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Michael Wheeler has lived through eighteen years without ever attending a party.
He instead chooses to spend his time meticulously constructing DnD campaigns, writing fantasy novels and listening to rock music his friends hate.
Alright, he’s a nerd. He can admit that. But he isn’t a stranger to social interaction. Even if he is the most ‘unpopular’ member of the party, (even including El, who’d transferred to Hawkins High a year ago,) he knows that he’s the tag-along plus one that Lucas has graciously let come with him to some house party.
So here he is, digging through his closet to find one button up that isn’t too loose, doesn’t smell like decade-old sweat or make him look eighty years old. It’s a task proving to be more difficult than first imagined. He settles between either a light blue vertically striped short sleeve that Nancy’d bought one Christmas, (gifted with the kind words of “Mom needs to learn to stop buying you clothes that make you look like five or fifty. And you need to stop wearing them.”) or a white button up he’d dug up from the back of his closet.
Mike decides on the top Nancy’d bought him, pairing it with black pants and a belt. He doesn’t know what he’s trying so hard for – he barely knows these people.
The fabric is wrinkled from being bunched up and thrown into the corners of his room, and it smells faintly of pizza grease. He sprays on some cheap cologne his dad had insisted on forcing him to buy to mask the scent.
As he’s hacking up some too-strong cologne spritz that has accidentally made its way up his nostrils, someone bangs on his bedroom door.
“Mike! Lucas is here!” His mother shouts. Mike runs a hand through his hair before slipping out to meet Lucas, who is sitting in the driver’s seat of his car with Max in tow.
He waves at Mike, who’s now kicking on a pair of sneakers and walking down the driveway. “Hop in, Wheeler.” Max says, equipped with a pair of sunglasses matching Lucas’ sitting atop her nose.
“I can’t believe you’re making me come to this.” Mike sighs, getting comfortable in the backseat. “Dude. You’ve been locked away in your house for like, a week.” Lucas begins to drive forwards. “What even happened? We hung out like, thrice after graduation and all of a sudden you’re busy all the time. Which we all know is a lie.” Lucas turns the corner as Mike sinks down into the car seat.
Max is fiddling with a playlist on her phone as she speaks without looking back at him. “This isn’t to do with Will, is it? I thought you guys made up after whatever fight you had.” Mike stays uncharacteristically silent.
“Oh my god, what did you say?” She shouts over the tell-tale beginning notes of Belinda Carlisle’s ‘Heaven Is A Place On Earth’.
Mike throws his head back into the headrest. “Okay, first of all, why would you assume that I’m the problem? Second, nothing! He yelled at me, okay?”
Lucas and Max both raise their eyebrows. “What, and you still haven’t apologized?” Max’s head is poking out from the left side of her seat, signature mandarin-orange locks appearing like a neon sharpie.
“Why is this on me? I didn’t do anything!” They’re approaching Stacey’s street. Max and Lucas share a look. Seriously, this is getting kind of weird. Whatever couple twin-telepathy shit they’ve got going on here is getting old.
“Whatever. We’re here, so you can… hopefully make up with Will? I don’t know. Just don’t like, drink.” Lucas parks a few blocks away, unbuckling his seatbelt quickly so he can run around the front of the car to open the door for Max. “Yeah, I got it, designated driver.” Mike rolls his eyes, exiting the vehicle.
“M’lady,” Lucas greets, opening the car door with a flourish. He takes a dramatic bow, before clasping Max’s hand and walking towards Stacey’s house. Mike almost gags.
They head up the street to her house, knocking twice on the front door before someone lets them in. The inside is already cluttered, likely due to their late arrival. Plastic cups litter the kitchen counters, and the whole house is cluttered with teenagers that are very much not sober. The trio makes their way through the house to a large wooden table with assorted drinks, mixers and a large stack of pizza boxes.
As they stumble to pour drinks, Mike ending up with a cup of soda, they spot Dustin, El and Will sitting on the couch from across the room. Mike, Lucas and Max shuffle through a crowd of sweaty teenagers to greet their friends. “Hey!” Dustin shouts, waving them over.
“Dustin! Good to see you, dude!” Lucas holds his cup up in a mock wave, sinking onto the ripping leather of the couch. Max joins El and Will, who seem to be eagerly discussing something, and Mike decides to linger with the guys. He awkwardly sips his drink, narrowly avoiding the swatting hands of crazed dancers amidst the bright multicoloured lights.
Lucas and Dustin are catching up when Mike shifts his gaze up. He sees Will, excitedly talking to the girls about something. His hair is slightly messy, tousled in a way that shifts his new haircut from a cute, textured bowl cut to… something else entirely, that somehow manages to dry out Mike's mouth in seconds. He can tell Will knows he’s there, but is actively choosing to ignore him.
The group stays there for a while, before Mike decides that hovering over his friends for another second is just a little too weird. He slips away to the backyard, which is similarly filled with people, and takes a seat on a yard chair.
He fades into the background of bad yell-singing and the loud boom of some cheesy pop-song blaring from the speakers, taking in the warmth of the night. He shuts his eyes, letting the taste of Coke bubble on his tongue.
Really, Mike doesn’t know what happened with Will. The party was at the mall together, browsing some clothing store when he’d headed to the bathroom, just for Will to follow him. He’d confronted him about ignoring him, or something, when Mike was just… busy. Busy shopping. And… other things across the month. They’d argued, before Mike had rolled his eyes and run off, texting the group chat that he’d ‘be heading home early ‘cause of his mom.’
He really was busy. Kind of. He’d been working on a new novel, babysitting Holly and her friends and helping Nancy pack for college. There’d been a lot going on. He just… might’ve forgotten to call, or text Will during it all.
They hadn’t spoken since that, deciding to instead carefully ignore each other at hangouts. Which was tricky, considering they shared all the same friends.
Mike knocks the back of his into the yard chair. He hated to prove Max right, but this one might be on him. He just… Ever since Will had come out, Mike had been, well, struggling.
Well, come out might be too strong. Come out to Mrs. Byers and Jonathan. Mike was, unfortunately, sneaking into Will’s room to surprise him when he’d heard them in the living room of the Byers family house.
It started off small – the realisation that – oh, Will liked boys. But it kept going. Surely there was someone that had to have caused this revelation – some guy at Hawkins High or someone back in California that kick-started this. And Mike wanted so, so badly to know, to ask about it, to say ‘Why didn’t you tell me you liked someone? I’m your best friend!’ but he couldn’t run the risk of jeopardising their friendship through his absolutely stupid idea of sneaking through Will’s window to hang out and accidentally stumbling upon his secret.
It was hard to look Will in the eye after that. So naturally, he didn’t. And had avoided him for a month.
Which leads him to sitting in the backyard of Stacey Thomas’ two-storey house, next to a couple making out, with nothing but shame and a 12oz cup of Coca-Cola.
Once Mike’s decided he’s had enough of moping around like a loser and heads back inside, he finds that none of his friends are still by the couch. Great. He ducks his way through multiple bodies, moving through hallways and rooms that smell heavily of beer, finding a large, open room by the stairwell which seems to have been converted to some kind of dance floor with fairy lights and tinsel walls.
And across the room, atop a circular wooden table, stands William Byers, in all five feet and nine inches of his glory.
Mike thinks three words. ‘Oh, dear God.’ Will’s arms are swaying in the air, eyes closed in bliss. He’s very obviously drunk, and his head is just below the chandelier. His striped shirt rides just above his waist, revealing the smallest sliver of pale skin. Before Mike can move, he hops down from the table, stumbling into the crowd.
Will’s dancing, swaying with the crowd so naturally it looks as if he’s been born to be there. His skin is glistening with fresh sweat, his eyes glazed over and his cheeks flushed. Mike begins to paddle his way over, when a guy starts to come up to Will, bopping with the rhythm as he leans closer and closer to him.
Mike tenses, frowning. Who is this? Is this the guy Will likes? He can feel a vein popping out on the left of his forehead as this mystery man moves closer and closer to Will. The music blares in his ears as he struggles to move through bodies. An unfamiliar song begins to play through the speakers.
‘You’ve got my heartbeat, racin’
The two are clearly lost in their own world, unaware of everyone else in the moment. Mystery guy moves even closer, and begins leaning down to lick at Will’s neck, kissing down his collarbone. Mike Wheeler sees red.
He balls up his fists, pushing through drunk dancers to make his way towards Will, when he opens his eyes and spots him.
‘My body, blazin’
Their eyes meet for one second, then two. Will starts to seem shocked, before his eyes relax into a smug look, watching as Mike grows more and more pissed, letting some random guy lap at his neck like a dog.
He shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t be there, whoever this guy is. Mike doesn’t care if this is who Will likes – he’s not nearly good enough, not nearly deserving enough of Will. He doesn’t understand him – not in the way Mike can, not in the way Mike does. He hasn’t comforted Will after horrific nightmares, doesn’t know how to sneak into Jonathan’s room like Mike does, hasn’t memorised what Will likes to do, or what food he likes to eat, or even what colours he likes.
He can’t take care of Will like Mike can. No one can.
‘I feel the rush, addicted to your touch,’
Mystery guy’s nose brushes the tip of Will’s jaw. Mike decides he’s had enough.
He full on shoves his way through the crowd, pushing over people until he makes his way over to Will. Mike practically chokes the guy, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him to the ground. He winces, stumbling back up, when Mike socks him in the jaw. The crowd turns to stare at him, despite their drunkenness and the loud boom of the music.
He grabs Will’s hand and leads him to the kitchen.
‘Oh, I feel the rush, (it’s so good, it’s so good)’
“Mike, Mike, what was that for? I was, I was having fun. I had a good- A good time,” Will slurs, almost falling onto a counter before Mike can catch him. “You’re clearly very drunk. He was trying to take advantage of you, obviously.” Mike finds Lucas by the drink table, spooning out an orange-coloured punch. “Hey, I’m gonna take Will home, can you get a ride from Dustin or something?” Lucas sighs. “Dude, I can’t just leave my car here. At least drive it back to my house or something.” He fishes out the keys, handing them to Mike. “Fine. See you soon.”
Mike carefully guides Will out of the front door and into Lucas’ bright orange car. He drops him into the passenger seat, before turning on the engine. Will lays there, half asleep as Mike begins to drive back to the Sinclairs’ house.
When they arrive, Will is still slumbering away. Mike parks the car, before slipping the keys under the doormat. He shoots Lucas a quick text to let him know, before returning to the car to drag Will out.
“Will, we’re here. C’mon, I gotta walk you home.” Mike softly whispers, shaking him. “...No. Don’t wanna. My house is too far.” His eyes are still closed as Mike continues trying to shake him awake. “Dude, your mom’s gonna be worried. C’mon.” Mike tries to carefully lift him out.
“Mmm… No. Take me home. Your- Your home. Text my mom, or Jonathan. Don’t wanna walk that far.” Mike sighs. Whatever. At least he doesn’t have to drag Will across town.
“Fine. Let’s go.” Will stirs awake, stepping out of the car. He allows Mike to lead him across the street, to the Wheelers’ house. Mike carefully unlocks the front door, sneaking himself and Will up the stairs and into his room.
He relaxes as he closes the door, opening his phone to send Mrs. Byers a text.
‘Hey Mrs. Byers, it’s Mike. Just letting you know that Will’s staying over at mine tonight.’ He finishes it with a thumbs up, before dragging Will over to his bed to let him sleep.
“...Mike.” Will slurs, dropping down onto the bed. He begins unbuttoning his pants. Mike blushes, immediately spinning around until he can hear Will slip into the covers. When he turns back around, Will is nestled in the blanket, staring at him.
“Mike, I missed you. I haven’t seen you at all recently and- and I miss you.” Will frowns, reaching out a hand to grab at Mike. “I know, I know. I’ve just been busy lately.” He sighs, walking over to Will.
He almost takes Will’s hand, but Will quickly turns his whole body away, facing the wall.
“...Will?”
No response. Maybe he’s fallen asleep.
At least, that’s what Mike thinks until he hears a faint sob. Will… Will’s crying.
“Will? Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Will doesn’t turn around. He just weeps into Mike’s pillow.
“Why are you crying? You’re fine, It’s okay. I’m here.” He strokes Will’s head, running his fingers through his hair. Will tosses in the blankets before he says anything. “Mike, do- do you hate me? B-because I was dancing with a boy? Is that why you hit him?” Shock fills Mike’s face, and he freezes.
Will turns back around, meeting Mike’s eyes. His eyelashes are coated in wet tears, running down his cheeks. “Um, No. There’s- there’s nothing wrong with that, Will.”
“...Okay.” Mike places his hand back in Will’s hair, rhythmically petting his head. Just when he thinks Will’s about to fall asleep, his hand grabs Mikes’ and pulls. Mike is dragged into his own bed, which he knows is far too small to fit two grown boys in. Their knees bump as Mike scurries into the covers.
It’s here where he realises just how close they are. Shoulder to shoulder, legs intertwined. Mike reckons that if he spun to his left, he and Will would be practically touching noses. Unfortunately, he can’t entertain that train of thought for long, because Will decides that it’s a great time to roll over and crawl on top of Mike.
Oh. That’s… something. His heart thumps in his chest uncontrollably. He’s never seen Will from this angle, cheeks flushed and lips parted, staring down at Mike. His knees entrap Mike’s thighs. It’s warm. Why’s his room suddenly so warm?
Will looks down at him, batting his lashes. Mike feels himself go stiff. His throat tastes like sandpaper, but he can’t bring himself to stop staring. Will begins to lean down, and Mike lets him. He tilts his head, and places his lips onto Mike’s.
Oh. This… This makes sense. The cogs turn in his mind. Will is kissing him. Will is kissing him. It lasts for only a second, before Mike reaches an arm around the back of his head and pulls him back in. His tongue parts Will’s lips, meeting his mouth. They stay like that, breaking apart only to breathe, for who knows how long.
Mike realises that this, Will, is all he’s ever wanted. All he’s ever needed. Each time they pull apart, gasping for air, feels like a wasted moment they could be closer together. As Mike slips a hand under the hem of Will’s shirt, caressing the side of his body, he has an idea.
Mike pulls away, planting kisses along Will’s jaw, down his neck. Mapping out a path to cover wherever the party guy had been. He sucks along Will’s neck, marking his position as only Mike’s. When he reaches his collarbone, he bites down, hard, before sucking at the red mark. Will cries out softly, whimpering as Mike’s left hand strokes his torso and travels up his body.
God, Mike could do this for who knows how long. He’d be content to just stay there, worshipping Will until the end of time, placing kisses until every part of him knows Mike like he knows himself.
“Will,” He whispers into his ear. “Will, we’ve gotta sleep,” He giggles, taking Will in his arms and rolling him onto the other side of the bed. Will responds by leaning in to kiss him again.
He doesn’t know when daylight arrives, just that he and Will have lied there for hours, holding each other. Eventually, they’ve fallen asleep, dozing off in each others’ arms.
When Mike wakes up, the sun is glaring through the gaps in the curtains. He somehow untangles himself from Will without waking him to duck into the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face before realising he’s still in yesterday’s clothes. He decides to shower, slipping back into the room to grab a T-shirt and jeans before heading back into the bathroom.
When he’s done, he steps out, freshly showered and clean. Will is still snoozing away, blanket bunched up in his hands. Huh, he’s really cute when he sleeps, Mike thinks, before exiting. His mom has left a note on the kitchen counter, reading: ‘At the shops with Dad and Holly. Text if you want us to pick up anything. Love, Mom.’ He opens the pantry to grab two slices of toast and some tylenol. He pops them into the toaster, and grabs two plates before spreading peanut butter on both. He heads back into his room armed with a glass of water, two tylenol wrapped in a tissue and a slice of toast with peanut butter.
When he creaks open the door, Will is awake, barely, groggily rubbing at his eyes. “Hey,” Mike walks over, placing the items in his hands on the nightstand. Will lets out a sound – somewhat like a cat’s screech? Before throwing the blanket over his head.
“Will? Dude, are you okay?” He approaches the bed, sitting on the edge to pull down the covers. “...Where are my pants?” Will looks around the room, searching. “Um. I threw them in the laundry basket. Oh, you, uh. Took them off yourself when you went to bed. Last night. Yeah.” Mike stutters, blushing. “Um, I brought breakfast. And Tylenol.”
Will sits up, leaning against the pillows. “Um. Last night. I-I was drunk, Mike. I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair. See you soon, okay?” He starts to slip out of the bed before remembering he’s …partially unclothed.
“Can I borrow a pair of pants?” Will awkwardly asks, legs hanging off the bed beneath the blanket. “Wait, wait, do you remember anything from yesterday?” Mike raises an eyebrow. “All of it. I know, Mike, you’re… You’re not like me. You’re straight. Sorry you had to find out this way.” Will looks to the ground, avoiding his gaze.
“...What if I’m not?” Mike smiles. Will immediately snaps his head back up. “What?” Mike licks his lips. “...What if I don’t like girls?” Will stares. “What if I like you?” Even Mike doesn’t know where his confidence comes from. He kisses his drunk best friend of thirteen years, realizes he’s in love with him, and then tells him the next morning. Mike Wheeler’s boldness will go down in the history books.
“Oh. I didn’t think you’d- um, that… That’s fine? I guess?” Mike raises an eyebrow. “Fine?” He jumps onto the bed, tackling Will down with him. “I don’t know! I wouldn’t expect you to be like, gay! Let alone like me, Mike! I’ve just had to deal with it for years!” He shouts between laughs, as Mike grabs his jaw, forcing him to face him.”Honestly, I didn’t really know until, like, yesterday, so.” Will rolls his eyes before pulling Mike in for a kiss, their lips slotting into each other.
Will is a great kisser. Mike doesn’t exactly think he has much experience with it, but that makes it all the better. He lets Mike do what he wants to, take what he wants, whilst staying in perfect sync with him, both sucking in breaths in tandem.
Wow, he’s really missed out on a lot. Had he known that he’d liked Will earlier, they could’ve started… whatever this is years ago. Mike pulls back, hand grabbing at Will’s cheeks while he lies on his pillow. “Will Byers, will you date me?”
He waits patiently for an answer, just to be met with a fit of giggles. “You called me dude this morning, realised you liked guys last night and now you want a boyfriend?” Mike rolls his eyes. “Hey, I’m a fast learner. Now answer my question.”
Will leans in for another kiss, pecking at Mike’s lips. “Yes. Yes, I will. You are so weird.”
This, Mike thinks, is all he really needs. Even if he’d only known it like, ten hours ago. He is Will Byers’, just as Will Byers is his.