Chapter Text
Life had been great recently, and maybe that was an understatement, because Mike found that he was enjoying life a lot more than he was about a month ago. At the same time, though, it had equally gotten more complicated.
Everything that had happened with Vecna had simmered down, they defeated him for now, and the place was on lockdown. What did that mean? It means that the Byers moved in. Aka, probably the best thing to ever happen to Mike in his whole damn life (dating a girl with magical powers be damned).
He pitched an annoyed fit at first when his mother had Will stay downstairs in the basement with Jonathan instead of sharing his room, but everyone knew he'd be moody about it already, it seemed. Will had laughed at it, how Mike seemed so pouty about him not sleeping in his room like they used to.
"Like a really long sleepover." Will recounted the words his best friend had said a few days prior, while he and Mike had been moving his and Jonathan's stuff into the basement.
Mike had groaned at it, giving Will an annoyed mumble of something about how he didn't see the difference.
In all honesty, he didn't. It was the same, wasn't it? Them sharing a room wasn't new, they'd done it plenty. So why was it being treated like some kind of big ass spectacle that his whole family got to gawk at?
When he'd proposed the idea, his mother had given him this shocked and half tired look. He knew she hadn't been completely for the Byers moving in, but she came around.
Nobody had looked at him like he had a decent idea that day, moreover, Nancy was his issue. Nancy Wheeler, his "beloved" sister that did nothing but boss everyone in her life around, his sister who had been a journalist, his sister that had worked for the actual paper, had looked at him with that look. The one she gave something that she needed to jot down a note about, it was sharp, extremely fleeting, but it was there. He hated when she looked at him like a puzzle, it was really nerve wracking.
Something that really confused him was how Will had made an expression that was just as shocked as his mother's — if not more so. He tried to ignore that, because he couldn't really find a reason Will would react that way, and he'd rather ignore things he didn't understand. If he paid attention to it, he'd just get mad.
Nothing had really changed since they moved in, minus the daily routines. One of the things he'd come to love about the Byers moving in, was that he got to wake up, shower, brush his teeth, then go downstairs and eat breakfast with Will. Holly had been mad at Mike at first for that, because he'd started taking her seat in order to be beside his best friend, but she quickly gave up and started sitting by Nancy.
Every morning after a week of the Byers and Wheeler's living together, Mike got to have a lovely morning experience. When he'd finally dart down the stairs, he and Will would make it out at the same time, saying good morning, working around each other to get their breakfast, pouring coffee together as if designed for it. Which, they practically had been, hadn't they? They'd been orbiting each other for basically their whole lives, why shouldn't all of that time go towards stuff like this?
With all of that said, explained, and out of the way, it was a month into their new living arrangement. Today, everyone was coming over for movie night in the basement. Everyone included the following: Lucas, Dustin, Steve, Robin, Mike, Max, Will, Nancy, and Jonathan.
Originally, they wanted to invite Erica, she had been a part of all of this too, helped save people, but they just opted against it. Mike had wanted to maybe tug at the idea of Eleven coming, because she was part of the group, but everyone knew Hopper wouldn't let it happen. The trio of Will, Dustin, and Mike did momentarily sulk over it, but they cooled off quickly and diverted the topic elsewhere.
The only people in the basement currently, were Lucas, Will, Max, and Mike. Everyone else was trying to make their way down still. Dustin had gone off to grab pizza with Steve and Robin, and Jonathan was helping Nancy sneak some drinks from upstairs.
"I'm just saying, watching Star Trek again is actually the most lame idea in the world!" Max argued with Mike, who just rolled his eyes like she was the most incompetent person in the world.
With a playfully passive aggressive smile, Mike clasped his hands together and pressed them to one cheek. "Oh? I'm so sorry, what would you like to watch, Lady Maxine? Some My Little Pony perhaps?" He asked in a high pitched, girly tone, making the girl cringe at him.
"God, you're such a jerk, Wheeler." She groaned loudly, pressing her palms to her eyes, as if that would magically erase Mike's birth from history. She really prayed that it would work, half jokingly.
On the edge of the mattress that had been pulled out for Will, the boy shrugged, giving Mike an amused look. "She has a point, we do watch Star Trek a lot."
Lucas nodded in agreement, Max giving a whisper shouted 'thank you', throwing her hands out toward Will with this pathetically overdone look of warmth that he laughed at.
Again, Mike rolled his eyes, scoffing. "It's a classic! It is a classic!"
"What it is, is getting old." Lucas fired back, casual, friendly, but definitely in agreement with the others and arguing against him.
"Old things are good!" Mike snapped, eyes flicking to Will across the room, the boy raising a brow in return when he was gestured to. "Will likes old things! Right, Will?"
His best friend winced, mouth pulling into a playfully tight smile. He gave a small laugh when Mike looked offended that he didn't immediately agree. "Look, Mike, it's a good movie.. But, yeah, they're right." He smiled again, the tone of the expression changed, it was warm this time, no joke, just raw kindness.
He loved that look.
He was so pretty, so sincere, it always made Mike feel far calmer than anything else. That look meant he was safe, that he was considered and being treated fairly by Will.
"You like action movies, so does everyone here. Why not swap it up, though? We could try something new." He offered, glancing at Max and Lucas.
Mike gave a huffy pout toward Will. He was being treated fairly, because his best friend would never be inconsiderate, but he never took it in a good light when he and Will weren't on the same page. His best friend shot him a sweetly apologetic glance, Mike mouthing 'traitor' to him, earning a little heart gesture in return from Will. It made him smile, and he couldn't really be cross about it anymore.
It had always been that easy. Really, it's exceedingly strange how much control Will had over him at every given moment. One bat of his eyes, one sour word, too happy at something, too sad at something, too quiet, overly talkative; he'd learned every single trait and what it meant from Will. Even things like fights, he would do anything to keep Will happy.
The reality of it was that if he wanted something, Will could snap his fingers and Mike would do everything to accommodate him. He just wanted him. He wanted Will to be beside him, all the time, never outside of his stupidly limited field of view.
"Wheeler!"
The shout made Mike jump, eyes shooting over to Max, she was schooling him with this expectant expression. He cleared his throat. "What? What's up?" He asked, smiling nervously. He felt like he'd been caught with something, he wasn't sure what, but it was something.
She raised a brow, then puffed out her words. "The movie, we were wondering if we could watch Gothic." Max supplied.
"Gothic?" A female voice came from behind Mike.
He turned around, stepping away from the stairs to reveal it was Nancy, walking down with a pack of soda in one hand, a pack of canned wine in the other.
"Max wants to watch it." Mike grumbled as he moved over to the couch. He considered it for a few moments, the idea of sitting down on it, then he opted out. The teen walked over and plopped onto the edge of the mattress with Will, bumping their elbows with a smile, earning one back.
He could have beamed at it, and maybe he did. Judging by the look from Max, half amused, half annoyed, he probably made some kind of sparkly expression over it.
Will looked back over at Nancy. "We all want to, Mike is just hurt because we didn't want to see Star Trek again." He explained, but there was no annoyance in his voice. He just said what it was, didn't care to be bothered that Mike was upset about his lack of being in charge.
"Gothic sounds good, I haven't seen it yet." Nancy smiled as she spoke, setting the drinks down on the table.
Jonathan followed her down shortly after, carrying another pack of canned wine and a pack of beer. They always let the younger people drink the canned wine, but they got the beers. Max had tried to beg her way into a beer once and Nancy gave her a lecture. They're all unsure why they can have wine and not beer, but they'd learned to not question it.
Once they were down, the last of their group finally arrived with pizza a few minutes later, and everything got into swing. They had walkied Dustin and asked Steve to drop by the video store to grab Gothic for the night, because apparently that was the plan now.
Everyone had assumed their normal spots. Dustin was sitting beside Lucas, and Max was curled up against him, meanwhile Nancy and Jonathan sat against each other, Steve beside them with Robin on the floor between his legs with a pillow under her. And for the cherry on top, Mike and Will were sitting on the floor in front of Max now.
The two of them had decided to move closer so they could actually see the movie. Ask Mike about the movie, though, and you'd quickly realize he hadn't really paid it much attention. He busied himself by drinking one of the small cans of wine, playing a little back and forth shove game with Will every time the other got bored of the movie too.
It wasn't that Mike hated the movie, it seemed good, he just couldn't really be scared of horror anymore. I mean, they'd literally fought real, breathing creatures from another dimension, and he's dating a girl with superpowers. You don't really enjoy horror much after you've seen your own share of real horror and can tell its fake.
At some point during the movie, Lucas got up to go make more popcorn, and someone ended up pausing the movie for him. People started talking, debating about the movie so far. He was shocked to see Will was a pretty avid part of the conversation this time.
Mike tried to brush off the fact he felt slightly guilty for that. Had Will really just wanted to watch something new this whole time? That would suck. He thought to himself as he stretched, shifting to reach for another canned wine.
"It has a really cool concept, but I feel like the production doesn't do justice to any of this." Jonathan complained from his spot beside Nancy.
Steve nodded, Robin speaking up before he could. "Yeah! I get what you mean, like, how the girl acted with the skull." She offered, her voice just as interested as Jonathan's was. No one had ever seen her as a film geek, though, suppose it comes with working in a video shop.
"Yeah, I didn't like how you could tell it was acted." Will agreed as well, nodding along, earning more agreement from Jonathan before he added. "She sold it as an over-dramatized thing, and it was kind of hard to watch." He mumbled, looking away with a puff.
"Oh, yeah, Byers, you've had something kind of similar right? What, with all your episodes?" Steve asked, earning a warning look from both Jonathan and Mike. He raised a brow, hands faintly up in surrender.
Will gave a sideways nod of agreement, and he smiled a little, giving a small amused noise. "Yeah, that's kind of why I don't like it. Like- I don't know, when you've been through something similar, you don't like to see yourself be misrepresented. Because if you all cringed at it, and that's how I look, I'd feel so embarrassed."
Finally jumping in, Mike spoke up after hearing that. "No! No. Will, you don't look stupid, that lady- They're actors! You're the real deal, you know it shouldn't look like that." He assured him, pushing his knee against Will's, voice softer as he spoke the last part.
The other boy smiled in turn, fond, appreciative. He pushed his knee back against Mike's, a little pressure comfortingly shared between them. He just wanted to grab Will and hold him as close as possible, constantly be a moving, breathing reminder that Will could never be wrong. At least, not to him.
What both of them failed to realize, or even vaguely sense, was that everyone was staring them down with that small display. Thankfully, the silence was broken before either of them could notice and get uncomfortable.
A groan came from behind them, Max pushing her foot onto Mike's head. "Stop the mushy stuff. It's weird, and you sound like a loser." She complained.
Mike made a disgusted noise and spun around to hit her ankle. "Keep your gross feet away from my hair."
"You don't even take care of it, your head looks like a mop!" She argued, moving her other foot onto his head.
Everyone was laughing together while the two of them kicked and slapped each other, all playful, no real force. Except on Mike's end. He really didn't want a foot on his hair.
"She's right, Wheeler, you could use a trim." Steve agreed as they kept bickering, lazily sipping his beer.
Mike shot him a scowl, opening his mouth in an attempt to argue, only for Max's foot to hit the side of his face. He made an alarmed noise, then immediately shot back to fighting with her.
A disgruntled noise left Dustin, trying to shift further away from them. "I'm over here, watch it you assholes!"
The rest of the people in the room talked around them, he thinks he heard Nancy agree about the trim he apparently needed, but he didn't pay much attention. At some point, Max abandoned the back and forth blows with Mike to have a talk with Robin, leaving the boy to sigh and lean back against the couch in relief.
He rolled his head to the side on his own shoulder, staring up at Will as he spoke to Nancy and Steve about something. He really didn't give their conversation much care, just wanting to look at his best friend. Watching him was easy, but also hard. Really hard. His brain never sat quietly when he stared at him, and that's kind of an issue, because as Lucas and Dustin say, Mike has a hell of a staring problem. In his own mind, he doesn't even stare that often, I mean, he's definitely doing it now, but not all the time.
Lucas had come back down the stairs, slowing his walk, eyes narrowed at Mike as he climbed back onto the couch with his popcorn. Max immediately stole it from him, offering to share. He gave the back of Mike's head a flick, getting a small 'ow' in response.
He rubbed the back of his head, shooting Lucas a scowl before going back to looking at Will. A slightly amused puff came from behind him, but he opted to ignore it.
Something Mike hadn't fully been able to avoid, was these occasional thoughts about Will that had grown more rampant since the Byers moved in. They were extremely uncalled for, and he blamed stupid things for them.
For reference, the first instance of them becoming incredibly out of pocket, was about two weeks after the Byers were moved in.
Mike had been doing his laundry in the basement, which had become Jonathan and Will's room. Will had been upstairs, meanwhile Jonathan was lazing around on the couch with Mike in the room. The dryer was almost through, he was just waiting on it to finish up, leaning against the wall in the meantime.
He hadn't noticed when, but the door to the basement had opened, and Will had come back down. The boy paused on the final step, staring at Mike. "Oh, hey, Mike. You're up early." He said blankly, the words sounding like they were trying to silently ask him something.
Mike looked up from the spot on the floor he'd zoned out on. "Hey, yeah, I had to do laundry." His eyes flicked over at Will, the two stared at each other, exchanging a soft smile.
Nodding, Will made his way over. "Cool, mind if I slide past?" He asked, making a small gesture beside the washer.
Glancing to where he had pointed, Mike saw another full hamper. His eyes flicked back up to Will's. "Do you need it done?"
"Yeah, I wanted a shirt out of there." He explained, moving toward the basket and him.
Mike shook his head, waving him off as he picked up the basket. "No worries, I'll get it," He eyed Will, smiling again, "You eat yet?" Mike asked.
Will was just blinking at him like he'd grown another head for a second. He cleared his throat, lips twitching into a small smile, then disappearing, watching Mike do his laundry for him. "Uh.. No. No, I- I just showered. I wanted to start that before eating." He elaborated, eyes flicking back up to Mike's.
With a little hum, Mike just watched him. He mindlessly flipped the switch and pressed the buttons, staring at his best friend all the while. He'd done laundry enough that he had the steps memorized, so he could just watch.
And he did.
He watched the way Will's eyes followed his hands, watched him rub his left thumb and index finger together, watched as his brows furrowed and unfurrowed, watched the way he rubbed his right palm against his jeans. And then he watched their eyes meet.
They were both silent. They said nothing, just stared into one another's eyes. It felt like if the silence broke then something devastating would happen. Maybe another rift would form, maybe Vecna would appear, maybe Will would get taken again.
Mike felt his stomach tighten. God he prayed that never happened again.
He had been about to speak, but lost his train of thought. He breathed heavily out of his nose, eyes flicking down to stare at Will's lips. He was growing acutely aware in recent times how often he made a casual habit of staring there.
In a way, he feels like a disgusting freak for doing so, but it's just lips. Everyone has them, everyone uses them. So what makes it weird to just recognize someone has them?
Mike continued to stare at Will's lips, finding himself unable to look elsewhere. He was zoned out, too lost in thought. The only thing he really could do was stare at him, stare at Will, and think about Will. He took an uneven breath through his nose once more, gripping tighter onto the basket in his arms.
He looks so pretty. Will was always pretty, he doesn't think he can actually recall a time that he found Will ugly. Not every person is easy to look at, especially to him, but he does find Will easy on the eyes.
Some part of his brain wandered, it considered a thought. If he dropped the basket and walked forward, would Will let him? Would he let Mike walk them away from the washing machine and his bed?
And, that's when it happened. Without realizing, his brain had ticked out of reality, just throwing on a show that it made in real time.
The basket was discarded, tossed back to the floor. He walked Will backwards until they hit the table, the same one they had played D&D on since they were little, making his best friend sit on the flimsy thing. Mike plastered himself to him, hugging him, nuzzling his shoulder, standing between his legs.
There was no denial to the contact, just simple acceptance, letting Mike lead them around as if this had happened enough to have a rhyme and rhythm of its own.
Will was at home, easily accepting his new position of sitting on the table in the middle of the room, running his fingers through Mike's hair. It drew out a small hum from the taller teens lips, a calm, content noise. He pressed one hand onto Will's waist, the shorter boy giving a faint and short laugh. It sounded like angel song to Mike.
He breathed shakily, finally pulling his head away to look at Will, to face him and stare into his eyes. Rubbing his thumb against Will's waist, he opened his mouth, then closed it.
That was something he always did. He was always useless when it came to Will. He was useless in the sense that he never knew how to say the right thing, only knew the wrong things, so he said nothing.
Despite every single failure there, despite the fact Mike could never just give the words Will likely wanted to hear, he wasn't turned down. It seemed there was a quiet acceptance between them. Unspoken, left entirely between their eyes and accidental brushes of their hands. It was a gentle thing, the acceptance Will bestowed upon him, despite his inability to perfect things.
It was all just ignored. Instead of disappointed comments, lips were pressing to his, Will's eyes open but hooded, hand moving up to press against the right side of Mike's chest. His breath hitched, hand tightening on Will's waist, his own eyes closed and he leaned into the kiss, making another soft noise as he pulled him closer.
A tug to his hair would earn a pathetic whine, a squeeze to Will's waist earned a little gasp, and they continued to kiss. They kissed, and then Will's eyes opened, as did his mouth, lips forming his name, and—
"You two!"
Mike jolted, eyes wide, skin clammy. His head snapped to Jonathan, he had been the one to call out. Mike's heart pounded in his chest that, currently, felt like it was being crushed by a ten ton weight. He couldn't even speak, just stared like a deer in headlights.
At the same time, Will also pulled away, eyes equally wide, though he looked slightly less guilty. Based on looks, you would assume Mike killed a man, and the most Will would be assumed of, is just having heard that Mike killed said man. He was far more collected than him.
"Will, go eat. Mike, your clothes are done. Please, take them and get out." Jonathan said with an annoyed tone, gesturing to the washer.
"Don't be rude, Jonathan." Will rolled his eyes, no heat behind his words or the action. "Thanks for doing the laundry, Mike." He nudged Mike's chest, making him stumble a little bit. He just stared, eyes still wide like saucers, mouth dry and clamped shut.
Heavy hearted, he watched Will disappear back up the stairs. He continued to blink at the stairs for a handful of seconds, then silently turned to grab his clothes out, body feeling warm and uncomfortable.
When he turned around to leave, hamper under his arm, Jonathan was staring at him. Mike felt his stomach drop, body going cold. He held his breath, then darted up the stairs, going straight to his room, ignoring Holly calling out to him.
Once inside the safe confines of the four blue walls of his room, he dropped the hamper on the ground. A shirt or two fell out, but he didn't care, he just leaned back, body pressed against his door like he'd cartoonishly been slammed against it.
He was breathing fast. Too fast. His heart was racing, mind was reeling, he didn't know where to move.
He pulled away from the door, pacing around his room, staring at the floor. He tried to think of anything that could explain that, explain the fact he'd just imagined moaning into his best friend's mouth.
He's had the passing idea of kissing him, sure, but girls kiss their friends, that's all it was for him too, clearly. That was logical. It was just- It was a passing thought. It was because they were best friends. That didn't explain a make-out fantasy. Unless girls make out with their friends.
Mike furrowed his brows, trying to grasp onto something that made enough sense to be tangible. Do El and Max make out? Could he ask that? If girls kissed each other was it just open game on everything? If so, couldn't guys do the same? He's sure it doesn't cross any real lines. It was, after all, just a really sudden thought.
It was a thought he had based on a sudden emotional spike. He just wanted to keep Will close, he was imagining making sure he was still there, because- Well, you need to know someone is still there if you're afraid they're gone or dead again. Yeah. That was all it was. He hit an emotional peak, and something weird came out of it. It was a fluke.
After reassuring himself, he felt his body calm down. His heart slowed to normal speeds that weren't eyebrow raising, and he could breathe properly. He sighed, then went downstairs, getting breakfast with everyone like normal.
Will had seemingly waited for him to get breakfast too, smiling when he finally appeared. He passed him the coffee pot like normal, they handed each other plates like normal, they made small talk and jokes like normal, discussed their plans for the day like normal, and they sat down to eat like normal.
It would be a good day.
That had been his first problem, because it hadn't been a fluke.
It kept happening, that had been the first of many reoccurring thoughts since then. Okay, well, maybe not many, but there were a damn good few. They really only happened if he was in close vicinity to Will. Close as in being in the same room together.
Since then, he'd done his best to shut off his brain when he was around Will. Like right now.
Will — watching the now un-paused movie, making jokes and commentary with everyone — was still up against his side. They usually sat this way, it was normal. It was practically expected that they sat that way.
He was still staring.
You're being weird.
Staring at the slope of his jaw, staring at the way his jaw ticked here and there, the way he'd laugh, the way he'd focus on the movie and furrow his brows ever so slightly. He watched the way that Will's tongue would trace the inside of his mouth when his brows furrowed. He watched everything. Not a single movement was missed.
It's not weird. You're making it weird.
By now, he'd grown used to the thoughts, and began to just accept them as part of his day to day, even if they did make his stomach churn. Even if he wanted to vomit, run away, or cry. He never did any of the options, but he felt them happen rapidly every time.
Without ever having noticed, without giving his mind permission, he'd stopped feeling these thoughts were safe. He definitely knew Will was his friend. Will was his friend, his best friend. That was what they were, so these thoughts were still formed off of closeness. That was fine. They were friends, they were close, people could kiss each other.
But, then, they started to make him feel sick. He started pulling away from Will if someone could see them and get the wrong idea. He doesn't know or understand why it makes him feel that way. They're friends. It shouldn't be weird.
So, no, he's not sure when sitting beside Will made him start scanning rooms. He's not sure when he started noticing the way that Will's warmth against him felt like a branding. Mike couldn't tell you anything about timing, but he could tell you it was all true.
Here he sat, on the floor of the basement. Not a single soul was staring at them, everyone was watching the movie, like he ought to be. But, it still felt like eyes were on him. It felt like he plummeted to the deep ocean, too dark to see that there were hundreds of creatures watching; he was unable to see them, but they could see him.
The movie had ended. He didn't even know how it ended. He didn't know who turned off the TV, he didn't know who passed the trash around. All he knew was Will beside him.
Will, who laughed at some joke, a joke from someone in the room, he didn't know who made it. Didn't care, either. He laughed so brightly, pressing himself more against Mike's side, making his breath catch.
Will tugging his hair, him sitting on Will's lap, gasping into his mouth. His own hand grabbing Will's neck, eliciting some noise that really showed it was a fantasy, because, surely, Will would never make a noise like that.
His heart pounded, his throat was tight. He needed to move. Mike's leg twitched, ready to pull away, but he just couldn't. He couldn't tear himself away from Will's warmth, the comfort that he didn't deserve in that moment.
No. No, he does deserve it. He deserves it, they're friends. He was right, he is making it weird.
He swallowed down a breath, forcing himself to sit still.
He's making it weird by making it a thing. But it is a thing. He keeps thinking about it, so therefore it is a thing.
By now, basically everyone had cleared out of the room, and Mike was left on the floor. Staring at it, like maybe if he kept his attention on it for long enough, it would open and explain the inner workings of the world to him.
"Little Wheeler?" Robin called over to him.
Mike's head shot up — it had been doing that a lot recently, with the amount of spacing out he does — fixing her with a long stare that begged her not to talk to him. To his misfortune, Robin didn't understand tone and social cues, and probably never would.
She walked over to lean against the table.
The same table you thought of kissing Will against. His brain supplied him, unhelpfully. He just glared at the floor again.
Mike had been so lost in this daze of thoughts, worrying about his stupid stomach wanting to regurgitate all the wine and pizza he'd taken in, that he didn't even notice it really was only him and Robin down in the basement. Everyone else likely upstairs, saying their goodbyes and cleaning up.
Robin gave him an awkward smile, tapping the table with her hand. "Look, uh, not to be that person, I know we don't.. Well, we don't really talk a lot, and I'm definitely not the right person to be giving life advice, especially because I'm a girl, you're a boy. A younger boy. And you're probably thinking and feeling a lot at your age, that I wouldn't understand. I know I was," She laughed softly to herself, he could tell how nervous she was, and her blabbering was kind of making him more anxious, "It's- It can be a lot. Like a lot, a lot. So, it's reasonable for you to get weird, and be weird, and-"
"Robin." Mike cut her off, tone firm, eyes begging her still to just stop talking. "I don't- There's nothing making me anything, nothing is wrong."
The woman raised her brows, nodding and pressing her lips together as she looked down. She blew out a little bit of air, then nodded again, as if she was keeping herself from saying something to him. "Look, I don't mean to- I'm not trying to pry," She explained, giving him another nervous glance, "But, you can always talk to me. Oh, and Steve! He's been worried about you, little Wheeler. You seemed out of it tonight. You have, for like, a week or two now."
He immediately cocked a brow at that, standing up with a disbelieving expression. "Steve is worried about me? Robin, we've been through far more believable things." He puffed, grabbing his unfinished can of wine.
He scowled at it, glaring toward the tin like it was the thing making him feel so terrible.
"Alcohol muddles your thoughts, bad for you kids. It makes you do strange things." Ted said from the living room, talking over the news like he had been invited to the conversation.
Nancy sighed, raising her brows and looking to the side with a strained smile that reeked of annoyance.
Her, Mike, Jonathan, and Will had been discussing the legal drinking age. They didn't see the point in having it take so long to be allowed alcohol as long as they weren't abusing it like any other substance.
To make the whole situation carry on in a nerve wracking fashion, instead of agreeing and changing the topic, like you're supposed to do when Ted Wheeler says something you don't agree with, Will spoke up. "No it doesn't." He replied, tone hesitant and confused.
Both Nancy and Mike stared at him with slack jaws and wide eyes. She mouthed a 'what are you doing!?' to him, only earning a shrug back.
Across the house, Ted looked over from his chair, face scrunched like he couldn't believe one of the children living there had spoken to him at all.
"Pardon you?" He said, tone a little gruff.
Will fumbled for a moment. "I-I- Well- Alcohol doesn't make you do anything," He stated, giving a tense expression, unable to look over at Mr. Wheeler, "It's more like.. It just lowers your capacity to control your urges and mind. It basically just makes you more honest."
Everyone had been baffled when Ted just stared, then made a little 'hum', and let it go.
Jonathan had given him a victory pat on the back, and everyone applauded him on coming out of that conversation without an earful from an annoyed Ted Wheeler rambling about "kids needing to have respect and not talk back", for about a week.
Mike didn't like recalling that conversation, though.
He continued to glare at the can, even though he knew everything Will had said was true.
It was true, and that meant down in the basement, anytime he drank and sat beside Will, it wasn't some weird fluke. He really wanted to live like it was, though.
"Listen you don't have to believe me, but I'm just saying what's true, so that maybe you'll feel like it's okay to talk." Robin droned on, hands fidgeting in her lap. She looked over, meeting eyes with Mike. "You're a good kid, if anything's up, come stop by the squawk. We can have soda and talk about feelings?"
Mike almost wanted to laugh. His lips twitched in entertainment for a small moment, then stopped, eyes leaving Robin. "Talk feelings? With you and Steve? This conversation gets weirder and weirder."
Robin made her own little noise at his words, as if she also found some level of humor. "I see how it could sound.. Well," She eyed him, then spoke, "Queer, because, y'know, Steve isn't everyone's go to. But he's good! I've talked to him a lot, he's an idiot, but good."
That word made him just stare at her. Mike stared long and hard, as if trying to gauge something, solve a riddle. He wet his lips, then spoke. "Queer?" He asked baitedly.
She gave a nod back, casual, easy. "Yeah, queer, you know, weird, strange, odd, other such synonyms." She listed.
Mike hesitantly nodded back. "Weird."
"Weird." Robin agreed with a smile.
He narrowed his eyes at her, but just nodded again, her giving another one back.
After that, Robin patted the table again, standing up, smiling still. "Have a good night, little Wheeler.”
He couldn't focus.
It was the day after their movie night, and Mike was absolutely the worst train wreck imaginable.
They were supposed to be reading a book, and it wasn't horrible, he could say. Then again, it really wasn't even a book, it was a play book, The Crucible. Dustin hated it, Lucas was indifferent, and Will was wholeheartedly enjoying it, Mike.. Not so much. He didn't really care for the idea of it, but he did like the writing.
If he wanted to make a long story short, he just wasn't interested in witches.
Mike tapped his pencil down on the desk again, probably doing it more than he should. He really needed to focus. And, why couldn't he? It was simple. Do your work, look down and read. Read the class assigned book, stop focusing on stupid thoughts.
"Miss Swanson," The teacher called out, "Please pick up the next paragraph."
The girl nodded, standing up, her voice grating to Mike's ears.
God he hated it when they did out loud reading. Why couldn't they just read in silence? He did better that way. If other people failed to read a book, it's their fault for not doing the work. It's their fault for partying and using their time on stupid drama, and sex, and drinking, and girlfriends, rather than a decent book for once.
Huh.
He stopped and leaned his face further into his palm where it was propped up.
When had he stopped caring about that? Maybe not stopped caring, but started being annoyed by it again. He had a girlfriend, that shouldn't bother him. That's normal, he should want to put his book down to go see her too.
But, you can't see her. Mike reminded himself, flipping the page, feeling a little more assured. Of course he wouldn't care, he can't see his own girlfriend, it's just bothering him because he's jealous.
Outside of his thoughts, Violet Swanson — Mike thinks that's her name, don't quote him on it, though — was still droning on. Reading the book aloud. Like an absolute shit show.
"In which good and evil are relative, ever-changing, and always joined to the same phenomenon—such a concept is still reserved to the physical sciences-"
Physical sciences. Mike scoffed mentally at it.
He remembered making physical science jokes at Nancy when she was still sneaking Steve into the house. Back before all of this demogorgon shit started. Back in a time when demogorgons and flickering lights was all it was.
"Mister Wheeler," His teacher called out again, making him jolt back to reality, "Pick up the next page."
Mike blinked at her like he just had a bucket of cold water poured over him. He gave an awkward smile, clearing his throat. "I.. Don't know what page we're on." He admitted.
The teacher rolled her eyes, calling on some other kid to read. He didn't remember the name, just knew that he used to be a jerk. His awful voice picked up, and Mike wanted to just die.
He really did hate when they did oral reading, he meant it with every drop of blood in him. They also really need to change the naming of that. It's weird.
Now, Mike was drawn to thoughts very clearly not pertaining to the book again.
Weird. Robin had said that yesterday like it was simple, just defined queer with weird. Sure, it's the definition, but she said it in a way that just itched his mind in the wrong fashion. She said it like she meant something by it.
He looked around the room blankly, deadpan, and then his eyes caught Lucas looking at him from across the classroom. His brows were furrowed, expression focused, and he looked like he wanted to speak, but given it was class, he couldn't. For some reason, Mike feels eternally grateful for that as he turns back to his book, flipping pages until he's at the right one.
Yup, he needed to focus. He really needed to focus, but this book was really under-stimulating. He shouldn't need stimulation right now, to be deathly honest, he's pretty sure the idea of being stimulated is his whole problem right now.
Who's he kidding, there's no way he's going to focus today. He's going to stare at the pages, and reread each line a hundred times, flip the page when someone else does, hear the people in his class read aloud without actually listening. And by the end of it, he won't have remembered a single thing. Oh well, guess he'll have to ask Will to let him borrow his notes for the day.
Then that thought clicked too.
Alone. Studying. Side by side. Will and him.
Mike felt his stomach curl, and he's not really sure if it was out of anxiety or anticipation. That would be a fun line to toe. He spends plenty of alone time with Will, that hasn't changed, but he does overthink it every time. He really thinks on it, psyches himself out, then still prompts Will for the alone time.
He dropped his head onto his desk, staring blankly down at the pages of the book. God he's a fucking pathetic loser. Or maybe he is just weird. Nope. Not using that word on himself anymore. He's troubled. No, not right either. This wasn't trouble, he's not in trouble. He paused then, actually considering that.
Was he in trouble?
He blinked down at the pages, brows deeply furrowed in thought.
If he kissed El and his parents saw, they'd be happy. If they saw him kiss Will.. Yeah, leaving that alone to think about at a further date.
It seems English class is bringing him epiphany after epiphany. He really needed to focus now. Focus and stop considering all of whatever this was. Here and there, he could still feel Lucas looking at him, and that was starting to get suffocating. What was even more suffocating, was that he still wasn't done thinking about that Will thing.
When he asked Will, would he just smile and agree like normal? Would he make fun of him for not paying attention? Would he give him that focused look while he traced his mouth with his tongue, watching him like he was something interesting, something to be considered and understood down to the grit?
Mike hadn't even noticed until the teacher tapped his head with her ruler, muttering a 'be quiet, sit up' to him, but he'd been tapping his pencil faster, head fully laying in an arm now. His cheeks felt warm and he sighed at the feeling, sitting up and trying to flip to the correct page again.
Yeah, he's really just screwed.
There's legitimately no way he'll be able to focus on today's lesson. Tomorrow, he probably could. Today, he'll settle on asking friends for notes.
For a split second, he let that conversation with Robin filter through his head. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to give it a try. He could be vague and pretend his issues are something else, but maybe he really could try to actually ask for help for once.
Instead of notes, he's visiting the squawk then. He'll ask Will to help fill him in on the class later.
"You didn't ride to school with Will today." Lucas noted as they left class, paying close attention to him, but trying to act like he wasn't.
Mike sighed, rolling his eyes. It was always with this, and it was always, 100% of the time, never a slip in that pattern, Lucas who commented. He always had some narrative made up in his head that made him have to do random oddly placed check ups on him, specifically about Will.
"I just didn't want to stay home for breakfast today. Dad was being weird." Which was true, Ted was being odd. But then again, when wasn't he? Blaming it on his dad was basically the easiest out in the world, but also the most unimpressive, and made it clear it was an excuse.
Lucas hummed, stroking his chin like he was an old man with a beard or something. "Okay, yeah, then why didn't you even bother to wait and say hi to us all earlier?" He asked as they reached Mike's locker. "You just rushed straight to exactly right here," He pointed to the locker, then to Mike, "And you dipped to class. Wanna talk, hot rod? Or is this a bottle it up issue again?" He prompted.
Giving him a peeved look, Mike just opened his locker, exchanging his English books for his chemistry books. "There's no issue." He replied with a twinge of frustration. "No issue. I just wanted to get to class, I like English, you know that. Dustin, Max, and Will know that–"
"Ah! There it is!" Lucas snapped his fingers, cutting him off and pointing in Mike's face now.
Mike scowled, swatting Lucas's hand away. "There's what? Nothing is anywhere, Lucas." He snapped, rolling his eyes and shutting his locker.
"Oh everything is everywhere, Mike." He fired back, walking down the hall with him as they headed toward Lucas's locker. "You said everyone separately."
Mike screwed up his face, confused, tired, done with Lucas's stupid bullshit. "What are you talking about?" He huffed.
Lucas patted his shoulder, holding it for a moment, brow raised, eyes serious. He looked like an adult about to call you out after lying about breaking something. "You always say 'Will and the others', not 'blank, blank, and Will'." He explained, as if this were the discovery of the century, and he'd been dubbed a legend.
He gave his friend an annoyed stare. "You're being crazy. I'm going to chemistry."
Lucas sighed, quite loudly, then let his shoulder go, conceding to defeat. "I don't think you'd know chemistry if it hit you on the head." He said to himself, but just loud enough he knew Mike would hear.
Mike gave a snooty tone as he called over his shoulder to Lucas, the other teen at his locker now. "Says the guy who gets dumped at least three times a year!"
Without missing a beat or dropping a book, or even looking up, Lucas just shot him a middle finger, earning a snort from Mike as he walked off to their next class.