Work Text:
Driving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make
the new streets yours.
Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like
everything's okay,
a feeling that lasts for one song maybe,
the parentheses all clicking shut behind you.
THEN:
“Mike, are you okay?”
Will stumbles over his own feet in his haste to reach Mike, who has crumpled to the ground, one palm pressed flat against the grass. With his other hand, he is clutching at his knee, pain flaring across his skin and making tears well in his eyes. Which is so embarrassing. He’s seven years old! There is no reason for him to be crying over a scraped knee anymore. Mike shudders, thinking what his dad would say if he could see him now. Luckily, he can’t see him. Only Will can, who would never make Mike feel bad for crying.
They’d been playing in Mike’s front yard, racing back and forth between the garage and the large tree by his mailbox. A comic they had been reading earlier had a new character with superspeed, which of course prompted a huge argument about who out of them would be more likely to have that power. Mike insisted that he was faster than Will. Shaking his head, Will had told him to prove it.
Mike ran faster than he ever had before, determined not to make a fool of himself. He’d been so distracted by trying to beat Will back to their makeshift finish line near the trunk of the tree, he hadn’t noticed the rock in front of him. He tripped, landing on his knee hard, the rough gravel and dirt painful as it scraped against his skin.
When Will reaches him, he drops down to his own knees, crowding into Mike’s space. Furiously wiping tears from his eyes, Mike turns his face away, hoping Will doesn’t notice. Of course, he does.
“Don’t cry,” Will says quietly. “It’s okay. It’s just a scrape.”
“I know,” Mike sniffs. “I’m being stupid.”
Even though Mike knows Will isn’t going to make fun of him, it’s still embarrassing to be crying in front of him. Mike wants to look cool and strong. He wants to be the one who can protect Will and never feel scared or upset himself. Because Will gets scared and upset all the time, and Mike can’t blame him, because his dad is so mean. But one of them has to be brave, and Mike had decided long ago that it's going to be him.
Will pauses at Mike’s words, his face scrunching up with a frown. His hand reaches up and pokes at Mike’s cheek gently.
“No, you’re not,” Will huffs. “You’re not stupid. Does it hurt really bad?”
“Just a little,” Mike says, very bravely. “It’s okay.”
“Do you want me to kiss it better?”
Mike blinks. Will is looking at him with wide, earnest eyes. The sun overhead beats down and Mike has to squint against its harsh glare. His knee throbs as a fresh wave of pain washes over him, prickling across his skin and making his eyes sting again.
“Yes, please.”
Will nods, his face very serious as he leans down and carefully presses a kiss to the corner of Mike’s knee. The pain doesn’t really go away, but Mike certainly feels a whole lot better. That’s usually how it goes when he’s with Will. All of the terrible things just don’t seem so bad anymore.
For some reason, it suddenly feels as though there are a million butterflies in Mike’s tummy, all fluttering their wings at once, messing up his insides. It’s not bad. Just strange. Honestly, it’s making him feel a little sick. But Will is here, still kneeling down next to Mike. He can’t be too bothered about the butterflies when his best friend is here to make everything okay.
“Did it work?” Will asks, eyebrows scrunching up in concern.
“Yeah,” Mike nods, nudging Will’s pinky with his own. “It did.”
The way we move through time and space, or only time.
The way it's night for many miles, and then suddenly
it's not, it's breakfast
and you're standing in the shower for over an hour,
holding the bar of soap up to the light.
NOW:
“Mike, are you okay?”
The New York City skyline stretches out in front of them, sprawling and endless. Tall buildings reflect the slowly setting sun, turning the world a glowing orange. The hand interlaced with Mike’s squeezes firmly once, twice. He squeezes back.
“I’m fine,” Mike reassures. “Just enjoying the view.”
When he says this, his eyes remain pointedly fixed on Will, who rolls his eyes and blushes.
“You’re cheesy, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told.”
The wind picks up a little. He squeezes Will's hand again, his heart hammering against his ribcage. His stomach is in knots. Has been for a while now. Butterflies beat their wings against his insides. Who knew this would be so nerve-wracking? Mike feels very out of his depth.
“I still can’t believe there’s nobody here,” Will comments. “It’s so beautiful.”
Here, of course, referring to the rooftop bar. The one that is very intentionally empty because Mike made sure it would be. There was no way he was going to do this with an audience. That’s not his style. Or Will’s style, for that matter.
“Mmm,” Mike hums, trying desperately not to give himself away. Will squeezes his hand again.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Will asks, eyes roaming over Mike’s face. “You’ve been acting weird all day.”
Shit. Of course he’s been acting weird. This is the most important day of his life. It’s been years in the making. It would be insane if Mike were acting normal about all of this. He finds it difficult to act normal about Will at the best of times, but this is another level entirely.
It’s been impossible, keeping this from Will. He’d explained away the elaborate breakfast by saying their groceries were going out of date and he needed to use them up. The coffee date at lunch was chalked up to wanting to try out that place on Bleecker St that everyone talks about. Dinner was because Mike didn’t feel like cooking. The nice outfits and upscale restaurant were put down to the new fancy sweater Will had just bought, and wasn’t it a shame he hasn’t had a chance to wear it yet?
Mike had thought of everything. What he hadn’t accounted for was just how well Will knows him. Of course Will would notice something was off. He notices every little thing about Mike. He can tell that he’s acting strange.
“I think I’m coming down with something,” Mike lies. “I’m not feeling too well.”
“Really?” Will frowns.
“Yeah,” Mike nods earnestly. “You know what would help?”
“What?”
“A kiss from my one true love,” Mike says, grinning.
Will rolls his eyes again, bumping his shoulder against Mike’s. “Oh, really?”
“Mhm,” Mike hums. “It’s the only way.”
“Oh, well, in that case,” Will laughs.
The squirming in Mike’s stomach settles when Will leans in and kisses him on the cheek, then the forehead, then firmly on the lips. As always, Will makes everything feel better.
I will keep watch. I will water the yard.
Knot the tie and go to work. Unknot the tie and go to sleep.
THEN:
Mike wants Will to be in his life forever.
Who else is going to kiss his scraped knees when he falls over, or hold his hand when he’s scared? Who will draw all of the pictures to go along with his stories? Who will have sleepovers with him, sneaking candy when they’re not supposed to, staying up way too late?
It has to be Will. Mike doesn’t want this with anyone else. Will is going to be his best friend forever and ever. He’s sure of it.
This is what he tells Will when they’re eating ice creams together on the front porch, a fresh bandage on Mike’s knee. His mother had scolded him for being reckless, but she cleaned and bandaged him up all the same. Gave both him and Will a scoop of vanilla ice cream in a cone and sent them outside to eat it, claiming that their sticky little hands weren’t allowed in the house.
As they eat, Mike tells Will all about how they’re going to be together forever. The house that they’ll share, one day. All of the adventures that they’ll have. It will be so awesome and nobody can tell them what they can and can’t do. Will hums, nodding along. Vanilla ice cream drips down his knuckles.
“And that’s why we have to get married,” Mike concludes, crunching at the end of his ice cream cone.
“What?” Will tilts his head to the side, confused. “We can’t get married.”
“Why not?” Mike asks, offended. “You don’t want to marry me?”
“Boys can’t marry other boys,” Will says matter-of-factly. “My dad said so.”
Will’s dad says a lot of things, none of them very good. Mike hates him. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that someone as nice and funny as Will has a dad who sucks so bad. Then again, Mike doesn’t feel like he’s that similar to his dad, either. At least, he hopes not.
“So?” Mike frowns. “Who cares? We’ll just do it anyway.”
“But…” Will stops, trails off. He seems to think about this for a moment. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Mike nods firmly. “I wanna marry you, so I will. Besides, who cares what your dad says?”
Will is quiet for a long moment, finishing off the last of his own ice cream. Eventually, he nods, turning to face Mike.
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s do it.”
I sleep. I dream. I make up things
that I would never say. I say them very quietly.
NOW:
Mike wants Will to be in his life forever.
That’s why he’s doing this. That’s why he rented out this extremely expensive rooftop bar, paid extra for the sunset view timeslot. Why he has spent the past few years saving, planning, going insane with nerves. It’s all worth it. Will has always been worth it.
The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, the vibrant orange more pronounced than ever. It highlights Will’s face—the slope of his nose, the flush of his cheeks. He’s so beautiful. Mike swallows roughly.
“Will?”
His voice is shaking. More than anything, Mike hoped that his voice wouldn’t be shaking. Oh, well. There isn’t much he can do about it. Will turns to face him, eyes searching.
“Yeah?” Will blinks, taking in Mike’s trembling form and pale face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I—” Mike stops, heart pounding hard in his chest. “I’m going to start talking and I need you to let me get through this, okay?”
“...Okay?” Will looks thoroughly confused. That’s okay. He won’t be for long.
Under the glow of the orange sun, Mike takes Will’s hands in his own. They’re probably clammy, but Will doesn’t seem to mind. He just smiles at Mike encouragingly, waits for him to start talking.
It’s not that Mike is worried Will is going to say no. It’s pretty clear that Will wants this, too. There have been small comments here and there. Wistful glances at Lucas and Max’s wedding. A lingering glance at the window of jewellery stores. No, Mike knows that Will wants this. Somehow, for some reason, Will wants to be with him. It’s a miracle, really.
What Mike is really worried about is screwing this all up. Saying the wrong thing. He’d written endless scripts, each coming out worse than the last. For the last few months, the trash can in his office has been filled with tiny, screwed-up balls of paper. In the end, he decided not to write anything at all. He chooses the most idiotic and most Mike Wheeler option there is: he’s going to wing it.
It seems like the only way to go about this. His love for Will has never followed a script. It’s not something he can put into words on a page, despite trying countless times. His love for Will is messy and spontaneous and all over the place. So, Mike opens his mouth and starts talking.
“Will,” Mike says, slowly. “You are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me. Every morning I wake up and feel like the luckiest person in the world. Sometimes, I can’t believe that you’re with me.”
Will opens his mouth to speak, but Mike stops him with a finger pressed to his lips. He needs to get through this now or he won’t be able to do it at all. The emotions inside him are too strong, bubbling up so rapidly that it’s only a matter of time until he overflows.
“I love you, Will. I am so in love with you, it drives me insane. I think about you all the time. Even after all these years, I still get so excited to be around you. You make me so, so happy.”
Mike takes a shuddering breath and looks into Will’s eyes. There are tears in them, Mike notices. A glassy sheen covers the hazel that Mike loves so much. He swipes a thumb across Will’s cheek, soothing.
“I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” Mike whispers. “I don’t ever want to. I want to be with you forever, Will.”
Here it is. The moment. The butterflies appear, fluttering their wings rapidly inside Mike’s stomach, making him feel nauseous. But there is Will, in front of him, with his wide, wet eyes. He’s still holding one of Mike’s hands, squeezing every now and then. It’s grounding in a way that makes his nerves settle a little, his body relaxing. Mike is so in love.
“Which is why I want to ask you—” Mike starts, voice wavering just slightly.
Taking a deep breath, he drops down onto one knee.
“Oh my god,” Will claps a hand over his own mouth. Then again, muffled this time: “Oh my god.”
Pulling the small box out of his pocket, Mike opens the lid. The small, silver band glints in the light of the setting sun. He’d kept it simple. Whenever he caught Will staring at rings, he’d always seemed to gravitate towards ones like this. Clean and dainty, not too flashy.
“Will Byers,” Mike breathes. He looks up at the person who he’s loved his entire life. The person who now has tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes wide and sparkling. The person who is chanting no way, no way, no way under his breath. Mike’s person. Forever. “Would you do me the absolute honor—”
“Yes!” Will blurts out, apparently incapable of holding himself back anymore. “Mike—”
“Wait,” Mike laughs, giddy. He’s so happy it feels like he might explode. “Let me say it!”
“Okay,” Will giggles hysterically. “Go, go, go. Ask me!”
Truly, it’s Mike’s honor. It feels like his entire life has been leading up to this. Each step he took, each decision he made, bringing him closer and closer to this exact moment.
“Will you marry me?”
The trees in wind, the streetlights on,
the click and flash of cigarettes
being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight.
THEN:
The breeze is soothing against Mike’s skin.
It washes away some of the searing heat of the sun, cooling the sweat that clings to the back of his neck. Maybe he and Will didn’t pick the best day to run at full speed through his front yard. It has left them both hot and exhausted, which is something that Will hates. Speaking of Will—
“What about the wedding ring?” Will asks out of nowhere.
Mike frowns, wiping his sticky ice cream hands on his shirt. “What do you mean?”
“If you’re asking me to marry you, then you’re supposed to give me a ring,” Will says. “That’s how you get married.”
“Oh,” Mike pauses. That’s true. He didn’t think of that. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a ring. Then, a wonderful idea occurs to him. “Wait right here!”
Racing through the house, ignoring his mother's calls to slow down, Mike skids into his bedroom. He locates the small plastic packet he’s searching for quickly. He grabs it off his dresser, tearing it open and running back through the house and out the front door. His mother calls after him, but he ignores her again. His attention is entirely captured by the item in his hand. He’d secretly stolen it from Nancy a few days ago and had been saving it for later. But Will is more important. Always is.
Back on the porch, Mike presents Will with his findings, basically glowing with pride. Will glances over it, taking it all in.
“A Ring Pop?” Will asks, scrunching up his nose.
“Well, I don’t have a real ring,” Mike huffs. “Do you want it or not?”
Mike watches as Will wipes his own ice cream sticky hands on his shorts, a small smile creeping over his face. He looks up at Mike, eyes crinkling at the corners. Backlit by the sun, he almost looks like he’s glowing.
“Yeah,” Will says shyly. “I want it.”
Mike goes to hand it to him, but Will shakes his head, pushing it away.
“No, you have to do it properly,” Will insists.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you know anything about getting married?” Will sighs, like Mike should know these things. “First, you have to kneel down.”
“But my knee is hurt,” Mike points out.
“So use the other one.”
“Right,” Mike nods seriously, carefully dropping down to balance on his good knee. “What next?”
“Then you have to put the ring on me,” Will explains, holding out his hand.
“Okay,” Mike takes the ring and looks at Will’s fingers. “Which one?”
“Um,” Will pauses. “I don’t know. I think you can choose.”
Mike nods. That makes sense. Well, the pointer finger is the one people use the most, so he figures that’s a good choice. He slides the plastic ring onto Will’s pointer finger.
“Now what?”
“Now we…” Will looks away, like he’s not too sure of this next part. There is a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “Um, I think we’re meant to kiss.”
“What?”
“Mike,” Will sighs. “Think about it. We’re getting married. Don’t you have to kiss for it to be real?”
“Oh,” Mike thinks hard, trying to remember everything he knows about weddings. He’s been to a few in his life. Distant aunts and uncles, a couple of family friends. He definitely remembers kissing. “I think you’re right.”
Will nods but doesn’t move at all. Mike supposes that since he was the one who put the ring on, he’s the one who should kiss him.
“Okay, stay still,” Mike says.
Will holds very still. Mike thinks that he might not even be breathing. The sun is beating down harder than ever, burning the tips of Mike’s ears. In front of him, Will has closed his eyes. Mike takes a deep breath. Then he leans forward and presses a firm, clumsy kiss to Will’s cheek.
“Like that?” Mike asks hesitantly.
Will blinks his eyes open. One of his hands, remnants of vanilla ice cream still clinging to it, lifts to touch his own cheek. He presses against the spot Mike kissed, like he can’t quite believe it happened.
“Yeah,” Will smiles, shy and soft. “Now we’re together.”
It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
green beautiful green.
NOW:
The breeze is soothing against Mike’s skin.
Heat surges through his body and paints his cheeks, the tips of his ears. The situation is so insane, he almost laughs out loud. Will is still staring down at him, hand clapped over his mouth. Eventually, he removes it and says:
“Get up here so I can kiss you.”
“You haven’t answered yet,” Mike points out.
“Yes!” Will laughs, bright and happy. A little teary, but Mike expected that. “Yes, yes, yes. Obviously. Now come here.”
Mike huffs out a laugh, sliding the ring out of its box. “Let me put the ring on you first.”
“Are you going to put it on the right finger this time?” Will teases, extending his hand.
Mike can’t believe Will still remembers that. It doesn’t help that his mother brings it up every time they visit. Or the blurry pictures in his childhood photo album of Will’s ice cream sticky hand with a Ring Pop on his pointer finger. The photo album that Will had snuck home with them after their last trip to Hawkins, now sitting proudly on their bookshelf.
“God, you’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
“It was cute,” Will grins.
“How’d I do this time?” Mike says, carefully sliding the ring onto Will’s finger. The correct one, this time. “Better than a Ring Pop?”
“Perfect,” Will whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Get up here.”
Mike pushes himself to his feet. As soon as he is standing, he is being pulled flush against Will’s body. Arms wrap around Mike’s shoulders as Will presses closer, hugging him tightly. His face is buried in the crook of Mike’s neck and he is making quiet sniffling noises. Mike pulls back just enough to see his face.
“Baby?” Mike whispers. “You okay?”
A laugh bubbles out of Will, a little wet and shaky. “I’m amazing.”
With the pad of his thumb, Mike wipes a stray tear off Will’s cheek. Then, he removes his thumb and replaces it with his lips, stamping a gentle kiss onto his skin. Then another, and another, until Will is squirming and giggling as Mike attacks his face with kisses.
“Mike,” Will manages to get out through his laughter.
“Will,” Mike shoots back, pressing one final kiss to his temple.
Will just looks at him, then. For a long while, neither of them say anything. Mike’s hand still cups Will’s face, the skin warm under his touch. Will’s hands rest on Mike’s shoulders, fingers loosely gripping the fabric of his shirt. Mike can feel the ring pressing against his skin through the fabric.
“Mike Wheeler,” Will says eventually, eyes watery. “I love you so much.”
Now it’s Mike’s turn to get teary. He’d been fighting it off earlier, pure nerves and adrenaline carrying him through. But now, with Will soft and warm in his arms, he can’t hold back. A prickling sensation starts up in his throat, followed by a dull sting behind his eyes.
“I—” Mike sniffs. “I love you, too. So much.”
A tear escapes, and Will lets out a wounded sort of noise, reaching up to wipe it away. He keeps his hand there, on Mike’s cheek, gazing at him like he’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
“Baby,” Will murmurs. “I’m so happy. I didn’t—” He trails off, hand sliding down Mike’s neck and resting on his shoulder again.
“Didn’t what?” Mike prompts.
“I didn’t know I could be this happy,” Will laughs wetly. “Didn’t think it was in the cards for me.”
“Will,” Mike breathes. “If anyone on this earth deserves to always be happy, it’s you.”
“Good thing I have you, then,” Will smiles. “You always make sure of that.”
“That’s all I want,” Mike says, the butterflies in his stomach appearing again. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And now I get to do it for the rest of my life. I mean—If you’ll let me.”
“I said yes, didn’t I?”
“Terrible decision, really,” Mike says, rubbing their noses together. “What were you thinking?”
“Truly awful,” Will giggles. “Marrying the love of my life. What a nightmare.”
And really, how can Mike not kiss him after that? He presses their lips together gently, letting the warmth flood through him. It’s chaste and soft, so unlike the messy and frantic kisses that they normally share. Mike is usually insatiable, nipping at Will’s lips and rolling their tongues together. But not today. It transports him back to the first time they kissed, tentative and unsure.
It was their second year of college, a few weeks after they moved into their new apartment. Mike had been so worried that he’d ruined everything. The close proximity to Will had broken the dam that he’d so carefully built up and sent all of his feelings overflowing, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. He never imagined that Will would have felt the same way. Was waiting for him, all this time. Mike is so grateful that he wasn’t too late.
They had kissed that night, for the first time. It was in their living room, under the glowing light of their shitty, half-broken TV. Mike’s palms were sweating and he felt a little bit like he might throw up. He wondered if Will would like the way he kissed, or if his breath smelled bad, or if maybe he should have put some chapstick on. But then Will’s lips were on his, and suddenly Mike wasn’t thinking about anything at all.
Today, Will is the first one to break the kiss, just like he was all those years ago. Back then, it was to check in and make sure Mike actually liked Will and hadn’t just made a huge mistake. This time, it’s so he can admire his engagement ring.
It’s a simple thing: a plain silver band, smooth on the outside. And on the inside, a tiny engraving in a dainty cursive. Together.
Will cries a little more when he notices that, burying his head in Mike’s shoulder and mumbling something about Mike being a stupid, cheesy idiot. But Mike has loved Will long enough to know that what he really means is I love you.
“Ugh,” Will groans once he has calmed down and is wiping tears off his face. “I don’t know why I’m crying so much. It’s not like this is my first engagement.”
Mike’s hands still where they are rubbing soothing circles against Will’s back. “What?”
“What?” Will pulls back to look him in the eye. “You don’t count the Ring Pop engagement? Because I take that very seriously.”
“God,” Mike snorts, pressing a wet kiss to Will’s cheek. He is so full of affection, he doesn’t know where to put all of it. “I am going to marry the shit out of you.”
“You better,” Will grins.
Mike’s heart swells with emotion. He wishes that he knew sooner. Wishes he had figured out what these feelings meant earlier. There was so much confusion for so long. So many wasted years. It’s hard, sometimes, knowing that he could have had this all along.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Mike murmurs. “To figure this out, I mean. When we were younger, I didn’t—”
Will cuts him off with a kiss, silencing the words as they leave Mike’s mouth. And just like that, nothing matters anymore. Because Will is here, and he’s real, and he’s kissing Mike. He wasn’t too late. By some miracle, Mike had done the impossible.
“It’s okay,” Will says softly. “We’re together now.”
It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green.