Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hidden from the soft evening glow, hauled up in the basement of the Wheeler’s house, Mike Wheeler had done the impossible.

It was the summer before their senior year of high school, which meant that they’d all grown up. They were becoming real adults, with responsibilities and appropriate interests. They spent their time working and studying and praying it would all be enough to set up a good foundation for their future. They had experience and money to obtain. Their time was precious, really, and they all knew they had to use it well.

So how exactly Mike Wheeler had convinced everyone in the party to play a game of D&D on a Friday evening, Will wasn’t sure of. But he sat, almost sank into Mike’s basement sofa, watching as Mike carefully placed his figurines on the table.

They hadn’t played for a long time. After they spent years hunting Vecna, none of them were all that excited to engage in anything magical, not even if it was fictional. They had tried to play a few times, but something about naming the monsters that had tried to kill you and everyone you knew after the characters in the game had spoiled it slightly. Besides, now that there were no interdimensional threats to worry about anymore, they had all slowly fallen into the rhythm of caring about normal things kids their age cared about. School, friends, dating, trying to steal beer from their parents, surviving summer jobs; the average things. 

They were all busy. Too busy to come up with campaigns, let alone spend hours playing them. Will was too. He had New York to think of, and to save for. 

Everyone was occupied, really, so any time all six of them had to spend together was even more limited. Eleven was taking summer courses, since she wanted to be able to graduate together with the rest of the party. She didn’t have the grades to allow that for now, but after begging, and lying a tiny bit, she had convinced some teachers to let her take summer classes for extra credit. Dustin was helping her wherever he could, when he wasn't working on his own college applications. Apparently “Nasa wouldn’t hire just anyone”. 

The rest of them were working. Mostly evenings, basically every weekend. Fridays and weekends were busy, which meant more tips, which in and of itself was enough for Max to agree to closing shifts. Lucas followed her wherever she went. Will didn’t really decline any shifts anyway, and it just happened to be that most of the ones that were given to him were in the evening. All of that just left Mike. 

He had been the only one to really play much after everything. He kept writing campaigns, and he took up writing everyone's characters too, even if they barely played. Even if he didn’t even tell them about it, all together.

In the beginning, he had tried to get the others as involved as he was. He did anything to convince them. He promised to include storylines he normally wouldn’t, or he’d let Lucas’ questionable rolls and actions slide. It didn’t take much to get Will engaged, which he tried his best to be very normal about by saying he simply loved D&D. It didn’t really matter, though, because the rest of the party didn’t seem to share that sentiment. 

So eventually Mike had stopped asking them, and the only time Will heard anything about his campaigns was late at night in the dark of his basement, when Will finally felt sleep creep up on him and Mike seemed more awake than ever. He’d fall asleep to the sound of Mike’s voice as he explained his ideas, quiet and slow, as if he was only vaguely thinking out loud. Sometimes his stories found their way to Will’s dreams. Will never told him that, because sometimes the stories changed, too, until they were written by Will’s imagination instead. He knew that wasn’t allowed.

But now they were all gathered on a Friday evening, spread out through the basement.

Will had no clue how it happened, but Mike had found an evening where all of them were free and willing to sit down for one of his campaigns.

All willing except for Max, who made her stance on it all incredibly clear the second she walked into the basement

“It’s a Friday evening, Wheeler,” she said. She made her way over to Will and sat down in a flash, resting her head back against his legs dangling off the sofa. She looked up, smiling in acknowledgement.

Mike didn’t look up from the table. “So?” He said.

“So we shouldn’t be stuck in your nasty basement playing out your weird fantasies,” she raised a brow, looking back down at him.

“What?” Mike turned around. “I don’t have any weird fantasies-”

“You do and you’ve turned them into these lame stories that you’re making us act out.”

“Okay, first of all, dungeons and dragons is not lame game, and-” Mike’s voice echoed loudly through the basement, but halfway through his sentence Max turned away from him, saying something to Eleven, and his voice fell away. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Fine, don’t listen,” he mumbled to himself, turning back to where he was setting up for the campaign. Will fought back the smile that was desperately trying to find its way onto his face.

In front of him Max looked up again. “So,” she said, grinning widely.

“So?” He tilted his head. 

“I heard you have a date.”

Shit.

On the other side of the room, two figurines fell onto the wood of the floor with a thump. Will and Max both turned to look, as did Eleven, Dustin and Lucas on the other side of the basement. They all watched as the figurines bounced on the floor next to where Mike was now sitting criss-crossed, his eyes wide and turned towards him and Max.

“Geez, Wheeler,” Max said. “Timing, much?”

Mike blinked, and snapped out of whatever possessed him, turning to pick up the fallen figurines. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

At the same time, Dustin and Eleven had turned to look at him instead, both their eyes wide.

“You have a date?” Eleven gasped. “With who?”

Max turned back to him and raised her brows with a smile. “Yes, Byers,” she said. “Spill.” 

In hindsight, Will should have known Max would know about Carlton asking him out the second he told Lucas about it. Sometimes they were like a joined entity of sorts; anything one knew the other did too. Which was fine. Completely, perfectly fine. He was planning on telling Max soon too, anyway. He’d tell Eleven, and probably Dustin as well while he was at it, and he would do everything in his power to keep it from Mike. 

Except now Max had sort of ruined that plan for him.

“Nothing big,” he shrugged after a few seconds of silence. “He just asked if I wanted to do something someday.”

“Nothing big my ass,” Lucas said as he fell down on the sofa next to him. “You were blushing for like ten whole minutes. You hid behind the counter and everything.”

Max smiled wider at that, and Will brought his hands up to his head, burying his face in the palms as he groaned out a complaint. 

It wasn’t not true. He did blush, bright crimson like some kid who got sunburned at the pool. And he did hide behind the Starcourt cinema counter for far too long. But that didn’t mean Lucas had to announce that part of the story to everyone. Actually, Will would much prefer it if he didn’t announce any part of the story, to anyone whatsoever. It was fine like this; Lucas and Max thought Carlton had asked him out, and he had said yes, or maybe, or whatever, and he had been completely normal and not embarrassing and idiotic in the slightest. That was a perfect story. 

“It’s not that important,” Will tried, waving it off. “Aren’t we about to start, anyway?”

“Was it the soda guy?” Dustin asked, ignoring his plea to move on, and Max nodded back to him. Traitor.

“That’s so cute,” Eleven said. “How did he ask?”

Before Will could throw in another vague sentence that would hopefully make them move on, Mike spoke up from the other side. “Can we do this later?” He asked, annoyed. “This campaign is long and we should’ve basically started thirty minutes ago if we want to get through the first part today-”

Max groaned, letting her head fall back again. “Please, Wheeler, we’re trying to talk about something important.”

Mike raised his brows. “This is important?” He asked, his voice dripping wet with sarcasm.

“Absolutely,” Dustin grinned. He prompted his elbows up on his knees as he leaned forward to look at Will. “I mean… is this not your first date? Ever?”

Mike didn’t even give him room to answer before he spoke. “Whatever,” he said, drawing out the vowels. “Can you guys talk about it after the campaign?” 

The room went quiet for a second. Max and Lucas were staring down at Mike, while Dustin and Eleven were still focussed on Will, though they seemed to have stalled their questions for now. Will wasn’t sure where to look, really, and all he truly wanted now was to play D&D and stop talking about any of this.

He made a slight attempt at that. “We should probably just-”

“You’re such an ass, Wheeler,” Max said then.

Mike frowned at her, and Will was incredibly sure he was fighting everything in him not to roll his eyes. “No I’m not,” he replied.

“You are,” she said. “Like, seriously. What is up your ass?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Lucas mumbled.

Mike dropped another figurine. 

“Dude,” Dustin said.

“What?” Lucas raised his shoulders. “We all thought it.”

“I didn’t,” Eleven said.

“I did,” Max nodded.

Maybe this was why they didn’t do these things anymore, Will thought. Mike wasn’t lying when he said they should’ve started thirty minutes ago, and just because they were older now didn’t mean Karen Wheeler let them scream and shout in their basement all night. But Max was late and Eleven still had to be taught the basics of the game. Dustin had stories to tell and Lucas was clearly interested in other topics that had nothing to do with D&D, and Will wondered if they would even get through five minutes of the campaign interrupted, if they ever made a start.

“I’m just saying,” Lucas continued. “It’s nothing bad, it’s just… well, since you and El broke up you haven’t really… put yourself out there,” he said carefully. “And you’ve been so weird about the whole Carlton thing, I just figured you…”

Mike crossed his arms. “I what?” He glared.

Lucas looked around, his eyes darting between the others for some help to get him out of the hole he dug himself. “I don’t know…” he said. Then, after a beat: “Maybe you just need to get laid.”

“Dude,” Dustin said again, louder and much more targeted this time. 

“It’s not a bad thing!” Lucas said quickly, waving his hands around so much Will had to dodge them. In front of them Max was laughing, trying to hide it behind her hands. “I mean- We really, all, need to- at… some point, you know?”

“Oh my god…” Will mumbled. 

“What is wrong with you, Sinclair,” Mike said slowly. 

“No- Wait,” Lucas shook his head. “Listen, man, I get it-” he looked down at Max. “Can you stop laughing?” He frowned. 

Max made a strangled noise and turned sideways, pressing her face into the denim of Will’s jeans to try and drown out the hiccups and laughs.

“Okay, listen, I’m being serious,” Lucas said. He looked back up at Mike, and Will had to give it to him that he did look serious. “Like… maybe you’ve been all weird because you’ve got like… things pent up.”

“Oh my god,” Max laughed against Will’s leg. 

Will watched as Mike bit the inside of his cheek and fumbled with a thread on his sleeve. In all honesty, it was all a bit funny. And maybe there was a bit of truth to whatever nonsense Lucas was trying to get out. But the last thing Will wanted to permit himself to think about was whether or not Mike Wheeler needed to get laid, and whatever other details Lucas was talking about. Actually, those were the exact things Will tried incredibly hard not to think about. Especially when Mike was right there, staring up at Lucas with daggers in his eyes, his cheeks flushed the slightest red, and Will’s brain ran a flatline. 

“Maybe we should start the campaign,” Dustin interrupted Lucas.

“I’m just trying to help!”

Dustin laughed. “Sure,” he said. “You’re going to help him get laid?”

As if a match sparked, Lucas lit up, almost jumping up from the sofa. He probably would have if it wasn’t for Max sitting in front of him. 

“No,” Mike said before Lucas could talk.

“Dude,” Lucas replied.

“No.”

“But it’s perfect!”

Mike frowned, shaking his head. “How is this perfect?”

“It’s summer!” Lucas exclaimed. “There’s like… a million parties every single day. You just go to one and- boom!”

“I don’t know anyone who throws summer parties,” Mike said.

Lucas grinned, his eyes sparkling slightly. “I do,” he said. “I’m on the fucking basketball team, dude. I know all the parties.”

It took a second for everything to register in Will’s brain. When it did he couldn’t help his mouth from falling open. 

On the other side of the room, Eleven frowned as she spoke up. “Is he trying to help him have s-”

“Yes,” Will said before she could finish the word. “Unfortunately.”

“You’re insane,” Mike declared. He shook his head at Lucas and turned his body in full, until he sat with his back against the sofa. 

“What about next week?” Lucas asked. “Thursday? Or Friday?”

“We’re starting the campaign,” Mike said instead. He waved Dustin and Eleven over, then turned back towards the other three. For a single second, his eyes fell on Will, and Will could’ve sworn he saw something behind the unbothered front he was trying so hard to keep up. He wasn’t sure if any of this was funny anymore.

“You’re deflecting,” Lucas said as he stood up and made his way to the table. “But we’re going to a party and getting you-”

“Don’t say that again,” Max said, still between soft hiccups. “I’ll crumble, seriously.”

Lucas smiled, widely, leaning forward to ruffle a hand through Max’ hair as she rolled her eyes but smiled back equally as wide.

Mike didn’t say anything as everyone took their seat. Will hated that his assigned seat was opposite Mike, now. He fumbled with his fingers before he let them fall into his lap, watching as Mike turned to the side, grabbing a pile of papers. He flipped through them before he started handing them out.

“Your characters.”

Will looked down at his own paper, and his heartbeat loudened against his chest when his eyes fell upon the role Mike had given him. Sorcerer.

To Will’s surprise they did, in fact, get through five minutes of the campaign without being bothered. 

Mike was a good writer. He always had been, even when they were eleven and had half the vocabulary they did now. If Will would’ve called him good then, he had no idea how to describe him now.

So really, Will shouldn't be shocked that after ten minutes, all five of them were completely quiet, entranced in whatever story Mike was telling. Not long after they were yelling at each other about rolls and actions. 

Four hours after they finally started the campaign Karen came downstairs to tell them all it was bedtime, which made Mike groan and mumble something about how seventeen year olds didn’t have bedtimes and that they were all practically adults. But they still packed up, because nobody was actually about to go against Karen Wheeler’s wishes, and one by one they all left, until it was just Mike and Will in the mess of the basement. 

Nobody asked why Karen wasn’t as adamant about Will going home as she was about the others. Will wouldn’t have known how to explain it if she had. “Oh yeah, I just sleep here most nights, in Mike’s basement. That’s completely normal, don’t you think?”

It was almost midnight now, the only sound being the muffled noise of the crickets outside. One of the arms of the figurines they used had broken when Eleven got too excited about an action, so Will was seated onto the carpet next to the sofa, hunched over as he tried to glue it back down. Mike was sitting in front of him. He was supposed to clean all the food and drinks they’d had, but all he was doing now was watch as Will carefully placed a dollop of glue onto the broken arm piece. He had his head tilted slightly, drawing circles on the carpet in front of him without looking down. His foot was resting against Will’s leg, and Will had to force his attention away from the heat of it. 

“What was Max talking about?” Mike asked then, his voice quiet.

Will blinked. “What?”

“Before the campaign,” Mike looked up. “She was asking you something. About that guy.”

“Oh,” Will said. “Right.”

Mike’s eyes were small. He looked almost guilty for asking, but there was a determination somewhere behind it too, focussed enough for Will to know he wasn’t going to let it go. 

Which meant Will had to answer. 

He could brush it off, sure. He could say Lucas was just being annoying, trying to rile him up. He could completely and easily lie his way out of it. But he shouldn’t. 

Mike was his friend. This was stuff you usually talked about with friends. He had told Lucas immediately after it happened. He wanted to talk about it and ask him what to do. He was excited, even. Some rush that ran through his body. 

But now, as he sat in the Wheeler’s clammy basement, all he felt was hot panic. 

Mike wasn’t like Lucas or his other friends with things like this. When he was younger and hopeful, and a dash foolish, Will thought that was for different reasons. The part of Mike that was overprotective, and clinging, and possessive, sometimes. He’d misread so many moments. Filled his head with all of these false ideas and hopes. But he knew better now. This was just what Mike did. It was just what he was like.

But just because he knew that now didn’t mean it didn’t mess with his head. Only slightly, but still.

Mike was still watching him, clearly waiting for an answer. 

“Carlton asked to see a movie together,” Will said eventually. He tried his best to seem unbothered about any part of it, hoping Mike would move on to a different topic. 

Mike’s face stayed blank. His eyes scanned Will’s face, as if he was trying to take in what he was telling him, his entire body a statue. 

“A movie?” He asked then, his brows furrowed.

Will nodded.

“That’s kind of… weird, don’t you think?” he said. He placed his forearms behind him, leaning back on the carpet as he kept his eyes on Will.

“I mean, you work at the movie theatre,” he continued. “You don’t take someone out to the place they work at.”

Will sat quietly, his mouth half open, as he tried to speak. 

To be honest, he had no idea if it was weird.

He didn’t know anything about any of this. He hadn’t exactly had a wide array of potential dates to choose from, so he didn’t have much experience. He didn’t know how people normally went about dates. If it was normal to ask someone like this. If it was weird to go to the movies. If it was even a date. 

He supposed there were different rules for him. He wasn’t expecting some grand gesture, or anything more than subtle. He knew he couldn’t. He didn’t expect Mike to know any of that. But Carlton seemed to be confident enough in what he was doing, and Will wasn’t in much of a position to question it. 

“I don’t think so,” Will decided, and he hoped Mike wouldn’t hear the uncertainty behind it. “I think it’s nice.”

“Nice,” Mike repeated, raising his brows.

“Yes,” Will held. “It’s nice.”

“So you said yes?” 

Will shrugged. “I told him I’d think about it,” he said, trying his hardest to sound incredibly casual about it.

He hadn’t told Carlton that. At all. What he had done was stare at him as if he was some otherworldly creature, his brain running miles behind everything that was happening in front of him. He had mumbled something incoherent, having no clue what he was even trying to say, as he stood there like an idiot. Then it all started to click and he ran.

He ran across the Starcourt cinema, to where Lucas was refilling popcorn buckets in the storage room, then crouched down and tried to hide behind the counter. He had begged Lucas to go out to see if Carlton had left before he reemerged. 

But Mike didn’t know that, so as far as he knew, Will had said he’d think about it. Even if that was far from the truth. Even if Carlton was most likely questioning his sanity by now. 

Mike didn’t say anything, which was annoying enough, but what was pissing Will off even more was the narrowed glance he was throwing his way. Something between confusion and irritation and something softer Will didn’t dare label, for his own mental well-being. It took another two seconds before Will cracked.

He hated how easily it seemed to come to him. How he didn’t even have to do anything to get Will to break. Everything he worried about, every thought racing through his mind, it all spilled in a second with Mike around. He wished he was stronger than it, really, because it was starting to feel genuinely pathetic, and at seventeen he really should have better control over his emotions. But Mike didn’t even have to say or do anything; every barrier in his brain broke. 

“I probably won’t go.”

He said it before he realized what words he was speaking, and as soon as he did he regretted them. Mike looked up in a beat, and Will wanted to run out of the basement, or sink into the floor or disintegrate. He never could keep things from Mike. 

Will knew he should go on the date. He should go and see a perfectly adequate movie with this perfectly adequate boy and he should have a good time. Share popcorn, stare at each other as the movie played. All of the cliche stuff. He wanted to do all of that. Technically. And Will knew he shouldn’t be led by his fears. After everything, he of all people should be well aware of that. This was just different.

Mike hummed, considering it before he spoke. “Why not?” He asked.

Will shrugged. He shifted slightly on the carpet, turning his back to the sofa and leaning against it. “I don’t know,” he said, trying to steady his voice, even if he had to fold his hands under the soles of his socks to keep them still. “I mean… I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

Mike tilted his head. He turned too, until he sat opposite Will. “What to do?” He echoed. “You sit there and watch a movie-”

Will shook his head, a small smile creeping onto his face. “No, I know,” he said. “I just- I mean on a date.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Will nodded. His eyes fell down, fixating them on the carpet below him. As if the pattern would make him shut up. “I’ve never been on one. I’m not- I don’t know how they’re… supposed to go,” he looked up. Mike was already looking back at him. 

“It’s like hanging out,” he said slowly. “But… romantically.”

“Wow,” Will rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Mike raised his shoulders. “It is,” he replied plainly. “It’s… pretty natural. Or it should be.”

Will scoffed. “Easy for you to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mike frowned.

“I mean… you’ve had dates. You’ve had a girlfriend. All of you have,” Will waved his hands around, as if the rest of the party was still there. “I don’t know… anything,” he looked up at the ceiling “About any of this. I mean, what if he wants to kiss-”

“You’re going to kiss him?” Mike cut him off.

Will looked back down. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Then why would you say that?”

He sighed loudly. “I don’t know, Mike. Isn’t that what people do on dates?”

Something flickered over Mike’s face. Confusion, slightly, but also something more intense. Will didn’t know what it was exactly, but a small part of him turned in on itself. Mike looked… irritated. Bothered. Disgusted-

“No,” Mike said before Will’s mind could run to further places. “I mean- Not always. Only if you want to.”

Will shrugged. “Maybe I want to.”

“With that guy? You barely know him.”

“I do know him,” Will said, even though that wasn’t entirely true. Not really. Not in any way that mattered. Especially not to him. But whatever, he’d asked. Nobody had ever done that before, so who was Will to say no?

“You’ve seen him like… twice,” Mike said flatly.

Will pressed his lips into a thin line. “We’ve talked.”

“Talked,” Mike repeated, like the word barely meant a thing.

Will’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Talked,” he said. “What, do you want me to suck him off before we go out?”

Mike’s mouth fell open. 

The Wheeler’s basement was so small sometimes. Like when Will said something dumb. Especially when Will said something dumb, and he could hear the words tumble out of his mouth and bounce against the walls, echoing through the room. He saw Mike swallow whatever he had ready to fire back in an attempt to win the half argument they were having and instead let his eyes widen at whatever Will had just said.

He wanted to snatch the words back out of the air. But he couldn’t, so he just sat there. 

“What the fuck, dude…?”

Mike sat up straight, his foot slipping away from Will’s leg. Will swallowed. He kept his eyes straight on Mike’s, because he wasn’t going to let him win whatever this was, not even by giving up on eye contact.

“What is wrong with you-”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Will snapped. “You’re the one who’s making it weird.”

Mike let out a small gasp, so completely ludicrous Will had to stop himself from rolling his eyes again. 

“I’m making it weird?” Mike asked, his jaw still half open. 

“Yes.”

“How am I making it weird-”

“You know how.”

Mike threw his hands up in the air. “I was just asking a question,” he said. “Jesus, Will…”

“No you weren’t,” Will glared. “You were judging me.”

“I was not judging-”

“You said it was weird,” Will interrupted, barely registering whatever Mike was trying to get out. “Which is funny, because getting asked out was never weird when it was Lucas, or Dustin, or you and El.”

“That’s not what I-”

“Is it weird, now that it suddenly has to do with me?” His voice grew louder as he adjusted on the carpet, his eyes narrowing. Mike wasn’t looking at him anymore, shifting his eyes away from his stare. They found something to watch behind him. The wall, or the sofa, or nothing at all. It didn’t matter, Will was going to press the bruise regardless. 

“Is it weird that someone wants to take me out?” He continued. “Do you have an issue with that, Mike?”

“That’s not what I said,” Mike said quietly.
Will laughed, so sharp it barely felt like a laugh in his throat. “No,” he agreed. “No, you didn’t say that, you just made it incredibly clear that the thought of someone asking me out is absolutely insane-”

Mike looked up, his eyes small. “Will-”

“Like- of course there must be something wrong with this guy if he’s asking Will Byers out, right?” Will kept talking, because there was no use in stopping now, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what Mike would say if he stopped.

Mike shook his head, his mouth open before Will finished his sentence. “No, listen, I’m just- There’s a lot of weird guys out there and-”

“Oh my God,” Will exclaimed.

He stood up, rubbing his palms across his face. Basements in the summer never were comfortable, but something about the conversation made the heat rise up and stick to his neck even more. He fiddled with the neckline of his shirt, trying to let some cool air in.

Mike’s head shot up at him. “There is!” He tried, his hands up, gesturing something. “And you barely know this guy-”

“I know him,” Will said again. 

Mike dropped his hands. “Okay, well- I don’t, and-”

“So, what?” Will crossed his arms. “You don’t trust my judgement?”

“That’s not- Can you let me speak?” Mike paused and frowned. “I just think you should consider who this kid even is before you go out with him. I mean- I did not like the way he came across when he came over to Scoops-”

“Well, thank God this isn’t about you,” Will said. “So it really doesn’t matter what you think of him.”

“I’m just trying to look out for-”

“No, you’re being a jerk.”

“Well so are you!”

Will let his jaw drop. “I’m being a jerk?” He asked. “How am I being a jerk?”

“You’re screaming at me in my basement!” Mike exclaimed.

“Because you’re being mean!”

Mike stared up at him from the carpet, his brows knit together, and Will had to focus on his legs. On the way they stood up straight, on the way his feet lay flat on the carpet. He had to straighten up to stay like that. 

He knew, deep down inside, that Mike meant well. Whatever messed up way he was expressing it might’ve been completely frustrating, but Will knew his intentions. Because this was Mike. 

Which, really, was the problem too. Because it was Mike, and Will couldn’t have Mike questioning who asked him on dates, judging them for barely any reason other than a simple “I don’t know him”. It made Will’s mind run to two places that it really shouldn’t. Especially not late at night, in the middle of the Wheeler’s clammy basement, with sleep growing behind his eyes because that’s what he was used to doing here. 

Mike was unusually quiet, still, and Will’s stomach turned at the realization. Maybe he was being a jerk. It wasn’t Mike’s fault that Will’s brain was hardwired to think these things, after all. And Mike had always been too protective, Will knew that. He was used to that. 

The silence grew thicker around them, circling around his feet and Mike’s prompted up knees, and all he really wanted to do was run up the stairs and out of Mike’s house. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, quietly yet way too loud to break the silence gently. “Whatever, Mike. I’m going home.”

Mike’s face fell at that. Will wondered if he thought others couldn’t see it, when he showed all his feelings on his face as he didn’t voice them once. Will tried not to think about it too hard as Mike scrambled up, half tripping over his own feet as he tried to move faster than he could. “What?”

Will let his arms fall at his side. “I’m going home,” he repeated, slower this time.

“You’re not staying the night?”

“No, I’m not staying the fucking night.”

“Oh.”

That was probably the most he would get out of the other boy. 

He decided right then and there, at something past twelve, standing in the middle of the basement with his chest rising up and down too fast, that he was going to go on a date with Carlton. He would force himself if he had to, make Lucas drag him to the movie theatre and stuff his mouth with popcorn and cherry slushies so he couldn’t talk and run. He was going to watch a movie, of which he probably already knew most plotlines because customers talked incredibly loudly after coming out of screening rooms, and he would still force himself to laugh or cry or whatever else was appropriate, and he would do it all without thinking of Mike Wheeler.

He’d been ambitious enough for the past few years, pretending he could casually be Mike’s best friend while simultaneously being crushed by the weight of his ever growing crush on him. He was foolish, and naive and that was all fine because he was young, but now it was just plain stupid. It really had been nobody’s fault but his, and so it was on him to fix it. 

Which probably started with sleeping in his own bed and not on the worn out sofa in Mike’s basement. So he turned around and made his way up the stairs, his eyes plastered onto the closed door.

He was already halfway down the hallway when he heard his name behind him.

“What?” He said flatly as he kept walking, not even throwing a glance back to look at Mike.

“Dude, can you wait up?” Mike’s voice sounded. 

“I’m going home,” he repeated. “It’s late.”

“I know you’re- Dude, wait.”

He felt something curl around his wrist, colder than the air around them.

Will stopped so abruptly his socks slipped further across the wooden floor, and Mike tightened his hand around his wrist to steady him. Will hated that it actually helped him not slip and fall in the middle of the hallway, and part of him wanted to still fall, just so he could drag Mike down with him.

He settled for staring at the floor instead.

Mike let go almost as fast as he reached out. The touch of his fingertips still lingered around Will’s wrist, but he could probably blame himself and his onetrack mind for that, too. Mike walked around him, until he was standing between him and the coatrack he’d dropped his shoes under when he got here earlier that evening.

“What?” Will bit, before his eyes travelled up to Mike’s hands and landed on the scrunched up dark blue sweater he was holding. He held it up from his chest, raising his brows at Will as he did.

“It’s midnight,” he said. “It’s cold out.”

It wasn’t. Not that cold, anyway. And Will was still running hot from whatever had happened the last ten minutes. But he also knew that by the time he was halfway through his walk home, the wind would have picked up around him, and in the empty and terribly lit streets he’d start to grow cold eventually. 

Not cold enough to wear Mike Wheeler’s sweater, though.

“I don’t need your sweater.”

“You can’t walk home like that,” Mike gestured, pointing up at Will’s short sleeves.

“I can.”

“Not without getting cold,” he glared. 

Will shrugged. “I don’t mind the cold.” He did.

“You hate the cold,” Mike frowned. 

“It’s summer, it’s fine-”

“Can you stop being so stubborn and take the damn sweater.”

Will opened his mouth to reply, halfway through his first word, but Mike pushed his arms forward and shoved the sweater against his chest. It happened so fast Will grabbed it instinctively, completely betrayed by his own defense reflexes. 

Will rolled his eyes, mostly at himself.

It was a nice sweater. Some fancy type of wool that surely meant a lot to Mike’s parents and absolutely nothing to Mike himself. Will would take it with him and act as if he wouldn’t wear it. Then, as soon as he knew he was out of view from Mike’s house, he’d put it on. He could already feel the chill from outside slip under the front door, something that hadn’t bothered them downstairs. 

He pulled the sweater out of Mike’s hands, still looking down. Then he pushed him aside, hard enough so he knew he was still pissed off but not enough to actually hurt him. He knelt down to grab his sneakers, slipping them over his heels.

“You’ll come to the party, right?” Mike asked from behind him.

Will didn’t look up. “What party?” 

“The party Lucas was talking about. I don’t want to go alone.”

Will fumbled with his fully tied laces, pretending they’d come undone. “You won’t be alone,” he said. “Lucas will be there. Max too, probably.”

“Sure, but I want you to come.”

It should’ve been enough of a reason for Will to throw his sweater right back in his face and run out of that house, all the way back home until Mike Wheeler and everything he said to him couldn’t find him anymore.

Instead, he clutched deeper onto the piece of fabric and bit his tongue. 

“Sure,” he said finally. “If I can make it.”

“Cool.”

It really was anything but. 

Nothing either of them had said downstairs was cool. Nothing about the way his fingers were shaking as they curled around his shoelaces was cool. It was all the further from it, actually. But if Mike wanted to pretend it was, then fine. Will could do that. 

They didn’t say anything as Will pretended to finish lacing his shoes, or when Mike opened the door for him and leaned against the side, watching Will walk out. He forced himself not to look at him, or back at the porch once he was out of the house, or really anywhere that had anything to do with Mike.

Twenty seconds after he left he pulled the wool sweater over his head and curled his hands around the sleeves.