Chapter Text
The basement smelled like cheap beer, dust, and something faintly burnt— The bowl dustin tried packing was starting to burn out, he was carelessly banging it on the ashtray, ash starting to crowd the small space around them. A fan rattled uselessly in the corner, pushing warm air around instead of cooling anything down.
Will sat cross-legged on the carpet, a red plastic cup sweating in his hand. He was fidgeting with the plastic rim, tracing the lines on the red solo cup. The piss colored beer was not appealing, Will kept sloshing it back and forth in the cup, trying to distract himself.
He hadn’t taken a sip. But the weed wasn’t helping.
Across the room, Mike Wheeler was laughing—head tipped back, eyes crinkled, that familiar, unguarded sound that made something twist low and tight in Will’s chest. He’d heard that laugh for years. It shouldn’t feel new. His curls were framing his face, slightly sticking to his forehead from the sweat. Will couldn’t help but stare at the sweat dripping down Mike's neck, Will’s eyes traced the line of his throat. He caught himself. Quickly changing the trajectory of his eyeballs to focus on literally anything else in the basement.
Everything about Mike felt new lately, but also oddly familiar at the same time. He was taller, leaner, he carries himself differently than he had in the past.
Maybe it was the summer. The way the air stuck to your skin, the way time stretched and blurred, like something important was about to happen but hadn’t yet. Maybe it was the fact that in three months, they’d both be in New York—NYU, tiny dorm room, just the two of them.
Just the two of them. They agreed to dorm because that makes sense for friends, right? Best friends. Bunk beds, in a small room. Close proximity. They will be around each other every day, 24 hours for 7 days a week. In New York. Together. Best friends.
Will tightened his grip on the cup. He’s thinking too much, and he knows that. He hadn't even taken a sip yet.
“Dude, you’re not even drinking,” Lucas said, nudging his knee.
Will startled slightly. “I am.”
“You’re holding it,” Max corrected from where she sprawled on the couch, her hair a bright flame against the dim basement light. “That’s not the same thing.”
“I’m pacing myself,” Will muttered.
“Pacing yourself for what?” Dustin snorted. “It’s literally just us. We don’t judge.”
That was exactly the problem.
It was just them. No distractions. No school. No excuses. Just Will…
And Mike—
Will risked another glance.
Mike had pushed his sleeves up, forearms bare, fingers curled loosely around his own cup.Will noticed his hands around the cup, the way he gripped it. Was it getting warmer in here? Will was starting to sweat more. Mike was leaning into something El was saying, listening in that way he did—like the rest of the world didn’t exist when someone he cared about was talking.
God.
Will begrudgingly dragged his eyes away, heart kicking too fast. He could lose time staring at him.
He hated this. The constant awareness. The way his gaze kept drifting back like it had a mind of its own. The way every laugh, every careless touch, every brush of Mike’s knee against his earlier had felt… warm. charged. Will was trying to convince himself it’s the same it always is. ‘This is just how we act’, Will thought to himself.
Wrong.
Not wrong, exactly.
Just dangerous.
Because if he drank—really drank—he wasn’t sure he could keep it hidden. The stares might linger. Words could spill out in a drunken haze. Will is overly aware. The careful distance. The practiced normalcy. The way he’d trained himself to look at Mike like he looked at everyone else. But it was never easy, because he wants to look at Mike like he hangs the stars just for Will. If Mike ever knew how WIll felt about him, he could lose his best friend. His very reason for even believing and accepting in himself, could leave his life forever. Will knows Mike isn’t like him. Even if some part of him wanted to believe that.
Dustin started passing the freshly packed bowl around. Will watched as Mike put his lips around the bowl and inhaled. Will was staring, and it wasn't discreet. He started to imagine Mike putting his lips on his neck, his throat, his chest, kissing lower and lower—
He took a big swig of his beer.
The beer was warm and bitter. He made a face.
“Wow,” Max said, eyeing him. “Big step. We’re proud of you.”
“Shut up.”
She grinned, sharp and knowing. “You’re acting weird.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” Lucas chimed in. “You’ve been quiet all night.”
Will shrugged, staring down at the carpet. “Just thinking. Being high doesn’t help”
“Thinking about what?” Dustin pressed.
Will hesitated.
Mike glanced over then—just for a second—and their eyes met. Brown and hazel collided.
It hit like a spark.
Will looked away so fast it almost hurt.
“Nothing,” he said quickly.
Max’s gaze flicked between them.
Something shifted in her expression.
Uh oh. Will gave too much away. Max has always been weirdly receptive of people, just by looking at them. Lucas says it’s her superpower, and while Will believes it, he also fears it.
“Okay,” she said slowly, setting her cup down. “We’re playing a game.”
Groans and protests erupted immediately.
“No—”
“Absolutely not—”
“Max—”
“Truth or dare,” she finished, completely ignoring them.
“RIGHT ON!,” Dustin shouted, but he was already sitting up straighter.
“God, we’re not twelve,” Mike said, though he was smiling, passing the bowl over to El.
“That’s exactly why we should play,” Max shot back. “Last summer before college. Live a little.”
Will’s stomach dipped.
This felt like a bad idea.
A really bad idea.
But everyone was already shifting, forming a loose circle, energy picking up again. There was no graceful way out. He felt trapped.
“Fine,” Mike said. “But nothing insane.”
Max’s grin widened.
“Of course not.”
That should’ve been reassuring.
It wasn’t.
It started harmless.
Dustin had to chug his drink, and then eventually had to hold a hit from the bowl for as long as he could. It was 45 seconds, and everyone was impressed. Lucas had to call his mom and tell her he loved her in the most dramatic voice possible. El picked truth and admitted she’d once lied about liking one of Mike’s campaigns just to make him happy.
Everyone laughed.
It felt normal.
Will almost relaxed.
Almost.
Then Max’s eyes landed on him again.
“Will,” she said, too casually.
His chest tightened.
“Truth or dare?”
He hesitated.
Dare meant losing control. Which he can’t do.
Truth meant… worse. Which he knows he also doesn’t want to do.
“…Dare,” he said, before he could overthink it.
Max leaned forward, elbows on her knees, studying him like she already knew something he didn’t want her to. Her superpower was in full effect, and Will could feel it.
“Oh, I’ve got a good one.”
Of course she did.
Will forced a smile. “Let’s hear it.” The sweat dripping down Will's face was really coming down now.
Max tilted her head, glancing briefly—very briefly—at Mike.
Then back to Will.
“I dare you,” she said, “to kiss Mike.”
The room went still.
Like the air had been sucked out.
Lucas coughs from choking on the hit he had just took.
Will’s heart stopped.
Actually stopped.
He couldn’t breathe.
“What?” Mike said, half-laughing, like it was a joke.
Max just raised an eyebrow. “It’s a dare. You have to do it.”
“Okay, that’s—” Lucas started, but even he didn’t sound convinced.
Dustin looked between them, wide-eyed. “Wait—are we—are we doing this?”
El frowned slightly, sensing something under the surface but not quite naming it.
Will couldn’t look at anyone.
Especially not Mike.
His pulse roared in his ears. He couldn’t hear anyone.
This is fine, he told himself. It’s a joke. A stupid dare. People do this kind of thing all the time.
It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.
Right?
“Come on,” Max prodded. “Unless you want to forfeit. Dont be a-”
“Dont say it” will stopped her.
“Don’t say what?” Max looked directly at will,
“Max-”
“CHICKEN?” Lucas yells. Max, and Dustin join in on the clucking that fills the room.
“Guys, please” Will could feel the blush creeping up his neck, and blossoming on his cheeks.
Forfeit meant admitting something.
Something he couldn’t admit.
Will swallowed.
“I don’t—”
“It’s just a kiss,” Mike said suddenly.
Will looked up. What?
Mike was watching him now—really watching him.
Not laughing anymore.
There was something else there. Something quieter. Unreadable.
“It’s not a big deal,” Mike added, softer.
That made it worse.
Way worse.
Will’s throat felt dry.
“Yeah,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Not a big deal.”
Max leaned back, satisfied. Knowing her plan worked.
“Go on, then.”
Everything slowed.
Will set his cup down carefully, like if he moved too fast, the moment would shatter.
Or he would.
Mike shifted closer.
Close enough that Will could feel the heat of him. Close enough that their knees brushed.
Electric.
Will’s breath caught.
He forced himself to look at Mike.
Really look.
At the curve of his mouth. The faint flush in his cheeks. The way his eyes flickered, just for a second, down to Will’s lips.
Oh.
Oh.
This wasn’t nothing.
This wasn’t a joke.
The realization hit hard and fast and terrifying.
Mike leaned in slightly.
Will’s body reacted before his brain could catch up—leaning too, drawn in like gravity had shifted. Felt like they were being pulled together by a force, so strong, neither of them hesitated.
His heart was pounding so loud he was sure everyone could hear it.
Closer.
Close enough that he could feel Mike’s breath.
Close enough that everything else—the basement, their friends, the noise—faded into nothing.
Just this.
Just him.
Will’s eyes fluttered shut—
“BOYS!”
They jerked apart like they’d been shocked.
Karen Wheeler’s voice echoed down the stairs.
“The pizza’s here!”
The moment shattered.
Just like that.
Laughter broke out, a little too loud, a little too forced. Dustin groaned about timing. Lucas clapped Mike on the shoulder like nothing had happened.
Max didn’t laugh.
She was watching them again.
Will couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe.
His lips still tingled, phantom-close to something that hadn’t happened—but almost had.
Mike stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair.
“Uh—yeah. Pizza,” he said, voice rougher than usual.
He didn’t look at Will.
Will stared at the floor, heart still racing, heat still flooding his veins.
Not a big deal.
That’s what Mike had said.
But it was.
It was everything.
And now—
Now there was no pretending it wasn’t there.