks on his face, and smiled up at his family.
“Go, guys. Get in position. I’m fine.”
“You sure honey?” Joyce asked, squeezing his hand. “That was a lot.”
“I’m sure. I love you.”
“I love you too. You are so brave, and I am so, so proud of you. I’ll see you in a bit, ok?”
“Ok, mom. Be careful.”
“I always am,” Joyce said, ruffling his hair as she left. He tried to smooth it down, rolling his eyes at Jonathan, who laughed wetly.
“You are actually my hero,” he said.
Will laughed. “Me? For what?”
“That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. Do you know how long it took me to be honest with Nancy? Years, dude. You’re awesome.”
Will shook his head. “That’s different. That’s- direct. Jonathan?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you- when you go, can you just get Mike to come in here for a second?”
Jonathan’s eyebrows climbed halfway up his forehead, but he just nodded. “Yeah, no problem. See you out there, okay?”
“Okay.”
Will watched his brother go, bouncing his knee as quickly as he could. His breath was still shaky, he couldn’t stop moving, but he was resolved. He wasn’t going to hide anymore, and that included this.
Mike was his Tammy, yes, but he was also his best friend. Will had been in love with him for as long as he could remember, and he wasn’t over it. This would hurt, but it was necessary.
Telling his friends about himself had proved that. The truth had lifted a weight off his shoulders that he’d known was there, but he’d always been terrified of what was underneath. Turned out what was underneath was strength, and he had one more truth to tell, though it required a much smaller audience.
Will had meant every word he said, but he hadn’t said everything. He knew there was a difference between not liking girls, and liking boys. He couldn’t just confess to a lack of desire, he had to confess to its presence, because it was present.
His feelings for Mike had shaped him. His feelings for Mike had been the catalyst to make him realize that he was different. His feelings for Mike were more than just a projection on his way to self acceptance, they were a secret, his greatest secret, his greatest shame. They made him feel elated and unclean in turns, rejected and euphoric, everything from loved to abandoned to unforgivable.
Will would not let Vecna tell his secrets before he had the chance to. Mike didn’t need to know, but Will needed to tell him. It would hurt, but necessary things sometimes did.
Will remembered being ten, and getting his hand stuck between rocks when he and the party were playing. His fingers were being slowly crushed, a constant ache that paralyzed him. He was too scared to pull his hand out for fear of the pain.
He’d done it, eventually, with Mike grabbing his shoulders and telling him he could. It had hurt like hell, and it had probably saved his fingers from having the circulation irreparably cut off.
He was tired of this constant ache. He’d always thought that telling Mike would be ripping a bandaid off, but he knew now it was more than that. This wound had to be exposed to the open air, or it would never heal.
“Hey,” Mike said from the doorway, and Will looked up. His knee bounced somehow even faster.
“Hey.”
“Jonathan said to come in here?”
“Yeah.” The words were sticking in his throat.
“Um. Ok. Here I am. Is this about what you told us? Because I meant it when I said you’re not losing me. I’m really glad we’re best friends, Will.”
Will smiled at him, and patted the seat next to him. Mike sat. “So am I. It’s- it’s kind of about that. I have one more thing I need to tell you.”
“Oh,” Mike said. “Okay. Just me?”
“Just you,” Will said, and it was too true. Just you. He’d only ever wanted one person, only ever liked one person. He couldn’t imagine feeling what he felt—burning, butterflies, lead in his stomach, poison in his heart, a smile he couldn’t stop—for anyone else. He never had.
“Just you,” Will repeated. He couldn’t keep going. He’d imagined things, yes. He’d imagined this a million times, a million awful and wonderful ways. He’d imagined, when he couldn’t help it, things he knew were not true. He’d imagined both extremes of unlikelihood, from Mike’s face crumpling with disgust and a rift that meant they never spoke again, to Mike’s eyes lighting up and a reciprocal confession.
Will knew neither would happen. He knew Mike better than he knew himself. He knew Mike would say oh, and thanks for telling me, and I don’t- but I do really care about you, you know?
The things Vecna had shown him flooded his mind, drowning the things he knew. His worst imaginings left no room for reason or realism.
“Whatever it is, I still mean it,” Mike said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Even if I tell you that I actually like Empire more than Return of the Jedi, and I just sided with you so you wouldn’t be so outnumbered?”
Mike sat up, pointing at him accusatorially. “I knew it! You never voted for it!”
Will giggled, and Mike slumped back down in his seat. “But yeah, even then. You’re my best friend, even if your taste is obviously flawed.”
You have no idea, Will thought.
“Right,” he said. “Ok. I- I want to tell you this so that I can stop being scared of it. It’s not- not to make you uncomfortable, or anything. It’s just something I need to do. And I don’t need you to say anything, I mean that. I know how you feel. But you… um, you don’t know how I feel.”
Will risked a glance at Mike, saw the understanding dawning in his eyes, and looked back at his knees.
“I had- no, I have. Feelings. For you. The feelings that I was talking about, that you all have for girls and I don’t, I do have them, but not for girls, I,” Will took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. “I have them for you. I have for like- a really long time. An embarrassingly long time.”
“I’m not embarrassing!” Mike said. “I’m awesome!”
Will laughed, that same relief choking him again. He felt drunk on it, or how he imagined being drunk on something felt.
“El didn’t commission that painting did she?” Mike asked, and the laughter died in his throat.
“No. She didn’t.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize what you were saying.”
“I was working pretty hard hiding it,” Will said.
Mike nodded. “I’m still- I’m sorry. For everything. For especially, um. What I said? The day it was raining?”
Will desperately wanted to tell him he’d have to be more specific, that it rained many days every year, and that he might as well have said ‘that day that the grass was green,’ but he couldn’t. He knew exactly what Mike meant.
It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!
“Yeah,” Will said quietly. “Thanks.”
He wanted desperately to say he forgave Mike, but he didn’t. He couldn’t, not yet. His heart hadn’t healed. The wound was out in the open, now, but it was also open. So much time under bandages of unacknowledgement had never given it a chance to breathe, a chance to close, and exposure to the air made it sting like it was raw.
“So it is my fault, huh?” Mike said, and Will choked on a laugh.
“Your head is so big I’m kinda worried it’ll fall off,” Will said, grinning. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”
Mike smiled back, then went quiet again. Will wanted to tell him to stop thinking and go, that he didn’t need a whole deep conversation, that he was happy Mike knew but he’d watch only Return of the Jedi for the rest of his life if it meant they could drop it now and never talk about it again.
“You know you’re really important to me, right?” Mike asked.
Will groaned. “God, Mike, yes. You don’t need to do the whole ‘I love you but not like that’ thing. Seriously. I wouldn’t have even told you if not for- you know.”
“The fact that you have to go fight an interdimensional monster with your sick sorcery, and he can use your fears against you” Mike said, nodding.
“Yeah. That.”
“I think I do need to do it though,” Mike said in a rush. “Seriously, Will. You said you knew how I felt, but I think you don’t, because you thought there was something-anything that you could say that would make me stop caring about you, or wanting to be your friend. I- I know I haven’t always shown that, but there isn’t. There isn’t a single thing. I really do love you.”
But not like that, Will thought. The words echoed in their absence, and despite it all, despite the fact that he had known, that he still felt as free as he ever had, that he was so relieved to know that Mike would stay in his life, it hurt. It hurt worse than he’d imagined it could.
“I love you too,” he said, tongue too thick in his mouth.
Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “Ok. Best friends?”
Will smiled at him. “Always,” he said, and he meant it.
“We should probably go,” Mike said. “Good luck out there. You’re gonna do great. Seriously, you’re like, dauntless. Will- this was the most courageous thing anyone has ever done, and that includes all the monster fighting.”
Will smiled. Everyone else had said brave. Mike, who had been writing stories and getting As in English since they were in kindergarten, said courageous, and dauntless. Will loved him.
Mike walked out to take up his position, and Will let out a long breath.
It felt like finally coming up for air after years underwater, which was to say immense relief, but his lungs also hurt like he was dying. He wanted to cry, and he also kind of wanted to dance. He didn't have time to do either.
He wasn’t afraid anymore, and Vecna was going to learn that the hard way.