Chapter Text
Mike unravels the painting.
He’s met with a beautiful drawing of 4 people—the party’s D&D characters—fighting a red, three-headed dragon. Mike’s in the front, a sword in his left hand, pointing it at the dragon, and a triangular shield decorated with a heart in his other hand. Behind him, there are Will and Dustin. Will in his cleric cloak, holding a staff. Dustin in armor, holding a labrys. And lastly, at the very back, Lucas with knight armor, on a white horse, holding a sword of his own.
Mike chuckles, a fond smile forming on his face. “This is amazing!” he exclaims, looking at Will.
Will feels a sense of joy overwhelm him, he smiles back and nods.
“Did you paint this?”
“Yeah. Yeah!” An idea pops into his mind as he says those words; something he could say to Mike—something that would cheer him up. “I mean…” he starts, carefully crafting his lie in his head. “I mean, El asked me to. She commissioned it, basically. I mean, she told me what to draw,” he stutters out.
His insides tangle into an uncomfortable ball, stinging like thorns. Lying to Mike always made him feel sick to his stomach.
Mike’s eyebrows knit together in a confused frown.
Will tries to continue. “Anyway-” he starts, lifting up his hand to point at Mike in the painting.
“Pause,” Mike interjects, and Will raises an eyebrow.
“El, she sent me a letter. She said that you were working on this painting, that you wouldn’t let her look at,” Will freezes. “Is that not this one?”
“Uhm, no. T-They’re different paintings,” he responds, panicked.
Mike gives him a knowing smile. “Will,” he says, and Will doesn’t need any further clues to know that he’s been caught.
“Yes?”
Mike rolls his eyes playfully. “C’mon, Will. You know you can’t hide things from me.”
Maybe part of him forgot that, thought Mike was too caught up with El to pay such deep attention to him, like he used to when they were younger. He should’ve figured that wasn’t the case, Mike always knew him so well, no matter the situation.
Will doesn’t respond, he only looks at the ground in embarrassment.
“Now if I remember correctly,” Mike says, seemingly searching his mind. “She also said that—that it’s for a girl you like.”
Will’s eyes widen, he looks up. “What?”
“That’s what she told me.” Mike shrugs. “Guess she was wrong.”
Will finds himself wondering why Mike sounds almost happy as he speaks.
He also wonders if the slight dust of pink on Mike’s cheeks is a trick of the light.
“Now, since El didn’t commission it and it’s obviously not for a girl,” Will allows himself to laugh at the comment. “Why don’t you tell me what the story behind this painting really is?” Mike asks, the look he gives Will is so incredibly soft, Will feels like he’s melting.
His cheeks start burning up. He’s painfully aware that he can’t actually tell Mike the whole truth, even if he really wanted to, and lying has already proved not to work. But he figures that leaving certain details out doesn’t exactly qualify as lying.
“I-” he starts, not exactly sure how to word things. “I really missed you,” he settles on. “A-and the rest of the party too, of course! But, especially you. So I… I started painting that as a way to remind myself of you. I guess…” the color in his cheeks darkens. “I guess it reminded me of those times when you’d use my art as posters in your room.”
Mike’s gaze moves to the ground with a look of nostalgia. “I never took those down, you know,” he chuckles, then gives Will a smile coated in pure adoration.
It’s the smile Will knows so well it drives him mad. The smile he stays up at night thinking about—the one that gets him weak in the knees and floating on clouds. The smile he’s tried to paint numerous times before but can never seem to get quite right.
It’s the smile Mike seems to reserve for Will and Will only.
Will feels the strong urge to kiss Mike overwhelm him. If he wasn’t already so familiar with the feeling, he’s not quite sure he would’ve been able to resist.
“You didn’t?” he asks, mostly himself, not really wanting an answer.
Pools of warm, salty tears start to gather in Will’s eyes, he thinks they’re happy tears, but he’s not fully certain. The teardrops don’t pass the barrier of his eyes, they don’t dare fall down his cheeks.
Then, his brain decides to ruin the moment and start screaming at him.
Because he’s made everything about himself when it was supposed to be about Mike and El. Because he’s selfish and his dumb, flawed brain makes him hope that what? That he’d have a chance with his sister’s boyfriend?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Will blinks, trying to dry out his tears. “Well anyway—we were talking about El, weren’t we?” He says, despite how uncomfortably dry his throat feels.
Mike frowns for a reason Will can’t quite pinpoint. “Right,” he responds in a hushed tone.
Will takes a deep breath, calming himself down best he can.
“My point is—do you see how you’re leading us here?” he points to Mike in the painting, voice still shaky. “You’re guiding the whole party—i-inspiring us. That’s what you do. And see your coat of arms here? It's—it’s a heart,” he takes a deep breath. “And I know it’s sort of on the nose, but that’s what holds this whole party together. Heart.” Will makes eye contact with Mike. “Because—I mean, without heart we’d all fall apart.”
His chest starts to ache, wishing he could say so much more, but also feeling like he’s said too much. He’s well aware he’s being selfish. To be frank—he doesn’t really know how El feels. He’s saying what he thinks Mike wants to hear, and if that means projecting his own feelings onto her, then so be it.
“Even El. Especially El,” he finishes, shaking slightly. Mike’s face drops into a scowl.
“These past few months, she’s been so—lost without you. It’s just, she’s so different from other people, and… When you’re—when you’re different, sometimes…”
He figures that it's okay, since they both like Mike, they must both be feeling like this, right?
“You feel like a mistake,” Will turns his face towards Mike, and he sees Mike’s expression swell with worry. “But you make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all. Like she’s better for being different. And that gives her the courage to fight on,” Mike doesn’t say anything, his face is still sprinkled with worry but Will doesn’t miss the soft smile present on it, too.
If she was—mean to you, o-or she seemed like she was pushing you away it’s because she’s scared of losing you, like you’re scared of losing her. And if she was going to lose you, I… I think she’d rather just get it over with quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid,” Will is overtaken by a strong sense of nausea. Like he needs to literally puke after puking his guts out to Mike.
So yeah, El needs you Mike. And she always will.”
Mike looks at him with an expression that’s an uncomfortable mix of soft and sad. He opens his mouth as if trying to say something, then shuts it tightly again.
If anything, Mike looks even sadder than he did before. Will isn’t sure what he did wrong. This was supposed to make him feel better. Can Will not even do that anymore? Is he really this useless?
He silently wonders if Mike figured it out, if Will's tone was too personal, too raw, if it gave everything away. Mike shifts his gaze to the ground, seemingly deep in thought. He starts to slowly wrap the painting up again.
The atmosphere between them is sickeningly awkward.
Will turns his head towards the window. His mind flashes back to the moments they shared together, wondering if he officially fucked everything up. Wondering if Mike realized what Will truly felt. If he’s disgusted by what he’s realized.
He remembers their fight in 1985, remembers the cold rain against his skin, in contrast with the warm tears in his eyes. He remembers Mike’s words, how they made his heart ache, and his head swirl with anxiety and betrayal. He wonders if maybe Mike knew since then. It sure sounded like he did. Maybe that’s why he became so distant.
Will doesn’t realize tears started falling down his face until he feels Mike’s thumb on his cheek, wiping one off as he slowly turns Will's head towards himself.
He’s suddenly hyper-aware of the action and it makes him blush furiously. Mike’s hands are big and soft on his wet cheek, he melts into the touch embarrassingly quick.
Maybe Mike notices. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t take his hand away.
“Will,” Mike finally speaks up. Will’s eyes widen slightly at the sudden noise. “I’m sorry.” he says, and Will looks at him confused.
“For what?”
“For making everything about El again,” Mike’s hand drops from Will’s cheek. “I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve reached out more—you’re still my best friend, I-I don’t want you to feel like you need to make everything about El when you and your feelings are just as important to me.”
Will’s heart beats loudly in his chest.
Mike's hand lowers itself on the car seat, scooting closer to Will’s own. He intertwines their fingers slowly. The feeling of Mike’s hand on his brings back a distant memory, the voices of two familiar kids starting to ring in his head.
“What if he figures out we’re spying on him? What if he spies back?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“We won’t let him.”
Has he really not held Mike’s hand since then?
Will feels his face heat up once again, the warmth extends as far as his ears. “Mike-”
But Mike interrupts. “I think I might care about you more than I care about her, even,” he laughs awkwardly. “This—this past year I’ve been such an asshole to you because I was terrified of that, a-and I thought maybe ignoring you would make it go away. I thought talking to El constantly would magically make me fall in love with her, because I don’t think-” he frowns. “No, I know I don't actually love her. That’s why I can’t say it. It’s more like—like I need her, like I’m dependent on her.”
Will is at an absolute loss for words. Fuck, he hasn’t even had enough time to process what he's hearing. He manages to squeeze Mike’s hand as a response, a sign of encouragement.
“Like I need her to feel… Normal,” Oh.
No. Will can’t allow himself to be hopeful like this. Mike wasn’t—he couldn’t be saying what Will thought he was. It was just some big misunderstanding. It has to be.
“I didn’t think much of any of this. I tried not to,” Mike sounds almost desperate. “But now, after our fight… I think she’s right.” Mike’s eyes finally meet Will’s.
“I’m trying to force myself to love her, because I feel like that’s what’s expected of me, you know?”
Will does know, he knows so well. He slowly nods in response. “Yeah,” he says quietly.
“Now that you’re here I realized just how much I truly missed you. And I realized that I want to move on from El and—and focus on you.”
Will considers for a moment that maybe he’s dreaming. That he’s in another one of his dreams where Mike confesses his love for him and they walk into the sunset holding hands. That he’s going to wake up and realize none of it was real and cry into his pillow.
But the world doesn’t fade to black the moment he realizes it might be a dream. He doesn’t open his eyes only to be met with his room ceiling, mocking him and his desires. Mike remains next to him on the seat, and looks at him with something Will can only describe as hope.
Tears start falling down Will’s cheeks again. He’s incredibly sure they’re happy tears this time. A hint of worry flashes Mike's face. “Shit, Will. You okay?”
Will looks at him and laughs, his eyes sparkle with happiness. Mike lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the cheerful look on Will’s face. “Yeah. I’ve genuinely never been better,” he says, his tone so sincere and happy, Mike can’t help but grin.
He brings his other hand to wipe the tears off Will’s face. “Cool,” he says, smiling like an absolute idiot. And Will lets himself consider that maybe the pink blush on Mike’s cheeks isn’t because of lighting.
“Cool,” Will responds with a soft laugh and comfortable tears in his eyes.
Mike’s eyes are watery too, they shimmer with sunlight and joy. He untangles their hands, and before Will can even feel the emptiness, Mike pulls him in a tight embrace. A proper hug, not like the one at the airport.
Will feels like he belongs in Mike’s arms, he melts into them. And he hugs back with a smile.
“Thought I owed you one,” Mike clarifies.
“Yeah, you did,” Will responds with a breathy laugh.
In the driver’s seat, Jonathan looks at them through the rear view mirror, a big grin forming on his face. When he shifts his gaze back to the road, the grin doesn’t disappear.