Will Byers is living a lie.

At least, that’s what it’s feeling like more and more these days. The truth sits heavy in his stomach, lodges itself in his throat, drags against his ankles. It’s growing suffocating, isolating, constricting. It itches. Every time he feigns interest in some girl that Dustin is fawning over, or laughs off a comment about how he’s become some kind of chick-magnet, or gives a half-assed excuse for never asking anyone to a school dance. Every time he bites back an appreciative remark about a cute guy, or gets caught staring at Mike a beat too long, or pretends not to notice the odd intimacy between Hooper and Brody in Jaws. Or just in quiet moments with his mom, with his brother, with Mike. Moments when he feels safe and warm and loved, suddenly turned sour by creeping anxiety as he wonders whether that love is conditional. In these moments, guilt coils in his stomach, the truth crawling under his skin and perching on the tip of his tongue, just barely suppressed.

Will just wants—no, he needs—someone he can be one hundred percent himself around. Someone who knows, someone who sees him, supports him, someone to share the burden of this secret. And he knows who he wants it to be: The person he’s always felt safest with, the person who always listens, who understands him better than anyone, who has never reacted badly to any of his darkest and strangest thoughts, who makes him feel like he’s not a mistake, like he’s better for being different.

Mike. 

There’s no one Will trusts more, and no one he likes lying to less. 

It’s just bad luck that the person Will most wants to confide in is also the object of his affection. But still, there’s no one he’d rather come out to first. He wants Mike to know this side of him. To know him completely.

It’s a Saturday evening in Mike’s bedroom, Will sitting against the headboard with a sketchbook balanced on his knees, Mike stretched out on his stomach, propped up on his elbows as he scribbles in a composition book. The pages flutter periodically as the fan on the windowsill makes a lazy arc, pushing sticky summer air around the room. It’s quiet and comfortable and perfect, the kind of easy companionship Will didn’t think they’d ever have again after California. 

Mike proved him wrong. With relentless attentiveness and stubborn devotion and steadfast care, he regained Will’s trust and rekindled their friendship. Made Will believe their bond could weather anything. Even this. 

Will sets aside his pencil and clears his throat. “Hey, Mike, um…” he starts tentatively. “Can I tell you something?”

“Course,” Mike answers easily, sitting up to give Will his full attention. His earnest, open gaze makes Will’s heart pound, eyes squeezing shut to block it out. 

“Is everything okay?” Mike asks in the soft tone reserved just for Will. 

“I’m fine,” he assures, opening his eyes but keeping them trained on his knees. “Sorry, can you… can you just not look at me? I need you to pretend this isn’t a big deal.”

Mike smiles, gentle and teasing. “Will, I have no idea what you’re about to say. If I’m acting like it’s a big deal it’s only because you’re acting like it’s a big deal.”

“It’s not. Or it shouldn’t be. I hope it isn’t.”

“Okay then.” Mike lays back down, dark curls flopping in a curtain to hide his face, and starts writing again. Will peeks over and sees that he’s literally scribbling now, filling lines with nonsense squiggles instead of actual words. Despite the nerves, Will finds himself smiling a little at Mike’s commitment to appearing nonchalant, to putting Will at ease while still being ready to listen. 

“Um.” Will huffs out a breath and swallows. His skin is buzzing with anticipation. “I guess I’ll just say it. I’m gay.”

The steady scratch of pen on paper pauses for the barest moment before continuing its soothing undercurrent. “Okay.”

Will’s thoughts slam to a halt, all the defenses and explanations he’d prepared fizzling out. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Mike confirms, still not looking up. 

Will feels panicky suddenly. He trusted Mike to accept him, but this feels too easy. “Mike, I don’t think you understand,” he presses, tears welling in his eyes, insecurities surging forward because—because it couldn’t possibly be that simple, right? That’s too small a reaction for something of this magnitude. Mike must not get it, he must’ve misheard. 

“I’m gay,” Will reiterates, and in case that wasn’t clear enough, adds, “Lonnie, Troy, all the bullies, they were right about me. They were right all along.”

“No.”

“No? Mike, you said it yourself, I don’t like girls—”

“No. They—we were wrong,” Mike says firmly.

Will’s heart cracks a little. He’d expected questions. Requests for clarification or confirmation. Momentary doubt or hesitation. But this blatant denial, this refusal to accept Will’s truth… he wasn’t prepared for that. For how badly it would hurt.

“Mike…” he pleads, unsure what else to say.

Mike tosses his pen and notebook aside. “This is stupid. Can I look at you now? I’m gonna look at you.” 

His voice is gentle but Will still shakes his head no, keeping his own head down, afraid of what he’ll see in his friend’s face.

Mike sits up and scoots closer, bending over to force Will to meet his eyes. There’s a fierceness in them, but tenderness too, incongruous with the disgust Will suddenly found himself expecting. 

“Your dad. The bullies. Me,” Mike lists, in that impossibly gentle voice. “We were cruel, and callous, and close-minded. We made you feel alone and afraid and ashamed. We let you think that who you are is a bad thing. We were wrong. Do you understand? We were wrong.”

The panic in Will’s eyes melts into hope. He feels a tear trail down his cheek and catch on his jaw, but before he can swipe it away Mike reaches out and soaks it up with his sleeve. There’s no doubt or discomfort on his face. He’s so close, and he’s looking at Will like he’s something precious, and Will knows he made the right choice.

“Okay, but just to be clear, they may have been morally wrong, but factually—”

“I don’t give a shit about factually. We were wrong, okay? You don’t have to give me and those mouthbreathers any credit for this. This is all you. And I’m so proud of you for telling me and so grateful that you’d trust me even after I—even after I said that. I’m sorry. For the record, I really didn’t mean it that way. And this doesn’t change anything, okay? You’re still my best friend.”

“Okay,” Will agrees, tears gathering in his smile lines as he grins and nods. Mike leans forward and crushes him in a hug. “You’re the first person I’ve told,” he mumbles into Mike’s chest.

Mike squeezes him even tighter. “I’m honored, Will. Seriously. I love you.”

Will’s breath hitches. He doesn’t mean it like that, he doesn’t mean it like that, he reminds himself.

But he savors it all the same.

***

“So. I guess while everyone else was mooning over Leia, your eye must’ve been on Luke this whole time?”

Will chokes on his popcorn. Mike claps him on the back and passes him a soda to help wash it down.

“You good?”

“Fine,” Will rasps, though he’s pretty sure part of a kernel is still lodged in the back of his throat. He takes another gulp of Coke to clear it.

He wasn’t expecting Mike to bring this up. Things between them have been so normal since Will came out, he was almost starting to worry that he’d dreamed the whole conversation. Or that Mike was just pretending it didn’t happen. Will knows these fears don’t make sense—he should be happy that things are normal. But anxiety isn’t always rational, and sometimes Mike’s immediate, unconditional support feels too good to be true. Will was expecting things to be a little awkward, a little stilted between them, at least for a while. That would’ve been easier to believe.

But Mike has been totally, utterly relaxed and unconcerned about the whole thing. And now here he is, feet propped up on the table, tossing popcorn into his mouth, casually asking if Will has a crush on Luke Skywalker.

“I’m, uh, I’m more of a Han Solo guy, actually,” he says shyly once he’s regained his voice. 

“Oh yeah? Blonds not your type, or…”

“No—I mean, yeah, I guess I prefer the darker hair”—he inadvertently cuts his eyes over to Mike, then quickly moves on—“but it’s more a personality thing, I think.”

“Really? Han is kind of an asshole.”

“He is not! He’s brave and loyal.”

“And rude.”

“No! He’s just… blunt. Sarcastic. Cocky.” 

“And you like that, do you?” Mike teases, eyebrow raised. Will feels heat rush to his cheeks and wishes he’d used a different word. “Oh my god,” Mike laughs, “you’re beet red.”

“I’m not,” Will protests, but he knows the lie is written all over his face.

“You so are.”

Will buries his head in his hands to hide his flushed cheeks and his giant grin. “Shut up!” 

“You’ve really been bottling this up, huh? Will and Han Solo, sitting in a tree—”

“Ugh, you are so immature.”

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G—”

“Don’t make me regret coming out to you,” Will warns, lifting his head to give Mike a stern look.

“Regret—” Mike splutters, putting a hand on his chest in mock affront. “Don’t even lie, this is exactly why you wanted to come out to me.”

He has a point. This is weird and awkward and delightful and exactly how it should feel to talk about your crushes with your best friend. (Except that a great deal of the fluttering in Will’s chest has nothing to do with Han Solo and everything to do with the boy sitting next to him.) Will rests his head on his knees and smiles despite his embarrassment. “You’re right. I was missing out on this.”

“And I was missing out on this,” Mike says, gesturing at Will. “I’ve never seen this side of you. It’s adorable.”

Whatever blood had managed to drain out of Will’s cheeks returns with a vengeance. How can he just say things like that?

“Shut up and watch the movie,” Will orders, turning away from Mike and back to the screen for the sake of his sanity.

“Right, your man is about to show up, I’ll be quiet.”

Will jabs an elbow into Mike’s ribs, and Mike snorts so hard that Coke comes out his nose.

***

It’s Will’s night to do the dishes. Mike is leaning against the counter next to him, helping dry and put them away even though it isn’t technically his turn. It’s been like this ever since Will moved in—Mike never leaves him alone, so all their chores become joint ventures. 

“Who was your first crush?” Mike asks, apropos of nothing, and the plate Will’s scrubbing nearly slips out of his hands. “Because I know you lied about it being Abby Nelson,” Mike continues with an eyeroll.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me dance with her,” Will replies, stalling for time. His heart is pounding. He doesn’t want to lie to Mike. But he can’t exactly tell the truth.

Would Mike continue to be so nonchalant about Will’s sexuality if he knew that not only is Will gay, he’s gay for Mike? 

Will doesn’t want to put it to the test. That’s one secret he intends to take to his grave. 

“I’m sorry, okay! I thought you were just being shy. I was trying to be encouraging!”

Will laughs and shakes his head, rinsing soap off the plate and passing it to Mike. “It’s okay. At least it gave me an answer to fall back on when Dustin and Lucas interrogated me about my crushes back then. Got them off my back better than just saying no one.”

“Yeah they’re pretty bad at taking no for an answer,” Mike agrees. “So who was it really?”

“Oh, they’re bad at taking no for an answer, huh?” Will teases. “Hypocrite.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m incorrigible. And you’re stalling. Spill.”

Will swallows nervously. Mike never pressed Will about this stuff the way Lucas and Dustin did when they were tweens. Why does he suddenly care so much?

“I don’t really want to talk about this, Mike.”

“Okay, hang on, let me guess. Was it a celebrity or someone we know?” Mike asks, then answers his own question before Will gets a chance. “Gotta be someone we know or you wouldn’t be so reluctant to talk about it. Okay…” He leans over to get a better view of Will’s face. “Is it a Party member?” Will attempts to school his expression, to give nothing away, but Mike sees through it immediately. “Yep, definitely. That narrows it down considerably. Hmm… I bet it was Lucas. Am I right?”

Will tries not to visibly sag in relief. He thought he was about to be caught out for sure, but this gives him an easy out. 

“Yeah,” he admits sheepishly. “It was Lucas.”

It’s not even really a lie. Although his feelings for Mike existed first, he didn’t really notice them or understand what they meant until later. His love for Mike is a deep and steady current, a low drone underscoring his entire life since before he even knew to listen for it. Intrinsic. Omnipresent. Subconscious. Never anything so trivial as a crush.

He didn’t exactly have a crush on Lucas either, but his first conscious gay thought, his first oh shit, I don’t think I’m supposed to see other boys that way moment, was indeed directed at Lucas. 

“I knew it!” Mike crows, taking another clean dish from Will. “After his family spent the summer in Maine and he came back like two inches taller and with a voice two octaves deeper?”

Will startles, not expecting Mike to nail it down to the exact moment. “How did you know?”

“I have eyes, Will.” 

Will pauses to look at him. He’s wiping down a glass like he hasn’t said anything odd. He isn’t—he couldn’t be saying that he was also crushing on Lucas after that summer, could he?

No way. He just—it was notable, because Lucas was the first of them to hit the other side of puberty while the rest of them were still in the awful voice-cracking phase, and because they hadn’t seen him in so long which made it seem so sudden…

Mike noticed, because of course he did. Doesn’t mean he noticed the way Will noticed. If anything, Mike was probably jealous that Lucas was taller than him, however briefly.

“Hey,” Mike says, giving Will a gentle nudge with his elbow. “I won’t tell him, if that’s what you’re worried about. Our little secret.” He smiles, sly and special and just for Will. 

It does nothing to calm his fluttering heart.

***

Will shivers as he sits on the bench outside the creamery, licking the ice cream cone Mike so graciously bought for him. It’s late September, and though it’s been a pretty warm week it’s probably the last time Will will be enjoying ice cream outside this year. 

“Shit, here hold this,” Mike says, passing his cone to Will. Once his hands are free he slides his jacket off his shoulders and holds it out. “Trade you.”

“Mike, you don’t have to—”

“I’m still warm from the bike ride over here. Just take it.”

Will doesn’t bother arguing further, instead passing the cones back to Mike and taking the extra layer. It’s already warm from Mike’s body heat and saturated with his scent. Will suppresses the urge to bury his nose in the collar, instead taking his cone back with a shy, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

They enjoy their ice cream in easy silence for a few minutes before Mike speaks again. “Do you want to go to homecoming with me?”

Will’s eyes widen and he coughs to cover his surprise. “Mike, we always go to the dances together,” Will reminds him hesitantly. 

“Yeah, but like, as a Party.” 

There’s a split second where Will thinks he’s been transported to another universe. One where Mike isn’t straight. Is he saying that instead of going as friends, as part of a group, that he wants to go… together? 

“But Lucas isn’t going this time,” Mike continues, “and Dustin has a date, so…” 

Oh. Okay. Mike isn’t asking Will to go with him as a couple. Of course not. He’s asking if Will wants to go at all since the Party isn’t going as a group and neither of them have dates. 

That makes much more sense.

“Eh, I don’t know. If it’s just the two of us… might as well stay in.”

“Right, yeah,” Mike agrees. “The dances are always pretty lame anyway.”

Will tells himself that he’s imagining the disappointment on Mike’s face.

***

“Is it just me, or are Chris and Gordie kinda gay?”

Will grins as he looks over at Mike. “I thought I was the only one who could see it.”

“Are you kidding? You’d have to be blind not to see it.”

Will has gotten more used to conversations like these. It took a while for him to stop choking on his proverbial popcorn every time the subject of queerness came up, the instinct to suppress and hide so ingrained that even when it was just Mike he felt tense and unsure of himself. But Mike is relentless, always finding ways to slip it into conversation, like none of this is at all strange or taboo. And if he believes that… maybe Will can too. 

Mike talks about guys with Will the same way he talks about girls with Dustin and Lucas. Mike makes Will feel normal, relaxed and unburdened in a way he hasn’t since he realized he had feelings for his best friend in the first place. For the first time ever, being gay doesn’t feel like a cross to bear, a dirty secret, a part of him that could only ever be tolerated at best, a prophecy sentencing him to a lifetime of misery and unrequited love.

Well, the jury’s still out on the unrequited love part. Maybe one day he’ll move on, find someone who actually reciprocates his feelings, but he isn’t sure he’ll ever manage to let Mike go. Especially not when he keeps being so sweet and understanding and everything Will could ever want.

But it doesn’t feel tragic anymore. Will would be happy to spend his life with Mike just like this. It’s enough to be loved as a best friend. It’s enough to have his identity accepted, and to learn to accept himself in turn. 

Will tunes back into the movie. Chris comforts Gordie after a nightmare, and they end up staying up together, side by side, elbows knocking, baring their souls while their other friends sleep on in the glow of the fire.

“They remind me of us,” Mike says. Casual and innocuous, like he hasn’t just tilted Will’s entire world on its axis. 

Chris and Gordie. Gay. You’d have to be blind not to see it.

They remind me of us.

And, well, the similarities are certainly there. Will saw it right away, when they watched this movie for the first time the summer before last. Four boys embarking on a journey, getting into trouble and getting out of it, facing bullies and finding bodies, goofing off and growing up. It reminded all of them of the Party—how could it not? But secondarily, secretly, Will noticed the particular bond between Chris and Gordie, and liked to imagine that they were queer like him. 

He didn’t think anyone else would see it that way. He certainly didn’t think Mike would see both sides: that Chris and Gordie’s relationship is like Mike and Will’s, and that it’s too close to be merely friendly.

What the fuck is Will supposed to do with that?

***

“El, are you good in there?” Will calls through the bathroom door. It’s Halloween night, and the rest of the Party should be here any minute.

“I’m fine!”

“Need any help?”

“I got it!”

Will shrugs and moves into the kitchen, doing a last minute check that all their snacks and drinks are prepared. It’s strange to be celebrating Halloween again—the terrible Halloween of 1984 looms large in Will’s memory, and ever since then he’s shied away from costumes and jack-o-lanterns and spooky revelry in general. But this year… Lucas suggested a Halloween party, and El latched onto the idea because she’s never really gotten to celebrate it before, and Will decided they all needed an excuse to have fun for once. To be regular kids again. 

Seems like the universe is on his side: it’s an unseasonably warm day, so his anxiety has been kept at bay. As long as he stays inside, surrounded by people he trusts, with movies and decorations and costumes that focus more on the whimsical side of the holiday than the horror… he’ll be okay. He’s actually excited for the chance to reclaim something Vecna and the Mind Flayer took from him.

He’s lighting the candle in a smiling pumpkin when El comes in looking… disappointed. 

“You look great!” Will compliments. 

“My hair is still too short,” she pouts. It’s true; she was going for a Princess Leia look, but she’s nowhere near those huge, iconic round buns. El’s are more like little knots on the sides of her head. 

“Okay, well, Luke Skywalker is blond and my hair is brown, so. You just have to capture the essence of the character, not be an exact match,” Will assures. “You’re totally Leia. No one could mistake it.”

El smiles, tightening her buns one more time and adjusting her dress as a knock sounds at the cabin door: two short, one long, three short. 

“They’re here!” Will exclaims, rushing to pull the door open. A chorus of warm greetings resound as Lucas and Dustin burst in. 

“Skywalker!” Lucas exclaims, pulling Will in for a hug. 

“Westley!” Will returns.

“Excuse you, I am the Dread Pirate Roberts!” Lucas declares, pointing at the mask over his eyes.

“Right, sorry, didn’t mean to expose your identity,” Will laughs.

“My name is Inigo Montoya,” Dustin says, dramatically approaching El with a fake sword. “You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

She backs away, eyes wide with confusion and delight. “What’s that from?”

“Oh my god, it’s this awesome new movie, Lucas’s character is in it too. As soon as it’s on video we’ll bring it over to show you, you’re gonna love it, El.”

“Leia,” she corrects.

“My apologies, Princess,” Dustin says in a terrible rendition of Inigo’s accent.

“En garde!” Lucas cries, initiating a swordfight with Dustin. Will giggles as they prance around the room, jumping up on furniture and fake stabbing each other like kids. El grabs a lightsaber toy to join in, and Will just laughs at their theatrics.

They sure know how to get a party started. In the whirlwind of their arrival, Will almost forgot—

“Hey, where’s Mike?”

“I’m here!” he announces, letting himself in and locking the door behind him. “These two ditched me to seal up the tunnel entrance by myself,” he says in explanation, gesturing to Lucas and Dustin with an eyeroll.

But Will barely hears him. His brain is short-circuiting. Because—

Mike hadn’t told Will what he was planning to be for Halloween. Just waved off the question, said, “Eh, I’ll throw something together.”

And what he “threw together,” apparently, is a white long sleeve shirt with a deep V. A black tactical vest. A utility belt. Black boots.

Han Solo. 

Will’s mouth goes dry. God, why does Mike have this effect on him? And why, of all the characters in the world, would Mike choose Han Solo when he knows Will has a crush on him. It’s just not fair. 

“Han Solo!” El shouts, rushing over to greet Mike with a hug.

“Princess Leia,” Mike returns. “Sorry to butt in on your duo costume idea.”

She waves him off. “It’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay!” Dustin says, bounding over to join the group. “Without you, who’d help Luke rescue Princess Leia from the Death Star?” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Mike agrees. “You don’t mind, do you Luke?” he asks, turning to Will with a smirk. 

“No, yeah, I don’t mind,” Will says faintly.

“I knew you wouldn’t.” And Mike fucking winks. In case there was any doubt that he remembered about Will’s celebrity crush.

Will turns away on the pretense of getting himself some punch. This boy will be the death of him.

***

Mike is driving Will insane.

The two of them were always touchy as kids. Arms around shoulders. Squeezes of hands. Knees knocking. Quite literally attached at the hip. That kind of casual affection gradually lessened as they grew up and grew apart, then resurged after California when Mike made it his mission to restore their best-friendship. It didn’t quite return to the level of their childhood—Mike kept it casual, nothing he wouldn’t do with Lucas or Dustin. But he stopped treating Will like he carried the plague, like his touch would sting. 

It was nice. A happy medium. Enough to feel close to him, not so much that Will got his hopes up.

But ever since he came out, Mike has turned it up to a whole new level. 

Will keeps a tally of everything: Legs stretched across his lap during movie night. An arm slung around his shoulders, pulling him close as they walk Holly to the bus stop. Hands cradling his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks after a nightmare. Chest pressing against his back as Mike reaches past him to grab a mug from the cabinet. Fingers lingering in his hair after retrieving a leaf that got tangled. Cheek resting on his shoulder, breath on his neck when Mike falls asleep during one of their joint writing/sketching sessions. 

And this latest anomaly: A hand settled on Will’s knee, hidden under the table while the Party plays D&D.

It feels like cruel and unusual punishment. It feels like a carrot dangling in front of him that he’ll never get to have. It feels like flying with wax wings, carefully keeping to a safe distance, only for the sun to expand and engulf him anyway. He’s burning, melting, falling, drowning, through no fault of his own.

Mike has to know what he’s doing. This can’t be coincidental, accidental, circumstantial. It’s intentional. And Will can’t take it anymore.

After the game is over, when the Party has gone home and it’s just him and Mike cleaning up, Will swallows and forces himself to bring it up. “Mike… you know you don’t have to, like, overcompensate to prove that you’re comfortable with me being gay.”

Mike looks up from his task of collecting dice and miniatures from the table, a curious look on his face. “Overcompensate? What—”

“All the—touching,” Will clarifies.

Mike just laughs. “Will, I think that’s called flirting.”

“You—what?” Will asks, completely taken aback. “Are you making fun of me or something?”

Mike’s face falls and he sets the gamepieces down, finally seeming to realize that Will is trying to have a serious conversation here. “No, of course not. I would never—” 

“Then just stop it, Mike, okay?” Will snaps. “It’s not fun, it’s not funny, it’s…” He shakes his head in frustration, unsure how to explain without giving himself away. “Just stop.”

Mike has the audacity to look hurt. “Shit, okay, I’m sorry. I just thought—” He twitches like he’s thinking about reaching out, then thinks better of it and instead hugs himself. “Never mind. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed… Sorry.”

He looks so dejected that all Will’s anger and indignance melts away. Maybe Will was being unfair. This isn’t the Mike of two years ago, of ‘it’s not my fault you don’t like girls.’ He wouldn’t do this just to be cruel.

“Shouldn’t have assumed what?” Will asks more gently, trying to understand.

“That just because you’re gay… that you might like me,” Mike answers, small and vulnerable. He shakes himself, scrubbing at his face. “Jesus. Sorry,” he continues in a stronger voice. “Fuck, I’ve made such a fool of myself. I just need you to know, our friendship is the most important thing in the world to me, and… I can be normal, I promise.”

“Mike… you aren’t gay,” Will insists. Because this just… isn’t computing. 

“Will, come on,” Mike says flatly. Like he thinks Will’s being obtuse. Maybe he is. “Okay, uh, if I have to say it… Yeah, I am. Gay, that is.”

Will stares at him, face and mind blank. Mike shifts under the scrutiny, twisting the fabric of his T-shirt in his hands. “Um. Okay, I didn’t really think I had to be concerned about coming out to you but you’re kind of freaking me out here, Will.”

“Were you just flirting with me because I’m the only other gay guy you know?” Will blurts.

“What? No, I’ve been in love with you for years,” Mike replies quickly, a kneejerk reaction. His eyes widen in sync with Will’s. “Wait, shit, no, I mean, I said I was sorry, right? I should’ve realized I was making you uncomfortable. I’ll stop. I’ll get over it. Please, this doesn’t have to change things between us.”

Mike’s increasing panic shakes Will out of his stupor. “No.”

“No?”

Will takes a step toward him. “No. You don’t have to be sorry. And you weren’t making me uncomfortable. And you don’t have to stop, or get over it. And…” He breathes a shaky exhale, dispelling his distrust, uncertainty, insecurity, and inhaling the light of possibility, belief, and courage to say his next words. “Maybe I want things to change between us. Maybe they could change for the better.”

Their eyes meet, a sparkle of hope shining in Mike’s warm gaze. “Will… are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

Will nods. Tentatively, Mike reaches out to place a hand on Will’s cheek, and Will finally allows himself to lean into the touch. 

“Why did you tell me to stop?”

“I didn’t think you meant it this way. The way I wanted you to. I didn’t let myself think it was possible. Why didn’t you tell me you’re gay too?”

“I didn’t want to… steal your thunder, I guess. Make your coming out about me. I thought my actions would speak for themselves.”

“Steal my thunder? You’re such an idiot,” Will says fondly.

“I don’t know, I think you might be the idiot for thinking anything I’ve been doing for the past few months could possibly be friendly.”

“Guess you need to make it even more obvious for me, then.” Will flashes a cheeky grin, heart bursting with the knowledge that this is really happening. That by some miracle, some impossible alignment of the stars, Mike likes him back. 

Mike smiles, soft and crooked and love-struck and just the slightest bit smug as he snakes an arm around Will’s waist and pulls him close. “How obvious?”

“Just kiss me, Michael.”

Mike obliges, tilting Will’s face up to meet his, smiling into each others’ mouths, and it’s like sunshine dancing in the trees. It’s warm tea filling Will up from head to toe. It’s strength and courage and fortification against every bad thing in the world. 

It’s the happy ending he didn’t think kids like him ever got to have. 

“How are you so comfortable with all this?” Will asks in between kisses, one hand on the back of Mike’s neck, the other on his chest, their faces inches apart. “I… hated this part of myself. For a long time. But as soon as I told you I was gay… you were all in. No fear. No reservations. Like it’s easy.”

Mike shakes his head. “Trust me, it wasn’t. I struggled for a long time too. Forced myself into a relationship with El, lashed out at you, pushed you away… and when I finally understood why, I just… I hated this twisted thing inside me, this desire that wouldn’t go away, that made me hurt two of the people I care about most…”

“What changed?” Will whispers.

“You,” Mike answers simply. “You came out to me, and… something just clicked. Because you’re, like, the best person I know. I love everything about you. So if you’re gay, how could it possibly be a bad thing?”

This boy. Mike Wheeler. Michael fucking Wheeler, who loves Will so much, so completely, that it overrode years of bullying and politics and self-hatred all doing their damndest to convince him that being queer is bad. Mike Wheeler, who couldn’t fathom for a second that any part of Will is wrong or unworthy, so instead he rewrote his entire worldview. And in doing so, rewrote Will’s too.

Will leans forward to rest his head on Mike’s chest and feels Mike’s arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer.

“My whole life, I thought I was doomed,” Will says. “I could never catch a break, you know? But now it feels like… maybe destiny is finally on my side for once.”

“It’s not destiny,” Mike says, pulling back and tilting Will’s chin up to look him in the eyes. “It’s us. We’re writing this story.”

Will grins, giddy and overwhelmed and so very, very in love as he stretches up to kiss Mike again.

And as all his jagged edges slot into place, as the dissonance in his soul resolves, he understands. Mike’s right, it’s not about fate or destiny. Not some cosmic realignment or one-in-a-million jackpot that made this possible. It’s the natural result of years of loyalty and dedication, of never letting fear and shame get in the way of their devotion and faith in each other—not for long, anyway. It’s attention and understanding and forgiveness and trust that is built, not taken for granted. It’s the careful cultivation of a seed that was planted when they met on the swingset a decade ago. 

It’s them. Will and Mike. Mike and Will. Not a stroke of luck. Neither an impossibility nor an inevitability. 

A choice. One they’ve both made over and over again.