Work Text:
It’s 2010 and Will’s sitting alone in his apartment, a fight with his now ex-boyfriend leaving a mess of books all over the floor. His head dropped in his hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
They fought over something stupid, really. Something about Will feeling absent, Will whimpering some other man’s name when he has nightmares in the middle of the night, his obsession with this stupid author that feels too parasocial for comfort. His ex left screaming about some “you’re probably stuck on some high-school crush” and slammed the door on his way out.
To be very honest, Will hadn’t been happy in their relationship anyway. He felt so lonely. No one, none of his new friends really made him feel like he was someone worth talking to.
He sniffled, wiping his tears. “Fuck..” he muttered while picking up books off the floor. He wiped the dirt off the covers, stacking them in order before placing them back on the small bookshelf in his living room.
His fingers trailed down the spine of one of the books, halting at the author's name; ‘Wiseheart’ It was anonymous, in a way. No real name, just one word that felt oh so familiar to Will.
There were 7 books from this author, each one having queer undertones and innuendos, which is why Will loves them so much. The seventh book actually explicitly had a queer couple live to the end, their happy ending leaving Will feeling hopeful for representation to actually happen this generation.
He walked into his bedroom, which really was just a bed separated from the kitchen and living room by a half wall since he could only afford a decently sized studio apartment.
Will sat on his bed with his second-hand laptop from Joyce, his fingers hovering over the keyboard with no idea why he even got his laptop. “Seriously, what am I doing…” he whispered, finally typing something into the Google search bar.
Mike Wheeler
Michael Wheeler
He kept typing and deleting the same thing over and over, losing his mind over whether or not he should actually try searching the name up.
Wiseheart author
He clicked enter and was greeted by 4 articles about Wiseheart, Will clicked on the first article and read through it completely;
Author ‘Wiseheart’ on Their LGBTQ+ Fantasy Book and Fan Speculations.
“I wrote the love story of the main characters to be something to represent outcasts, and it’s something I’ve never written directly, so it’s nice to have something like this in my book.” Wiseheart states. Further questions led them to reply with: “Growing up, I didn’t have this kind of representation. I felt trapped. So now that I can create something for myself and people like me, I will.”
Fans have speculated online that the story between the two lovers was based off of Wiseheart’s own experiences, to which they responded: “Haha, I guess. It’s been a few years, but I still remember my feelings well. It would be pretty funny if the person it’s about read my books.”
Will continued reading the article, his curiosity growing with every word. Who is Wiseheart writing about? Why does Wiseheart write all these stories? Why does Wiseheart feel so… Familiar?
He clicked on another article,
10 Facts You Didn’t Know About Hit Queer Author ‘Wiseheart’
1, They’re an Aries
Wiseheart revealed on Twitter that they were born on April 7th, some year in the early 70s. Fans have made jokes about their personality matching with their star sign, spiking up Wiseheart’s popularity in the process.
2, Their characters are based off of real people
In a recent interview, Wiseheart mentions that they use some of their old friends as references for their characters, explaining the beautifully written chemistry. This causes a rave within their fanbase, hundreds of speculations on who the partner of their most recent character is based on.
3, They play Dungeons and Dragons (D&D)
“Yeah, I really love D&D. That’s why I love writing fantasy so much.” Wiseheart states in a Twitter reply to a fan. The author has even posted pictures of miniature figures they’ve made over the years for friends, and their own D&D campaigns.
Will froze by the third fact, his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. April 7 is Mike’s birthday. He thought to himself. Now he’s thinking that maybe it’s all just a coincidence, that he’s just upset about his fight with his boyfriend, that he just misses his old friends from almost 15 years ago.
After reading through the entire article, Will found himself rapidly typing Michael Wheeler on the search bar, hoping for anything to come up; a phone number, a Facebook account, God forbid he even find an old MySpace account from late 2005 that’s barely active.
Nothing came up.
Will was ready to give up, but something inside told him to keep searching, try to find him. So he did. He kept searching, he tried Karen, Nancy, and Fucking Ted Wheeler’s names. He got two Facebook accounts, and several articles on a successful journalist from Indiana.
He smiled at the articles, suddenly feeling proud of Nancy for getting so far in her journalism. He dug deeper into the accounts, which led him from one thing to another, and that’s when he found it.
Mike’s account.
It was private, and under his second name instead of “Mike” or “Michael.” His account read “Theodore Wheeler (Mike)” which is why it never came up when he initially searched Mike’s name.
One click led to several others, and he found Mike’s public Twitter.
Hesitantly, he clicked on his account, but something was wrong. Wiseheart’s Twitter account was open instead of Mike’s.
“Stupid laptop,” Will hit the side of the screen with his palm, trying to get Mike’s page to load. It took him four reloads to realize something, something either incredible, or downright terrifying.
Mike, Wiseheart, his once best friend, and his favorite author,
They’re the same guy.
“What the fuck,” Will’s face changed, his hands trembled on the mouse and keyboard. He shakily scrolled through Wiseheart’s old posts from up to 3 years ago, reaching to when they started posting their miniatures for D&D.
He recognized the style, the same painting style and little heart that was hidden somewhere on the figure. He opened the drawer of his nightstand and hurriedly grabbed the old ‘Will the Wise’ figure he kept from Mike, comparing it to the photos.
Everything began feeling hazy, all those similarities, the “coincidences” he had just found, his weird connection to Wiseheart.
Now, Will wasn’t one to invade someone’s privacy, but this is different.
He started getting deeper into his research, reopening Karen’s Facebook and Nancy’s articles, which got him to Nancy’s Gmail. With shaky hands, he scrolled through the photos and posts on Karen’s account, seeing no more than 5 photos of Mike as an adult.
When he got nothing from Facebook, he switched to directly contacting one of Mike’s family members.
Nancy.
Hi, Nancy
Hi, Nancy. It’s Will. Sorry to be contacting you so suddenly, and on your Gmail account at that, but I need your help. I’m trying to get back in touch with Mike and the others, but I can’t find Mike’s phone number or anything. If you could help me out, I’d really appreciate it.
P.S. Congratulations on your journaling career! I knew you’d get far in that, I’ve always loved your articles.
From, Will.
His cursor hovered over the send button, thinking about just how wrong this could go. Ultimately, he just decided “fuck it,” and sent the Email.
He waited 10 minutes, then 30, then an hour for a reply. Nothing. Which, of course, he expected. He was about to close his laptop when a new Email suddenly appeared;
Hey, Will
Hi, Will! It’s so nice to hear from you after all these years, I’ve missed you. I’d love to help you reconnect with Mike and the others, but I have to let you know that Mike hasn’t exactly talked to our family much lately. He’s being super private and secretive. I can give you his number, though.
Thank you as well for the congratulations! I hope that we can meet up some time with everyone, it would be really nice to see all of us together again.
Here’s Mike’s number: (116) 777-0322
From, Nance.
Will immediately called the number, half expecting Mike to pick up, and the other half convinced he won’t even remember who Will is.
[. . .]
Krriinnggg!! Krriinnggg!!
The phone ringing was barely heard from the TV loudly playing an episode of a ‘Friends’ rerun. It stopped ringing, then rang again, and again, two more times. When a man with thinly framed glasses finally came to the room to pick up, a voice message was left on his answering machine.
“Mike? It’s me, Will. Will Byers. I got your number from Nancy. If you could call me back, I… Ah, fuck, what am I even doing? Sorry, just ignore this.”
Beep.
Mike blinked at the machine, wondering if it actually just sent him that voice message. He played it again, trying to listen if his brain had been messing with him, or if Will really was trying to reconnect to him.
“Mike? It’s me, Will. Will Byers. I got your num–”
He cut the voice message short and called the number back, his heart pounding out of his chest and his entire body shaking with no explanation.
The phone was ringing, it kept ringing, then finally—
“...Hello?”
Holy shit.
“Will…”
“...”
“Mike… Is that—is it really you?”
The voice over the phone was soft, it was soothing, almost. Mike felt his face warm up, then his eyes well with tears.
“Will—holy fuck—yeah, it’s me. Why did you–how did you… Why? Why’d you go through the trouble to find me?”
“You’re… I missed you. I missed my best friend.”
“I missed you, too.”
“We should meet up, or something. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid.”
“I live in New York, are you still in Hawkins?”
“No, I moved somewhere near to Montauk to stay close to mom.”
“That’s… Close. That’s just near the edge of Long Island, right? I can drive there.”
Mike could hear nervous silence through the phone speaker,
“Will, it’s really no big deal. We’re just friends reconnecting, right?”
That was a lie. There is definitely something between them, and it wasn’t friendship. After all, Mike spent all these years writing books, books that were quiet messages to Will in hopes that he reads them.
“We can meet at a bar, or like, a cafe. I just–I just want to see you, Will…” He said in a breathy tone, that soft way he talks when it’s with Will coming back after more than a decade.
“Okay. I can send you a location for a small bar.”
“Okay. Cool.”
“...Cool.”
There was awkward silence for a few seconds, then they started talking again, at the same time. They laughed it off, and continued whatever the other started. It was all so strange to both of them, talking together like this again, only they weren’t actually together in the same place.
After some discussion they managed to decide on a date and a place: June 6, Smalltown bar, East Hampton.
They were on the phone for hours. From 10 pm up to 2 in the morning. There was just so much to talk about, so much to catch up on. Mike kept talking about what he’s been doing over the years, but not mentioning being Wiseheart, and Will kept talking about his shitty failed relationships with boys that they both just laughed about.
Will fell asleep on the call sometime past 2:30 am, and Mike ended it with a soft “Goodnight.”
The next few days felt almost manic. Mike had 7 days to mentally prepare for meeting his best friend, and crush.
The week went something like this,
Monday: Spending the whole day working on a story pitch, forgetting about the meet up, but remembering the long hours of conversation he had with Will the night before.
Tuesday: A bit more stressed, remembering the meet up and realizing it may actually happen.
Wednesday: Okay, they’re getting closer to the day itself. Mike’s losing focus on his work, genuinely scrambled by the thought of seeing Will much more confident now, and much older than the last time they saw each other.
Thursday: Holy shit.
Friday: Oh my God.
Saturday: I’m fucked.
So now it’s Sunday, June 6. They agreed to meet at 5 pm, which means Mike has to leave at 3. Maybe before 3. Right now it’s 12 noon, Mike’s packing a bag with waaaay too many things for a visit.
There are a handful of questions he should’ve asked but ended up not asking, like, will he spend the night at Will’s apartment? Will they get dinner together? What else are they doing in East Hampton? There’s so much that can happen, and there’s so much that will happen, and Mike really doesn’t know if he’s ready for it.
Hours go by quickly when you’re losing your mind,
Mike checked the time; 2:56 pm. He needs to leave. Now. He zipped up his bag that was, again, too packed for a one day visit.
He flew down the stairs of his apartment building, rushing for his car that he struggled to start up because of all the shaking in his body. He was a nervous mess. Everything felt so stressful within the moment.
Thankfully for Mike though, the 2 hour drive to East Hampton was calm enough, minus the occasional New Yorkian road rage he had to experience.
The silence of the car ride was filled by the radio, a mix of Backstreet Boys, Black Eyed Peas, and The-All American Rejects playing on the throwback radio station he was on. The closer he got to Will, the more his heart raced and his excitement settled in.
Half-way through the ride Mike passed by a small flower shop, and a thought crossed his mind.
Ding ding!
He entered the store, drawn to the small bouquet of red and white flowers sitting on a shelf, “Any chance I can add yellow dahlias to that?” He pointed to the bouquet.
The girl behind the counter nodded and took the bouquet, adding in his request before handing it to Mike, “That’ll be 12 dollars, sir!” She smiled, “Getting them for your girlfriend?”
“Something like that, yeah. We aren’t together.” Mike handed her a ten and a five. “Ah, well good luck! I hope you get her,” the girl cashed in the 15 bucks Mike handed. He backed up to leave, “Thanks, you can keep the change.” he said, leaving the store quickly.
The drive started right back up, just an hour away from East Hampton, from Will. The flowers sat in the passenger seat, the dahlias glowing beneath the sunlight.
Mike could feel his excitement grow with every mile closer he gets, the thought of seeing Will again made him so nervous, but so love drunk.
By the time he reached East Hampton, it was just a few minutes past 5 pm. He’s driving through the streets towards the bar when he spots Will; standing by the parking lot of the bar, waiting.
Mike slowed the car down, his heart pounding out of his chest. Will was there, in a yellow button up, flared jeans, and the same Wrangler jacket from the 80s. He thought Will had lost the jacket at the MAC-Z in 1987, but who would have thought Will would go back for it?
As soon as Mike parked his car, he ran to Will, hesitating when he got closer. “...Hey.” He looked into Will’s eyes, they were green under the light of the sunset, and he remembers being the only one to know that Will’s eyes were hazel.
“Hey.” Will responded. Neither of them had anything to say, they just kept staring at each other, taking subtle chances to check each other out.
Mike pulled him into a hug, grabbing Will by the waist. He dug his face into the crook of Will’s neck, holding him so tight that Will almost couldn’t breathe. Of course, Will hugged back. He held Mike with the same love he always did.
Will could feel his face flush red, all the feelings he hasn’t felt in years rushing back to him. The hug was so long, so desperate. He was remembering just how much he loved Mike, and suddenly he was 13 years old again, pretending not to be in love with his best friend in the whole world, because he’s convinced that he doesn't, and will never feel the same way.
They finally pulled away from each other, taking long, deep exhales. Mike swallowed nervously, “You look… You look great,” he said with wide eyes, ‘Like, really great.”
“Yeah, you too…” Will looked Mike up and down, completely failing to hide any evidence that he’s checking him out. “...You wear glasses now,”
Mike straightened himself up, his ears burning up from being so flustered by Will’s lingering gaze. “Oh–yeah–uhm, yeah I wear them when I work. Forgot to take them off.” He managed to get out.
“Right… So, let’s head in?”
“Yeah, yup, of course. Let’s go.”
The bar was playing some romantic song, probably by a boy band, and the bar was just barely empty, too empty for 5 pm on a Sunday. The two sat down at the front bar, ordering two beers.
“So, how was your erm, week?” Will tried to start up a conversation. “You know, work, and stuff.” Mike grabbed the cold beer that the bartender set down in front of them, he muttered out a soft “thanks” and turned to look at Will, “You? How was your week?”
Will shrugged, “Normal. People don’t usually visit art galleries on the weekdays,” He took a sip of his glass, “We did have a school come in for a field trip, it reminded me of us back then with the others.”
“That’s so sappy.”
“Shut up.”
They laughed softly, “I’m still pretty surprised that you work at an art gallery. I thought you’d be having art in the galleries with those paintings you used to make.” Mike smiled. He thought about all the art Will had made when they were young, “Do you still draw? I miss looking at your art.” He chuckled, “I still have that binder of your art from when we were kids.”
Will’s breath hitched, “Of course, I never stopped.” He looked down at his hand gripping the glass of beer. “We can… Go back to my apartment after this? I–if you want, just to like, hang out. A–and so you can see my art, you can stay over too,” he took a big gulp of his drink.
“Anyways, what do you do for work? You never told me over the phone,” Will signaled the bartender for another drink.
Mike hesitated, “Just—you know, a book editor. Not much of a big deal.” Lie. Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie. He’s an independent writer, a queer one, at that.
The other nodded slowly, downing his second glass of beer.
Just like on the phone, they spent hours just talking and drinking. By the time it was 9:30 pm, Will was on his 7th glass, and Mike was still on his second. Clearly, someone was getting tipsy, and it definitely wasn’t the Wheeler.
“Will, you’ve had so much to drink, stop,” Mike pulled Will’s half drunken glass away.
“I missed you. I missed you so much, I can’t believe you’re here…” Will leaned forward suddenly, batting his eyelashes slowly, and his hand reaching for Mike’s hair, “You have bangs again. Good. I hated your stupid side part.”
“Will, seriously, you’re drunk.”
“M’ not.”
“You are.” Mike held Will’s wrist, gently lowering his hand away from his hair. He called for the bartender, “Please close our tab. Thanks.” Mike hopped off the stool, helping Will down.
Will stumbled around, his arm around Mike’s shoulder. “Mikeeeeee. You look so cute with glasses, y’know?” His voice was husky, sending a shiver down Mike’s spine.
Mike struggled to drag Will out of the bar, his skinny arms barely holding up Will’s bulkier frame, and his knees bent down to be able to support Will as they walked out. By the time they made it to the car Will was mumbling about Mike’s hair looking really good, his clothes looking the same as from when they were teens, and just a lot of really embarrassing things that flustered Mike to the point of him being red in the face.
“Put your seatbelt on,” Mike sat down in the driver's seat. Will fumbled for the buckle, failing to buckle up thrice before giving up and crossing his arms like a child throwing a tantrum.
Mike scoffed and reached past Will, his face getting dangerously close to the other’s. They each managed to steal a glimpse at each other’s lips, their heads turning to look at opposite sides before anything stupid happened.
He clicked Will’s seatbelt in place and then fixed his own, his hands on the steering wheel. Will looked down at the footspace in the passenger side, “There’s something here,” he reached down and pulled out the bouquet Mike had bought, the flowers around the edges looking a bit beat up, but still pretty.
On the side of the wrapping paper, there was a note. It had tons of scribbles, clearly failed attempts at a signature. Even through all the scribbles, Will managed to make out the note written; “Love, Mike.”
He pretended not to see the writing, though his smile failed to mask it, and looked over to Mike who was avoiding eye contact with Will. “Was this for me?” He asked, raising the flowers up slightly.
“I didn’t know what to get you, but I wanted to bring a thank you gift, or something.”
“Haha, das’ cute… You didn’t have to get me anything.” Will’s words were beginning to slur, his voice remaining that same husky tone.
Mike shuddered and started up the car, “Where do you live, Will? I’ll take you home.” He backed out of the parking lot. “Somewhere there,” Will pointed to across the street, “It’s near a uhm, uh…” He wiped his mouth, “Near a bookstore. I live on the thirdddd floorrr.”
The other recognized what he was talking about, the big sign that says “BOOKSTORE” in all caps being a big hint as to what Will was talking about.
It was no longer than a 5 minute drive, they didn’t even need the car to get to Will’s apartment building. The difficult part was getting Will up and out of the car, then into the building, elevator, and eventually, his apartment.
Will barely even tried unlocking his door before shoving the keys into Mike’s hands. He rested his chin on Mike’s shoulder, leaning on him with his full body weight, causing both of them to stumble down as soon as the door opened.
Mike fell on his back, a loud thump indicating that he definitely hit his head.
“Ow, fuck! Will, get it together!” Mike opened his eyes, meeting Will’s gaze.
They were on the floor, Will laying on top of Mike and staring at him like it’s his first time seeing him this close. He inched his face closer, his eyes locked on Mike’s lips,
There’s his conscience deep inside him yelling not to do it, but his heart is screaming to take the chance.
For a moment, he seemed to sober up.
. . .
Spoiler alert: he did not sober up.
He kissed Mike, their lips pressing together like they were shaped to be connected. Mike had his eyes wide open, caught off guard by Will’s sudden confidence. He hesitated to kiss back, he really wanted to, but Will pulled away before he could even do anything.
Will started heaving, lifting himself off of Mike, “Fuck..” He mumbled. “I’m sorry. You should go—”
“Shut up.”
Will felt something pull him down by the neck, his lips meeting Mike’s again.
Mike held Will close, his hands around Will’s neck and waist. He gripped the fabric of Will’s jacket as he deepened the kiss, both of their breathing heavy with need.
Will’s tongue slipped into Mike’s mouth, the taste of alcohol strong against the sweetness of his lips. They held each other impossibly closer, the kiss starting to feel more intimate than before.
“Will—” Mike gasped— “We’re on the floor.” He weakly pushed Will off, trying to get a proper breath in.
When Will finally stopped kissing Mike, he sat down and took deep breaths. “Where in fuck did you learn to kiss like that?” Mike sat up, his hair a mess from Will gripping it without even realizing. Will chuckled, “I’ve had boyfriends. Mike. Several.”
“I don’t care. Do it again.”
Without hesitation, Will quickly complied, cupping Mike’s cheeks in both palms and kissing him again. He paused for just a second to snatch Mike’s glasses off, putting them aside.
Both of them were breathing heavily, the sound of their lips clashing making it feel more lewd that it should. No thoughts were left in either of their heads, the only thing they had in mind was how much they wanted this exact thing to happen.
Mike’s head bumped on the wall from Will pinning him against it, they giggled in between kisses, feeling like high schoolers getting what couldn’t have for the first time.
His arms wrapped around Will’s neck, and Will’s hands moved to mess up Mike’s hair again. Mike tugged on Will’s jacket, urging him to take it off– and take it off he did. He stopped kissing Mike to slide his jacket off and toss it to the side, the muscles on his arms looking more defined than before.
Mike traced the shape of Will’s arms with his hands, “You’re so… Muscle-y now.” A smug smile painted his face, “You seriously remind me of Clark Kent.”
“Mike. You’re being such a nerd right now.”
“Will, I’m seriously at a loss for words. You could like, pick me up and whatever, and not struggle. I probably weigh like nothing to you—”
“Mike.”
“Okay, shutting up now.”
Will kissed Mike again, first on his lips, then his jaw, then his neck. There was a sound that came out of Mike, a helpless whine that just made Will melt completely.
As Will is kissing Mike’s neck, he looks over to the rest of his apartment; noticing the books lined up on the small shelf.
Those are my books. Mike thinks to himself. “Wiseheart,” he mumbles, still looking at the books.
Will’s head perked up, looking towards the direction Mike was looking, “Yeah… Wiseheart.” He exhaled.
“You know it’s me, don’t you?”
“...Yeah.”
Mike wiped his swollen lips, smiling at Will, “When did you realize?”
Will sat across from Mike, “Last week,” he leaned back with his hands on the floor, “I read some articles and found your Twitter. You know, if you wanna remain anonymous, you really shouldn’t link your public Twitter to your Facebook account.”
“Oh so you stalked me? Got it,” Mike teased.
Will shoved his face in his palms, embarrassed. “You make it sound worse than it is.”
Mike held Will’s hand and stood up, making their way to the small shelf. He picked up the seventh book and opened it to a specific page, “I’ve longed for you all these years,”
“Are you reading me the lines from your book?”
“My heart yearns for you through battles and wars. Whenever you meet my gaze, I feel as if the gods have divined me,”
Mike started walking towards Will, their eyes locking as he continued reading in a dramatic tone, “Your eyes outshine all the stars in the night sky, you put Polaris itself to shame.”
“Mike, oh my God.”
This time Will had his back pressed against the wall, he had this hungry gaze fixed on Mike, rolling his eyes sarcastically.
“If I must have someone in this universe, I will always choose you,
No one else.”
“My dear cleric, you have owned my life since the dawn we met. There has been no other choice, but you.” Mike finished with a kiss, just as he had written in his book.
Will pressed his hand on Mike’s chest, “That was the dorkiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he shoved Mike a little, “You’re horrible.”
“You like it, though.”
“Yeah. I do.” He kissed Mike again, resting his hands on his shoulders. Mike dropped the book to hold Will’s waist, just above his hips, his thumbs pressing in slightly as they kissed.
Mike pressed his knee in between Will’s legs, smiling against his lips. Will tucked Mike’s hair away from his face before wrapping his arms around his neck, their faces were so close together that Mike could feel Will’s lashes brushing against his skin.
When they finally took a moment to breathe, Will pulled Mike into a hug, whispering something in his ear, “I love you too, Mike. Even though you said it through your stupid book.” He giggled.
“And I’ll keep reading you my books if it means that you’ll know how much I love you,” Mike pulled his head back to look at Will, “Until the day I die.”
“I’ll hold you to that, paladin.”
“I could only ever satisfy you, my cleric.”