Archive of Our Own

“And I tried to hide the feeling.”

The music is blaring loud and abrasive against Mike’s ears. He’s leaning against a wall in the far corner of the living room, watching as Lucas and Max rope Will away from a guy (Carson or Cameron, a name that starts with a C or something like that) he was flirting talking to and into the middle of the crowded room. Dustin left him a while ago, claiming he wanted to ‘actually have fun instead of wallowing in self pity in the corner,’ whatever that means. Because Mike wasn’t wallowing, and even if he was, which he wasn’t, it certainly wasn’t out of self pity. And El isn’t at the party, too busy studying for her GED. 

Mike doesn’t know if it’s the beer he’s been drinking, the couple of shots taken, or the current cup of punch he’s nursing, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off his best friend. The lights are low, but for some reason Will seems to stand out against the darkness of the room. It’s as though he has a personal spotlight following him at every twist and turn. 

Max had proposed the idea of going to Stacey’s party after they’d finished their campaign. Mike was against the idea, he didn’t want to spend the night surrounded by a bunch of strangers or people that made his and his friends’ lives hell throughout the entirety of their high school experience. But Will looked so excited, green eyes lighting up and a smile overcoming his cheeks, personal spotlight growing brighter, so who was Mike to shut down such happiness? 

So, after the party finished eating his mom’s lasagna, they all grabbed their jackets, Mike begrudgingly zipping his jacket up. Dustin and Will were excitedly chatting to one another, Lucas and Max holding hands and taking bets on who’s going to be the most intoxicated by the end of the night. Lucas put his bet on Dustin. Max said it’d be Mike, to which Mike’s lips pursed forward into a pout. He’s never even drank before, none of them have, so why were they even placing bets in the first place?

Mike takes a small sip of the punch in his cup, eyes trailing downwards and locking on to pale hands slipping underneath Will’s shirt revealing a sliver of golden brown skin. His brows immediately furrow and a churning in his gut swirls around making him nauseous, to which he chops up to the amount of alcohol in his system. The room seems to get hotter and hotter as his eyes hone in on the light pink scar on Will’s left hip, contrasting against the deep natural tan. 

No one seems to notice the other person behind Will. Will certainly doesn’t seem to notice as he and Max hold hands, pulling each other to and fro with bright smiles on both of their faces. Or maybe he did notice and just doesn’t care. The unnamed teen’s hands tighten around Will’s hips, pulling him backwards and closer to him.  A crackling sound and a wet substance makes Mike divert his eyes from the promiscuous scene in front of him and down to his hands. 

His left hand is balled into a fist, red liquid flowing over his fingers and dripping to the floor. He’s squeezed his cup too tightly, splitting it and spilling his drink. Mike’s right eye twitches at the sight, a feeling of annoyance washing over him. He rolls his eyes, huffs a breath through his nose and stalks his way out of the crowded room, throwing his cup onto the littered and trashed coffee table. 

He’s bumping into every person near him, shoulder checking people left and right and not uttering a single apology as he goes. He’s pretty sure someone he bumped into might’ve spilled their beer on his shoulder at some point, but his mind is too preoccupied to be bothered by it. The liquid is drying slowly on his hand, causing his fingers and palm to become sticky and uncomfortable. 

Mike climbs the stairs, stepping around pairs of people grossly making out. His eyes linger on one couple, a girl literally climbing into the boy’s lap and sucking his face. His nose turns up slightly at the disgusting display and he quickens his pace up the stairs, stumbling with each step he takes. 

His hair is sticking to his forehead, slick with sweat from the crowded rooms he was previously in. When he finally makes it to the tops of the stairs, he finds a line of three or four people (his eyes are a bit unfocused at this point) standing outside the door to the bathroom, making his annoyance grow. He sighs, loudly, and rolls his eyes. Instead of waiting in the line, like anyone else would do, he walks past the people and the hallway bathroom. 

He opens a door across the hall, coming face to face with the sight of two people making out in Stacey’s room. His brows raise as he notices the familiar light brown curls sitting on the edge of the pink duvet covered bed. Mike blinks before taking a step backwards and shutting the door. He stares blankly at the white wooden door in front of him before chuckling to himself and shaking his head. 

He turns and starts down the hallway again. He passes a couple other doors, opting to go for the door farthest away from the stairs and congregating people. He opens the door and finds the bedroom completely barren of people. A queen bed sits in the middle with a red and brown flowery patterned duvet. The walls are painted a dull beige color. On one wall is a tall dresser with a jewelry box on one side and ties strewn in disarray on the other half. Mike assumes this is Stacey’s parents’ room. 

He steps into the room with light feet, almost afraid that if he makes any sudden noise her dad will come swinging out of the closet at him with a baseball bat or something. Even though Stacey told them (Dustin) earlier that they’d left the house for the night. He shuts the door lightly, hearing the door click shut and suddenly Mike’s engulfed in silence and he feels like he can breathe again. 

Mike closes his eyes and inhales a deep breath through his nose, exhaling out of his mouth as he leans against the door for support. He doesn’t know why he felt so hot, so annoyed earlier. No, scratch that, he does know. He’s known for a while now what this feeling in his gut is. What the twisting and turning and constant feeling of anticipation and excitement is. He’s accepted it for what it is. He doesn’t like it, but at the very least he’s accepted it. Besides, it’s not like he can do anything about it. 

When Mike’s heart rate has slowed and the sweat on his forehead and back of his neck has dried, he decides it’s time to wash the punch off his hands. The stickiness is becoming too much for him to bear, the skin on his fingers is sticking together like he put glue between them. He opens his eyes and pushes himself off the door, walking deeper into the room. He assumes that the ceiling lengths double doors are to the closet, so he goes right to the single door and pushes it open to reveal and wide and pristine bathroom. 

Mike walks to the sink and turns it on, not paying attention to whether the water is running hot or cold. He doesn’t care, he just wants this stickiness gone. He pumps some soap from the dispenser into the palm of his hands. Pushing his hands under the water a chill crawls its way up his spine at the coldness. He shrugs it off, rubbing his hands together to spread the soap around. 

Mike’s eyes hone in on the water, watching as the red of the punch washes from the paleness of his hands. The water tinges pink as it mixes together with the punch and swirls down the sink, disappearing down the drain. When the water finally remains clear, Mike bends down and splashes it onto his face. 

The sound of the door slamming shut and a heavy breath make Mike shoot up from the sink, the water collecting on the curls on his forehead, little droplets splattering on the mirror in front of him. He rushes with fumbling hands to shut the faucet off. He grabs a hand towel and dries his hands before patting his face. He sets the towel back down as he take light steps out of the bathroom, peeking around the door to see the intruder. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees who it is. Doing away with the stealthiness, he walks deeper into the room, revealing himself. 

Will’s head shoots up from where he was looking at the ground at the sound of Mike’s heavy footsteps. He’s mirroring the way Mike was earlier when he’d first found the room, leaning against the door. Will’s eyes are wide before recognition fills them and he slouches back against the door, body loosening. 

“Sorry,” Will says. Mike’s brows shoot upwards at the sound of his voice. He sounds gravely and raspy, Mike trails his eyes along Will’s form. His shirt is rumpled and loose around his neck. His hair is mussed and his cheeks are flushed, either from the heat or from the alcohol. But Mike doesn’t think that Will had much, if anything, to drink. He knows he doesn’t like alcohol, can barely tolerate the smell of it. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here.” 

Mike shakes his head immediately, “no, no, it’s fine. I was just,” Mike’s hands flail around in sporadic motions, “washing my hands. Spilled my drink earlier.” 

Will nods his head, humming, but doesn’t provide any other response. Mike nods his head back and shuffles on his feet before deciding to move. He inches forward and sits on the edge of the bed. Will has his eyes closed, giving Mike free rein to stare at him, which he does so greedily. Dark brown eyes trail up and down Will’s body, resting on the side of his neck where Mike can just so faintly see a vein pounding at the side of it. And a monstrous, animalistic side of Mike wants so badly to kiss it, to suck on it, to leave a mark of some kind to show that Will is his. But Will isn’t his. 

“You’re staring,” Will grumbles, not bothering to open his eyes. 

And shit, he’s been caught. How the fuck did he know that?

”I survived a week in an interdimensional world by myself at the age of twelve,” Will responds, “I know when someone is watching me, Mike.”

And shit, Mike spoke aloud. 

Mike lets out a half-hearted chuckle, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Right, right.” He yanks his hand down to his side and shrugs his shoulders, “besides I wouldn’t say I was staring.” 

“Really?” Will questions, lips turning upwards into a smirk as he crosses his arms over his chest. Mike has to force his eyes to remain connected with Will’s and not look down at the arms and the slim muscle that Will has acquired recently. Not to mention the tight shirt that hugs his arms perfectly, making them look bigger than they actually are. 

And damn, Mike Wheeler is so gone for him. 

Mike gulps, “yeah, really.”

”Then,” Will tilts his head, bangs flopping in his eyes. We must stay focused, Michael. “What would you say you were doing? You know, if you weren’t staring.”

Mike shrugs, pursing his lips, “I was just…admiring.” 

“Admiring?”

”Yeah, yes! Admiring,” Mike repeats. “Nothing strange about admiring pretty things, or… people.” 

Will’s mouth pauses were it was opened. A small flush spreads over his cheeks and he clears his throat, shifting his eyes to look to the side. Only then does Mike realize what he’s said. 

He sits up straighter on the bed, hands gripping his knees. “I mean,” he coughs, “the wall, behind you, yeah, the wall is pretty.”

Will’s brows furrow as he looks back towards Mike, “the wall?” 

Mike swallows, “yes, the wall.” He waves his hand around Will’s frame, “the decor, and the ridges on the door…are all very well placed.” 

Will turns, stares at the wall and door behind him for a second before shifting his narrowed eyes back towards Mike, “right…”

“Right.” Mike clears his throat. He bites his lip, chewing a loose piece of skin as a silence ensues in the room, and not a comfortable silence, no. A silence that makes Mike want to open his mouth and just talk about anything to make it end. 

It has to be the alcohol in his system, because that’s exactly what he does. 

“I mean,” he lifts his right hand, gesturing to Will’s…everywhere, “you know you’re pretty.” He shrugs, not noticing the blush that rises back to the shorter boy’s cheeks. “I- People admire you all the time. You’re the prettiest out of us all, if I’m being honest,” and good God, Michael shut the fuck up. “You should know that, I mean, I hope that you know that.”

Will laughs, looking down at his feet and shuffling them against the carpet, “I wouldn’t go that far, Mike. But…thanks. You’re a good friend.”

Friend. Ouch. Mike winces like he’d just been stabbed in the heart. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does because Will isn’t wrong, they are friends. Mike said so over a year ago on that stupid radio tower in the Upside Down. Well, he said best friends to be exact. 

To be fair, it’s not like Mike was aware of his feelings towards Will at the time. He knew that what he felt and how he acted towards the other teen was different compared to the way he was with Lucas or Dustin. The concept of having romantic feelings towards his best friend of ten years never even crossed Mike’s mind until long after the Upside Down was gone. Not to mention the fact that when he brought up the anxious feeling he’d been getting around Will to El, she basically threw her textbook (hardcover by the way!) at his head and called him an idiot.

Now that Mike thinks about it, he’s pretty sure her exact words were ‘I have no idea how you made it into the top twenty of your class, let alone your senior year with how oblivious and daft you are.’ Which, hello? What the fuck? Mike is a lot of things, he’ll admit, but he is not that oblivious nor daft. He graduated in the top fifteen of his class! Five places higher than before! 

Granted, El was referring to his emotional intelligence, which, sure, Mike can admit he isn’t the most adept in that specific area. But he’s learning. And he’s gotten much better at it now! He’s at least made peace with the fact that he has unrequited feelings for his best friend. 

Will clearing his throat makes Mike blink back into reality. Will unfolds his arms from his chest, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He rolls on the balls of his feet, eyes glancing from Mike to the door. “I should get back, Max’ll be wondering where I am.” He chuckles, “told her I was getting a breather, so.” 

“Right, yeah, right,” Mike repeats, cringing on himself for his wonderful vocabulary. Then, an image of pale hands on tan hips crosses his mind and Mike stands abruptly from the bed. “Wait, don’t go.” 

“What?” Will questions, confusion written all over his face as his thick brows pinch together. 

“Don’t go,” Mike sniffles his nose, turning his head to look at the window across the room. “I mean,” he shrugs awkwardly, “there was this guy, I don’t know if you noticed, he was … touching you so.” 

Will chuckles, “Mike.” He shakes his head, “that guy is someone I’ve been talking with tonight. He’s going to the same college so,” he shrugs, lips turning up in a smile, “we talked and turns out…he’s bi and surprisingly open.” 

Mike feels like he just took a dive into ice cold water at the information. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. Will can’t have found someone already. It’s only been eighteen months since he’s come out, isn’t that too quick to meet someone and get into a relationship? And they just met tonight?! This is absurd, blasphemous! This just can’t be. 

Mike’s mouth moves before his brain can stop it. “Isn’t it too soon?”

”Mike,” Will looks perplexed, “we’re just talking, getting to know one another.”

“Well, stop it! Don’t do that,” Mike almost shouts, but manages to keep his voice low. “Don’t go to him, don’t talk to him!”

Doesn’t stop the stunned and dumbfounded look that crosses Will’s face at his words. His brows shoot up and his mouth hangs open. He looks like Mike just slapped him. And Mike just stands there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

Will blinks, closes his mouth and swallows. It takes him a couple of seconds, like he’s trying to find the words to say, or like he’s trying not to blow up at Mike like Mike just did with him. Will licks his lips before speaking, “why not?” 

“Because,” Mike flounders. “Because,” he repeats, shaking his head and hands moving sporadically. “You don’t know him.”

“The only way I can get to know him is by talking to him, Mike,” Will counters with a hint of snark in his voice. 

“Yeah, but I mean,” Mike rolls his eyes, “doesn’t it seem too good to be true? What if he’s some creep? Or, or, what if he’s a spy for the government sent to test you or something. I mean, how do you know you can trust this guy?”

”I don’t trust him, I don’t know him,” Will emphasizes as he squints his eyes. “And I highly doubt that the government is sending out teenage spies to Hawkins.”

”After everything that’s happened, that really shouldn’t be out of your realm of possibilities,” Mike grumbles. 

“I mean,” Will sighs, “it’s not, obviously, but come on, Mike, it’s been almost two years with nothing from the government or the military.” 

“But isn’t it strange, I mean,” Mike fights back, just saying anything to keep Will here and not down there with that…loser. “Why now?” 

Will tilts his head, eyes shifting left and right, “because… we’re at a party.” 

Mike shakes his head, feeling a bit frustrated because what is Will not understanding? “Don’t you think the timing is just…too opportune?” 

“‘Too opportune?’” Will parrots eyes wide in disbelief. He blinks and huffs out a scoff, “why? Because it’s so hard to believe a guy would want to talk to me? Have an interest in me?” 

Mike shakes his head furiously, hair whipping around in all directions. He holds his hands out in a placating position. “That’s not what I meant. You know that. I just…don’t want you talking to him.” 

“Why the hell not?” Will asks exasperated, clearly over this conversation. 

“Because!” Mike puffs out his cheeks, “I have an antenna for you!” 

Will’s shoulders drop. He blinks at the flushed teen in front of him. His arms dropped to his side and his mouth hung open. His brows slowly converge in the middle. He blinks again…a pause, eyes drifting down Mike’s body before looking back up at his face. Then another blink and he’s shaking his head, his right brow arching. 

“What the fuck.” 

Mike freezes in his spot, eyes widening as his brain catches up. He blinks, sighing and shoulders slumping forward. His body drains of energy and his knees feel like they’re about to collapse underneath him, so he places a hand behind him and slowly sits back down on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes and wipes his free hand down his face, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“That…came out wrong,” Mike grumbles. 

Will perks a brow, “how exactly was that supposed to come out?” 

“Not like that, preferably in the basement,” Mike mumbles. Will feet shift on the ground, looking like he wants to take a step forward but stops himself. 

Will inhales a deep breath through his nose, his hands curling and unfurling. He licks his bottom lip before steeling himself and a look of determination crosses his face. He inches forward, with light feet. Before Mike knows it, the bed is dipping down to his right. He opens his eyes and looks to the movement, Will is already looking at him with soft and concerned eyes. Mike’s eyes dart downwards as Will’s tongue licks his bottom lip. 

“Talk to me, Mike, honestly,” Will urges, keeping his voice quiet. “What’s going on with you?” 

Mike hesitates. He chews on his bottom lip, swallowing. He looks down at the covers on the bed, then looks at the palms of his hands. He inhales a deep breath through his nose, and exhales. 

“You remember November, 1987?” Mike looks back at Will. 

Will’s lip turns upwards into a half smile, “how could I forget?” He teases. 

Mike lets out a halfhearted chuckle, “yeah.” He gulps, “but no, remember when Robin compared your ‘Upside Down Radar’ to having a radio receiver, or an antenna in your head?” 

“Yeah,” Will drags slowly, not understanding where Mike is going with this. 

“Well,” Mike shuffles on the bed, anxiously, “I have an antenna…for you.” 

Will shakes his head before speaking, “I’m not…following.” 

Mike huffs, “yeah, I’m not really wording this correctly.”

Will places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Take your time,” he whispers. And Mike’s stomach flushes with butterflies. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest he fears Will could hear it. 

“It’s like,” Mike starts, fumbling around for the right words. “When you're in a room, I immediately know where you are. When you’re off, or having a bad day, I can tell. Or when you’re happy or excited about something, but you don’t want to make it obvious to anyone so you don’t say anything, but I notice because you get this spark in your eyes that’s so…damn blinding. 

And when you’re missing from a room, I take notice. It’s like no matter what, I’m in tune with you. I have a Will Byers Antenna,” Mike finishes. His body is fully turned to Will's, his right leg propped up on the bed and his hands cradled in his lap. Will is just staring at him with wide eyes, not saying anything, so Mike continues speaking to fill the silence. 

“And at first, I didn’t understand it, so I talked to El about it and she said I was being stupid,” Mike shakes his head. “Then, Robin started saying weird things to me. And then she brought up this Tammy person and who the fuck is Tammy?”

Will laughs, “Tammy Thompson, singer who sounds like Ms. Piggy from the Muppets.” 

“Right,” Mike says, a small smile on his lips. He blinks and shakes his head, getting back on track, “and then she starts saying things about Vickie.” At this, Will sits up a bit straighter, to which Mike doesn’t notice, too busy lost in his rant. 

“And I’m so confused, because what does Vickie have to do with anything?” Mike adjusts where he’s sitting, eyes wide as he continues, “and then I was in the shower and I remembered what you said about…someone being your ‘Tammy’ and how I didn’t understand what she had to do with anything,” Mike tilts his head, brows pinching.

”And then, in the middle of the night, I can’t sleep because I just have Vickie, Robin, Tammy running around in my head in circles,” Mike’s voice raises slightly. He runs a hand through his hair, dark curls poking up in every direction. “And then I remembered how Nancy mentioned that Robin is single now, and then it clicks.

Robin and Vickie were together, which I don’t understand why she didn’t just say that from the beginning instead of putting me through these mental gymnastics. And with what you said about Tammy and how Robin spoke about her…I realized that Tammy was some symbolization of a person…or something?” Mike squints his eyes.

Will chuckles lightly, shaking his head at Mike’s rampage. “Mike,” Will says with fondness, voice so much softer than Mike’s loud and boisterous voice. “Tammy was, basically, a hallway crush for Robin.” He sits a bit straighter, running his hands down his knees and straightening out his jeans, “for me, when I said ‘Tammy’ I was referring to this guy that I essentially just…built up in my head.”

Will swallows, turning his body so he’s fully facing Mike; his left knee is sitting on the bed, bumping against Mike’s right one. “I realized…I kind of created this idolized version of him. And when I peeled back those layers that I built for him,” Will huffs a humorless laugh through his nose, “and took off those stupid rose tinted glasses, I realized I wasn't in love with you, but this figment I created.” 

Mike blinks. His mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. His mind is stuck on that one word. Will’s one slip up. You. “Um,” Mike says dumbly. He blinks again, closes his mouth and swallows. He opens his mouth again, a weird creaking sound escaping from it. He’s realizing he’s malfunctioning. 

Will was in love with him? Mike’s brows pinch as he comprehends the rest of what Will said. Will isn’t in love with him anymore? Or never was? He feels a pit form in his stomach. He feels like he might be sick. He missed his chance and didn’t even know it. 

“Mike?” A tan hand waves in front of his face, making him blink quickly and sit up straight. 

“Hm?” He hums, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. 

Will’s smile is small, concern evident with the way his brows are pinched, “are you okay?”

Mike opens his mouth, but pauses. He blinks and inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly. He nods his head in reply, before quickly shaking it. “No, because I’m not, Will.”

”What?” Will asks.

”I’m not your ‘Tammy,’” Mike states, brows furrowed together and lips turned downward. 

Will stutters, “I…I didn’t-“

”You did,” Mike lets out a humorless laugh, “and you don’t even realize you said it,” he grumbles under his breath. 

“Mike,” Will tries, but Mike isn’t listening anymore. 

“I’m not your ‘Tammy,’ I don’t want to be your ‘Tammy!” He exclaims, pushing himself off the bed, rising to his feet. Will quickly follows behind, hands extended outwards to placate the taller teen. 

Mike turns on his heels, voice raised in anger, “I’m your Mike! Your Mike, stupid, brash, and yeah sometimes abrasive and mean and rude, but…I care and I know I suck at showing it, but I do! And.” 

Mike inhales a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down, but failing, “I’m not some hallway crush, some random person that you built up in your head…that you didn’t know, because…”

“Mike,” Will repeats, voice low in a whisper, “if…” He swallows, “if you’re worried about me still…” He trails off, biting his lip. Mike watches as the shorter teen battles with himself, hands balling into fists before uncurling. Will breathes through his nose, much like Mike did just moments before, “well, don’t be. I’m over it.”

Mike lets out an agonizing groan, throwing his head back and running both hands through his hair. He spins in a circle, stomach boiling with the annoyance and anger (not at Will, never Will) he’s feeling at the situation he put himself in. 

“Mike,” Will calls. 

“No,” Mike says, turning around so he faces Will. “I don’t-“ he cuts himself off, sighing. “I don’t want you to be over it. To be…over me, Will.” 

Will blinks before shaking his head, “I don’t understand.”

Mike closes his eyes to stop them from rolling. He purses his lips, steeling himself. “Will, I don’t want you talking or flirting with other guys because…I want you to do that with me.”

”Mike-“

”No, listen,” Mike persists, “Will, I am so in love-“

”Don’t,” Will rushes out to say. Green eyes blinking quickly to dispel the liquid welling in them, “don’t say that. Please.” 

Mike pauses, heart hammering in his chest as he watches Will ball his hands into fists and presses them to his eyes. He turns around, back now towards Mike, and Mike watches at a loss for words. 

“Why?” Mike questions. “I want to tell you, I need to tell you.”

”You can’t do this to me,” he hears Will mumble, obviously with the intention of Mike not hearing. Will shakes his head, “not when I’m finally getting on with my life. Not when I have spent so long loving you.” 

“Will-“

This time, it’s Will who persists, not letting Mike get a word in. “No,” he turns around, cheeks and nose red, eyes irritated from the rubbing. “No,” he repeats. Will holds his head up, “I’m sorry, Mike, but we aren’t doing this. You aren’t doing this.” 

He licks his lip and pushes past Mike, walking towards the door, “I’m going to go downstairs, rejoin Max and the rest of the party, and we are going to forget that this happened. Okay?”

”No!” Mike exclaims, trying to walk closer, but with each step forward, Will takes another step backwards. “No, that's not okay.” Mike licks his lips, “I don’t think you were in love with an idolized version you created of me. I think you were in love with me, me. I think…” He pauses, jaw tensing. “I think you still are.” 

“Mike, you’re being mean,” Will responds. 

Mike shakes his head, teeth clenching and grinding against one another. The words rush out, “I’ll apologize for it later, but right now? I don’t care, Will, if you think I’m being mean, because I know,” he swallows before continuing, “I know the second you walk out that door there won’t be another chance. 

I know the second you go back downstairs, he’ll be there, waiting for you. And you’ll go to him,” Will’s lips form into a tight line. Mike’s nostrils flare, and he bites his bottom lip. “To someone who doesn’t know you.”

Will rolls his eyes, “he can learn.” 

“He won’t,” Mike shakes his head, taking a small step forward. “He won’t learn.” He insists, taking another step. Will takes another step backwards, back inching closer to the door. “And he won’t know.

He won’t know the way you like to sleep with the blankets over your head because any amount of light will wake you up. He won’t know how you like to drown your breakfast in syrup, how you could drink it from the bottle if your mom would let you,” Mike’s mouth twitches, turning into a small smile. 

“He won’t know that you take your coffee with milk and an absurd amount of sugar because you hate the bitterness. He won’t know that your tastebuds stopped changing when we were kids, that you have the same palette as then.” Mike inches closer. Will’s back hits the wall, not having anywhere else to go. 

Mike continues talking, not stopping, deep brown eyes staring into bright green ones. “He won’t understand how your favorite color is yellow, but not a mustard yellow,” he shakes his head, huffing out a laugh from his nose, “or a golden yellow. No…a sunshine yellow. A dandelion yellow. A yellow so bright it hurts your eyes if you stare too long at it.” 

He takes another step forward, a couple inches from the shorter teen. Will is looking up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw, his chest is heaving with each breath he takes. Mike’s chest is doing much the same, his heart is pounding, his blood is rushing in his ears and his stomach is alive with a thousand butterflies. 

Mike raises his right hand slowly, reaching out and gently placing it on the left side of Will’s face. Will blinks and lets out a shuttering breath which Mike feels flutter across his nose. “And he won’t know your traumas,” he says in a whisper.

”Your deepest fears. He won’t know that you didn’t get lost in the woods. That you, actually, know those woods like the back of your hand,” Mike’s mouth curls upwards as Will reluctantly chuckles. “And he’ll never know that you were trapped, kidnapped and taken to an interdimensional world.” 

His hand slides down Will’s face, “and he won’t know about the scars you carry on your back.” His hand stops at Will’s left hipbone, Will inhales a sharp breath through his nose, “or on your hip, right here.” 

His left hand trails upward, brushing Will’s bangs out of his foreword with gentle fingers, “and he won’t know how amazing and strong you really are. He won’t ever know the fighter- the survivor- that you are.

And you?” Mike inhales, leaning forward slightly, the tip of nose just barely brushing Will’s, “you won’t ever know how irrevocably in love with you I am.” Will exhales, and Mike eyes dart downwards, noticing the shaking hands. Mike thumbs Will’s cheekbone, looking back to his glistening sea green eyes. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” he whispers into the quiet of the room. “I never was, I never have been. And,” Mike shakes his head, his right hand moves from Will’s hip, coming up to cup the other side of his face. “I’m not afraid of this, of this feeling. Not anymore.” 

Mike inhales a breath, heart thudding so loudly in his chest he worries Will can hear it. “I just want to love you. All of you.” 

And suddenly Will is rising to the tips of his toes, hand coming in between the two torsos. Mike worries, for just a second, that Will is about to push him away when he feels his hand on his chest. But Will doesn’t. 

Instead he does the opposite. He grips the front of Mike’s shirt, balling it into his hands. And Mike is yanked forward, with such force that his eyes widen and his right hand moves from Will’s face, slamming into the wall by his head. But his body immediately relaxes at the warm feeling of Will’s lips against his own chapped ones. 

His left hand grips the base of Will’s neck as he pulls him closer, melting into the kiss and wanting more. Mike feels something warm on his bottom lip and he readily opens his mouth, letting Will’s tongue enter his mouth and take full control. Will’s hand releases the grip it had on his shirt, splaying out right where his heart is thundering at a rapid pace. His other hand moves to Mike’s waist, and Mike hums deeply as Will pulls him closer, Mike’s body going with no protest. 

They separate, but not too far, when Mike’s lungs start burning, the need for air winning over the want. Their lips brush against each other. Will’s eyes are wide and searching deeply into Mike’s for any form of fear, regret, or guilt. Mike’s confident there isn’t any of that. He’s confident that his eyes are shining with love, with adoration, with nothing but fondness for him. 

“It is your fault,” Will whispers, lips grazing over Mike's. His eyes are  shifting between Mike’s eyes and his lips. 

“Hm?” Mike hums languidly. 

“‘It’s not my fault you don’t like girls,’” Will quotes, making Mike’s brows pinch together. Will’s lips turn upwards into a teasing smile, “it is your fault.” 

Mike rolls his eyes, “sorry.”

”Not you’re not,” Will shakes his head. 

Mike crinkles his nose. "No," he shakes his head, forehead rubbing against Will’s. He pecks his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away.

“I’m really not.” 

“But I just can’t lie that way.”