Chapter Text
The name made him freeze.
William Byers.
Nobody called him that. Never William, just, Will. Just Will with his charming smile and his pretty face and the way he looked at Mike like Mike was someone worth looking at.
Mike knew he shouldn't feel like this. Not about another boy. Maybe if it was about Jane, Will's friend, the quiet one with the shaved head, it would be more acceptable, more normal, something he could talk about without the words catching in his throat.
But it wasn't about Jane.
It was about Will.
So Mike kept it buried. Deep. The kind of deep where you hope even you forget it's there.
That was before the truth serum.
Before the Russians. Before the needle. Before Max and Mike found themselves locked in a bathroom together, puking their guts out, while the rest of the crew were God knows where, probably monster hunting, knowing them. Max and Mike were meant to be watching Derek and Holly, but the kids had vanished off the face of the earth and honestly? Mike didn't have the brainpower to care. Not while his insides were trying to become outsides.
They sat there for a while. Breathing. Not dying. Small victories.
"You think we puked it all up?" Max's voice cut through the silence. She was slumped against the wall, looking almost as terrible as Mike felt. "Ask me something. Interrogate me."
Mike blinked at her. His brain felt like static. But she was looking at him, waiting, and the first thing that tumbled out of his mouth was,
"Have you ever been in love?"
Max raised an eyebrow. "Yep. Lucas Sinclair. First semester, eighth grade."
"You were in love with Lucas in eighth grade?" Mike's voice came out genuinely surprised. "You hid that well."
"Are you still in love with Lucas?"
Max huffed. "Jeez, Mike, what's with the personal questions?" She tilted her head, turning it back on him. "Anyway. What about you? Have you ever been in love?"
Why did you put yourself in this situation, Wheeler.
"Uhm. Yeah. I mean,not really."
He wasn't stupid. He knew Max could tell he was lying. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the way they did when she was about to call someone on their bullshit.
"Yes or no, Michael. It's a simple question."
Michael Wheeler also didn't know how to answer a simple question, apparently.
"Because I don't know, Max."
The words came out sharper than he intended. Bite in his tone that he usually reserved for himself, not for her. He braced for her to get annoyed, to snap back, to call him out.
"Woah."
Her voice was soft. Quiet. Concerned, almost. Not a tone Mike had ever heard Max Mayfield use.
Shit. She knows I'm lying.
"What do you think of that?" he asked, smaller now. "That?"
Max was quiet for a moment. Then, "I think it sounds lonely, not having someone."
Mike's throat closed up.
Max had never, they'd never, this wasn't how they worked. They tolerated each other. They bickered. They existed in the same orbit because of Lucas but this? This was different.
"It is lonely."
His voice cracked on the last word. He felt it happen, felt the break in his chest translate directly to his throat, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Silence filled the room.
Then Max spoke again, quieter than he'd ever heard her.
"I'm here for you. You know that, right?"
Mike couldn't be hearing this right. "Really?"
Another beat. Another breath.
"Yeah. I really am."
A soft chuckle escaped him, half relief, half disbelief. "I think you're on drugs. And you're not thinking straight."
Max's mouth twitched. "Really? Because I think I'm thinking clearer than ever right now."
Mike didn't want to say what he was about to say. But the words were already there, already forming, already pushing past the lump in his throat.
"Max... it's shocked me too, to my core. But I like you. I really like you." He swallowed. "But I'm not like your other friends."
Max's face did something complicated. Something soft.
"Mike." She said his name like it mattered. "That's exactly why I like being friends with you."
He didn't know what to do with that. Didn't know where to put it. So he just sat there, letting it exist between them.
Then Mike spoke again.
"Do you remember Mr. Click's class? Freshman year?"
Max frowned. "What about it?"
"You would have the same breakfast every morning. Bagel. Every single day. You'd get crumbs all over the floor." Mike was smiling now, not cruelly, just... remembering. "And he would not stop staring at you. Like, the whole time. And you didn't even notice because you were too busy being a douchebag."
"Mr. Click?"
"Will Byers." Mikes voice was gentle, deliberate. "I wanted him to look at me."
Maxs brain stopped working.
Her eyebrows drew together, like she was working through a really complicated math problem. "But... Will Byers is a boy."
Mike couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything except sit there and feel the walls he'd built for years start to crumble.
"Max..."
His voice was barely a whisper. He didn't really cry, couldn't remember the last time he had, but he could feel it building. Pressure behind his eyes. Heat in his chest.
"Yeah." Max's voice was wonder, realization, understanding all at once. "Oh. Holy shit."
"Yep." Mike's laugh was wet, broken, real. "Holy shit."
They sat with it. Let it settle.
Then Max tilted her head, a different kind of look crossing her face. "Mike. Did you OD over there?"
"No, I'm still-" He stopped. "What?"
"I mean, Will Byers." She said it slowly, like she was testing something. "He's cute, I guess. But he's totally not my type."
Mike stared at her.
"You do know he was never staring at me, right?"
What?
"What?"
Max's smile widened. Actual Max Mayfield, smiling at him like he was an idiot and a friend and something worth knowing, all at once.
"He likes you, Mike. He really, really likes you." She leaned forward. "And whenever you talked about him, you always had this voice. like this" She pitched her voice higher, doing an impression so bad it was perfect. "Will? Oh, Will? Will Byers?"
Mike felt his face go red. "I don't sound like that."
"Yes you do. That's a great impression of you."
"You sound like a muppet."
"You sound like a muppet!"
He was laughing. Actually laughing, in a Russian bathroom, post-truth-serum, while the world crumbled around them. Max was laughing too. It was ridiculous. It was terrible. It was the best he'd felt in years.
The bathroom door slammed open.
"Guys!" Derek stood there, wild-eyed, Holly peeking around his shoulder. "What the hell? We've been looking everywhere for you guys"
Max and Mike looked at each other.
And the laughter was back.