Archive of Our Own ^beta

One

Will was sitting on the couch in the basement, his knees tucked up in front of him to make a steady surface for his sketchbook. He didn’t know how long he had been drawing for. The sketches had started as whatever he saw around the room—the table, an old candle, the replica of the Millennium Falcon, and everything of Jonathan and Will’s that was scattered around. Then, inexplicably, the sketches had turned to eyes, a nose, lips, and oh shit, he was drawing Mike again. 

Once Will realized it, he glanced around the basement, as if someone might have come down unnoticed and was waiting to catch him in the act. But the room was as empty as ever, and Will felt his shoulders relax a little as he turned back to his sketchbook. He continued the sketch, each line a testament to the years he had spent memorizing every detail of Mike’s face. It was easy to draw. Easier than the half-used candle or Millennium Falcon, even though those were right in front of him, and Mike was all the way at Hopper’s cabin. 

Will finished the sketch of Mike, and he told himself that was enough. The moments he had already stolen thinking about his friend’s face were all he needed, and now he could return to the pointless sketches that never turned out as pretty as the ones of Mike—and shit, he was drawing Mike again. Will sighed and let his heart guide his hand. If he ended up drawing multiple pages of Mike (not for the first time, mind you), then that was his business.

The door to the basement creaked open, and Will hastily turned to a new page of his sketchbook before looking up to see who it was. Will inhaled a little too quickly when he saw the same person he had been drawing moments prior. 

Mike stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at Will as if he wasn’t quite sure he should be there. Then, as if making a decision, Mike nodded to himself once and hurried down the stairs quickly enough that Will was worried he was going to trip.

“Hey,” Mike said, pausing once he got to the bottom step. His voice was a little breathless, as if he had just been jogging and hadn’t given himself enough time to recover before coming down here. There was a conflicted look in his eyes, and his face betrayed uncertainty. 

“Hi?” Will said, confused when Mike just continued to stand across the room from him, fidgeting with his hands. Will closed the sketchbook, placing it on the table. “You okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike reassured him, seeming to snap back to reality. “I’m fine.” He took a few steps toward Will. “I just—it’s El.” 

“Is she okay?” Will asked, alarmed.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Mike said. “She’s good. Great, really. Single, now.” 

It took Will a few moments to fully register what Mike had said. El was fine. She was also single. Which meant that she and Mike had broken up, which also meant that Mike was single. Single, but still straight, Will had to remind himself.

“Oh,” Will said, trying to keep his voice level. “I’m sorry.” Mike stood there for a beat longer, and then, the next thing Will knew, Mike was at his side, sitting on the couch and leaning into Will.

This was not the time for Will to get caught up in simple touches. Mike had sat so close to Will because he wanted comfort after a breakup. Will should not by any means read into the fact that their arms and legs were brushing and that Mike was now lying his head on Will’s shoulder. But also, Mike was lying his head on Will’s shoulder, and Will couldn’t pay attention to much else.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Will asked, forcing himself to sound unaffected by how close they were. “The breakup, I mean.”

Mike took a breath, not responding for a second. “It was mutual,” he finally said. “I mean, mostly mutual. El said she needed to focus on fighting Vecna, and being with me wasn’t helping her focus. She said, uhm,” Mike paused, and Will felt him tense. Will waited patiently for him to continue. “She said that I didn’t support her in the way she needed, and that she wasn’t mad, but she didn’t think I loved her.”

“Oh,” Will said. “What did you say?”

“I wanted to say I loved her,” Mike said, and Will pretended the words didn’t stab at his heart a bit. “But I couldn’t do it. It’s not that I don’t care about her,” Mike rushed to add. “But I don’t know if I love her the way I should. I don’t think I do.” Mike sounded lost, and Will felt his heart ache for him. “I tried to tell her that, but it probably came out all wrong because nothing I say ever comes out right.” He looked guilty, and before Will could overthink it, he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, hugging him. 

“Well, did she seem mad?” Will asked.

Mike shrugged one shoulder. “No,” he admitted. “Just a little sad. She said she didn’t think we should be together, and I agreed. I just feel… I don’t know.”

“Sad?” Will guessed.

Mike snorted. “That’s the thing. I should feel sad, but part of me is just relieved that it’s over.” He turned his face, burying it in Will’s shoulder. Will ignored the way it made his stomach flutter. “I’m horrible,” he said, his voice muffled.

“You're not,” Will said softly. Carefully, making sure not to let any hope slip into his voice, he added, “Maybe you two just weren’t right for each other.”

“Yeah,” Mike sighed. “Maybe.” 

This was when Will expected Mike to pull away and either switch the subject or continue moping on his own. Will removed his arm from around Mike’s shoulder, allowing him to leave. Mike lifted his head.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked, sounding offended. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion.

“What?” Will said. “I figured you’d want your space.”

“No,” Mike said decisively. “Right now, I want you.” Will felt his face flush. 

“Oh, uh, okay,” Will stuttered, returning his arm and hoping that Mike wouldn’t see the red staining his cheeks. Apparently satisfied, Mike rested his head on Will’s shoulder again, a smile playing on his lips that made Will’s chest warm. Since Mike was full of surprises today, he then decided to wrap his arms around Will’s waist, hugging him back.

Was this how friends comforted each other after a breakup? It must be, Will reasoned, because why else would Mike insist that they remain so close to each other? This was normal behavior for friends. Very normal, even. It just felt a little strange because they had only been living together for a few weeks, and before that, they’d barely spoken to each other for six months. 

“Thanks, Will,” Mike murmured, and he sounded tired, like he might fall asleep like this. Very, very normal behavior. Will was not losing his mind. Everything was fine. 

Two

Nine days passed after Mike and El’s breakup, during which Mike acted as he always had around Will. Not that Will was counting the days or paying excruciatingly close attention to every interaction they had or anything. That would be weird. Because Mike was straight, and their extended hugging session was just something friends did with each other after one of them went through a breakup. Nothing strange about it at all.

Then, movie night happened.

Dustin and Lucas had come over for their third movie night since Will had returned to Hawkins, and were both sitting on the couch, fighting over a bowl of popcorn while Mike set up Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Will had taken the armchair for himself, leaving an open spot on the couch for Mike. But when Mike finished setting up the movie, he walked over to Will and began pushing him to the side of the chair.

“What are you doing?” Will asked, more than a little startled when Mike sat next to him, throwing his legs over Will’s for lack of space. “Mike!”

Dustin and Lucas stopped fighting over the popcorn, turning to watch Mike incredulously.

“Dude, there’s room on the couch,” Lucas said, patting the space next to him. 

Mike looked from the spot Lucas patted to Will, and shrugged. “I’m comfortable here,” Mike dismissed. 

“Isn’t there someone you forgot to ask about that arrangement?” Dustin asked, raising an eyebrow, his eyes darting between Mike and Will. 

Mike looked at Will, taking in his stiff posture and the way he was being pushed uncomfortably into the side of the chair. He bit his lip thoughtfully. “Here,” Mike said, and grabbed Will’s waist, dragging him so that he was sitting on top of Mike, his legs hanging over one of the armrests and his back leaning against the other. “There,” Mike said. “Better?”

“Uh,” Will started, his brain not comprehending anything past the moment Mike had decided to grab his waist. The spots Mike had touched felt hot, like his hands were still there, and Will found himself feeling a little warmer than before. “What?”

“Are you comfortable?” Mike asked, searching Will’s face. 

The armrest was digging into his back in a somewhat awkward way, but Will found himself answering yes anyway. So what if Will was willing to be a little uncomfortable if it meant he got to have Mike this close to him again? Was it self-indulgent? Yes. But it wasn’t his idea. He was just going along with Mike’s whims, which, really, is what he’d done ever since meeting him a decade ago, so this was on brand for him.

Lucas and Dustin shared a look, snickering. “Oh, Mike, hold me,” Lucas said dramatically, throwing himself over Dustin’s lap. “I can’t bear to be three feet away from you!”

“Not what happened,” Will said, glaring. “I didn’t ask for this!”

“You didn’t object,” Dustin grinned, then turned to Lucas seriously. “But he makes a good point. Mike should be the target.”

Lucas contemplated this for a moment, then nodded, pushing himself off Dustin. He cleared his throat. “Oh, Will, I need you near me! Please, let me sit with you in your chair that can’t reasonably sit two people!” He grabbed Dustin’s arm, who yelped as he was yanked so that he landed on top of Lucas. “Are you comfortable, Will? Do you like sitting with me?”

“Not funny,” Mike bit out coldly, and Will looked up to see him scowling. Maybe he was imagining it in the low light, but he thought Mike almost looked embarrassed, his cheeks a little pinker than usual.

“Okay, but you can’t expect us not to make fun of you when you pull shit like that,” Lucas said, shoving Dustin off him. 

“Hey!” Dustin protested. “Don’t push me! But also, Lucas is right. You’re clingy when it comes to Will, Mike, and it’s our job to make sure you never hear the end of it.”

“I’m not clingy,” Mike insisted. 

“Clingy like a boyfriend,” Lucas said sagely.

“What?” Will squeaked. 

“It’s kind of true,” Dustin said, clearly mulling it over to Will’s horror.

“Don’t be weird,” Mike snapped. “I don’t act like a boyfriend to Will. He’s—well, he’s Will.” 

Will bit down on his tongue to stop himself from showing any emotion in response to that. “What’s that mean?” Will challenged, grateful when his voice didn’t shake.

Mike looked at him, his eyes widening for a second, as if he’d forgotten Will was there, which only made the aching in Will’s chest at the statement hurt worse. “Nothing!” Mike said quickly. “I just meant, well, you know.”

“I really don’t,” Will said flatly. Mike would never act like Will’s boyfriend because it was weird—because Will was Will. Did Mike mean it was weird because Will was a boy, or because Will was himself, and Mike couldn’t ever imagine being romantic with someone like him? He didn’t really want to think about it. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to keep sitting here. Will started sitting up, getting ready to get off the armchair.

“Will, wait!” Mike said, panicked. He pushed a hand against Will’s chest, causing him to fall back into his original position. Will’s eyes widened at the action. Mike seemed to realize what he did a moment later and added, “Shit, sorry, you can get up if you want.” 

Will considered it for a second. “No,” he said, relaxing against the armrest. “I want to hear what you were going to say.”

Mike looked up at Dustin and Lucas, and then back down to Will. He looked nervous, Will noticed, which was certainly interesting. Don’t read into it, Will reminded himself.

“I just meant,” Mike began, “that I act like this toward you because of how close we are. As friends. So if I’m clingy, it’s just because you’re, well, you’re you. You’re my… good friend.” Will could’ve done without the clear clarification that they were friends, but he supposed it was fine. He knew what Mike meant, at least. They were close, so sometimes they acted in ways that might not seem entirely platonic to others, but was nonetheless. 

“Okay,” Will shrugged, and Mike’s shoulders fell in relief at the casual tone. “I get it.”

“Can we watch the movie now?” Dustin asked. 

They agreed, turning their attention to the TV. What must have been thirty minutes later, Mike leaned his head down so his mouth was close to Will’s ear. “We’re good?” he asked, sounding anxious, as if he had been wondering this whole time if Will was mad at him.

Will took one of Mike’s hands in his own and squeezed it reassuringly. “We’re good,” he confirmed. He tried to let go of Mike’s hand, but Mike tightened his grip, making it clear that wasn’t happening. Will released a short, amused breath through his nose and moved their hands so that they were resting on Will’s chest.

And, okay, maybe this wasn’t normal for most friends, but it was normal for them, and Will was not going to overthink it. They were friends. Friends who held hands and sat in each other’s laps sometimes. And it was totally, completely normal.

Three

Will stirred the green paint on his palette, adding a dab of white to lighten it. He was working on a new painting for Mike. Its purpose wasn’t to confess his feelings or anything like that, though he supposed now that Mike and El had broken up, it would be as good a time as any. But no, it was just a gift with no purpose other than to make Mike smile. Will would do a lot to make that happen. 

So far, he had only started on the landscape—a pond which would eventually be filled with colorful fish, a frog, and lily pads with pink flowers on them. Overhanging the pond was a tree, its leaves a bright green. Kneeling under the tree was going to be Mike. Not as a paladin, this time, but just as himself.

Will was so focused on the painting that he didn’t hear when someone came down to the basement. He was stirring more paint when arms draped around his shoulders and someone’s chest pressed up against his back, causing Will to freeze. 

“Hey,” Mike said softly, his mouth near Will’s ear, and Will was really going to need him to stop doing that. 

“Hi,” Will responded, matching Mike’s quiet volume. Mike’s hands were dangling near Will’s chest, and Will hoped Mike wouldn’t move them any closer, or else he’d definitely be able to feel the quick beating of his heart. Trying to regain a sense of normalcy, Will continued stirring the paint before bringing the paintbrush to the canvas. His hand wasn’t as steady as he’d like it to be, but he could make it work.

Will waited for Mike to say something, to explain why he was hugging him from behind, but Mike only watched over Will’s shoulder as he continued to paint. “Uhm,” Will said once a minute had gone by in silence. “Any reason why you’re down here?” 

Mike shifted his left arm so he could rest his chin on Will’s shoulder. “Wanted to see what you were up to,” he answered much too casually for the position they were in.

“And now you know,” Will said, cursing his voice for sounding as nervous as he felt. 

“Are you asking me to leave?” Mike chuckled. It sounded tense. Will shook his head. “Good,” Mike said, relieved. “I like watching you paint.” And just like that, they were back to silence. 

Why has he been like this lately? Will wondered. First, there was the time after the breakup when Mike had come to Will for comfort, and they had ended up hugging each other on the couch for way too long, and then the movie night happened, and now this? Mike was being a bit more than clingy. He was acting like he had a right to invade Will’s personal space whenever he felt like it. Not that Will minded—Will liked his personal space, but he would always make an exception for Mike—he just couldn’t find a platonic explanation for someone doing this. Saying it was just how they acted with each other didn’t feel like a good enough explanation anymore.

That was a dangerous thought, though. Assuming Mike felt more for Will than just regular friendship was bound to blow up in Will’s face and leave him hurting. He didn’t want to put himself through that.

Will wasn’t sure how long he’d been thinking to himself when Mike asked, “What’s the painting for?”

“What’s it for?” Will said, scrunching his brow.
“Yeah, like, is there a reason you’re making it?”

“I like to paint,” Will answered, not willing to tell Mike that it was for him. It was meant to be a surprise.

“Yeah, of course. That’s cool,” Mike said. He didn’t sound like he thought that was very cool.

“Cool,” Will echoed, a little confused.

Another minute passed.

“So, is it for anyone?” Mike asked, apparently not done pushing the topic.

“Maybe,” Will said. “Does it matter?”

“What? Of course it matters,” Mike spluttered disbelievingly. “Someone being given your art—it’s like being given part of you. It’s beautiful and special, and it shouldn’t be taken lightly. It’s yours. Not everyone deserves it.”

“Mike,” Will said through a smile, stopping him before he could continue saying nice things that would keep Will up at night. “That’s really sweet of you to say, but I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. I like painting, and it’s just a fun gift I can give to people.”

Mike’s arms tightened around Will. “Other people have been given your art before?” he asked, something strange in his voice that Will couldn’t place.

“Yeah?” Will said, not sure what the problem was.

“Who?” Mike demanded. Will raised an eyebrow at his tone. The answer was his mom and Jonathan, but if Mike was going to be all weird and angry about this, then Will wasn’t going to tell him. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replied shortly.

Mike raised his chin off of Will’s shoulder and dropped his arms to his side. He took a step back from Will, who mourned the contact for a moment before placing his palette on the table and turning away from his canvas to face Mike. 

“You should tell me,” Mike stated. “I have a right to know.”

“You have a right to know?” Will scoffed. 

“Yes,” Mike insisted. “I need to make sure whoever is given your art deserves it. So, who’s the painting for?”

Mike had to be joking. The only explanation for this was that he was joking. But Will knew Mike, and nothing about him—not his tone, his posture, or his expression—said that this was funny to him. Will watched him curiously.

“Does it bother you that I make art for other people?” Will asked, despite it not being entirely true. He hadn’t given his mom or Jonathan any of his art in years.

“I—” Mike started to say something before cutting himself off, looking at the ground. “No,” he muttered. “You can do what you want.”

“It does,” Will said, slightly amazed. “You don’t like the idea of me giving this painting to anyone other than you.” Will laughed at the realization, and Mike’s head snapped up.

“You don’t have to laugh,” Mike said, and Will immediately recognized the insecurity in his voice, the laughter dying in his throat. “I just thought that the drawings you’ve given me were… I don’t know.”

“You thought they meant something,” Will said before realizing how that sounded. Like they meant nothing. Hurt flashed in Mike’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Mike said, shrugging helplessly. He began backing away, his eyes not meeting Will’s. “I guess I did.” Mike turned toward the stairs.

“Mike,” Will said, stepping forward to grab Mike’s arm before he could get away. Mike didn’t turn to face him. “All the drawings I’ve given you—they meant something. They meant a lot.” More to me than I ever hoped they’d mean to you, Will thought. 

“And this painting?” Mike asked, still not turning around. “Does it mean a lot?”

“Yes,” Will answered, because all the art he made for Mike felt like it was infused with his feelings for him. “Of course it does.”

Mike finally turned to him. “So who’s it for?” he asked desperately, and Will knew he had to tell the truth, surprise be damned.

“You,” Will said gently. “Always you.” 

“Oh,” Mike said. They stared at each other for a while, the basement quiet around them. Will noticed Mike’s gaze drop below his eyes, but it raised just as quickly, and he thought he must have imagined it. “Always?”

“Other than when I used to give my drawings to my mom and Jonathan, yeah. You’re the only person who gets them.” Will realized he was still holding onto Mike’s wrist, and he let it go, Mike’s hand falling back to his side.

“So that painting, it’s for me?” Mike checked, his eyes darting to the canvas.

“Yes,” Will said, exasperated. Mike’s face broke into a wide grin, and Will couldn’t help but copy the expression fondly. “It was meant to be a surprise,” he said, pushing Mike’s shoulder. “But you couldn’t help but make me tell you now, could you?”

“You shouldn’t have implied it was for someone else,” Mike replied unapologetically. His gaze raked down Will’s body before flicking back to his face. “Because that part of you belongs to me.”

Will’s mouth dropped open in shock. Who just said things like that? We’re friends, Will thought, the words slightly mocking in his mind. Yeah, they sure were friends, alright. Really good friends, if that statement was anything to go by. That’s when he realized he had just been staring dumbly at Mike for a while, his lips slightly parted. And Mike, the asshole, seemed pleased about it.

“I can’t wait to see the painting when it’s done,” Mike said, then turned on his heel and walked up the stairs, leaving Will to look after him. What the fuck?

Will went to the hospital later that day. He liked to visit Max with Lucas at least once a week. Though he had to admit, he had ulterior motives to be around Lucas today.

“Hey,” Will greeted Lucas once he stepped into Max’s room. Lucas looked up at him, nodding a hello as Will sat next to him in an empty chair. As with every week, they talked about any developments in their lives. Apparently, Erica was being a total tyrant when it came to some of Lucas’s books recently, and he’d had to steal one back from her room without her noticing; a treacherous mission.

“So, what’s up with you?” Lucas asked when he finished complaining about his sister. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

“There is one thing,” Will admitted, his eyes focused on Max. “Mike has been acting weird recently.”

“When hasn’t he?” Lucas snorted.

“Yeah, but like, weird,” Will annunciated. He spent the next few minutes explaining about the time after the breakup, the movie night, even though Lucas had been there and seen everything, and then today with the painting. “He’s been getting all up in my space—hugging me and stuff. And he got like, I don’t know, jealous when he thought the painting was for someone else. I don’t get it.”

“You don’t?” Lucas asked skeptically.

“Okay, well, I might have a theory that he may have some feelings for me. Or something.” He glanced at Lucas, holding his breath. Sure, Lucas had made a joke about Mike acting like Will’s boyfriend, but that wasn’t the same as accepting that Mike might actually have romantic feelings for Will.

To Will’s relief, Lucas nodded, looking unsurprised. “Uh-huh,” he said. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“What am I going to do?” Will repeated incredulously. Was he meant to do something? “Am I meant to do something?” he asked out loud.

Lucas dropped his face into his hands. “God, you’re hopeless,” Lucas muttered. He raised his head, leveling Will with a serious look. “You think Mike might like you.” Lucas poked a finger into Will’s chest. “So if you like him,” Will straightened a little in his seat, “then I think you should do something about it. Make a move.”

Will? Make a move? He could almost laugh. He didn’t know how to do that. Besides, what if Mike didn’t actually like him back? What if this was just Mike showing how much he platonically loved and cared about Will? 

Will shook his head. “I need a clear sign he likes me to do that. I can’t risk messing up our friendship.”

Lucas sighed. “A clear sign,” he repeated. “Max, do you hear this? He says he needs a clear sign.” Lucas placed a hand on his shoulder. “You keep waiting for that sign,” he said. “But just remember that Mike might be waiting for the same thing. Don’t make each other wait forever.” Will frowned at that, his head falling back so that he stared up at the ceiling. Lucas had really been no help at all.

Four

Will was making himself comfortable in his bed when he heard the door at the top of the stairs open. He didn’t bother trying to make out who it was in the dark. Jonathan must have decided to sleep down here instead of with Nancy, which, while a little strange since he had already snuck upstairs, wasn’t entirely unheard of. He just hoped Jonathan didn’t expect Will to move to the couch now that he was here. Maybe he should pretend to be asleep already, just in case.

Will heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and he pointedly kept his head on his pillow, his back turned to (probably) Jonathan. When he felt the mattress dip with the weight of someone sitting next to him, he bit his cheek, hoping that his brother would think he was asleep.

“Hey,” a voice whispered to him, and that was definitely not Jonathan. “You awake?”

Will quickly sat up, trying to squint through the dark to see the person sitting next to him. Enough light shone through the window that he could make out the familiar features of Mike’s face. “Mike?” Will asked. “What are you doing down here? It’s late.”

“I heard Jonathan sneaking into Nancy’s room, and realized you were alone down here,” Mike answered. “I didn’t want you to be lonely.”

“Mike, I’m alone down here almost every night,” Will said. “And I’m not going to get lonely by sleeping in a room alone. That’s more normal than sharing with Jonathan.”

“So you don’t want me here?” Mike asked hesitantly. Will felt something brush his hand and looked down to see Mike gently entwining their fingers. The action made it hard for Will to swallow, his mouth going dry. “I could leave,” Mike suggested in a voice that told Will that he had no plans on following through with the offer. “If you wanted me to.”

“You can stay,” Will managed to say, still looking at their hands. Was this a sign? Why would Mike sneak down to the basement to hold Will’s hand and potentially spend the night with him unless it was a sign that he liked him?

“Great,” Mike said, drawing his hand away from Will’s. Will frowned, his fingers feeling cold. “It’ll be like our old sleepovers. I miss having friends sleep over. Lucas and Dustin never do anymore—they act like we’re too old for it or something.” And suddenly, Will wasn’t so sure it was a sign after all. Mike just wanted to have a sleepover with a friend, like when they were kids, and Will happened to be there.

“Yeah. Great,” Will sighed, letting his head fall back down on his pillow. “But I wasn’t lying when I said it was late, and I’m kind of tired. So I’m going to sleep.”

“I love sleep,” Mike said happily, unaffected by the idea of his sleepover having more sleep and less of the traditional staying up for as long as possible playing games and talking. “Scooch over.”

“What?” Will asked, his brow scrunching as he looked up at Mike. Mike looked back at him, unimpressed.

“You didn’t think I was sleeping on the couch, did you?” Mike asked. 

“I didn’t think you meant we were going to share a bed,” Will laughed back incredulously. “It’s not exactly a huge mattress.”

“We shared my bed when we were kids, and that wasn’t any bigger than this one,” Mike pointed out.

“Yeah, when we were kids,” Will stressed. “We were a little smaller back then.”

“Why are you making a big deal out of this?” Mike said, sounding genuinely confused.

“I only have one pillow,” Will defended weakly. It wasn’t like he could admit that the idea of sharing a bed with Mike made him nervous, or that Mike suggesting it gave him hope that he was finding more and more difficult to trample down lately. “And I don’t want you hogging the blanket.”

“We can share,” Mike said, lifting the covers, apparently seeing no problem with this arrangement. Will felt their legs brush as Mike laid down next to him, his head landing on the pillow. “See,” Mike said, pulling the blanket up to his chin once he was settled. Their faces were close enough that Will could feel Mike’s breath when he spoke. “Just like old times, except without the blanket hogging.”

“We’ll have to check on that again in a few hours,” Will smiled, amused despite himself. “Can never be sure what you’ll do while asleep.”

“You’d let me have the blanket if I was cold, though,” Mike stated, like it was a fact.

“Are you cold?” Will asked, not denying it.

“No,” Mike said. “Are you?” And Will wasn’t, not when it was early May and the temperature outside was making the basement a little stuffy, like it became every year spring turned to summer. But part of Will wanted to know what Mike would say if he said yes.

“Maybe,” Will answered, the word coming out like a challenge. 

Mike’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “And you weren’t going to tell me?” he asked indignantly, like Will should be clueing him in on every time he was mildly uncomfortable.

“Should I have?” Will asked.

“Obviously,” Mike said. “It’s my job to fix it.” 

“Your job?” Will laughed. Secretly, he was pleased that Mike was so concerned about him. It made him feel special, in a way, like he really mattered to Mike. That was probably selfish. And weird. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel all that bad about it.

Will expected Mike to get up to grab the spare blanket that was sitting unused on the couch, but he just continued to lie there, his face contemplative. “Come here,” he said after a few seconds, and didn’t give Will a chance to protest before he was grabbing Will’s arm and tugging him close to his chest.

“Mike,” Will managed to choke out as Mike wrapped an arm around Will’s waist and rested his chin on top of his head. “What are you doing?”

“Body warmth,” Mike answered automatically, moving his leg so that it was on top of Will’s, entangling them further. “I’m warming you up.” Will felt Mike’s hand that rested on his waist fiddle with his shirt for a second before slipping under it, touching his back lightly. Mike’s voice was quieter this time, barely above a whisper, when he said, “You don’t feel very cold, though.”

Mike was trying to kill him. He had figured out that Will liked him and was trying to use that fact to kill him. Either that, or Mike had some explaining to do as to why he was willing to hold Will like this—willing to touch him so gently. Mike didn’t do this with Lucas or Dustin. It was just Will, and he needed to know why. He needed his suspicions confirmed, but even with the words on the tip of his tongue, brought there by Mike’s careful coaxing, Will couldn’t bring himself to ask. 

Do you love me? Will whispered in his mind, and even that felt entirely too loud, like Mike might hear. “Maybe I wasn’t cold,” Will said instead. And then, because he couldn’t leave it there, he needed to say something, even if it wasn’t the entire truth, he added, “Maybe I just wanted to know what you would do if you thought I was.”

Mike didn’t respond immediately, and Will wished he could see his expression, but his face was tucked into the curve of Mike’s neck and shoulder. What was Mike thinking? Was he mad at Will for tricking him? Surely if he were, he would have pushed Will away from him already. He wouldn’t still be holding Will like he was something precious. 

“Mike, say something,” Will said when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. 

“Was my solution good enough?” Mike asked after a pause.

“Your solution?” Will said.

“Doing this. Sharing warmth,” Mike explained. “If you really were cold, would this have been enough, or would you want me to do something else?” 

“I guess that depends on how cold I am,” Will answered, giving a second to really consider it. “You could always get more blankets, but I wouldn’t say no to this, too, even if you implemented other strategies.” His cheeks warmed a bit. “What I mean is, I don’t mind it.”
“You don’t mind even though you’re not cold?” Mike asked, and Will could hear the grin in his voice. The hand resting on Will’s back began to move, Mike’s fingers drawing random shapes on his skin, causing goosebumps to erupt on Will’s arms. 

“I don’t mind,” Will repeated, whispering like it was a secret. And then, he said something that really was supposed to be a secret. “I like it.” He turned his face so it was hidden in Mike’s shoulder, anxiety curling in his stomach as he waited for Mike to respond. 

“Yeah?” Mike said, and maybe Will was going a little insane from their proximity, but he thought he heard hope in Mike’s voice. “That’s cool.”
“Cool,” Will said, his mouth dry. 

“We should sleep,” Mike murmured. “You said you were tired.”

“I am,” Will said, despite knowing there was no way he was going to be able to fall asleep when he was hyperaware of the feeling of Mike’s hand on his back. And now that they had fallen into silence, there was nothing to distract Will from putting his full focus on what Mike was doing. Mike’s fingers never drifted too low or high, staying within the small of his back, as if Mike thought he was already testing what Will would allow and didn’t want to push too far. 

Eventually, the covers, combined with Mike’s warmth and the already stuffy basement air, had a bit of sweat beading at the back of Will’s neck. Will didn’t want to ruin whatever this was—Will supposed it could qualify as cuddling—by being a sweaty mess, but Mike’s hand had stopped moving a while ago, and his breathing was fairly even, meaning Will wasn’t fully sure he was even awake still.

“Mike,” he whispered, his voice hardly audible for fear of waking Mike up if he truly was sleeping. 

“Yeah?” Mike answered, sounding only somewhat aware, like he was halfway in a dream.

“I’m hot,” Will said, trying to pull away from Mike a little. Mike only tightened his hold around Will’s waist, pulling him in closer.

“Yeah, you really are,” Mike murmured, causing Will to squint. Did Mike just call him hot? He had probably meant that Will felt warm, not anything else. Though in that case, Will wasn’t sure why Mike didn’t just let him go. Maybe Mike was cold, and he liked the warmth? Will shook his head. Thinking wasn’t getting him anywhere.

“What?” Will asked. Maybe Mike would clarify.

“What?” Mike repeated, sounding much more awake than he was a second before. Will frowned. So much for clarification.

“Okay, forget it,” Will muttered. Louder, he said, “Can you let me go? It’s too hot in here for this.”

Mike was silent for a second, as if he was thinking. “No,” Mike settled on replying, the answer simple. 

“No?” Will echoed.

“You're stuck with me now,” Mike said. Will blinked a couple times, not fully being able to believe what he was hearing.

“But I’m gonna become all sweaty and gross,” he protested.

“Don’t care,” Mike said staunchly.

“Mike,” Will groaned. “I thought I was supposed to tell you when I’m uncomfortable so you can fix it.” With this, Will was sure Mike would finally let him go, and Mike hummed contemplatively.

“You're right,” Mike agreed, drawing his hand out from under Will’s shirt and lifting his arm so that Will could roll away from him. Will did, pulling the covers down for good measure, and relishing in the cool air that hit him. He only got a second to relax before Mike continued speaking. “Take off your shirt,” Mike said seriously, as if this were of great importance to him.

Will choked on his breath. “What? Why?” he spluttered. 

“I’m fixing you being too hot,” Mike explained patiently.

“We’re not sharing body heat. Problem solved,” Will said. Had Mike really expected him to take off his shirt so that they could keep cuddling? Surely that wasn’t where he was going with that, and Will was just misunderstanding.

“I don’t understand,” Mike said. “Did you want to not use the blanket? I struggle to sleep without one, but I can make an exception—”

“I’m using the blanket,” Will interrupted him. “I’m just not taking my shirt off.”

“So you’re not too hot?” Mike asked, and Will felt a hand snake around his waist again. Will shoved the hand off before Mike could pull him back in.

“No,” Will said. “I’m not taking my shirt off because it’s not necessary if we’re not cuddling.”

“So what you’re saying is it’s necessary,” Mike reasoned. Will covered his face with his hands. Mike could not be serious. He was so smart most of the time. What wasn’t he getting?

“I don’t want to take my shirt off,” Will said slowly. 

“Oh,” Mike said dejectedly. “So you don’t want to keep cuddling?”

Will hesitated, suddenly feeling guilty for the way he had pushed Mike’s hand off of him. “Not right now,” he settled on. He found one of Mike’s hands under the covers and, before he could overthink, grabbed it, intertwining their fingers. “But maybe another time?” Through the dark, he could just make out Mike smiling happily.

“Okay,” Mike agreed. “But sometime soon, yeah?”

Will felt his chest warm. “Sometime soon,” he promised. They fell asleep quickly after that.

When Will woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was entirely too warm. The second thing he noticed was that Mike’s chest was pressed up against his back, their legs were intertwined, and Mike’s arm was back around his waist. Will twisted around so he was facing Mike, who was already awake and watching him. 

“Good morning,” Mike said. 

“I told you I was too warm,” Will snapped, no real bite behind the words. 

“You also said we can never be sure what I’ll do while asleep,” Mike said, smiling. “This was an accident.”

“Oh, an accident. That explains it,” Will responded sarcastically. “That’s why when you woke up, you didn’t pull away from me. You were too busy feeling bad about accidentally cuddling me.”

“Yep,” Mike grinned. “You’ve got me.” 

Will shook his head fondly before his smile fell. Why was Mike doing this? Will wanted to believe it was because he liked him, but what if it wasn’t? Now that he knew what it was like to wake up with Mike’s arms around him, he wanted it to happen again. It was calming—made him feel safe and content. Would Mike think it was weird if he knew how much Will wanted to stay like this? 

He couldn’t risk it. Will pushed himself up, forcing Mike’s arm to slide off him. He kicked off the covers and stood next to the mattress. 

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked, clearly worried. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” The fear in his voice was enough to make Will look back down at him with a reassuring smile.

“Of course not,” Will promised. “I’m just going to get ready. You should head upstairs before Jonathan comes down.”

“Oh, right,” Mike nodded, sitting up. “But even if Jonathan did see I was here, we weren’t doing anything wrong, right? It was just a sleepover.” Will felt like his heart was being squeezed, his chest constricting a little. If Mike didn’t think they were doing anything wrong, then surely he didn’t think they were doing anything romantic. Being gay—it wasn’t wrong, Will knew that—but it was still seen as wrong by most people. If Mike thought sleeping together the way they were was more than a platonic activity, wouldn’t the idea of being seen by others give him at least a bit of anxiety? Sure, Jonathan wouldn’t care, but Mike didn’t know that.
The only explanation was that Mike saw the cuddling as something normal. Something friends did with each other sometimes. Under no circumstances was it something gay. 

“Sure. Just a sleepover,” Will said, entirely too aware of the way his voice cracked. “You should still go, though.” He didn’t wait for a response, making a beeline for the bathroom and closing the door quietly behind him. 

Will grabbed the edges of the sink, looking into the mirror at himself. His eyes were teary, and he rubbed at them harshly. Stupid Mike and his stupid, unclear signs that were giving him false hope. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. Maybe he should just do what Lucas suggested and make a move. Return Mike’s potential signs and see how he reacted. Even rejection would be better than whatever they had going on now, because at least then he would know.

Next time, he promised himself. Next time Mike got into his personal space, he would do the same thing back. If it messed up their friendship, well… Will didn’t want to think about that. The one thing he knew was that one way or another, he was going to figure this out. He nodded to himself in the mirror, finding new confidence. Next time, he would be ready.

Five

Eight days. Eight days had passed, and Mike hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. No random hugging, trying to share a bed with him, or holding his hand. It was like all the recent invasions of his space hadn’t even happened. Will wasn’t angry, but he was disappointed. Had he really been imagining things this whole past month?

He was so caught up in this thought that as he walked down the stairs to the basement, he missed the last step and pitched forward. His hands shot out in front of him to catch himself, and pain shot through his right wrist as his hand slammed into the ground. 

Will lay on the ground for a moment, unmoving, his eyes squeezed shut. Eventually, he used his left hand to push himself into a sitting position, cradling his aching wrist to his chest. 

The door at the top of the stairs slammed open, and Will looked up to see Mike, already rushing down the stairs. “What happened?” Mike demanded. “I heard a crash.”

“Tripped on the last step,” Will said. He tried to move his wrist and found that while he could, it hurt. Probably not broken, then. Maybe sprained. Mike crouched down at his side, and Will relayed the information to him.

“Shit, okay,” Mike said, a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Stay here, I think there’s a wrist brace in the bathroom down here. Nancy had a similar injury a few years ago.” Mike stood up and rushed to the bathroom. Will heard the sound of rummaging for a minute before Mike returned, victoriously holding up the brace.

“Here,” Mike said, kneeling next to him again. He gently took Will’s hand, extending his arm so he could access his wrist better, and slipped on the brace, tightening the straps, his eyebrows scrunched with focus. “Better?”

“I think,” Will said, pulling his hand away from Mike. “It still kind of hurts, but I shouldn’t accidentally move it too much now.” He gave Mike a tentative smile. “Thanks.”

Mike looked away, his cheeks tinting a light shade of pink. “Don’t mention it,” Mike murmured. He stood, holding out a hand to help Will up, which Will gratefully took. “Come on, we should get you changed into pajamas. It’s late.”

“What do you mean we should get me changed?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow at the way Mike walked over to the closet where Will and Jonathan were keeping their clothes. Mike began sorting through the clothes, pulling out a gray t-shirt and checkered pants, both of which Mike had given him when Will first got here.

“You're not changing by yourself,” Mike stated, leaving no room for argument. “You can’t use your right hand; you might bend your wrist, and we need it to heal. So I’ll help.”

“You’ll help,” Will repeated, unamused. “Yeah, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He walked over to Mike, trying to grab the clothes. Mike snatched them away, holding them above his head and out of Will’s reach. “Mike, I’ll be careful, okay? Just give me the clothes.”

“No,” Mike said stubbornly. “I’m helping.”

Exasperated, Will stopped trying to reach for the clothes, dropping his arms to his side. “You want to help me change?” Will asked. Mike nodded. What was with Mike and trying to see him without a shirt recently? 

“It’s not like we haven’t changed in front of each other before,” Mike reasoned. “We had P.E. together in middle school, remember?”

“This is different,” Will said. Sure, they had seen each other change before, but there was a difference between changing next to each other in the boys’ locker room and helping someone do it. But then, Will realized that this was the most intimate Mike had attempted to be with him in eight days. Did this count as invading Will’s personal space? It certainly felt like it did, and Will had promised himself he would make a move next time Mike did something like this. 

“Please?” Mike said. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Will took a deep breath. “Fine,” he agreed. “You can help me change.” Mike’s eyes brightened, and Will was quick to add, “On one condition.”

“Yeah?” Mike asked warily.

“I help you as well,” Will said, his eyes locked on Mike’s face. 

Mike’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?” he asked. “That defeats the purpose of you not using your wrist.”

“Because I want to,” Will answered evenly, searching Mike’s expression for any sign of what he was thinking. For someone who wore their heart on their sleeve most of the time, Mike was keeping his expression irritatingly blank. 

Mike’s gaze fell away from Will’s. “Still defeats the purpose,” he said, tapping his fingers against his leg nervously. Will’s eyes zeroed in on the action. If Mike was nervous, then he must have realized that this wasn’t entirely normal for friends. “But okay. You can help me, too. Can I borrow some of your clothes so I don’t have to go back upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Will said, a little shocked that Mike had agreed. His stomach flipped with nerves. Mike walked to the closet, pulling out another pair of pajamas. Once Mike got back, he grabbed Will’s hand and led him to the bathroom.

“No one is going to come down here,” Will said. “We don’t have to hide in the bathroom to change.”

Mike paused in the bathroom’s doorway, looking back at Will uncertainly. “But if someone did happen to come down here, they might be confused,” he said carefully.

“Confused that we’re undressing each other?” Will teased, pleased with the way Mike’s eyes widened, his cheeks immediately going red. “I suppose.”

“Just—come on,” Mike said, pulling Will into the bathroom and closing the door behind them. Mike put down the toilet lid, placing the clothes on top of it. “Okay,” he said, his eyes falling on Will again. Mike took a step toward him, bringing them closer than they probably needed to be. “You ready?”

“It’s just changing,” Will shrugged.

“Right,” Mike said, and grabbed the bottom of Will’s shirt. Despite his best efforts to stay calm, Will felt his heart speed up a little when Mike began pulling up his shirt, his hand brushing against Will’s side. Will lifted his arms, helping Mike to get the shirt off. Mike grabbed a sleeve and used it to tug the shirt the rest of the way over Will’s head. He tossed the shirt to the side, his gaze not leaving Will. 

Will watched as Mike’s eyes traced over his exposed skin, his breath caught in his throat. “When we were changing for P.E., I never looked at you this closely,” Mike said quietly. He touched a spot on Will’s left side, his fingers hesitant, like he was scared he might hurt Will. “I never saw this.” His gaze raised to meet Will’s again, a silent question in his eyes.

Will looked down at the spot Mike was touching, recognizing the burn scar that resided there. “It’s not a big deal,” Will reassured him. “It was back when the Mind Flayer had control of me. The heaters weren’t enough.”

Mike inhaled sharply. “Someone burned you?” he asked, and even though his voice was angry, his thumb was gently rubbing circles into Will’s skin. Will couldn’t tell if the action was meant to calm him or Mike. “Who was it?”

“Mike, they were saving me,” Will placated. “You don’t need to be mad.” Mike’s hand tightened a little on Will’s side, the grip not painful, but just meant to remind Will it was there. As if he could have forgotten. 

“I’m not mad,” Mike said angrily. “I just need to know what happened.”

“Fine,” Will sighed. He had explained what had happened that night to Mike before, but he had always left out Nancy stabbing him in the side with the heated fire poker. Part of him knew Mike would react badly, and he hadn’t wanted to put strain on Mike and Nancy’s relationship. 

“It was Nancy,” Will said, watching Mike’s expression twitch as he tried to hold back his anger. Will continued to explain how he had been choking his mom, and Nancy had just done what she’d needed to in the moment to help. “She saved me,” Will reiterated.

Mike lurched forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around Will and resting his forehead against Will’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you never told me that,” Mike muttered. “I mean, shit, Will. That sucks.” Will raised a hand to Mike’s back, resting it there reassuringly.

“It’s fine,” Will said. Mike only squeezed him tighter. “Seriously, Mike, it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“If you say so,” Mike said, unconvinced. He released Will, and to Will’s confusion, dropped one knee to the ground so that he was kneeling in front of him. “But I don’t like that you had to go through that.” Before Will could ask what he was doing, Mike leaned forward, pressing his lips to the scar in a gentle kiss. Mike remained that way for a few seconds before he drew back slowly, his eyes looking up at Will earnestly. “Is that better?”

Will couldn’t respond for a second, stunned into silence. His skin tingled where Mike’s lips had been, and he couldn’t help but stare at Mike’s mouth. Mike had kissed him. Kissed his hip, sure, but he had still kissed him. All so that Will might feel a little better about the scar that he had hidden from Mike. 

Will wanted to kiss Mike. Or hug him. Preferably, both. He just needed to keep him close. 

“Yeah,” Will breathed. “That’s better.” Mike stood, and his face was so close to Will’s. All Will would have to do was lean forward, tilting his head ever so slightly, and their lips would meet. For a moment, Mike’s eyes flicked down to Will’s lips, and Will thought Mike might do the work for him. But then, Mike stepped back a little, and that hope died. “Are you going to help me finish changing, now?” Will asked, trying not to let his disappointment leak into his voice.

“Right, of course,” Mike said, snapping into action. He grabbed Will’s nightshirt, helping him pull it on, and then moved on to his pants. It was significantly less awkward than Will would have expected, and soon he was settled into his pajamas and helping Mike do the same. If Will took a few seconds to stare at Mike’s chest after taking his shirt off, no one could blame him.

Gathering their discarded clothes off the floor, Mike stepped toward the door, twisting the nob and holding it open for Will. “After you,” he said. Will stepped out into the basement. The room felt much too big after being in the confined space of the bathroom. 

Mike crossed the basement and threw the clothes into a clothes hamper. “Alright,” he said, standing a little awkwardly in the space between the stairs and Will’s bed. “Well, unless you needed anything else, I guess I should go. It’s late.” 

Will bit his lip. “If I needed you to, would you stay?” The words were whispered, like Will was afraid of anyone else overhearing despite them probably being the only people in the house still awake. 

Mike nodded. “If you needed me to.”

“What if,” Will started, then hesitated. Mike watched him expectantly. “What if I wanted you to stay?”

“Then I will,” Mike said softly. “Whatever you want.”

Whatever Will wanted. That felt like a lot of power that he probably shouldn’t be given. Because what Will really wanted was for Mike to love him. Could Mike give him that if he asked? Would he at least try? Will didn’t want him to have to try.

“Good,” Will said. He switched off the lights, then slowly made his way to the bed in the dark. He heard Mike shuffling after him. They made themselves comfortable in the bed, the covers thrown over them, and their heads close together on the pillow. 

“Hi,” Mike whispered once the rustling of the covers quieted and they were left with silence. 

“Hi,” Will smiled back. And maybe the dark made him feel brave, because he added a second later, “Is it my turn to hold you?” 

“We’re taking turns now?” Mike asked, and Will wished he could see his face better. The moon was covered in clouds, making it significantly more difficult to see Mike's expression. 

“Maybe,” Will said. He scooched closer to Mike so that he could put an arm around him and haphazardly throw a leg over his. “As long as it’s okay.”

“More than okay,” Mike responded quickly, pressing himself closer to Will, who smiled at the action.

This was when he should ask Mike why he’s been so insistent on being in Will’s personal space recently. Ask what it all meant. With the way Mike had been acting, he was fairly certain he knew the answer. But just in case he was wrong, Will kept his mouth shut.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. He would bring it up tomorrow, no matter what. But for tonight, he would let himself hold Mike a little longer. 

Plus One

Will was staring at the painting he had been working on, quite literally watching paint dry after making the final few brushstrokes. Once it was dry, he would take it up to Mike and ask to talk. He shouldn’t be so nervous. Will was almost certain Mike liked him; he kissed his hip yesterday. Friends didn’t just do that. And yet, he couldn’t get it out of his head that he was reading everything wrong. 

Will lightly dabbed at the painting with his finger, drawing it away to check if any of the paint remained on his skin. None did. He repeated the process on a few different sections of the painting until he was sure it was dry, and then, with a deep breath, took it off the easel. 

It took all of Will’s willpower to climb up the basement stairs and then to the second story without losing his nerve and turning around. Even then, once he got to Mike’s room, he stood outside the door, his hand raised to knock, for longer than was probably acceptable. 

You can do this, Will told himself, and rapped his knuckles on the door. He heard shuffling from inside the room, and then the door opened, Mike’s face breaking into a smile when he saw him. 

“Hey,” Mike said. His eyes darted down to the painting Will held, the back faced toward Mike so he couldn’t see it yet. Recognition brightened Mike’s gaze. “Is it ready?” he asked, sounding excited, like he’d been thinking about the painting ever since he learned it was for him two weeks ago. Almost every time he was in the basement, Will had caught Mike staring at the blanket Will had used to cover the canvas to ensure Mike didn’t see any more than he already had. He still wanted it to be somewhat of a surprise, even if Mike knew it was for him and had seen the unfinished version.

“After a lot of fidgeting with it, yeah,” Will said, shrugging one shoulder. “Can I come in?”

Mike opened the door wider, stepping back to let Will into the room. Will stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I know you already saw part of it, but I promise it looks better now,” Will started, his eyes searching the painting for mistakes. “I put a lot of work into perfecting the details.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Mike said. “I’m sure it looks amazing. Everything you make does.” The corner of Will’s lips raised slightly.

“Here,” Will said, passing the canvas to Mike. Mike turned it in his hands so that the front faced him, and he spent a few seconds in stunned silence, his eyes wide as they searched the painting.

“You painted me,” Mike breathed, not lifting his eyes from the canvas. “You put me in such a pretty place.” He finally looked at Will, smiling shyly. “You were generous with how you portrayed me. I don’t think I look this good in real life.”

“I painted what I see,” Will said honestly, causing Mike’s eyebrows to raise, his cheeks going red.

“Oh. You see me as—oh,” Mike stammered. He turned abruptly to the wall, raising the painting as if to visualize how it would look if placed there. “I need to find somewhere to hang this.”

Will placed a hand on Mike’s arm, gently lowering it. “Actually,” Will said, prompting Mike to look at him. “Do you think hanging it could wait? I wanted to talk.”

Sensing Will’s seriousness, Mike placed the painting on his desk. “Yeah, of course,” Mike said, and Will didn’t miss the anxiety in his voice. He sat down on his bed, motioning for Will to take the spot next to him. “What’s up?”

Will sat, one leg pulled up to his chest as he turned to face Mike. “You’ve been acting… different lately.”

“I have?” Mike asked, his expression carefully neutral.

“Yeah, like—” Will paused, looking up at the ceiling. “Over the past month,” he said, starting again, “you keep putting yourself in my space. You hug me, sit with me even when there’s no room, sleep in the same bed as me.” Will lowered his gaze, his eyes meeting Mike’s once more. “You kissed my scar after insisting you help me change because I had a minor injury.”

Mike pressed his lips together so that they were a thin line. “What’s your point?” Mike asked, sounding defensive and a little scared.

“Nothing bad,” Will was quick to reassure. “I guess I’m just wondering why you’ve been so touchy with me lately. Which, for the record, I don’t mind. At all.” 

“I, uhm, it’s just that,” Mike stuttered over his words. Apparently unable to come up with an answer, he shrugged, his mouth parted helplessly.

“Okay,” Will said, his gaze falling to his hands. If Mike really did have feelings for him and was struggling to answer because he didn’t know how to tell Will, then Will would be a hypocrite for expecting more. It wasn’t like Will had ever been able to tell Mike. But maybe… maybe he should. Just get it over with. Rip off the band-aid. 

“I like being close to you,” Will admitted softly, his gaze steadfastly remaining on his hands. He didn’t think he could get the words out while having to watch Mike’s reaction. “I like when you hug me, and when you show you care about me, like with my wrist last night.” He still wore the brace, though he was starting to think it might not be sprained at all—it hardly hurt anymore. “And I…” Will inhaled through his nose, trying to steel his nerves. His leg was bouncing, and he couldn’t seem to stop it. “I liked when you kissed my hip,” he forced out. “And I keep thinking about how I want you to kiss me again. Except this time, maybe somewhere else.” He raised his eyes to the dip of Mike’s throat, watching him swallow. 

Mike raised a hand to Will’s chin, gently guiding his face up so that he was forced to meet Mike’s gaze. His eyes were soft, something warm shining in them. “Will,” Mike breathed, saying the name like a prayer, as if it were something holy. Will felt his heart stutter in his chest. “When I said last night that I’d do whatever you want, I wasn’t lying.” He let go of Will’s chin, dropping the hand to Will’s knee to steady it. “So if you wanted me to kiss you, you could’ve just asked.”

And Mike looked like he was going to do it. He was watching Will hungrily, like he couldn’t wait to have his lips on him again—like he had been thinking about this as much as Will had. But as much as Will wanted it, he needed something else first. He placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder, stopping him before he could follow through with his words.

“Whatever I want?” Will checked.

“Whatever you want,” Mike promised.

“Then how do you feel about me?”

Mike bit his lip, his eyes darting down to Will’s mouth for a moment. “I thought it was clear,” he chuckled nervously.

“Tell me anyway,” Will said. His mind flicked back to when this started a month ago, when Mike had come to him after he and El broke up, and insecurity pricked at his heart. As much as he didn’t want to believe it was true, part of him was scared that he was just being used as a substitute for El; that he was just some way for Mike to have the intimacy he desired now that he wasn’t in a relationship. 

“You only started acting this way after you and El broke up,” Will continued. He remembered being in Lenora a few months ago, and how Mike had struggled to tell El he loved her, creating a rift in their relationship. “I don’t need you to tell me you love me or anything like that,” Will said quickly, needing to get the words out. “But I have to know that I’m not just… I don’t know. An afterthought. Something you’ll settle for because I’m the quickest and easiest option.”

“No, that’s—that’s not it at all, Will,” Mike said, sounding almost panicked at the idea. “At all. I promise.”

“No?” Will asked, frowning.

“No,” Mike repeated. Mike brought his legs up onto the bed, sitting criss-cross so that he could fully face Will. Will mimicked the action, and Mike reached forward, taking one of Will’s hands in his own, his thumb gently swiping over Will’s knuckles. “When El and I broke up, I should’ve been sad. I should’ve been thinking about her and how I wouldn’t get to kiss her, or watch movies with her, or go on dates. But for some reason, she said she thought we should break up, and the first thought in my mind was you.”

“Me?” Will said, confused.

“Yeah,” Mike laughed. “And I thought I was just a really shitty boyfriend—I mean, actually, I know I was,” he corrected himself. “Because first I couldn’t tell El I loved her, and then we broke up, and I immediately thought about someone else. Even before the breakup—before you guys moved to Lenora—I would be with El, and so often, I would find myself thinking of you. And I didn’t know why.” His hand squeezed Will’s, and Will gave a reassuring squeeze back. 

“I didn’t know why,” Mike repeated, sighing. “But I felt this panic when it came to you, and dating El was the only way to stop it. Looking back on it now, I think I was afraid. I wanted to be normal. Like my parents, and Nancy, and Dustin, and Lucas, and everyone.” Will felt tears gathering in his eyes, and he blinked harshly, trying to dispel them. It didn’t work. “But I wasn’t. Because I was with El, but all I could think about was you. Do you get it?”

Will couldn’t stop a tear from falling down his cheek. Mike raised a hand to Will’s face, brushing the wetness away with his thumb. “Yeah. I get it,” Will whispered, his voice cracking. Will had never had an El. He hadn’t had someone whom he could use to prove to others that he wasn’t different from them. But he could imagine what it would be like. The safety he would feel from others thinking he wasn’t gay or queer or whatever else he had been called because he was dating a girl. Even if he didn’t love that hypothetical girl, maybe the safety would have been enough to get him to stay with her. 

“The thing is,” Mike said, and Will hadn’t been expecting more. He listened closely, scared to miss even a word. “I don’t feel afraid anymore. I don’t know when the fear went away. I think it was sometime between finding out you were making a painting for me and right now. Probably closer to right now,” he laughed, the sound coming out a little wet, and Will couldn’t help but smile a little, more tears welling in his eyes. “But I’m not afraid. I think about you all the time, and I want to be near you, and hold your hand, and maybe, if you’ll let me, take you on dates. You asked how I feel. I love you, Will. I really, really love you. And you’re not just the easiest option, because I want others to know I love you, too, and that—that isn’t going to be easy. But I want it. I really want it.” He paused for a second, then added sheepishly, “And I really fucking hope I’ve said the right thing for once in my life, because I don’t think I’ll ever live it down if I messed that up.”

“It was perfect,” Will said before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Mike. “And I love you, too.” Will felt Mike release a relieved breath.

“Oh, thank God,” Mike muttered. 

“What, did you think I wouldn’t say it back?” Will chuckled, pulling away just enough to look at Mike’s face. He was smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and his eyelashes wet with tears. At least Will wasn’t the only one emotional right now.

“I may have had some doubts,” Mike admitted.

“Idiot,” Will said fondly. “I’ve always loved you. There was never a world where I didn’t.”

“Oh,” Mike said, his face breaking into a toothy grin. “Good.” His eyes fell to Will’s lips. “So, about that kiss. You still want it?”

“Yes,” Will answered, not even finding it in himself to be embarrassed by how quickly he responded. He could tell Mike was just as desperate as he was. “Now, please.” 

“As you wish,” Mike said, and he didn’t waste any time in leaning in, his head tilting so he could catch Will’s lips with his. Will’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact. At first, it was just a gentle press of lips, a simple kiss. Will took his time memorizing the feeling. Mike’s lips were somewhat chapped, but also incredibly soft—much softer than Will would have expected. He found himself sinking in the feeling, everything else falling away.

Will felt a hand cup the side of his cheek, tilting his head a little more as Mike began to move his lips. Sparks jumped in Will’s chest at the feeling, and he eagerly attempted to follow Mike’s lead despite not entirely knowing what he was doing. Will moved on the bed, uncrossing his legs so he could prop himself up on his knees as he placed one hand on Mike’s thigh and another in his hair, threading his fingers through his curls. 

They continued kissing, both of them becoming more confident as the minutes passed. Will lifted his hand from Mike’s thigh to his chest, gently pushing him down so that his head hit the pillow. Will crouched over him, one of his legs between Mike’s.

“Will,” Mike murmured against his lips, pulling back just a fraction of an inch. Will opened his eyes to see Mike looking up at him, something akin to awe in his eyes. “Is this your first time doing this?”

“Yes,” Will said, going a little red. Was it that obvious?

Mike released a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “You’re way too confident for this being your first kiss.”

Will blinked at him nervously. “Is it bad?”

“No,” Mike rushed to say. “No, not at all.” His cheeks flushed more than they already were. “I like you like this.”

“Well, in that case,” Will smiled and pressed his lips back to Mike’s, keeping his eyes open this time so he could watch Mike as he brushed his tongue over Mike’s bottom lip before softly biting it. Mike’s eyes widened, and he made a small sound at the back of his throat that Will would be thinking about for at least an hour and maybe the rest of his life. 

Time fell away from them. By the time they parted, Mike’s lips were red and a little swollen, and Will feared he didn’t fare much better. He wanted to look in a mirror, see for himself the effect Mike had had on him. His stomach swooped at the thought. 

Will climbed off Mike, flopping down heavily onto his back next to him. They both stared up at the ceiling, the sides of their arms and legs pressed together as they regained their breath.

“I think I’m gay,” Mike said eventually, catching Will off guard. 

Will let out a startled laugh. “Mike,” he stated. “I think we established that already.”

“No, but like,” Mike started seriously, as if he had just had an epiphany. “This just really cemented it for me. Like, wow. I love kissing boys. It’s awesome.” Will snorted.

“Only one boy, I hope,” Will teased. Mike turned to him, and the love in his eyes was enough to make Will’s breath catch in his throat.

“Always only you,” Mike whispered. “You’re mine.” The possessiveness in his voice made Will’s stomach twist with a funny feeling, and he had to look back at the ceiling for a second. 

“Yours,” he said, the word strange in his mouth. He looked back at Mike, turning onto his side so they could face each other more easily. “So does that make me your boyfriend?”

“If that’s what you want,” Mike said, the corners of his lips tilting up a little. 

“Is it what you want?” Will asked.

“Desperately.”

“Then yes,” Will said, and he leaned forward to press a light kiss to Mike’s jaw. “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

They sat that way for a while, just staring at each other. Will replayed Mike’s confession over in his mind, his thoughts stopping when he remembered the end. “Hey, Mike,” he said, a little nervous. “You said you wanted people to know you love me. Does that mean you want to tell people we're dating?” The idea sent a bit of fear spiraling through Will. Mike seemed to notice and took Will’s hand in his own.

“Only when you’re ready,” Mike reassured him. “I’m also a little nervous.” His eyes flashed, and Will could tell he was thinking of all the possible outcomes of telling people. But he sounded certain as he said, “But I don't want to hide my feelings anymore. I hid them from myself for long enough. I’m tired of it. So, when you’re ready, we’ll tell people. Together.”

“Together,” Will agreed, and suddenly the prospect of people knowing didn’t feel so terrifying because he knew Mike would be there with him. Just like always, taking on the world together. The thought felt like the most natural thing in the world, and Will wondered how someone could possibly think this was wrong.