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Will’s hair is getting long.
Long enough that it can easily be tucked behind his ears, could maybe even be held back by an elastic.
They’re both squeezed onto Mike’s rickety twin bed in their shitty apartment. Will’s on the side closest to the wall. He’s never said, but Mike can tell he likes it better, feels a little safer when he’s less exposed. The marks Lonnie has left on Will may be old now, but Mike knows he’s still bruised.
They’re reading, the warm light of the lamp illuminating the yellowed pages of his mass-market Stephen King paperback. Mike loves when they share an activity like this, separate yet together still. It puts something tangible to their connection, like they’re so compatible, they don’t even need to talk, they can just sit in the same room, doing the same thing, and enjoy it all the same.
Being alone with Will also helps settle that brutish, cruel part of him that slithers out when he feels threatened, like he could be replaced. The part that gets jealous when Will talks to people that aren’t him. The part that lashes out when he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention. When it’s just the two of them, it’s so much easier.
He feels relaxed now, though. Will’s body is close enough that he can feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his pajamas and the tips of Will’s hair keep brushing against him, tickling his neck.
Casually, he reaches up, grabs a strand, and gives it a teasing tug. “When was the last time you got a haircut?”
“Hmm?” Will’s eyes are still on his book, not even bothering to look up at Mike. It makes him feel rejected, like Will prefers the book to him. He pulls a little harder now, not enough to hurt, but enough to get Will’s full attention. He knows he’s being childish, but he knows Will will let him.
Will lets out a little whine but closes his book as he turns his head to face him. “Your hair’s so long. Do you want me to cut it for you?” He’s running his fingers through the lengths of it now, imagining getting Will shirtless in their tiny bathroom, directing his movements as he trims the excess length. Mike cuts his own hair, and while he does a haphazard job of it, he would definitely be more careful with Will’s
Will flicks his eyes down in the way he always does when he wants to evade a subject. “No, that’s okay.” He rubs his fingers self-consciously over one of his locks. “It’s fine for now.”
Mike’s lips curl down. He wasn’t trying to critique Will. In fact, he kind of likes the way his hair settles now, framing his face, curling slightly at the ends. “Okay, well, just tell me if you need my help.” His tone’s a little petulant, wishing Will would just rely on him.
Will gives him a small smile. “I always do. I’m just trying to grow my hair out, that’s all.”
Pleasant warmth suffuses his chest, the bitterness evaporating. His lips curl up involuntarily, swings an arm around Will, and lets his book fall forgotten between them. “Good.” He tucks Will into his chest, hooks a leg around Will’s, and falls into the position with familiarity.
Mike has been holding Will like this for almost their entire lives, but he still remembers the first time vividly.
Will had just turned 6 and it was one of the rare occasions that Mike had slept over at Will’s house instead of the inverse. They’d been so caught up with playing with the presents Mike had just gifted Will, hopped up on sugar from chocolate birthday cake and red juice, they hadn’t moved Will’s bike into the garage.
When Lonnie returned late that night, saw it lying on the grass, exposed to the rain, he’d flown into a rage. Slamming doors, throwing around chairs, and yelling about an ungrateful little bitch who didn’t take care of the things he worked hard to provide.
Will had started shaking on his bed, tremors wracking his tiny body. Mike didn’t know what to say, scared to even open his mouth, had felt like even the slightest sound would lure the monster into Will’s room. But he needed to do something, needed to be brave. He was Will’s paladin, his sworn protector. So he crawled up from where he was lying on the floor, slipped under the covers, and wrapped himself around Will, squeezing him tight in his own small arms. Wished harder than he ever had before that he could hold the tremors down, keep them inside Will.
They’d stayed like that for hours, waiting out the tempest outside Will’s door. It became a habit for them. Even when they entered their teenage years and Mike’s mother had tried to gently coax him out of it with discussions of appropriate proximity between teen boys, Mike refused to stop. He’d hold Will as long as he’d allow it, protect him even if Will asked him to stop.
Presently, Will wriggles against his firm hold, fitting himself to Mike. They fall together so naturally, sometimes Mike wishes others could see them like this, see how well Will’s molded to him, how well he holds Will.
Will settles his head on top of Mike’s outstretched bicep, eye to unblinking eye, face to open face.
Mike loves Will’s face. Tried to pick out a favorite part many times, can never decide. The freckles that dot his cheeks and nose have his tongue twitching, itching to escape and explore. Will’s plush, pink lips that hide his even, white teeth – another part of him Mike’s been dying to lick. Even the tilted shape of Will’s eyebrows endears him; he runs a finger along one now, smoothing any stray hairs.
“I like your hair,” Mike murmurs. He brings a hand up, rests it lazily against the side of Will’s head, and begins brushing through his hair with the tips of his fingers. It’s easy to do; Will’s hair is soft and straight, and his fingers don’t get caught in snarls, unlike his own hair. “It’s nice as long as it is now. I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t like it.” He makes sure to keep his palm firm to the side of Will’s head, doesn’t let him look up at him, doesn’t want Will to be able to see his eyes, see how “nice” Mike truly finds it.
“Oh. Thank you. I-” Will starts, voice soft. Mike knows Will even better than he knows himself, can tell when his Will is too shy to speak.
Mike slides his free arm down from Will’s hair and wraps Will in a hug instead. Pulls Will in, tight against his chest.
In the safety of Mike’s arms, Will’s words flow like fresh water. “I’m growing it out. On purpose.” Will’s voice is cautious, like he’s waiting for Mike to mock him.
“Good,” Mike affirms, instantly. Will’s sensitive but Mike knows just how to treat him, how to make sure he feels okay. “It suits you.”
As they lie there together, Mike falls into a familiar fantasy – the one where Will was like him, where he could and did reciprocate Mike’s feelings. He pictures being Will’s boyfriend. He’d hold him just like he is now, but the underlying, the buzzing of unspent energy beneath his skin, would be mutual. He imagines kissing Will into the mattress with the force of his desire, quenching that thirst in him that seems to well endlessly, tongue opening his mouth until Will was panting, begging Mike for more. Mike would give it to him, that’s for sure. He would be so good if Will were his.
Instead, their mouths remain separate, closer than most friends, but never as close as Mike wants. He strokes Will’s hair in consolation.
They’re tidying up the kitchen together, working in that practiced harmony that you can only achieve through years of companionship, when Mike sees a purple and white bag peaking out from the trash can.
He can’t say exactly why, maybe he’s just drawn in by the bright colors, or the fact that he thinks Holly used to bring home bags that look like this, but he pulls the bag out from the trash.
It’s from one of those girly stores in the mall, the kind that smells like sickly sweet body mist and sells jewelry that turns green after a couple of wears.
Mike’s confused. He and Will are the only two who throw things away here. Why would Will have gone to a girl’s store?
Will is washing dishes and telling him some story about how one of his professors is notorious for sleeping with female grad students. “Are you even list-” Will drops a plate with a loud clatter when he finally looks over and sees Mike standing frozen with the bag.
“Why is this in our trash can?” Mike questions, brow furrowing.
Will’s cheeks flush tomato red. “Oh, um,” He stammers, clearly not sure what to say. “Because I bought something from there.”
That doesn’t clear anything up for Mike. “Why?”
Will turns back to the dishes, scrubbing with such urgency, water has started splashing on the floor. The flush has crawled all the way up to the backs of his ears. He pauses for a little too long before responding
“I was getting something for Holly. Her birthday’s soon.” It’s in two months, but to be fair, Will has always been much more thoughtful about these things.
“Okay,” Mike says. “What did you get her? Can I see it?” Mike’s itching for an in on this present, hopes Will will let him add his name to the card. He loves Holly, he really does, but he doesn’t seem to get her. Holly grew quite attached to Will after he lived with them and he just seemed to know her. Whatever Will has picked up will be significantly better than anything Mike could scrounge together.
“Okay.” Will’s voice is weak. Slowly, Will dries his hands off and starts walking at a sluggish pace towards his room. He’s acting bizarre and secretive. Mike hates it – it triggers his anxieties about losing Will, but he doesn’t want to pick a fight where one doesn’t exist
Once inside, Will slides open the bedside drawer and a bright, shimmering tube of rose pink lipgloss is revealed. An odd spot to keep a present.
Will picks up the tube gingerly – he seems reluctant to hand it over – and places it in Mike’s outstretched hand.”It’s just some lip gloss.”
Mike brings it up to his eyes to examine, completely out of his depth. “Oh, cool. She’ll like it, I think. Here.” Mike tries to hand it back but, Will doesn’t take it.
“You can keep it. Give it to her the next time you see her. I’ll find her something better for her birthday.” His voice is soft, something in there Mike can’t read.
“Okay,” He agrees.
Later, when he gets back to his own room, he haphazardly throws it onto a pile on the floor of things he means to take back home with him when he goes back.
They have a routine. Every Friday night, they spend at least 3 hours in the campus library close to their apartment. Mike had been unenthused about it at first, didn’t understand why Will wanted them to waste a beautiful Friday night hidden in a library, until Will had explained to him the virtues of having a homework-free weekend. Now, the possibility of being completely unencumbered with work during their alone time always motivates him to finish quickly.
Mike loves the routine of it, likes that he and Will are so intertwined that their schedules are becoming one. They spend the entirety of their weekends together - always.
But their routine has been disrupted. It’s not Friday – It’s a Saturday, and Will’s at the library without him because of one of his oafish groupmates.
Mike’s already feeling disgruntled that his Saturday with Will is being eaten into and even more so that there is an invader taking his place at Will’s side.
Most of the time, outsiders run off pretty quickly. One time, Nancy had mentioned how much they ice other people out, how when they speak, it’s like a secret language that no one else is welcome to learn. Mike thinks it’s accidental on Will’s part – as for him, he’s not ashamed to admit he likes it this way.
Unfortunately, right now, he’s not there to scare off this invader from Will, stake his claim. Mike feels like a beast, like his territory has been encroached upon, doesn’t like it.
Will had told him he doesn’t need to come with him today, asked him to just enjoy his Saturday without him instead. Impossible.
Mike’s pacing in front of the library. Will said he’d bee done at noon and it’s already ten past. He’s debating going inside when Will finally steps out, groupmate trailing behind him, chatting together.
“Will!” Mike calls out, wanting to steal his attention.
Will looks up, face brightening into a smile when he sees him. “Mike!” He jogs over to him, almost wraps his arms around Mike’s neck, but stops himself, turning back quickly to look at his groupmate.
“I didn’t know you were coming to pick me up,” Will says, breathless, face open and happy.
“Hmm, missed you too much.” Mike wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulls Will heartily away from the groupmate whose name he doesn’t even know.
“Hey, man-” said groupmate starts, but Mike doesn’t give him a chance, just pull’s Will along, walking him away.
Will doesn’t even protest, just giggles, lets himself be pulled away, and says a quick goodbye over his shoulder.
They’re a good distance away, probably why he deems it safe to say, when Will’s groupmate mumbles about a “fucking guard dog.”
Mike’s pleased.
It’s a lazy Sunday morning, rain quietly tapping against the glass of the window, when their kitchen phone rings, shrill and sharp in the relaxed atmosphere of their home.
Mike’s making coffee and Will’s still asleep in bed, so he grabs it on the first ring so it doesn’t wake him.
“Hello,” He says, gruffly into the reciever, perhaps a bit unduly annoyed.
There’s rustling on the other end but still no words. “Who is this?” He asks, sharper this time.
Instead of answering him, the caller asks, “Is Will Byers there?”
Ice runs through his veins. It’s been years and he still recognizes that wheezy, alcoholic voice. Mike needs to play this right, can’t mess this up and have Lonnie call back again and again, terrorizing Will.
Mean and clear, he says, “Lonnie, this is Mike Wheeler. If you call again, I’ll drive to that disgusting hovel you call a house, break your fucking kneecaps, and no one would care because your a pathetic drunk.”
With a final click, he hangs up the phone.
Pours out a mug of coffee for himself, tea for Will, and starts on breakfast.
Will’s running late.
Mike doesn’t want to smoke, knows Will hates the smell, but he needs the cigarette to calm his nerves. Will is never late for Mike. Most of the time, they’re arriving together, but on the rare occasion when they come separately, Will’s careful to be on time. He knows how anxious Mike gets, how quickly he falls into catastrophizing.
His mind’s flipping through all the dangers that could have befallen Will, pacing anxiously outside the theater. The wind scrapes against his skin. He hopes wherever Will is, he’s inside, warm.
Will had absolutely needed to meet with some of his classmates to discuss a group project that was due on Monday. Mike was annoyed about giving up a portion of their Sunday afternoon together but Will had appeased him with assurances it would be quick. Now, Mike’s regretting not going with him.
“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to be late!” Mike whips his head around at the sound of Will’s voice. He’s jogging towards him, cheeks flushed from the cold and his big eyes water from the wind. Mike quickly ashes his cigarette, wishes he could wash his hands, and just settles for tucking them into his pockets.
He can’t help the prickliness that infuses his tone when he speaks. “Where have you been?” He extends a hand out to fix Will’s hair, mused by the wind, when he remembers why he’d been hiding it and pulls back abruptly, lets it fall dead at his side.
“I’m sorry, Mike.” Will’s voice is genuine, sweet as he speaks. “I tried to break away, but they were being insistent.” Will pulls Mike’s hand from where it rests, freezing from the cold air, and squeezes it between his own.
He feels immediately warmed at the tenderness of the gesture, irritation melting away.
Mike is intimately familiar with Will’s passivity. Will doesn’t like to stand out, has a tough time saying no, doesn’t like going against others’ wishes. That’s why Mike doesn’t like leaving him alone; it’s better when Mike is there, he knows Will so well, he can be the one to stand up for his interests.
Mike lets out a soft grunt, knows he shouldn’t, but can’t help it, and rubs a thumb along Will’s cheek. “They shouldn’t make you stay so late. I’ll come pick you up next time, make sure they don’t keep you.”
Will just nods, leans into the touch, and then pauses. “Have you been smoking?” His voice is quiet, timid in that way it always is when he’s being even the least bit confrontational.
Shame climbs up his throat; he pushes it down and replaces it with defensiveness. “Just one,” he says, pulling his hand back. “I needed it. Didn’t know where you were. I was worried something happened.”
“It’s bad for you, Mike,” Will says, eyes filled with concern.
Mike doesn’t want to argue – the movie’s going to start soon anyway - so he concedes, knows Will’s right anyway. “You’re right. I’ll try not to do it again.” He won’t commit to any concrete promises, doesn’t want to lie to Will, but he knows Will’s right. Will doesn’t push it.
Mike wraps an arm around Will’s shoulders, pulling him flush to his side. “Let’s get you inside. It’s too cold for you out here.”
Will lets himself be pulled in, used to being tucked into Mike’s side. “It’s too cold for you, too,” He argues, his tone a very Will attempt at authority. Mike likes it when Will tries to be assertive with him. He’s so bad at it, it’s endearing. It’s about as serious as being chastised by a baby bunny.
It’s fine, Will really doesn’t need to be argumentative when Mike’s around. Mike will take care of things.
“Hm, I’m cut from stronger stuff, you’re a little feeble,” Mike murmurs, already clenching his abs in anticipation of the hit to come. As expected, Will gives a faux-swat to his stomach. “Good lord, you’ve got quite the ego.”
Mike laughs in the way that he only can with Will. “Don’t be jealous, Will. You’re better than me in so many other ways.” Mike’s leading them to the ticket booth, already pulling out his wallet, and asking for two tickets.
Will huffs. “‘M not jealous. And if you really mean that, then…” He pauses, works up the courage. “Tell me what ways.”
Silently, Will tries to pull out his own card, but Mike beats him to it. Mike’s never let Will pay for anything before and he’s not going to start now.
“You’re more sensitive than me,” Mike starts.
“Sensitive? That’s a bad thing Mike. Boys shouldn’t be sensitive.” The words are ripped straight from Lonnie’s mouth. They’d both heard him snarl them over and over growing up.
“No, it’s not. Not for you.” Mike’s voice is adamant and honest. “It’s one of the best parts of you.” They’re settling into their seats in the theater, side by side as always. Mike pulls out the pack of peanut M&M’s he’d hidden in his pocket for Will, tears it open, and hands it over.
Will’s checks glow, but he doesn’t push. “Okay, well that’s one thing. What else?” Will hides his face behind his newly long hair, a new habit he’s picked up in the past few months. Mike finds it endlessly endearing. He’s clearly shy to ask Mike to compliment him, but wants it too bad to refrain.
Cute
Mike slips his arm over the back of Will’s seat. “You’re way kinder than me.”
Will smiles. “Well, no offense, but that’s not very difficult. You can be kind of an asshole to strangers.”
Mike gives a nonchalant shrug. It’s true. He’s not malicious, but he just doesn’t really care about other people, doesn’t want to expend any energy on them. Will, on the other hand, seems to spend an endless amount of time thinking about others, how to help them, how to make sure their feelings aren’t hurt. Sometimes, it annoys Mike, makes him prickle with jealousy. But Will always makes it clear that he’s the most important.
Will pops an M&M into his mouth and Mike takes in the thickness of his lips. Even in the dim light emanating from the trailers, it’s clear how delicate Will’s features are. “And you’re prettier than me,” Mike says with finality.
Will splutters out an M&M. “Mike! Not this again.”
He wishes Will didn’t get this way, upset and self-conscious. It made him feel like he was doing something wrong for simply noting his loveliness.
This has been a subject of contention between the two of them for a long time. Since they were tweens, Mike couldn’t help but notice how pretty Will was. Not just compared to other boys, but much prettier than any girl either. The first time Mike had been brave enough to vocalize this thought, Will had stormed out in tears, certain that Mike had been teasing him in the same way that the bullies at school did, the same way his dad did.
Mike had meant it then, and he means it now. Will’s face was wrought in such a way, he couldn’t imagine anyone more beautiful. It was like it was crafted just for him, just for his tastes. Mike never said that part out loud, he knew that was too dirty, too intense, too overtly clear in just what way he wanted Will.
He turns away from Will, back to the screen. “You asked. I answered. Don’t be mad at the truth,” Mike snaps, pulls his arm back to his side, stiff and awkward.
He could be kind of an asshole to Will too, as much as he hates it. When he senses Will getting close to that part of him he tries to bury deep – the secret he keeps from everyone, but especially from Will – he lashes out. Mike could be as vicious and cruel as a starved dog.
Will, just as sensitive and kind as Mike had described, reaches over and pulls Mike’s arm back around him. “Mike, I’m sorry.” Will soothes. “I’m just… a little embarrassed.” Will picks at the skin around his fingernail, one of his nervous tics. Mike grabs his hands, stops his fidgeting. Mike could be a dog, but he was always loyal to his master, and quick to forgive.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Will. It’s just a fact. You’re beautiful.” Mike tilts his head towards the screen. “You could be in one of these movies.” Will’s red all the way to his ears but he doesn’t try to disagree with Mike again.
They’re watching a rerelease of An American Werewolf in London that’s playing for Halloween. Mike hadn’t seen it since he was a kid, doesn’t remember much about it, but he recalls that the love interest is an English nurse. He thinks Will’s much prettier than her. As the lights dim and the trailers come to an end, his mind starts to wander to thoughts of Will in a nurse’s uniform, taking care of him.
He rubs a circle along Will’s shoulder, letting his mind indulge in fantasies, pleased to have the object of all his desires pressed against him.
When he was younger, he used to spend hours agonizing over his perversion. Praying to God to cure him, siphon this sickness from his heart. He stopped when he realized there was nothing anyone could do that would stop this feeling inside him.
His love for Will was the purest part of him; he knows that with such striking clarity now, it’s strange to think there was ever a time he thought he needed to be cleansed of it.
Now, he’s shameless in his want. Some days, he can be so greedy with it, gorging himself on Will to such an extent it’s almost sickening.
The only thing that stops him from pressing on it further, asking for more from Will, is his certainty it would scare him away. Will’s not like him. Will’s normal - just a little shy around girls, shy around everyone for that matter. He’s had time to make peace with it, content with stealing touches that he can get away with as a best friend, and fucking into his hand to the memory of them later.
He’s immediately pulled away from his thoughts when he feels the familiar weight of Will’s head fall on his shoulder. Mike leans into the touch, sniffing the top of Will’s head, clean and sweet. “Tired?” He whispers, careful to keep the volume low enough as to not draw the attention of the two other patrons in the theater.
“Mhm, a bit, yeah,” Will responds. They’d both woken up early today, their usual lazy Sunday morning interrupted when one of their neighbours’ car alarm wouldn’t shut off.
“You can go to sleep. I’ll wake you up at the end,” Mike encourages.
“No,” Will murmurs, “Want to watch. He looks like you.”
Mike turns back to screen. “Which one? The tall one or the short one?” The leads are two Americans, backpacking through Europe.
“Tall,” replies Will.
Will’s talking about David, the one Mike remembers later turns into a werewolf. He squints, trying to see the resemblance, finding little to go on.
“Well, they’re both best friends like us.” Mike responds, unwilling to tell Will he’s wrong about his supposed doppelganger.
Will grins, and like always, Mike mirrors him.
They continue watching in silence until the scene where the best friends, Jack and David, wander off the path into the moors. Mike’s seen this movie before but Will hasn’t, and Mike can feel his body tensing in anticipation, knowing the werewolf attack is imminent.
Will lets out a little gasp and shudders when Jack is brutally mauled by the werewolf and David makes a run for it. Mike’s a little surprised – they both love horror movies, and Will is typically never phased.
He leans down, uses the fact that they’re in a theater as an excuse to get close, and presses his lips against the small shell of Will’s ear. “You okay? Is it too bloody for you?”
Will reciprocates the gesture, pressing his own lips to Mike’s ear. “The blood’s fine. I just can’t believe David would abandon his best friend like that.”
Mike suddenly feels an odd sense of indignation. After Will had compared him to David earlier, it’s as if Will thinks Mike would do the same.
He tightens his hold around Will, wants to make sure Will feels his solidity. “Well, I would never abandon you like that. You know that, right?”
Will turns to look at him. Mike wishes he could see their green hue but it’s too dark in the theater. “Really? You wouldn’t leave even if I was being attacked by a werewolf?” His tone is teasing, but Mike thinks he really wants to know.
“Never.” Mike affirms. “I’d fucking die trying to protect you.”
Maybe it seems melodramatic, but he means it. There was a time in their lives when he thought he might actually have to. It was only four years ago, but it feels like a lifetime ago now.
The summer after their senior year of high school, Will’s home situation reached an apex. Lonnie had been escalating for a long time, but after being laid off from his job, he started drinking at all hours of the day, and he was a stinking, mean drunk.
All his anger and frustration, were vented at his family, the only people who would still tolerate him.
It hadn’t been a surprise when Will had arrived at the Wheelers’ house broken: blackened eye, cigarette burned, and bruised. Mike knew it with certainty; if Will stayed there any longer, Lonnie was going to kill him.
He’d gently led Will inside, treated his wounds in the upstairs bathroom, and tucked him into his bed.
He’d been about to slip out of his room, grab the baseball bat his father kept in the garage, just needed to give Will a kiss on the forehead before he left, when Will’s eyes shot open and and he’d grabbed Mike tight around the wrist.
“Where are you going?” Will’s voice had been raspy and raw from crying, but shrill with desperation. He struggled to keep his left eye open, broken blood vessels swelling it shut.
“Shh,” Mike soothed, “I’ll be back soon. Just need to take care of him. I’m going to make sure this never happens to you again.”
The tears Mike had worked so hard to stop earlier welled up afresh in Will’s eyes. “Mike, please,” He begged. “He’ll kill you. He’s so much bigger. Please, please, don’t go. Stay here. With me. Please.”
“Will,” Mike objected, torn. He hadn’t wanted to disobey Will’s wishes, but he couldn’t stand this any longer. Something needed to be done. He didn’t care if he got hurt in the process.
“Mike, please, I-” Will could barely get the words out, “I-i can’t go on if I don’t have you. Please don’t go.”
Mike had wanted to hurt Lonnie so bad, hurt him in the same way he hurt Will, tear him to shreds, show him what it felt like to be weaker. But he wanted to be there for Will more. Couldn’t argue against this, hearing Will plead like this.
He knew he needed Will, had known for a long time, but hearing that it was the same for Will, had cleaved him open, all his love for Will spilling out.
He dropped to his knees, felled by Will’s confession, and pressed his forehead to Will’s. “Okay,” he whispered. “We’ll figure something else out.”
After that, Will had moved in with the Wheelers. His father had groused about it, mumbled complaints about the cost of groceries, but Mike had picked up extra shifts at the gas station and the video store to balance any extra costs of a sixth person in the house.
By the time summer ended, both Mike and Will had scrounged up enough for the first month’s rent and down payment on a shitty little apartment close to campus in Milwaukee, far, far away from Lonnie.
But Mike had never forgotten how weak he had felt in that moment, how small it made him feel to not be able to confront Lonnie. He never wanted Will to think he couldn’t protect him again.
He’d spent the past four years working to make sure Will felt safe with him. He wasn’t the same scrawny teen he was in highschool – he’d worked hard on turning himself into a worthy protector for Will. He’d built muscle, he knew what made Will feel safe and what didn’t, he picked him up and dropped him off anywhere he went, and kept a baseball bat under his bed.
That’s why he knows he’d never run away like a coward if Will was attacked by anyone or anything. Will’s too sweet, too vulnerable, he needs Mike to protect him.
The main character eventually comes back to save his friend, but it’s too late. Jack lies torn apart on the unyielding soil of the English countryside, and all David has to show for it are his own near-fatal wounds.
The movie moves along and Mike’s thinking about how pathetic he finds David, comatose in a hospital, plagued by nightmares, as he recovers from the attack, when Jack appears to him again in the hospital.
Jack is gruesueme: face shredded and bloody flesh hanging down in tatters from torn muscle. Mike can’t tell if he’s supposed to be another one of David’s nightmares, a figment of his guilty conscience, or a ghastly reality.
Jack begs David to put an end to his suffering. As long as the last werewolf lives, Jack is bound to walk the earth in limbo, never knowing the peace of death. To release them both from the curse they’re in, David must kill himself.
Will leans over and brushes his lips against Mike’s ear again. “Poor David. He’s just been through such a traumatic event and now his best friend is telling him to kill himself? No wonder he’s losing it.”
Mike cups a hand against Will’s ear. “Poor David? He shouldn’t have let that happen in the first place. If he actually cared about Jack, he never would have let him get attacked, and neither of them would be in this mess.”
Will lets out a breathy laugh before he quickly covers his mouth when someone gives an annoyed cough. “Mike, you’re so harsh. He was just scared.”
Mike’s kind of stunned that Will exists - he’s so sweet it feels almost impossible. Especially considering the way he grew up. Unlike Mike, Will can sympathize with almost anyone.
Still, Mike’s unswayed by David’s plight. “I would do it,” he says surely. “If you asked me to, to stop from turning into a monster and to save you, I’d kill myself.”
“Mike!” Will bursts out at full volume, scandalized. He goes back into a whisper after receiving an annoyed shush. “Don’t say things like that. You don’t mean it anyways.”
“I mean it,” Mike utters, resolute. “You wouldn’t even need to come back and haunt me, either. I couldn’t live without you, even for a day.” Mike hears a wet gasp next to him, and waits for Will to chastise him for his foolhardiness.
Unexpectedly, in the warm dark of the theater, Mike feels Will’s fingers slip into his own, twining them together. Despite their physical closeness, they haven’t held hands like this since they were very, very young. It used to be so natural to them, small hand in small hand, seeking comfort in each other. Wanting to make sure they didn’t lose each other in a crowd, to give comfort over scraped elbows and bruised knees, or to ease the fear of falling asleep in a black room.
Lonnie quickly taught Will that comfort from a boy only led to much worse pain. They rarely held hands since that last beating, where Lonnie had used his reliable leather belt, after he’d caught them with their fingers intertwined.
It’s been so long since the last time he had held Will in his hands, the delicate muscles and sinew of his long fingers almost spasm. He wants to savor this. He wants to drink it down so quickly before it can be taken away. He wants to be gentle with Will. He wants to grip him so tight, he can never pull away.
Carefully, he gives Will’s fingers a gentle press. Silently lets him know that this is okay, that he likes it too.
So quiet, Mike almost doesn’t hear, Will admits, “I couldn’t live without you either.” Will’s facing towards the projection, deliberately not looking at Mike. “I understand Jack, even though he’s selfish. If I died, I’d come back to haunt you too.”
Mike’s almost completely turns over in his seat, looking at Will with intensity. He wants to catch Will’s gaze so desperately it almost hurts. Licks his lips like an animal and asks, “Even if I was a monster like David? You’d still come back to me?”
Mike’s heart is thumping heavy in his chest, reminds him of the beat of ferocious paws on barren earth. He waits, one, two, three beats before Will finally answers him.
“Yes.” Finally, Will turns to him. It’s like a jolt through him when Mike finally gets to see his eyes. “I’d come back for you always.”
It’s torture. To have Will like this, so close, yet out of reach in the way he truly wants. In moments like this, he could delude himself, let himself think that Will is confessing to him, believe Will feels the same way he does. It’s like an effigy: an imitation of what he desires, destined to be brutally torn to shreds.
Mike knows Will doesn’t get his hopes up intentionally; Will just has a natural sweetness to him, a plush softness that has him saying things that make Mike’s heart run wild, touching him in ways that make his cock throb in his pants.
But it’s not real. So, Mike stays silent. Doesn’t kiss Will in the theater in front of everyone, doesn’t drag him home and fuck him softly against his bedsheets, doesn’t do everything he’s every wanted. Just turns back to the screen and watches, accepts this gift of friendship that also means so much to him, that just stings because it’s not what he really wants.
When the lights come back on and Will finally lets go of his hand, it feels cold, separate from his body. He doesn’t know he can go on without being able to hold Will’s own.
Later that night, when he’s finally laying in bed, thinking about the movie, thinking about Will comparing him to David, he feels unbalanced. Did Will truly liken him to David on physicality alone or was there another reason?
He knows himself, knows his level of derangement, knows that he’s a monster. But if Will felt like he was similar to David, does Will know he’s a monster too? Know that Mike can hide temporarily, wear the skin of a man, but can’t stay that way forever. When it gets late, he transforms into a monster. A feral, predatory animal.
Mike doesn’t think he could take it if Will was scared of him. He knows other people can find him frightening, don’t like how intense he is. But he never thought Will could feel that way.
There’s a scene in the movie where David tells the nurse that he thinks werewolves can only be killed by someone who loves them. He knows he’s become insane because he doesn’t think he’d mind if he was killed by Will. If Will thought he was a jagged, sinful monster, he’d rather be dead.
When he dreams, he’s racing across a forest floor on padded feet, chasing something.
Will is out of the apartment, meeting up with Jonathan, and Mike is fighting a losing battle to light up a cigarette.
He doesn’t like it when Will is away, especially when Will is out with another man. It makes him antsy and worried. He feels impotent, like a toothless guard dog. He needs to be at Will’s side, protecting him, making sure no one touches him.
He’s already made his peace with the fact that he’s going to hell, he doesn’t fucking care anymore how absurd it seems that he’s jealous of Will’s own brother. He thinks of all the parts of Will that Jonathan gets to have, pieces of Will he’ll never even have the opportunity to know, and he’s sick with envy.
He wishes he got to hold Will when he was a baby, got to share a childhood home with him, hold him gently around the waist as he takes his first frightened peddles on a bike without training wheels.
He pushes it out of his mind, can’t think of it too hard, or he’ll hate Jonathan and he knows that would upset Will.
His fingers twitch, itching for the comforting shape of a cigarette, for the relaxation he feels when the nicotine hits his bloodstream.
Instead, he finds himself wandering into Will’s room, on pure instinct. He goes here often to settle himself, to the point of habit. The smell in here soothes him. It smells like all his favorite memories, like summer: clean air, tall grass, and powdery wild flowers.
He stretches out onto Will’s small twin with practiced familiarity. He’s almost too tall for it, feet dangerously close to hanging off the edge – in all honesty, he doesn’t mind it one bit. When he and Will lie together, it gives him an excuse to intertwine his legs with Will’s.
He wonders if Will’s lying in his childhood bed right now, if Jonathan’s lying with him.
He rolls over onto his stomach, presses his nose into Will’s pillow, and inhales deeply. It smells like him. Mike doesn’t know why, but his mind wanders back to the film, thinks about how a wolf can follow a scent for days. He has Will’s scent, he could hunt him down now, track him to where he is with Jonathan. Steal Will back, hide him in his den. Then he’d know it’s no use, he can never get away from Mike.
The idea, along with Will’s comforting scent, has him hardening in his jeans. He’s never jerked off here before; it’s a little uncouth, feels like a desecration of one of his sacred spots. But he’s feeling betrayed and neglected, like a mutt left outside in the pouring rain.
He never goes anywhere without taking Will with him. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone else, doesn’t want to go anywhere that doesn’t have Will there. Yet, here he is now, angry and alone. It’s clear his devotion isn’t mutual.
He wishes there was a way he could mark Will up, make it clear that Mike was an irrevocable piece of him, that there was no Will without Mike.
Mike nuzzles down further into Will’s pillow, grinding once against the mattress. Hesitantly, he sticks his tongue out, licks the worn-thin fabric of Will’s pillowcase.
He’s never tasted Will’s skin, but he’s imagined what it would be like thoroughly. This isn’t nearly close, but it’s exhilarating in its own right. He hopes Will forgets to wash his sheets for weeks, that Mike’s dried saliva keeps contact with his skin for a long time. He doesn’t get to mark Will in the way he wants, but he can settle for this.
Mike imagines Will falling asleep here after Mike has left. Curled up like a lamb, innocently unaware that his space has been contaminated by Mike’s hands, by Mike’s tongue. Neck prickling as it makes contact with a saliva-imbued pillow case.
He licks down again, lathing against the fabric. It’s not enough, still barely a damp patch, he needs it soaked, needs to feel like Will’s truly been marked by him.
He grinds his still-clothed cock down into Will’s bedding, wishing he were rubbing against Will’s full ass instead. He always thinks of Will when he does this, has since he was twelve years old. His cock doesn’t even know how to get hard without Will Byers.
If he were a wolf, like David in the movie, he’d never let Will escape him. He’d use his keen nose to creep after him, his firm legs to follow close, and his sharp teeth to frighten. He’d mark Will with his scent, rub his strong body all over Will, make sure even strangers knew that Will was his.
He ruts into Will’s sheets, pillowcase muffling his groans. He’s no better than a dog, a slobbering stud, begging to breed.
He must be an animal because imagining Will emanating his scent is driving him mad. Mike thinks about how sweaty he is after his runs. Pictures covering Will in his sweat, holding him firmly in his thick arms, not letting go – even if he pleaded – until Will stunk satisfactorily of him.
Mike’s knowledge of the animal kingdom is limited, but he knows enough to know that wolves hunt in packs - packs led by alpha wolves who protected and provided. If he and Will were a pack, he’d be the alpha, Will’s alpha. The thought of it drives him wild. Will relying on him, looking to him for his basic needs, it’s intoxicating.
His dick aches in his pants as he speeds up his pace, humping Will’s bed. He’d provide for Will so well, hunt him the best meals, shield him from threats, fuck him thoroughly. His mouth is practically unhinged; he's panting so much. Drool is slipping from his mouth, soaking Will’s pillow.
With difficulty, he spits into his palm and snakes a hand down into his jeans, unbuttons them and pulls his cock out. Starts stroking rough and fast. He wouldn’t be rough if he was with Will, despite how animalistic he feels. He’d be so fucking sweet to him, like he deserves. Show him what a good dog he’d be.
He’d lick him everywhere, claim him with his tongue. Mike wishes he could do it now, wants more than anything to leave a claim on Will. His skin is hot, his stomach tight, knows he’s close already. He never lasts long when he thinks of Will and he always thinks of Will.
Mike doesn’t think about it, just acts. Clumsily, he pulls himself up, uses his abs so he doesn’t have to break his grip around his cock. He sits on his haunches and quickly pulls Will’s pillow between his thighs. He almost releases before he can slide his cock between the well-used fabric of the case and the pillow, has to squeeze his dick tight at the base. He rolls in and out, fucking into Will’s pillow. Finally, his hips push forward as he releases inside, coating the inside of the pillow case in his come; he keeps pumping, doesn’t want to let a drop go to waste.
He’s breathing is shallow as he pulls out, feeling satisfied. He reaches inside, deftly rubs his spend into the fabric with two fingers in delicate circles. It’ll probably take hours to dry, but that’s okay. Will isn’t supposed to be home until late. This is better than the spit, loves that his own musky scent is now mixing with Will’s baby-sweet one. He shivers when he thinks about Will sleeping here, so close to Mike’s come.
It’s not the claim he’d like, but he feels content all the same.
Mike buttons his pants up, slinks off of Will’s bed, and quickly fixes the blankets he displaced. As he pulls up the duvet, a small piece of fabric falls to the floor, dislodged from Mike’s meddling.
At first, Mike’s confused - he knows all of Will’s clothes and he’s never seen this before. It’s tiny. And pink. Maybe a new sock?
Mike bends over to inspect further, barely touches the pink-thing with the tip of his finger when he freezes.
It’s a pair of women’s panties. Will was sleeping with a women, here, in their apartment, right under Mike’s nose. In his territory.
He’s sick. His knees buckle and he falls forward heavily onto Will’s bed, needing the support. Nauseus, ready to vomit, dizzy, he lies helplessly in Will’s bed – so far away from the pleasure he was feeling only moments before.
He’s fucking pathetic, brought down by a scrap of fabric, but it means so much more. It’s proof that Will isn’t his and never will be.
Some woman has slithered her way in, stolen so easily what he’d always wanted, but could never have. He brings a hand to his hair and pulls, cries out in frustration.
It was delusional, but he’d always imagined that Will would stay virginal forever, pure, and unsullied, primed for all of Mike’s fantasies. As long as he was untouched, Mike could pretend that it was possible. That maybe, one day, he could have Will.
And now, the proof lies in front of him that Will has slipped through his fingers.
Hypotheticals run through his dazed mind. What if he had been a little bolder, maybe made an attempt to see if Will could possibly understand his dilemma. Not return his feelings – no, that’s too fantastical a dream. But maybe, Will would have understood and they could have come to an arrangement. Will could have stayed single until Mike was ready to move on. Will had always been indulgent with him.
He would never be ready to move on.
His mind drifts in sharper, more cruel directions. All the ways he could have ensured that Will never looked at anyone else, never talked to anyone else, never fucked anyone but him. He should have been more careful, shouldn’t have let Will go out without him, should’ve been clearer-
His spiral is cut short by the sound of the front door unlocking. Mike can’t even move, pink panties still crushed into his fist, doesn’t even twitch when Will pushes the door open to his room.
“Oh,” Will gasps out. “Missed me so much you came to my room?” His tone is teasing, and any other time, Mike would parry, but not now. Now, it just feels like an insult, like Mike is so fucking desperate for him, and Will couldn’t care less.
He’s unloading his backpack, hair tied back in an elastic, not really looking at Mike. “I was gonna stay longer, but I missed you too,” Will says.
Finally, Mike unclenches his jaw, feeling like a rusty, obsolete machine. “Yeah?” He accuses, “Didn’t miss your girlfriend?”
Will has the audacity to laugh. “Girlfriend? What kind of joke is that?” Will turns back to face him, laughter dying in his throat when he sees how serious Mike is being.
“You aren’t joking?” Will probes with confusion and Mike feels a hot flash of anger pulse through his chest. He wants to grab Will by the throat, prise his jaw open, and extract the truth from his mouth. No more demuring, no more lying.
“No.” The word feels heavy. Mike unclenches his hand, slowly, blood rushing back to the tips of his fingers, and extends his hand. The panties must do all the necessary explaining for him because Will pales.
“Oh,” He whispers. “I didn’t want you to find those.” He’s so quiet.
“Yeah? Didn’t want your pathetic dog to find out?” Mike pushes himself up, prowls forward, and crowds Will against the door. “Worried I wouldn’t do everything you asked if I knew you were off the market?”
“Mike,” Will starts, voice wobbling. “What are you talking about?”
He has hands on both sides of Will’s head, keeping him pinned to the door like a taxidermied butterfly. It’s an apt comparison, Will’s trembling brings to mind the fragility of a lifeless wing. Mike can’t help the resentment that tears its way through his veins. He’s the one who’s been wronged, who’s been hurt – why is Will the one who’s acting wounded?
His anger is matched in equal measure with nausea. It turns his stomach over to have Will scared of him; he’d spent his whole life working to protect him, trying to make him feel safe, and Will thinks he could act akin to a monster like Lonnie. The thought has acrid bile rising in the back of his throat.
Maybe all those bible-thumbers were right. Maybe he was a wretched abomination. This must be his punishment.
An icy thought washes over him. He lets out a sick laugh, cruel and humorless. “That fucking lipgloss wasn’t for my baby sister, was it? It was for her.” He places a piercing emphasis on the word, slams a fist against the door in anger. Doesn’t know her name, doesn’t want to. He wants Will to know how vile he finds her, how much he already hates her.
He’s never felt this depth of betrayal before, never trusted anyone as much as he trusted Will. It feels like he’s sinking and there’s nothing he can cling to, so utterly lost. Doesn’t even know what to do because usually Will is the person he goes to when he needs help unpacking his emotions.
He’s brought back to coherency by a small, familiar hand on his cheek. “Mike,” Whispers Will. Mike stares back at him. His eyes are brimming with tears. Will, always prone to crying, delicate and damaged as he was from his childhood, freely let them roll down his ruddy cheeks. “Listen. Please.”
Mike’s angry. Almost can’t think with the heat of it, wants to revel in it, as painful and rotten as it is, but when the boy he’s loved his whole life pleads with him, all he can do is concede with a tight nod.
He lets Will pull him into a seat at the edge of the bed. Usually, they fall into position with ease, tangling into each other, but now they both leave a wide gap, stiff and awkward in a way they never are.
His elbows press into his knees and he rests his head in his hands. His righteous anger from before is seeping from him, and pure loss lies in its wake. It’s finally hitting him how insane he’d been to think what they had was sustainable in the long term.
Like an itch that needs to be scratched, he needs to know. Wants the pain of it. He wants to demand answers, needs to know everything: how long, who she is, why Will kept it a secret.
The absurdity of the situation washes over him. Normal men don’t lose it when they find out their best friend is sleeping with women; normal men congratulate their bros and ask for sordid details.
Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a feral animal, Will extends a hand, silently asking permission to hold his hand. Mike doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t move it away either. Will makes the final decision, lets his hand rest gently atop of Mike’s.
Mike looks up, slowly. The delicate framework of their relationship which they have been building for years, has crumbled in one night. The knowledge that they can never go back, never return to what they had before sits heavy in his stomach.
“Who is she?” His voice cracks, can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed, already bearing so many of his long hidden secrets tonight.
“Mike,” Will sighs, “there is no ‘she.’”
The crackling embers of of anger ignite again. “Don’t lie to me.” Mike shakes the very clearly women’s underwear in emphasis. “Just fucking tell me who she is.”
“Mike, I’m not lying-”
Mike interrupts. “Oh yeah, and that lipgloss was really for my sister?”
Will’s lip starts wobbling. “No, it wasn’t for Holly.” Mike feels equal levels of vindication and chagrin.
“I knew it.” He spits out. “I fucking kne-”
“Mike.” Will cuts in. “It wasn’t for Holly. It was mine.”
He’s lost.
Will takes a steadying breath. “It was mine.” Will’s blushing so much it looks painful, skin red and splotchy. “I, um, bought it for me. But when you found the bag, I got so embarrassed, I lied.”
It’s enough to shock Mike out of his anger. “It’s yours? I don’t understand.”
Will rubs the heel of his palm to his eyes. “Um, I guess I just wanted to experiment a little bit. I wanted to be… pretty.” Will looks away, shame shaking his shoulders. “I know that’s gross. And- and I’m sorry I lied, I felt so, so guilty. But I knew you’d think I was disgusting,” Will’s voice is speeding up, like he needs to explain before Mike abandons him, “and I didn’t want to lose you, so, I just took the easy way out, said it was for Holly.” Will’s fully sobbing now. “But it was mine. And- and those are mine too. Not a girlfriends.” Will points half-heartedly towards the panties, still in Mike’s hand.
Mike is frozen. Doesn’t know what to say.
With finality, Will states, “There won’t ever be a girlfriend for me.”
For the second time that hour, Mike’s world is flipped.
To think, he’s spent all these years agonizing over his love for Will, ruminating on how to pretend, when all this time, Will was just like him. He never would have had those nasty, self-effacing thoughts if he knew Will was the same. Nothing Will could be would ever be wrong, be evil.
He should’ve known; he and Will are always right there together.
“Mike?” Will probes. He’s been silent for too long, he knows, parsing through this lifechanging information.
They’d both been so worried for no reason. The absurdity of it makes him laugh, shoulders shaking, voice booming with it.
Will quickly pulls his hand away – like it’s been burned – from where it had been tangled in Mike’s own larger one and stands up, putting distance between them. “I didn’t expect you to understand, Mike. But I didn’t,” Will’s voice trembles, “think you would be cruel.” Will’s shrinking in on himself, turning away to hide his tears, trying to put on armor to protect himself, protect himself from Mike.
Mike can’t have that. Won’t allow it. Now that he knows he can have Will, he will never, ever let him get away.
Decisively, he bounds forward, and wraps Will in his arms. He’s stronger than Will, has built himself to be a protector ever since he was a teenager, and although Will struggles for a second, he quickly realizes it’s futile. Mike pulls Will’s head to his throat, offers him skin contact to soothe him, wants to muffle his sobs.
“No.” Mike’s voice is sharp, can’t have Will thinking he’s mocking him for another second. “I’m not laughing at you.” Will makes another vain attempt to pull away before completely capitulating, going boneless in his arms. “That’s right,” Mike encourages.
With Will in his arms, sufficiently pacified, he walks them backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He falls back gracelessly, but still holding Will gently in his arms. Mike positions them so his back is to the headboard and Will sits solidly in his lap, docile all the while, allowing himself to be moved.
Will tilts his head back, tears dried, and confusion replacing any hurt, as he stares at Mike. “Will you listen?” Mike asks. Despite his uncertainty, the fact that Mike has already bruised him tonight, he nods. That’s what Mike loves about him; Will is so willing to feel, lets himself be hurt, because he’d rather that than close himself off.
“Will, I’ve wanted you all my life.” Will inhales sharply. Mike continues, “I’ve loved you so long I don’t even know what it feels like not to. When I thought you had someone else,” Mike pauses, squeezes Will tight, still feels the echoes of what he almost lost. “I kind of lost it. I wasn’t myself.”
“Mike,” Will whispers. “Really?” He looks so vulnerable in his arms. “You’re not making fun of me?”
Mike’s chest aches. “No, not making fun. Never.”
Mike starts stroking along Will’s back. “I had resigned myself to just being your best friend, sticking close ‘cause you needed me to protect you.”
Will makes a sound as if to protest that, but Mike shushes him, continues on.
“But now that I know you’re like me, that maybe one day, you could feel the same, I want more. I want you so bad.” Will’s eyes are so wide the iris almost looks black. Mike feels almost wild, knows he’s going to sound insane, desperate but he needs to ask. “Let’s be together. You don’t have to love me the same way I love you, I don’t mind, I’ve always known that I love you more. But I could be your man, give you what you need in a relationship, maybe you could learn to love me, too.” Mike wants to continue, sweeten the deal, try to convince Will even further, but he doens’t want to scare him off.
“Mike,” Will murmurs, twists around so they’re facing each other again. Mike’s breath catches in his throat - he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Will says no, doesn’t want to even think about it.
Will rubs a thumb across his cheek. “I don’t need to learn. I thought you knew all this time that I loved you.”
“Oh.” Mike’s speechless. The things he would’ve done if had known Will had wanted him too…
He returns Will’s gesture, rubbing Will’s face with his thumb. It’s something he’s done before, but never has he done it knowing Will loved him too.
A renewed vigor fills him, his body feels like it’s humming with electricity. Will’s staring up at him and asks honey-sweet, “Kiss?”
There’s no need for a response, Mike leans forward and kisses Will for the first time. Mike’s first kiss, ever. They start soft, lips closed, but it doesn’t take long until he has his tongue in Will’s mouth. Will’s shyer than he is, tongue hesitant to push in too far. Mike can’t have that.
Mike pulls away slowly, a string of spit between them. “Don’t be shy, baby.” Cups Wills cheek.
Will’s averts his eyes. “I’ve never done this before, Mike. I don’t want to do anything wrong.”
The confirmation that Will’s never been with anyone else has Mike’s hips stuttering - he must be the luckiest man alive. “You can’t do anything wrong with me, sweetheart. Any way you want to love me is the right way. And I want it so fucking bad, been fantasing about this for ages.” Mike reaches out, uses his thumb to pull on Will’s fat bottom lip.
Will lets out a soft whimper. Mike leans back in, laying Will down against the bed, and crawling over him, kissing harder. Will’s soft, long hair spreads out against the pillows and Mike remberbers he came there, less than an hour ago, and now his sweet Will is laying against it, ready to be deflowered by him.
He’s licking Will’s teeth, rolling his hips into Will, and struck by how pretty he looks when he remembers. “Will,” He whispers against his mouth. “Can you tell me more about your panties and your lipgloss.”
“Mike!” Will squeeks, brings his hands to his face to hide. Mike won’t let him, easily pulls his hands away, keeps them firmly restrained in his own grasp.
“Tell me,” Mike demands. He needs to know, doesn’t think he can live without knowing.
Will still seems hesitant. “I won’t make fun, I promise,” Mike avows.
Will swallows, and starts, trusting Mike. “I guess, I’ve always kind of liked those things, y’know, things girls like.” Mike nods. He had noticed, always chalked it up to Will’s artist sensabilities. “Well, you know how my dad was.” Mike just grunts, can’t bring up the vitriol he feels for Lonnie right now. “He never allowed for stuff like that, so I just…never tried anything. But then, I don’t know, we’d been away from him for so long, and I knew you’d never let him back into our lives, and I just felt safe, I guess. So when I saw these,” Will nods over to the panties, now lying abandonned on the floor, “I just felt safe enough to give them a try.”
Mike’s chest blooms with pride. Will had done so well, been so brave. It sends a rumble of satisfaction through him - he’s the one that helped Will feel that way, he’s the one who’s been keeping him safe. “My brave baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Will’s throat.
Mike can feel Will’s throat bobbing against his lips. Will continues on, “And that’s why I bought that lipgloss, too. It just made me feel…” He trails off.
“Pretty.” Mike finishes for him. He’s rubbing his hand under Will’s shirt, from his navel, up along his nipples, and then slight grazes at his neck. “So pretty.” He whispers.
“You don’t mind?” Will asks.
“Mind?” Mike blows cool air against Will’s neck. “I think it’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard.” He bites lightly on the fragile skin between his shoulder and his throat. “I want you to tell me more. I want you to wear them right now.”
“Now?” Will asks squeekily.
“Mhm,” Mike responds. “Right now. Won’t you show me?” His tone’s a little teasing but he’s dead serious.
Will must see how bad he wants it, knows now Mike would never laugh at him, and acquiesces. Mike helps peel his jeans off, notices how smooth Will’s legs are as he does it - he must shave them. Mike makes plans to do it for him one day, in their tiny little bathtub.
While he’s at, Mike quickly pull’s Will’s shirt off. Will’s his boyfriend now, he can do that. Will snakes a hand down and briskly sneaks the panties off the floor and into his hand. Before Mike even has a chance to protest, Will scampers to the ensuite, apparently still shy to change in front of Mike. Mike wants to whine out, beg Will to stay, but he’s already getting exactly what he wanted right now, he shouldn’t get too greedy.
Will’s only gone for a moment, but it feels longer.
“Mike?” Will calls out from behind the door.
“I’m here, baby.” He reassures. As if heaven or hell could tear him away.
“Promise you won’t laugh.”
“Will…” Mike starts, “laughing is the last thing on my mind.”
It must convince him because the door cracks open, revealing a sight he never even had the audacity to dream of.
No wonder Will had hidden this - he looks edible in his secret little panties. If Mike was a wolf, he’d unhinge his grizzly maw and consume. He’d have torn the door of its hinges to get a peak at Will like this.
Will’s removed the elastic that his hair had been tied in and now it’s brushing softly against the tops of his shoulders. Both of Will’s arms are wrapped shyly around himself, clearly still uncertain about revealing this part of himself that he’s been burying down for so long.
“Perfect,” Mike growls out. “Come back here.” The come back to me is unsaid.
Will’s steps are timid and slow; Mike feels like he’s being teased. Once Will is within reach, he rapidly reaches out, pulls Will to him with real strength, and throws him down on the bed. He leans in again kiss Will and grinding against his bare thigh. It thrills him, to have Will almost naked and exposed, when he’s still completely clothed. Like predator and prey.
Will’s panting against his mouth, letting out high little sounds. Cute.
He can’t resist any longer. Slithers down Will’s lithe body, pulls his legs apart, and pushes his broad shoulders between Will’s lovely thighs.
Will clamps down around him. Mike lets him, once, but then pulls Will’s legs apart, wants to look at what he’s been denied so long. Will’s straining in them, just as aroused as he is, and Mike’s fascinated with the way the lace stretches around him; the fabric become more see-through around Will’s bulge.
Curiously, he uses his index and middle finger to rub gently along Will’s length, still contained within the confines of the fabric. His baby, so sensitive, jolts up.
“Uh-uh.” Mike tuts and grips firmer around those thick hips. “Stay still, pretty baby.”
Will whines in response but settles.
“Tell me what you’d do baby, when you wore your panties.”
Will’s panting hard. Mike’s barely even touched him, can’t wait to see how Will react when Mike gives it to him properly.
Will’s eyes are glazed over, a little lost. Mike’ll help him remember where he’s at. He leans forward, gives a little kitten lick against the straining bulge, and pulls back again. “I asked you a question, baby. You hid this from me, now I deserve to know. What would you do?”
“Didn’t mean to hide-” Will tries to argue but Mike shushes him. It’s too adorable.
“Did you take pictures of yourself to look at later?” Mike emphasizes the question with a nip at Will’s hip bone.
“No,” Will’s voice wavers, Mike can tell he’s omitting something.
“No?” Mike snaps the pink string lightly. “Then what, sweetheart?”
Will’s eyes dart over to the floor length mirror in the corner of his room and understanding dawns over him.
“Oh, you’d use the mirror, huh?” Mike’s tone is sweet, doesn’t want Will to think he’s teasing. Will nods.
“I’d look, and I’d imagine,” Will takes a fortifying breath. “That you were the one looking at me. That maybe… you liked what you saw.”
“Oh, I do. So much.” Mike presses a kiss to one of Will’s thighs. “Thank you, baby, you were so brave to tell me.” Will whines.
Will had been so real, so honest with him. He needs to return the favor. “I’ll tell you my secret now, too. That pillow you’re laying on?” Mike’s getting so hot, he’s grinding his cock into the matress. “I came on it, imagining fucking you, just before you got back. Didn’t even wash it ‘cause I wanted you to sleep with me next to you”
A sharp pain jolts through his scalp as Will pulls his hair. “Mike!” He cries out.
“You were worried I’d think you were disgusting, baby? Never. I’m the one who’s really filthy.” Mike slips his mouth around the head of Will’s dick, still covered, and sucks, just for a moment, before pulling off.
“No,” Will gasps out, “not disgusting.”
That stills Mike. He’s self-aware, knows what a pervert he’s been, has known for a long time. He just figured Will loved him in spite of that.
“You’re so…” Will pants. “So good to me. I want things like that too. Makes me feel safe, like I’m yours.”
God, Will truly was made for him.
Will continues on, not knowing he’s killing Mike right now. “I’d touch myself, and I’d pretend you were watching me. And when I’d come on the mirror, I’d lick it up, wishing that’s what you would do.”
Mike’s hands tremble. “Will,” he cries out, high and needy. “Let me. Please. Wanna lick you up, clean you so good. Please.” Mike no longer feels in control, bound to Will’s wishes. “Wanna be your dog.”
“Okay.” Will nods quickly.
Slowly, like he’s unwrapping a present, Mike pulls Will’s panties down slightly, releasing his cock. It’s so cute and pink and has Mike drooling.
Will starts pumping himself, letting moans slip out as he does, and Mike positions himself right below Will’s cock, tongue sticking out, ready to swallow whenever Will released.
“‘M sorry, already so close.” Will breathes out. Mike just presses a little kisses to the head, encouraging Will to keep going.
Will’s abs tense, wriggling in Mike’s grasp, and cries out, releasing across his stomach, hot and thick. Mike barely gets any on his tongue, goes immediately to suck at the head, trying to taste. Will, oversensitive, cries out below him, high-pitched, like a girl, but Mike still doesn’t pull back. Just keeps suctioning on Will’s spent cock, doesn’t let the sharp pulls in his hair deter him. The pain has him humping his hard cock into the mattress. The sounds he’s making are vulgar, Mike wishes he could hear them on replay in perpetuity.
“Mike! Mike, please!” Will gasps out, voice raw. Mike can only be selfish for so long. As always, he always goes back to putting Will first. He pulls off with a pop and stares down at Will, before circling his hands around his waist, and pulling Will towards him. It’s easy, Will’s not too heavy, and he gets to work, licking up the excess spend from Will’s stomach.
“Tickles,” Will says, voice muffled by his arm.
“Mm.” Is Mike’s only reply, just keeps licking, until Will is all clean.
“Mike,” Will calls, hesistant. Mike glances up between his eyelashes to look at him. “You were a good boy.” Will’s voice is small, maybe a bit worried he’s made a misstep. But there are no missteps between them. Mike shudders, whines from the back of his throat, and nuzzles his head into one of Will’s hands, hoping he’ll say what he wants to hear.
“A good dog.” Will always knows just want he wants.
Mike lunges forward and bites, hard, at the side of Will’s neck. He’s Will’s guard dog, and he wants everyone to know it.
He’s been Will’s since he was only five years old and he’ll spend the rest of his life doing what he asks. Will says jump, Mike asks how high. Mike is a mean, cruel, starved dog, but not to Will. No, he always listens to his master.
Mike is still sucking on Will’s neck, tasting the saltiness of sweaty skin and the rusty tang of blood.
Will’s brushing through his hair, calming him down, when he lets out a peal of laughter. “Huh, I guess I’m a werewolf too, now.”
“Will,” Mike rasps. Tears brim in his eyes. He’d thought he was alone for so long. A vicious, frightening monster. One who could hide, who looked like a man, but a monster nevertheless. And here with him the whole time, Will is just like him.
“Mine.” Is all he can think to say. “Mine, mine, mine,” says it reverently as he kisses all over Will’s body, Mike’s tears fall thick and heavy, washing over Will, cleansing him.
Will pulls him back up to his mouth, gently into a kiss. “I love you,” Will murmurs, holding Mike’s face in his palms, no longer averting his eyes, staring at him head on.
“I love you.” Mike vows back, ardently. Maybe another man would be embarrassed to be crying right now, but he knows Will would never judge him. Here, they both protect each other.
“I want to go further,” Will admits. “But I’ve never done this before.”
“Me neither,” Mike responds instantly.
Will’s eyebrows rise. “Really?” he whispers.
“Really,” Mike whispers back. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Will says for a second time that night.
Mike lets out a wet laugh. “Me neither. But we can learn together. And I know some things.”
Will gives him a questioning look. “And how is that?”
“Baby, I’ve been wanting to fuck you since puberty, I’ve done a fair bit of research.”
“Oh.” Will flushes cherry-red.
“I can guide us, if you want?” Mike asks.
Will just nods.
“Okay, well first, I have to stretch you out, down here.” Mike slides a gentle hand back into Will’s panties, rubs lightly around Will’s rim, can feel it twitch against him. Asks “Is this okay?”
Will’s breath catches. “Yeah.”
“Once we get you nice and loose, then I’ll go inside you.” Mike emphasizes this with a thrust of his hips against Will’s thigh, denim on bare skin.
Mike pushes a finger in, slowly, but he can tell somethings wrong. Will’s biting down on his lip, his hole squeezing tight around Mike, not opening up, not wanting to let him in.
“Are you okay?”
Will nods too quick. “Yeah, just keep going, quick.”
Mike removes his finger - he doesn’t want it like this, with braced teeth, and strained breath.
“No! I want to!” Will cries out, but he looks a bit relieved.
“We will,” Mike reassures, leans over Will, “I’m just gonna,” pulls open Will’s bedside drawer, and pulls out his handlotion, “make you a little more comfortable.”
“Okay” Will whispers.
With lubrication, his finger slides in much easier, and Mike feels comfortable sliding in a second.
“Does it still hurt?”
“No, just a little burn,” Will answers, “I’m oka- ah” he’s interrupted with a moan.
Mike curls his fingers in the same way, experimentally. Will lets out the same gasp. “Does that feel good, baby?”
“Mm,” is all Will manages before Mike starts with renewed vigor, energized knowing he’s making Will feel good.
He feels like those jocks in horror movies, fingering their girlfriends in parked cars, under the light of the moon. He always thought the way the girls moaned was an exaggeration, unrealistic, but now Will’s letting out high little keens right into his ear as Mike fingers him open.
He turns his hand in a corkscrew motion, pressing his fingers into that perfect little button inside of Will.
“More,” Will whimpers.
Mike obliges, adds a third finger. His hesitant flutters from earlier are gone. Now, he’s fucking into Will with his hand, getting him ready to take him. The thought has him panting, grinding his jean-covered cock down into the mattress. He’s waited so long for this, and now, it’s here. His Will.
“Will, can your-” Mike swallows. Wants to say it, but he’s nervous. He knows Will won’t reject him but it’s still a frightening thing, to ask for what you want. He thinks of how brave they’d both been tonight, and presses forward.
“Have I been a good boy?” His voice quivers as he says it.
Will looks down at him, eyes glassy with pleasure. “So good.”
Mike swallows heavy. “Can your dog have a reward?”
“Of course,” Will pets along Mike’s hair. “He’s been so good, so loyal to me.” Will leans forward, presses a kiss to Mike’s forehead, “he can take what he needs from me.”
Mike cries out. Will’s the one who’s good to him, the one who’s sweet. But he can’t think of that right now.
He slides his fingers out of Will slowly. Loves the way the hole flutters around nothing, still seeking Mike. Roughly, he shoves his jeans down, and releases his cock. Lets it slap against his abs, neglected for too long, and he gives it a quick rub with the handlotion.
He pulls Will’s panties to the side, wraps his legs around his waist, and lines himself up. He’s desperate to be in Will, needs it like a fish needs water. He doesn’t ask for permission again; Will already said he can take what he needs, and this is what he needs. He pushes in, slow and steady, until he’s to the hilt. He leans forward, and feels warmth suffuse through him when Will wraps his arms around his back.
Will’s hot, and tight like a vise – never been touched – only Mike’s known him here. Mike stays still, lets them both adjust to this mindbending feeling. It’s better than he’d ever imagined, and he had imagined many, many times.
“Will, mhm, feel so good.” The words slip from his lips unbidden, but he doesn’t mind that Will knows.
“Same,” Will replies. “You’re so big. Filling me up.” Will grabs Mike’s hand, presses it down on his stomach, “I can feel you here.”
Mike presses, can feel himself, Will’s right, and it makes his hips stammer forward.
Will lets out a high keen. “Like that.”
Mike takes the hint and starts an unsteady rhythm. He’s never done this before, but his body knows what to do. He keeps pounding forward, seeking his pleasure, but Will’s too. Needs to take care of him, always.
He must find that spot from earlier,because Will starts twitching in his arms, little spasms shaking through him. Good, as much as he’d love to, Mike doesn’t want to jerk Will off. Maybe he’s being insane, but he wants Will to come from his cock alone. Now, that he knows where Will likes it, Mike grabs Will’s hips tight, rocking in quick and hard.
Will’s chanting his name and Mike’s brain is shortcircuting. He’s the one making Will feel this good. It’s never felt like this when he used his hand, or when he ground into his pillow. Being in Will is pure bliss, unreplicateable.
Will’s scratching his nails down his back, marking Mike up. Mike will use Will’s mirror to look at it later. For now, he keeps rutting deep into Will, needing to get him off again.
“‘M close,” Will garbles out, mouth hanging open. “Gonna come again.”
“Go ahead, baby.” Mike pants. “Me too.” He wants to last longer, truly, he could spend ages wrapped up in Will’s tight heat, but it’s too good, and he’s never had it before. Can’t help it. He knows there will be many, many more opportunities in the future.
It only takes a couple more strokes before Will is coming again, spilling on his own stomach, clearer than earlier.
Mike swipes a finger down over Will’s concave stomach and brings it back to his mouth, knows Will likes this. He wants to taste too, wants to have every part of Will.
It’s Will’s sensitive clenching that has him spilling, deep inside Will. He should pull out, knows it’ll be difficult to clean later, but he needs this. Marking Will here is a thousand times better than leaving come on his pillow.
Will’s his now. He’s never gonna let him go.
The air around them smells of sex: skin and bodily fluids. He wants to bottle this scent, the scent of Will Byers losing his virginity to Mike Wheeler. Smell it for the rest of his life. He lunges down, force his nose into the crack of Will’s armpit, and inhales. So fucking sweet. That’s his baby. Like his legs, Will must have shaved here, because it’s smooth and hairless.
“Mike!” Will cries out with a laugh. It doesn’t deter Mike. He sticks his tongue out, and licks. Will flinches, brings his arm down, and clamps Mike tight - exactly where he wants to be.
“That tickles!” Will giggles out and Mike’s reminded of their childhood tickle fights. Mike just grunts, uses a large hand to press down on Will’s sternum to keep him from wiggling and continues, single mindedly focused. Will’s laughs quickly turn into quick little cries. He slides over Will to his other side and starts his task anew. Lathing at Will until he’s cleaned of sweat and Mike’s consumed it all.
He’s Will’s fucking guard dog. He’ll keep him clean, protected, and well-fucked.
They’re still curled up in Will’s bed. They’re taking a break, for both their well-being. They’ve been fucking for hours.
Will’s lying on Mike’s chest, tracing imaginary patterns. They’ve been talking things through, piecing together the puzzle, realizing how dumb they both had been.
“Will,” Mike tries, throat feeling like glue. “Earlier, I hate that I made you scared of me. I was just like him.” Mike says. The him goes unsaid, both knowing what he means.
“Mike,” Will utters. “No. It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t scared of you doing…” The pause pains Mike, his head thinks of all the horrible things Will could say. “-something,” Will says with neutrality. “I was scared you knew about me, knew who I was, what I was, and you hated me for it.”
Mike grabs Will’s face in both hands. “Will, never,” He declares fervently. “I like you just as you are.”
Will smiles back at him. “Same for me.”
Mike grins, “And please let me buy you some nicer lipgloss, from an actual make up store.”
Will bursts out laughing. “Okay, sounds like a plan.”