Chapter Text
The buzz of the university cafeteria was the perfect background noise for Mike’s morning drama. The smell of burnt coffee and reheated food hung in the air as students hurried past with their trays, but Mike only had eyes for the half-eaten burger he was prodding with a fork, as if the bun were to blame for his romantic misfortunes.
"I swear, Lucas, it didn't even last twenty minutes," Mike huffed, leaning back in his plastic chair. "Dinner was going well—or so I thought. We were talking about music, the guy seemed to actually have a brain... and then out of nowhere, he blurts out that we should head to my dorm because 'we’d already wasted enough time talking anyway.'" He rolled his eyes in exasperation.
Lucas let out a sympathetic whistle, though he kept chewing his fries. "Straight to the point, huh?"
"Too much!" Mike waved his hands, frustrated. "I’m not a drive-thru. I’m sick of the 'see you for one night and forget you the next' thing. I want someone I can actually watch a movie with without them trying to take my shirt off five minutes in. I want... I don't know, something real. A lasting relationship. Someone who stays. Is that too much to ask?"
Lucas nodded, opening his mouth to respond, but his words hung in the air. Over Mike’s shoulder, a familiar, vibrant laugh cut through the general murmur of the dining hall. It was a laugh Lucas would recognize in the middle of a stadium—sharp, genuine, and a little bit sarcastic.
He turned his head instinctively. A few yards away, on the benches facing the courtyard windows, was Max. Her hair glowed under the sunlight as she gestured animatedly while telling a story to the person beside her. As if sensing his gaze, Max looked up, spotted Lucas in the crowd, and gave him a small, knowing smile before returning to her conversation.
Lucas couldn't help it; a goofy grin spread across his face and his eyes lit up for a second, completely forgetting about the fries and his best friend’s frustration.
Mike, who had fallen silent noticing the distraction, turned around to see what Lucas was looking at. He watched the scene for a moment—Max out there, the silent connection that had just sparked between his two friends, and the peace radiating from Lucas just by seeing her.
Mike let out a long, heavy sigh, sinking back into his seat.
"Exactly that," Mike murmured, nodding toward where Max was. "That’s what I want."
Lucas snapped back to reality, feeling a twinge of guilt for getting distracted. "You'll find it, Mike. It’s just... well, maybe the market is just full of idiots right now."
"It’s saturated with them," Mike corrected bitterly, though his eyes remained fixed on the window. "I just need someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m a one-night stand."
For Max, listening to Will talk about his love life was like watching a movie review from someone who hated every film but kept going to the theater in hopes of finding a masterpiece.
"I’m serious, Max, you don't understand," Will said, waving a hand dramatically while holding his coffee as if it were a crystal goblet. "He took me to that greasy burger joint. Burgers! He had sauce on the corner of his mouth and expected me to pay attention while he talked about his sports card collection."
Max let out a giggle, leaning back against the wooden bench. "He was a jock, Will. What did you expect? Poetry and candlelight?"
"I expect a minimum of effort," Will replied, crossing his legs elegantly. "I don’t want to be the 'pretty boy' they keep on their arm just to make their friends jealous. I’m not a hunting trophy."
Will sighed, and his expression softened for a moment, losing the layer of haughtiness he usually wore as a shield. He looked out toward the university courtyard, where the leaves were beginning to dance in the wind.
"I just want someone... quiet," he confessed in a low voice. "Someone who doesn't try to impress me with nonsense. Someone who truly sees me and, above all, has the patience of a saint. Because I know I’m difficult, Max. I know I’m capricious, that I complain about the type of coffee or because I ran out of watercolors, and I know I can be unbearable when things don’t go my way. I need someone who can put up with me and doesn't try to leave after two seconds."
Max listened intently, nodding. She knew Will better than anyone; she knew his high standards were nothing more than a defense mechanism to keep from getting hurt. As Will continued to ramble—now about the lack of taste in the art department—Max’s gaze drifted.
In the distance, through the large cafeteria window, she spotted the table where Lucas usually sat. She looked for her boyfriend by instinct, but her eyes stopped a second before reaching him.
They stopped on Mike.
From a distance, Mike looked like the living portrait of defeat. He was hunched over his tray, gesturing with frustration as he spoke to Lucas. Max knew that look on Mike; it was his "the world is unfair and I just want something simple" face.
In a fraction of a second, the pieces clicked in her head with an almost audible sound.
Will is looking for someone quiet who can put up with him. Mike is looking for something real and lasting.
They were polar opposites. Will was fire; Mike was water. One was far too complicated, and the other, at times, far too simple. It was such a disastrous combination that, for some reason, it felt perfect.
Max burst into a sudden laugh, interrupting Will’s monologue about the misuse of a color palette he’d seen in a classmate’s work.
"What are you laughing at?" Will asked, frowning and offended by the interruption.
"Nothing, just a stupid idea," she replied, but she didn't look away.
At that moment, Lucas looked up from the cafeteria. Their eyes met through the glass. Max held his gaze and gave him a smile loaded with intent—one of those smiles Lucas knew how to read perfectly. She saw Lucas take a second to process it, and then, a spark of understanding crossed his face.
Max looked back at Will, who was complaining—once again—about his latest failed date.
"Will, darling," she said, her tone dangerously sweet. "I think your streak of bad luck is about to end. Just... trust me." She concluded with a wink.
Later that same day, night had fallen and Lucas’s small apartment smelled like a comforting mix of baked dough and pepperoni. It was their ritual: a family-sized pizza, cold soda, and the two of them venting about the weight of the university week.
Lucas finished chewing his third slice and sighed, leaning his back against the sofa.
"I swear, Max, I felt so bad for him," Lucas said, staring at the ceiling. "Mike was really down. He told me he’s sick of empty dates. That he only meets guys who want to get in bed with him in the first half hour and that’s it. He’s looking for something real, you know? A relationship that lasts, someone to just... be with."
Max, who was focused on picking the peppers off her slice, stopped dead. Lucas’s words echoed exactly what Will had confessed to her that afternoon on the university benches.
"Someone quiet... Someone who puts up with me... Who doesn't see me as a trophy."
"It’s funny you say that," Max commented, a dangerous spark lighting up in her blue eyes. "Because Will told me the exact same thing today. Well, in his own way. Between complaints about coffee, watercolors, and people’s bad taste, he admitted he’s looking for someone with the patience to handle his... you know, his 'moments'..."
Lucas sat up slowly, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriend’s expression. He knew that face. It was the "I have a plan and someone is probably going to end up crying or married" face.
"Don't even think about it, Max."
"Think about what? I’m just saying Mike wants stability and Will wants someone who won't bail at the first tantrum. It’s a perfect equation, Lucas."
Lucas let out a dry laugh, shaking his head vehemently. "Perfect? It’s a disaster waiting to happen! Max, Will is... well, you adore him, but he’s the most capricious, difficult guy I’ve ever met in my life. If it’s not the perfect restaurant, he complains; if the weather isn't right, he complains. Mike is the simplest guy in the world. He just wants to watch sci-fi movies and eat cereal. Will would be horrified just looking at his collection of old t-shirts or his D&D figures."
"Exactly!" Max exclaimed, gesturing with her pizza slice. "Mike is the anchor Will needs to stop being so superficial, and Will is the spark Mike needs so his life stops being a boring documentary chapter."
"No, no, and no," Lucas insisted, turning serious. "Mike is my best friend and he’s sensitive right now. I’m not letting you throw him to the lions. Will would eat him alive on the first date. It would be a train wreck."
Max didn't answer. Instead, she reached out and grabbed her phone from the coffee table. Her fingers flew across the screen with an agility that terrified Lucas.
"What are you doing?" he asked, leaning in suspiciously.
"Getting to work, Sinclair."
"Max, stop. I’m serious, they won't stick together even with industrial glue. Will is too... Will!"
Max simply smiled—that mischievous smile Lucas always found irresistible and terrifying at the same time. Without looking at her boyfriend, she pressed send.
Max: Hey, Byers. Quick question... do you happen to know a guy named Mike Wheeler? 😏
Lucas covered his face with his hands, falling back onto the sofa with a dramatic groan.
"You just triggered the apocalypse," he muttered through his fingers.
"Or I just created the greatest love story this university has ever seen," Max retorted, taking a triumphant bite of her pizza. "Now, shut up and pass me the soda. This is about to get interesting."