Chapter Text
Will is halfway through the door when Mike calls his name.
“Hey—wait.”
It stops him immediately. The others are already outside, voices overlapping in the driveway. Lucas arguing about something, Dustin laughing too loudly, the familiar chaos of it fading as they move farther away. The front door is still open, cool night air slipping in through the gap.
Will turns. “Yeah?” he asks.
Mike hesitates. It looked like he was just going to shrug it off, say it was nothing, and let Will leave like he was about to.
“You don’t have to go,” he says. Will blinks. “I mean—I just— you could say if you want.”
“Stay?” Will repeats.
“Yeah.” Mike shrugs, like he’s trying to make it seem like less than it is. “It’s late. You can just crash here like you used to.”
Will glances toward the open door. “Okay.”
Mike nods, almost immediately. “Okay. Cool.”
There’s a flicker of relief, maybe— but it’s gone too fast for Will to be sure.
“Let me just—” Will gestures vaguely toward the door. “I’ll tell them.”
Mike nods and Will steps outside briefly, calling out that he’s staying. Dustin yells back, Lucas and Max wave, and then they’re gone, disappearing down the street.
Will lingers on the porch for a second, then turns back inside.
Mike is already heading toward the hallway, “C’mon, my room’s better than the couch.”
Mike’s room hasn’t really changed. It should feel different; everything else does. Will pauses in the doorway, taking it in.
“Sorry, it’s a mess,” Mike says, kicking something out of the way.
“It’s fine, do you still have the spare mattress?” Will asks.
Mike grabs a blanket off the chair and tosses it onto the bed. “I thought we could–uh—share the bed?”
There’s a beat. Will looks at him.
“Yeah. Okay.”
They lay down side by side, the room dim, the only light coming from the window.
Will stares up at the ceiling.
He can feel Mike next to him. Not touching, not quite, but close enough that it’s impossible to ignore.
“Hey,” Mike utters.
Will turns his head. “Yeah?”
“You’re quiet.”
Will scoffs, “I’m always quiet, Mike.”
“Not like this. What are you thinking about?”
Will looks back at the ceiling. “Everything, I guess.”
Mike furrows his eyebrow, telling Will to continue.
“I really want to leave, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know if I’m ready for college” Will lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding in since graduation.
Mike shifts beside him, turning slightly so he’s facing Will, even though Will wasn’t looking back.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” Mike says. “You’ll be fine.”
Will almost laughs. “Yeah,” he says, but it comes out flat.
“I mean it,” Mike continues. “You’ve been through everything. Way more than anyone else.” He pauses. “You’re like, the bravest person I know.”
Will’s chest tightens. He doesn’t feel brave. “I’m not scared of college,” he says quietly.
Mike frowns slightly. “Then what?”
Will swallows. “I just—” He stops, trying to find the right words. “It’s the people.”
“The people?” Mike repeats.
Will nods, “I don’t…” He exhales slowly. “I don’t think I know how to do that”
“Do what?”
“Any of it.”
Mike is quiet. Will forces himself to keep going.
“They all just—know things. How to talk, how to—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “I don’t know. I just feel like I'm behind.”
Mike shifts closer, just slightly. “You’re not behind.”
“I am,” Will insists, more firmly this time. “I’ve never—” He stops. The words sit there, unfinished.
Mike doesn’t interrupt and that somehow makes it worse.
“I’ve never done anything,” he says finally.
Mike doesn’t react right away. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean Mike.” He pauses. “I’ve never been with anyone or tried anything”
There's a pause. Then Mike says, “That’s not a bad thing.”
“It feels like one.”
“It’s not,” Mike says again, more certain this time. “It just means you haven't met the right person yet.”
Will turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at him.
“That’s the problem, Mike. What if I do find someone, but they get annoyed or something because I don’t know what I’m doing?”
Mike doesn’t answer right away. Will wishes he would.
The silence stretches just a little too long, and suddenly he regrets saying anything at all. He almost takes it back, says he’s overthinking, that it doesn’t matter. But then Mike shifts closer again.
“They won’t,” Mike says finally.
Will huffs out a quiet breath. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” Mike shrugs, “Anyone who gets annoyed about that, especially with you, is an idiot.”
Will laughs. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“It should,” Mike says,
“It doesn’t”
There’s a pause.
Mike is quiet again, like he’s thinking. Will can feel it—the way the air shifts when he’s trying to figure something out instead of just reacting.
“Okay,” Mike says slowly. “Then don’t think about them.”
Will frowns slightly, “What?”
“Don’t think about whoever you’re gonna meet there,” Mike hesitates, “Just—figure it out before that”
Will turns his head, properly looking at him now. “Figure what out?”
Mike inhales and looks away. Will notices. “Mike,” he says, quieter this time.
“I mean—” Mike starts, “You said you don’t know what you’re doing, right?”
Will nods slowly.
“So just… learn.”
Will stares at him. Is he being serious? “That is not helpful at all, Mike.”
Mike huffs a quiet laugh. “No, I know, I just—” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself now. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a big thing. If you’re so nervous, you don’t have to wait until you’re there.”
“What are you saying?” Will asks, even more confused now.
Mike looks at him again. Really looks at him this time. And there’s something different in his expression. Something more serious, more certain.
“You could… practice,” Mike says.
Will’s stomach flips, just a little. “How?”
There’s a pause. Not long.
Mike doesn’t look away. He swallows hard.
“With me.”
Everything in Will’s body stutters. He blinks. “What?”
Mike shrugs, but it’s not as casual as he’s trying to make it seem. “I mean—it’s not weird. Or it doesn’t have to be. We’re best friends, so I could just help you practice.”
Practice.
The world lands strangely. Will stares at him, trying to figure out if this is a joke.
“That’s… kind of weird,” Will says.
Mike lets out a small laugh. “Yeah, okay. Maybe a little.”
“A little?”
“Okay, yeah, a lot,” Mike admits. “But it makes sense.”
“And how exactly does that make any sense?”
“Because you trust me,” Mike says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I’m not gonna judge you or anything. So it’s not like—there’s no pressure.”
Will’s heart is beating too fast now. He looks away, back at the ceiling, like that’ll help.
“This is a bad idea,” he mutters.
“Then say no,” Mike says.
Will goes quiet because that should be easy. But it isn’t.
“I just—” Will exhales, frustrated. “I don’t even know what I like.”
The words hang there, heavy and honest.
Will squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “Like—kissing, or… I don’t know. I just—I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The room is completely still.
Will expects Mike to back out now. To laugh it off or change the subject.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “So let me help you.”
Will opens his eyes, turning his head back to look at Mike. In disbelief again, he asks, “What?”
“If you don’t know,” Mike says, “Then I’ll help you figure it out.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Mike nods one. “Yes.”
There’s no hesitation, no backtracking, just that.
Will stares at him. He can feel how close they are now.
He should say no. He really should.
Instead—
“Okay,” Will whispers.
Mike blinks. “Okay?”
Will nods, even though his chest aches. “Yeah.”
Neither of them moves. Neither of them seems to know what happens next. But something has changed. Sitting there between them. Waiting.
Will turns back onto his side after a while, facing away, pulling the blanket up slightly even though he’s not cold.
He tries to slow his breathing. Tries not to think about it. About what he just agreed to. About Mike, still right there behind him.
Eventually, the tension dulls just enough and at some point, Will’s eyes close.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Will wakes up slowly. Drifting in and out of sleep, aware of the warmth, the weight of the blanket, of something close beside him. For a second, he doesn’t move. Then it all comes back.
Mike.
Will’s eyes shoot open.
The room is soft with early morning light. Everything feels too still. He becomes aware of how close they are. Closer than when they fell asleep. They must’ve shifted at some point during the night. The space between them is gone.
Mike’s still asleep. Facing him. One arm is half-tucked between them, their legs almost touching.
Will freezes. For a second, he just stays there, barely breathing.
This is normal, he tells himself. They’ve fallen asleep like this before, when they were kids, it didn’t mean anything. It was just—
It’s not the same.
Will knows that immediately.
Not after last night. Not after—
His stomach flips.
Carefully, slowly, he shifts back, just enough to put some space between them again.
Mike doesn’t wake up. Will exhales quietly.
He pushes himself up so that he’s sitting, rubbing a hand over his face. His thoughts feel too loud for how quiet the room is.
Will glances over at Mike again. Still asleep.
He swings his legs over the side of the bed, sitting there for a second, grounding himself. He considers leaving—just grabbing his stuff and going before this turns into something he has to actually deal with—
“Will?”
He freezes.
Mike’s voice is rough with sleep.
Will turns back slowly. Mike’s awake now, blinking up at him, hair even more of a mess than usual.
“Hi,” Will says, too casually.
Mike pushes himself up onto his elbows, squinting slightly. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. I was just getting up.”
“Oh.”
There's a pause. They look at each other. And it’s—
Different.
Will feels it immediately.
Mike looks away first. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Will answers. “You?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
This is bad.
Will can feel it slipping into that kind of awkward where if no one says anything, it just gets worse.
He clears his throat “I can—uh—I can go. If you want.”
Mike’s head snaps back toward him. “What? No.”
“I mean, I don’t have to stay,” Will adds quickly. “I was just—”
“I didn’t say you had to leave,” Mike interrupts.
“I know, I just—”
“Will.” Mike interrupts again.
Will stops. Mike is looking at him again, more focused now.
“Don’t leave.”
Will nods, even though he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do instead.
“Okay.”
Mike shifts, sitting up fully now, the blanket falling flighty as he does. His shirt is ridden up and it takes everything in Will not to look. Mike glances at Will again.
“About last night,” Mike says.
Will’s stomach drops. “Yeah,” he says, trying but failing to sound normal.
There’s a beat.
“Did you—” Mike starts, then stops. “Did you mean it?”
Will frowns. “Mean what?”
Mike gives him a look.
“Oh.”
That.
“Yeah,” Will says quietly. “I meant it.”
Mike nods, like he was expecting that, but still needed to hear it.
“Okay.”
Silence again.
Will shifts where he’s sitting, hands braced against the mattress. “Did you?”
Mike blinks. “What?”
“Mean it,” Will says. “Or were you just saying that because I—”
“No,” Mike says quickly. “No, I meant it.”
Will nods. “Okay.”
They’re both saying that word too much. It doesn’t make anything clearer.
Mike exhales, leaning back slightly. “So… are we actually doing this?” he asks.
The question is simple. Will’s heart starts beating fast.
“It was your idea, Mike.”
Mike huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I know.”
Another pause. But this one feels different. Less like something’s wrong, more like they’re both just figuring it out.
Will glances at him. “I mean—we don’t have to.”
“Will,” Mike says, his tone sharp. “I want to.”
Will looks down at his hands. “I just don’t want to make it weird.”
Mike shifts slightly closer—not all the way, just enough that Will notices.
“Do you want to?” Mike asks.
Will swallows. The question lands heavier than before. He thinks about it. About last night. About everything they both said. But also about how Mike is here, about how he meant it. Mike is basically offering to give Will everything he’s ever wanted with him. But it’s just practice. Will thinks about it, he’s leaving soon anyway, fuck it.
“Yes,” Will says.
It’s honest. It’s also terrifying.
Mike nods slowly, “Okay,” There’s that word again. But this time, it feels more solid. Like they actually mean it.
Will becomes aware of his hands. They’re still clenched slightly against the mattress, fingers curled like he’s bracing for something. He forces himself to relax. This is stupid. Nothing’s even happening. And yet he can feel it anyway. The weight of what they just agreed to sitting between them, making everything feel sharper, closer, more deliberate than it should be.
Mike shifts again. Not much. Just enough that their knees brush for half a second.
Will goes completely still.
It’s barely anything. It shouldn’t matter.
It matters.
Mike notices too—Will can tell. He pulls back slightly, like he’s giving Will the option to move away. He doesn’t. He doesn’t move at all. His heart is beating too fast again.
“Okay,” Mike says, quite, like he’s testing the word out.
Will lets out a small breath. “Yeah.”
Neither of them know how to start. This is ridiculous Will thinks.
They just agreed to this. Whatever this is.
And now they’re sitting here like—
“Do we—” Mike stops.
Will glances at him. “What?”
Mike huffs a quiet breath, almost laughing at himself. “I don’t know. I was gonna say, do we have rules or something?”
Will considers that. It’s not a bad idea.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “Like what?”
Mike sits up a little straighter now, “I don’t know just—like, if either of us wants to stop, we stop.”
Will nods immediately. “Yeah. obviously.”
“Okay,” Mike says.
“Okay,” Will agrees.
They’re back there again.
Will’s brain is screaming at him to say something else, to ask another question, to delay and give himself more time to think this through.
Instead he says “So… what now?”
Mike exhales, a quiet, relieved sound.
“Now,” he says, “we just—start, I guess”
Start. Will’s stomach flips. “Right.”
Neither of them moves. Again.
Will lets out a small, nervous laugh “This is going great.”
Mike huffs. “Shut up.”
Will smiles, just a little. It fades quickly.
Mike shifts closer. Slowly, like he’s giving Will time to react.
To stop him.
Will doesn’t.
Mike stops when they’re just a little closer than before. Not touching. But not not touching.
“Is this okay?” Mike asks. The question is quiet. Serious.
Will nods before he can overthink it. “Yeah.”
Mike watches him for a second longer, like he’s checking for something. Then he nods too.
They’re both breathing a little differently now. Will notices that. He notices everything. The way Mike’s hand shifts slightly on the mattress, like he’s not sure where to put it. The way his shoulders tense. The way he’s looking at will—not like before. Like this means something. Even if they said it was just practice.
Mike doesn’t stall this time. He shifts closer, even if there’s still a hint of nerves in the way his body tenses. The space between them disappears completely, their legs brushing, their arms nearly pressed together.
Will’s breath catches. Mike’s hand moves, more sure this time, coming to rest lightly against Will’s arm.
Mike shoots a look at Will, asking for reassurance. Will nods.
Mike studies his face for half a second longer.
Then he leans in.
There’s no pause this time. He closes the distance in one smooth movement.
Their lips meet. It’s soft. Will melts immediately. Mike doesn’t rush, he’s careful, controlled.
But it’s real.
Will freezes for a second, just long enough to register it. Then instinct kicks in and he leans in slightly without thinking.
It only lasts a moment.
Mike pulls back first. Not abruptly. Just enough to look at him.
Will’s chest is pounding so hard he can hear his heartbeat. He stares back, trying to figure out what just happened, if he did it right, if he was good at it, why Mike isn’t saying anything. Why isn’t Mike saying anything?
“Mike?” Will says quietly.
Mike is still staring at him with a look he can’t figure out.
“Was it that bad? I’m sorry I don’t—”
Will is interrupted again but this time with Mike’s lips.
Oh.
Mike doesn’t pull away this time. It’s not rushed, but it’s not hesitant either—like he wanted to shut Will up the second he started apologizing.
Will freezes again for half a second. Just because it was unexpected.
He leans into it again. The kiss is still soft, but not unsure like before. There’s a little more pressure this time, a little more intention. Mike’s hand shifts from Will’s arm to his cheek, his thumb brushing under Will’s chin.
Will’s breath catches against it and he lets out a quiet noise. He still doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do but this time he doesn’t over think it as much.
Will brings his hand up to the back of Mike’s head and brushes his fingers through Mike’s hair. Mike licks at Will’s bottom lip asking to enter which makes Will slightly tug on Mike’s hair.
Mike pulls back quickly, letting a soft groan escape.
Will blinks, a little dazed “Sorry, was that um—too much?”
“Do that again.”
Before Will could even process what Mike was doing, their lips connected again.
He slides his hand back up and lightly tugs on Mike’s hair. Mike’s groans are muffled by his tongue entering Will’s mouth.
This kiss lasts a lot longer. They finally pull back and Will sees how flushed Mike looks. But Will can’t say much he’s pretty sure he looks just as flustered, if not worse.
For a second, neither of them says anything. Both of them are breathing a little heavier than before, a little too aware of each other, of how close they still are.
Will notices his hand still tangled in Mike’s hair.
He lots go quickly. “Sorry,” he says again, quieter this time.
Mike almost laughs, and shakes his head. “You have got to stop apologizing.”
Will bites his lip trying not to laugh. “I don’t even know what i’m apologizing for.”
“Exactly,” Mike replies.
Will glances at him again. “Was it—Okay?”
Mike looks at him, like that’s a ridiculous question.
“Yeah,” he says. “It was okay.”
Will narrows his eyes a little. “Just okay?”
Mike’s mouth twitches, like he’s trying not to smile.
“Will.”
“What?”
“It was good.”
Will’s chest tightens. “Yeah?”
Mike nods once, like that settles it.
Will doesn’t say anything right away. “Okay.”
The air feels different now—thicker somehow, like everything is too close.
Will shuffles a little “Sorry.”
Mike lets out a small breath through his nose, “I told you to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Apologizing.”
Will shrugs, eyes dropping to the blanket. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.”
Will glances at Mike. He’s already looking at him.
Silence stretches, but not in a bad way.
Mike leans back against the headboard a little, like he’s trying to give them both space, but his leg is still pressed against Will’s. He doesn’t move it.
Will stares at a loose thread on the blanket, picking at it absenmindedly.
“You’re thinking again,” Mike says.
Will huffs. “I’m always thinking.”
Mike watches him for a second. Then—
“Hey.”
Will looks up.
“Come here.”
Will hesitates then shifts closer again.
They’re right where they were before. Close. Too close.
Mike doesn’t wait. He leans in again.
Will meets him halfway. It’s easier this time.
Mike’s hand comes back up, resting against Will’s jaw. His thumb accidentally grazes Will’s throat and Will lets out a sound he didn’t know he was capable of making.
Mike pulls back, “You like that?” he smirks.
Will stares at him in shock. “I don’t—I—”
“Shut up” Mike presses his lips back onto Will’s. He rests his thumb on Will’s throat this time, just testing the pressure.
Will’s breath catches immediately.
Not because it hurts—because it doesn’t.
It’s light, barely anything. But it sends something sharp and unfamiliar down his spine, makes his body react before his brain can catch up.
He stiffens for half a second, but doesn’t pull away.
Mike notices. His thumb stills, like he’s waiting for a sign to stop.
Will doesn’t give him one.
The kiss deepens slightly. Will’s hand finds his shirt this time, gripping lightly at the fabric without really thinking about it.
His thoughts are gone.
Mike pulls back just enough to look at him.
His hand doesn’t move from Will’s throat.
“Still don’t know what you like?” he asks, quiet but cocky.
Will exhales, a little unsteady.
“I—” he starts, “that felt—” he tries again.
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.
“Yeah,” Mike agrees.