Archive of Our Own

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September 14th is when it starts.The very first sign of autumn appears as a browned leaf falls to the ground near Will’s feet. It’s much too early— Will has been diligently keeping track of the days, counting down until his inevitable nightmares come back in full swing, just as they do every year. He should have another week. He was promised eight more days of summer. He’s not ready.This is the first Halloween he’s going to be spending with the Party since he’d been possessed. The last one was a disaster— waking up in a bed he didn’t recognize, in a house that wasn’t home, had done nothing to calm his heart after dreaming of blood, and death, and monsters. Moving across the country in the middle of October might not have been the best idea, but at least California had a relatively nonexistent fall. Being away from Hawkins heavily reduced his panic attacks, though the pros certainly did not outweigh the cons. He was apart from the people he loves during the time he needed them most; nothing could be worse than that.And now he’s back in Hawkins— back in the house that started it all, back living with just his mom and Jonathan, back on the same driveway he had run up in an attempt to escape a carnivorous, flesh-eating demon. Only this time, there’s no danger. There are no monsters, no power-hungry men, no alternate dimensions. The gate has been sealed forever. Then again, that's what they thought the last three times, yet it came back every year without fail.Will knows better than anyone that it’s gone for good. His mom and the others had tried hard to exorcize it out of him, but the Upside Down never truly left his body. He’s always been able to sense it; that was the fucked-up superpower he was rewarded with. Vecna is dead. The Mind Flayer and Demo-creatures have gone back to their relatively peaceful nature. That was the last feeling he ever received from that place: relief. Freedom from the evils of mankind. And then the connection was severed forever.That doesn’t stop the full-body shudder that overtakes him as he stares at the crumpled leaf below. He feels bad for it, really; it’s the end of a life. It’s only a matter of time before Will follows after, joining the trees as they die little by little, scattered over the ground and trampled on by those who walk by. He too will crumble under the pressure of fall, each shred of sanity wilting by the day. A living, breathing corpse.The first leaf sheds within himself as well.Will steps over it as he pushes on toward the front door, gripping his backpack strap tighter. It’s not yet cold outside, but the overcast sky sets a chill in his bones that is only warmed by the sound of his mother cooking in the kitchen. Wordlessly, he drops his backpack at the leg of the dining table and sits on a barstool by the counter.“Hey sweetie,” his mom greets, smiling so impossibly kind that Will nearly forgets his worries entirely. Nearly. “How was the sleepover?”Honestly? It was the same as every other time he slept over in Mike’s basement. Video games, an unhealthy amount of snacks, staying up until two in the morning watching movies— predictable, but nice.“It was good,” Will shrugs, reaching over to take a piece of celery from his mom’s cutting board. “Dustin beat his record at Chubby Bunny. I’m not sure if it counts though, because he had to take out his teeth.”She gives him a short, amused look, then continues her diligent work on the vegetables. “I’d say it counts. He has to use the advantages he has, right?” Before Will can make a noise of vague affirmation, his mom practically drops her knife and whips her head back to him, eyes wide and full of concern.Well, he’s fucked.He thought he was hiding it so well. He kept his voice level, his hands shake-free, and the corners of his lips turned up just enough that she wouldn’t ask questions. Apparently he didn’t though, because his mom immediately steps closer to him and sets her cold, wet hand on his forehead.“You’re pale,” she states, moving down to cup his cheeks.“Mom,” he complains, squirming out of her grasp and grabbing onto the counter, so he doesn’t fall directly off the stool. “I’m fine.”“Is it Mike?” she asks without hesitation. He doesn’t like the implications of that. Of course, if something is wrong with Will, it has to be because Mike broke his heart. Why? Why is that her first guess? What does she know? Exactly how obvious are his feelings?“Mom!” he repeats, blushing furiously. Very obvious, apparently. At least he isn’t sickly pale anymore. “What— why would it be Mike? It’s seriously nothing. I’m just tired.”Lie. Liar. He’s lying to his mother.This only seems to make her more worried. “Have your nightmares started again?”“No,” he replies meekly, actually being truthful this time. He glances out the kitchen window toward a big tree in their yard— the same one the leaf had fallen off of earlier. It’s thankfully still full of green. “Not yet. We just stayed up late.”She obviously doesn’t buy his excuse, biting her bottom lip as she stares at him in contemplation, but she turns back to her cutting board nonetheless. Will uses this as an opportunity to sneak another bit of celery.His mom tsks, batting his hand away even though it’s practically to his mouth by this point. “If you keep doing that, we’re not going to have any left for dinner.”Will thinks that’s a bit of an exaggeration, since he took exactly two pieces out of the hundred in front of them, but he doesn’t mention it. “Sorry,” he says, failing to keep a straight face.She sighs, accepting defeat. “I never had much of a problem getting you to eat your vegetables. You were always such a little bunny. You and your greens,” she shakes her head fondly. “You were an easy kid.”“And a difficult teen?” he mostly jokes. He’s never been into parties— never had the chance. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs, doesn’t hang out in abandoned buildings. But he can’t say that his adolescence was easy; not for anyone. His mom became a social outcast— she moved across the country because of him. She can’t sleep until she knows that Will is safe and sound. And to top it all off, Will still bugs her with this stuff. She still obsesses over his well-being 24/7, because he can’t handle his own emotions. And then he lies to her face about it. So, yeah— difficult teen.“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she denies, the edges of her mouth quirking up. “You’re a great boy— the best boy. I just wish you’d talk to me sometimes, you know?” she moves closer to him once again, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “You don’t have to keep everything to yourself. Let me carry some of your weight.”It takes every ounce of strength Will has not to burst into tears. He’s sure his mom can tell, but he ignores it. He won’t crack. He’s fine. She doesn’t need to worry. He can handle this on his own.She seems to realize that he’s not going to budge, blinking away her own tears and nodding sadly. He hates that he makes her cry. “Dinner won’t be ready for another hour. Why don’t you see if you can fit a nap in there?” She fakes a smile and ruffles his hair.He knows she’s only playing along for his benefit, but he’s too desperate to care. He just wants to lie down. “Yeah, thanks,” he responds, hopping off the stool to grab his backpack, and turns down the hallway. As soon as he gets to his room, he flops down on the bed and grabs his favorite stuffed animal, Tony the Tiger.Will buries his head into Tony’s fur and sobs. He wants this to be over. He’s defeated all the monsters, so why is he still haunted? Why can’t he move on already? Why does his brain force him to relive his worst memories? He just wishes he could forget.If his eyes are still red by the time he makes it down to dinner, his mom doesn’t comment on it. Perhaps the only thing that makes Will feel worse than being treated like glass, is this stupid game of pretend he forces everyone to play. At least before he didn’t have to ignore the looks of disappointment thrown his way.
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“I totally bombed that test,” Dustin groans as the Party exits the front doors of the school.“So, in Dustin-speak, you got a ninety-two?” Max retorts.“No,” he snaps back, rolling his eyes. “Like, a high seventy.”Mike registers that the conversation continues in front of him— something about how a C is not a bad grade to normal people— but he pays it no mind. Instead, his attention is immediately grabbed by the small shiver of Will next to him as they walk away from campus.Will should not be shivering. It’s late September— the weather hasn’t even dropped into the sixties yet. The only reason Mike has his jacket on right now is because the school likes to freeze their kids to death by blasting the air conditioning. Will had been perfectly fine in history, but now that Mike is actively sweating, he’s suddenly cold. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why— though Mike does consider himself to be a genius on all things Will. Having seen the way he glanced up at the trees with dread the second they stepped outside, it’s pretty obvious.Will has looked like shit these past couple weeks. That’s not a diss— he’s still as beautiful as always, of course— but Mike doesn’t think Will has slept in days. He’s constantly on edge, he has permanent eye bags, and he’s always zoned out. It only seems to be getting worse as time goes on.Will had clearly noticed it long before he did, but it really is starting to look like fall. The trees are spotted with orange and yellow, and the sun is hidden behind gray clouds. Normally, this would make Mike excited— fall has been his favorite season since he was a kid. Now he’s just worried.The anniversary effect is a very real thing; they’ve all felt it. Especially Will, as another shiver racks through him, stronger than the last. This time, Will takes a step closer to Mike and presses their shoulders together. Whether it’s for body heat or comfort, Mike doesn’t know, but he isn’t going to complain.He wishes he could put his arm around Will, but unfortunately, they’re still well within view of their classmates as they continue down the sidewalk towards their usual after-school hangout. All Mike can do is accept his touch and not move away.The two of them have always been more affectionate than most, but it seems like Will has been extra clingy these past few days— Mike finds it incredibly endearing. Not only is he savoring every moment that Will blesses him with his proximity, but also, Mike has never felt more needed in his life. When Will is scared, he’s the one he goes to. He feels safe next to Mike. Protected. Comfortable. It makes Mike want to die— in a good way.If Mike can’t protect him from the horrible memories and sleepless nights, he can at least protect him from the autumn breeze. He quickly tugs off his leather jacket and holds it out for Will to take, who looks down at it in surprise.“What?” he asks, glancing between it and Mike, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.“You’re cold,” Mike states, no room for question. He knows that Will would lie about it if he could.“Yeah, but— that’s yours,” he points out, as if Mike hadn’t spent months begging his parents to buy it for him. He is very well aware, thank you. “I don’t need it. I’m fine.”“Will, I’m literally sweating my ass off. I was going to put it away anyway— just take it.” Mike shoves it forward into his space as an offer— a demand— and Will begrudgingly accepts it. His small smile negates any hostility he’s trying to fake.“Thanks,” Will mutters as he slides his arms into the sleeves. His shoulders instantly slump in relief as he takes a deep, calming breath. Mike feels a sense of pride rise in him; he did that. He helped Will relax. He wants to do this for him for the rest of their lives.To Mike’s surprise, Will doesn’t retreat into his own personal space— he glues himself right back to Mike’s side. This is totally okay. Will is just wearing his jacket, pressed up against his arm. Mike has never felt the outside of his jacket on his skin like this, and for some reason, it’s driving him crazy. Maybe it’s the fact that Will is the one wearing it— the solid force on the other side of the fabric is his best friend’s (and lifelong crush’s) arm. His favorite person is wearing his favorite possession, and it made him happy to do so.Mike just wishes he could do more. It was so easy when they were little— a hug, a pat on the back, a handhold. When did that change? When did he have to start rationing Will’s touch? Why can’t he just show Will that he loves him, like a normal friend could?Because he’s in love with him, that’s why. He’s not a normal friend. He’s not a normal anything. Hugs aren’t just the typical “I’m here for you.” They’re laced with secrets— hidden meanings, ulterior motives. Every display of physical affection is tainted by Mike’s love. It’s not okay anymore.Maybe he just needs to get over himself. Push past his feelings and do it anyway— for Will’s sake. Will needs him to. He wants him to, with how he’s leaning his weight against Mike. It’s his own fault anyway; Mike can’t keep denying Will of an important aspect of their friendship just because he’s a freak with a crush.As the Party turns right past the laundromat and under an umbrella of browning trees, Mike deems them far enough into town that they’d be safe from their classmates’ ridicule. He carefully inches his hand slightly to the left until the pads of his fingers tickle Will’s palm, which twitches, but doesn’t move away. In his peripheral he can see Will look down in curiosity, but Mike keeps his eyes straight ahead. He takes this silent acknowledgment as an okay, slowly hooking his pointer and middle finger around Will’s ring and pinky.For a horrifying second, Mike thinks that he’s being rejected as Will’s hand shifts in his loose grasp— but Will only aligns their palms, intertwining their fingers in a proper handhold and giving a squeeze. Mike might die.They’re holding hands. He’s holding Will’s hand. Like a real couple. He tries to remind himself that this is just for Will’s comfort— because he’s scared and needs the support of his best friend— but that’s not an easy feat when they both make shy eye contact, and Will’s cheeks are bright red from where he’s most likely overheating in Mike’s sweltering hot jacket.Mike remembers that he never really gave a response to Will’s gesture, and quickly squeezes him back, attempting a small, reassuring smile. Will drops his head to his feet, but Mike can still see the pleased look on his face. It brings a slight skip to his step, knowing that Will likes holding his hand.As much as Mike is proud of that fact, the rest of Hawkins would not be. That’s why he carries out the second half of his plan, attaching himself to Will’s hip as he places their hands into his— Will’s— jacket pocket. Now no one walking behind them can tell that anything is awry; other than the fact that Mike is completely invading Will’s space, but that’s really nothing new. Their fronts are covered by Lucas and Max, and then even further by El and Dustin ahead of them. They’re surrounded— like they have personal bodyguards for the sole purpose of holding hands.“You alright?” Mike whispers, leaning over unnecessarily, as if the half-a-foot of space between their heads wasn’t close enough.Will shivers for a third time— now it’s just getting concerning. It is a slight relief though, in a fucked up sort of way. At least he knows that Will hasn’t been possessed again. Mike thinks that this might be the reason Will wears so many layers all the time— to remind himself that he’s okay. With that, plus the fact that he was stuck in the freezing Upside Down, being cold must be hell for Will. That’s just another reason to lend him his jacket.“Yeah,” Will replies, high and squeaky. He’s lying. Will has always had a bad habit of lying. Normally Mike can’t stand it, but for him he makes an exception. “Just… fall, y’know?”Mike does know. He knows all too well— like last year, when he pretended to be sick on Halloween so he wouldn’t have to take his sister trick-or-treating. Or a week after that, when he pretended to be sick again, just so he wouldn’t have to go to school without Will for a second November 6th. His mom calls it separation anxiety. Mike calls it being in love.“Yeah, I get it,” Mike assures, his voice automatically going soft, the way it does whenever Will is in distress. “Do you wanna talk about it?”“Not really,” he shrugs, which actually means, “Definitely not, but I don’t want to sound like a jerk. Do not ask again.” That’s different from his, “It’s fine,” meaning, “Please ask again. I don’t want to be a bother, and I won’t say anything unless you insist.”Mike nods, returning his gaze back to the road ahead of them, so that he doesn’t accidentally run directly into Lucas’s back or anything. It’s sort of peaceful like this, hand-in-hand with Will as they walk to their favorite diner, squishing prematurely fallen leaves beneath their feet and staining the ground orange. If this were any other situation, Mike could almost pretend they were on a date. Maybe they would head to the pumpkin patch, or the theater to watch a scary movie. He can dream, right?Without warning, Max whips her head around in Mike’s relative direction, and says, “Do you two want to join in on our conversation, or are you just going to whisper to yourselves the whole time?”Mike has never been so grateful that Max is blind in his life. There would really be no way to explain their proximity right now. He would probably give some dumb half-truth, such as, ”Will needed me,” that Max would never in a million years believe. In turn, she’d probably reveal Mike’s massive crush and out him to the entire Party. And that’s a fact.Lucas, on the other hand, is not blind. As he looks back for a response from the both of them, he immediately clocks the fact that Mike’s hand is shoved into the pocket of Will’s— Mike’s— jacket. Lucas’s eyes travel up the length of them, touching at every point from thigh to shoulder, and just scoffs, shaking his head and spinning back around. “I’m thinking they’re going to choose the latter.”That’s it? No questions? No teasing? No exile from the friend group? He’s holding another boy’s hand. Shouldn’t that be at least a little shocking? Sure, Lucas might have seen this same exact picture hundreds of times when they were kids, but they’re not kids now. Mike is practically an adult, kind of— he knows the implications of his actions and he’s doing them anyway. Is that not weird to anyone?Will’s hand tightens around his as he shifts uncomfortably. Mike knows exactly how he feels. Open. Exposed. Under scrutiny. Even though Will isn’t gay, he has always been teased for it. It must be just as scary for him to have other people see them like this.It doesn’t come as a surprise when Will quickly pulls away as they enter the diner, setting a good distance of four inches between them. Mike tries not to look too disappointed at this; it was the smart move. He probably would have done the same if Will hadn’t gotten to it first. They can’t risk it, even if they know it was merely platonic.The Party takes their usual places in their designated booth— Dustin, Lucas, and Max on one side, and Mike, Will, and El on the other. This time, instead of letting El have her typical spot nearest to the wall, Mike ushers Will in first, following shortly behind him. If Will doesn’t want to be seen, he won’t be seen. Mike can tell that he’s getting a bit antsy. Antsy leads to anxious, anxious leads to panic, panic leads to hyperventilating in the middle of a restaurant. No one wants that. It’s best to be cautious.“Okay…” El drawls, sitting in the only open spot left beside Mike. It was admittedly a strange move— completely out of character. Mike is a stickler for tradition. If anyone else had switched seats, he probably would have made a fuss. Even Will gives him an odd look.Luckily, the others soon forget about it when the waiter comes to take their orders. They all get their usual Friday treats— milkshakes and fries. Mike, of course, orders chocolate, and Will vanilla. Will has always been very indecisive, and Mike has never really cared about which flavor of shake he drinks; it’s ice cream, they’re all good. By buying one of each, they can share and get the best of both worlds. It’s a routine that they worked out at the grand old age of seven, and continue to carry out to this day.The food takes all of five minutes to arrive, and in that time, Will hasn’t raised his eyes from the table once. Is this about what Lucas saw? Is he embarrassed about it? Does he regret it? Will he ever be able to look at Mike the same again?“This place is really decked out for Halloween, isn’t it?” Dustin comments, glancing around at the orange and purple lights strung above them.Oh. That makes a lot more sense. Mike had been too busy observing Will to notice, but the diner is absolutely covered in decorations. It looks like it came straight out of a department store’s Halloween section. There are plastic pumpkins on the service counter, spiderwebs in every corner, and little orange tablecloths with tiny witches‘ hats printed along the sides. That’s why Will is on edge. Not for the first time in Mike’s life, he has to remind himself that not everything is about him.“It’s Hawkins,” Max shrugs, taking a bite of her fry. “What else is there to do but go all-out on holidays?”“True,” Dustin agrees, nodding as he drinks up the rest of his milkshake, making that awful slurping noise as the straw comes up empty.“Can you not do that?” Lucas requests, already annoyed.“What? This?” he asks, before taking another long sip.“Dude,“ Lucas complains over the increasingly loud noise. “You are so annoying—“As Mike starts to zone out of the conversation, he feels a hand come to rest tentatively on top of his, where it lies on the booth between him and Will. He looks over, surprised, to find Will already staring at him nervously, as if he thinks that Mike will pull away. He won’t, obviously. Instead, he turns his palm up and interlocks their fingers together once again.So what if he has to eat with his left hand? Will initiated this. He chose this. It makes him feel comfortable and safe. Life can’t get any better than this, Mike thinks.Mike grabs a fry and dunks it into the vanilla milkshake, just so he has an excuse to reach an arm across Will and lean into his space.“Ew,” El scrunches up her nose as soon as he starts chewing.“What?” he demands with a mouth full of food. One of the benefits of being broken up is that he no longer has to pretend to have manners.“Why do you always do that?”“Do what?” Mike repeats, even though he knows what she’s going to say.“You mix your fries and your shake,” she explains, distaste written all over her face. She’s starting to act just a little too much like Max. One of her is already enough.Before he can spit out his super cool, extremely witty response— something along the lines of ”because I wanna”— Will beats him to it.“‘Cause it’s good,” he answers simply, dipping his own fry into Mike’s chocolate shake and popping it into his mouth.“Will, no!” Max exclaims, dramatically throwing a hand over her chest. “You were supposed to be on our side!”Dustin shakes his head sadly. “It’s too late for him. He’s long been corrupted by Mike’s weird food habits. We lost him years ago to syrup on eggs.”“Why do you all hate sweet and salty?” Mike accuses, pointing a fry around the table. “It’s, like, a staple of cuisine around the world.”“You eat spoonfuls of Cocoa Pebbles and peanut butter,” Lucas deadpans, which is unfortunately true. He should have taken that one to the grave. “Don’t act like you’re some chef.”Will shrugs. “It’s not that bad.”“You tried that one too?” Dustin yells, distraught, nearly drawing the attention of the entire diner. Fuck yeah, he did. Will is the only one he can convince to try his weird creations. He’s the only one that trusts Mike enough.Will laughs softly into his free hand, leaning over to whisper into Mike’s ear, “Wait until he hears that we ate them as sandwiches when we were little.”Mike returns his smile, but it’s nothing compared to the literal sun he’s staring at right now. If his job was to distract Will from the impending autumn, he thinks he did pretty good at it. He no longer has that haunted look in his eyes, or the tired set to his frame. He’s light, and happy, and so extremely carefree. Mike would sell his soul to keep him this way.As they exit the diner soon after, Ms. Byers is already parked outside. Mike can’t wait for the day that he gets his own license and can drive Will home himself. Until then, Ms. Byers is not going to leave Will without a ride. Sadly, this means an early goodbye.“I’ll see you Monday, yeah?” Mike asks uselessly. Of course they’ll see each other. They follow the same routine every week.“Yeah,” Will confirms anyway, the nonjudgmental soul that he is. “I’ll see you then.For once in his life, Mike decides not to second guess himself. He launches himself onto Will, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his face into his shoulder. Will responds just as easily, circling Mike’s waist and pulling him in closer. Mike wishes he could do this all the time. He loves hugging Will, and Will obviously does too. He needs to stop letting fear run his life.For a moment, Mike considers asking for his jacket, since Will no longer has any use for it. But as soon as Will pulls back, he decides to let him keep it. It looks better on him anyway. It looks great on him. Like… perfect. Will should wear more black— or more of Mike’s clothes. Either one.“Bye,” Will waves as he opens the passenger door, disappearing into the seat. Mike feels cold as their car drives away, but he doesn’t think it has anything to do with his missing jacket.
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The first thing Will’s mom says to him as he buckles his seatbelt is, “That’s not your jacket.” It’s only now that Will realizes he still has it on.Her words aren’t accusatory— more curious. The only way Will would ever be able to afford a leather jacket is if he thrifted an old, beaten-up one from the local Goodwill. Not to mention, the sleeves go all the way down to his fingertips. There’s no fooling Joyce Byers— it’s obviously not his.Will fiddles with the button on the cuff, contemplating rolling up the sleeves so they actually fit like they’re supposed to. He decides against it— he likes feeling like he’s drowning in it. “No, it’s uh— it’s Mike’s,” he tries to get out as casually as possible, failing miserably. His mom raises an eyebrow— whether it’s at Mike for giving Will his jacket, or Will himself for acting like an idiot about it, he has no idea. “I was cold,” he adds, in a lame attempt at an excuse.“That was nice of him,” she comments, the way that moms do when they’re trying to hint at something. Unfortunately for her, Will isn’t going to crack that easily. If she wants an admission of his feelings, she isn’t getting one.It was nice of him. Unusually so. Not that Mike isn’t nice— he’s just typically friend-nice. This was boyfriend-nice. Offering jackets, holding hands, goodbye hugs? They haven’t done that stuff since they learned what boyfriends were. It’s got him thinking— why? What was up with Mike today? Was it really because Will was acting like a baby about the weather? He finds that hard to believe. Even when Will was in the process of getting possessed, Mike didn’t go around holding his hand in public. It’s an unspoken rule that if one of them needs comfort, they carry it out only when they’re in private. It’s never a prolonged thing— a hand resting on a hand, and then a pullback. A borrowed blanket, returned by the end of the night— not like this.It feels different somehow— like something has changed. The longer Will dwells on it, the more it becomes a boyfriend thing, and less of a male best friend thing. Lucas seemed to think it was weird. That was a ”you two are not normal friends” scoff. He sees something there. Will isn’t crazy— Mike is crazy. Something is happening, and he’s not the only one who can tell.He needs help. Professional help, from an unbiased source. Well, maybe not unbiased, but reliable. His mom did tell him to come to her with stuff more often. If anyone knows about relationships, it’s her. She’ll tell him that he’s making stuff up out of his own hopeful desires, and that will be the end of it. Case closed.He’s made his decision by the time the car ride comes to an end. The two of them make their way inside the house, where Will stops his mom as she dumps her purse in the living room. “Mom? I have a question.”He can do this. He just has to stay vague. No unnecessary conversations need to happen today.She turns around to face him, taking in his fidgeting hands and restless feet, clearly sensing that this is a more serious chat. She grabs his arm and leads him to the couch, sitting them face-to-face. “What’s up?”“Hypothetically…” Will starts, looking everywhere but at her.“Hypothetically,” she parrots, nodding along as she pretends to believe him. He’s not fooling anyone.“Hypothetically,” he repeats anyway, telling himself that she’s convinced, “how would you know if someone liked you?”“Oh, it’s that kind of question,” his mom teases, and Will really doesn’t like the look on her face right now. It takes everything in him not to bang his head on the coffee table. Why is he talking to his mother about his love life again? Was she seriously the only choice here? “Well, hypothetically, what would be your hypothetical relationship with this person?”“Friends.” It’s a vast oversimplification of their actual relationship, leaving out ten years of history and development, but he can’t exactly give any more details. He only has two girl best friends— one of which is his sister, and the other of which is in a happily committed relationship.“I see,” she responds ominously. Will really hopes she doesn’t. “Do you know the friends of this friend? Hypothetically?” Will nods. “And does your friend treat you differently than them?”“Well, yeah, but that’s just—“ that’s just how we are. It’s how we always have been. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he concludes lamely, picking at his nail beds.“Maybe it doesn’t,” she shrugs, taking one of his hands in hers. “But it definitely doesn’t mean that you’re completely out of the running.”Will hates the butterflies that come alive in his stomach. Hope. He wanted to kill those things once and for all.He releases an overly-dramatic sigh.“What?” his mom demands, nudging his shoe with hers.“You were supposed to tell me that I was being ridiculous.”“Why?” she asks. “You don’t want them to like you?”Will thinks that the “them” in her sentence sounds awfully masculine. Maybe he’s just being paranoid— but wouldn’t a normal mother use she? Gender-neutral pronouns are somehow more revealing than admitting he’s talking about a guy. It’s just another game of pretend between them.“No, I do,” Will corrects, cringing at himself immediately. He just admitted to his mom that he has a crush. His mom. Sure, the main reason he never talks about this sort of stuff with her is because he’s gay, and very, very closeted. But the other reason—“Aww,” she coos, scooping him up in a hug. “My baby’s all grown up.”“No, I’m not,” he denies, squirming and pushing on her arms to get away. “Mom. Please don’t make a big deal out of this.”“But you’re coming to me for relationship advice! It is a big deal.” Will gives her a look of disapproval, and she finally relents, loosening her grip and allowing him to slip out of her grasp. “Fine. But why are you so upset that they might like you back?”“Because they don’t,” he stresses. She wouldn’t get it. She’s never had a crush on a girl before. Will’s chances are so unbelievably slim; what looks like a sure bet to his mom is really a life-threatening risk. He can’t afford to get his hopes up. Eventually he’ll start to think that he actually has a chance— and that would lead to him making a move on Mike, humiliating himself in front of his best friend, and ruining any possibility of staying in his life forever.“Sounds like you don’t really believe that,” his mom points out. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have asked.”Will hates logic. It ruins his pessimistic thought process. How is he supposed to wallow in self-pity if his mom is throwing facts in his face? He doesn’t want facts. He wants people to lie to him for peace of mind.“Look,” she continues, sympathetic and gentle and all too knowing. “Relationships are hard. But love isn’t just going to fall into your lap. Sometimes you have to take a risk, and trust the other person to catch you if you fall.”Will has taken risks. He’s spilled his heart out over and over again, with no response from Mike. Sooner or later he’s going to catch on. Maybe that’s what his mom is telling him to do— let him catch on. No more running off into the rain after admitting that he wants to be with Mike for the rest of his life. No more raw love confessions with his sister’s name signed at the bottom. No more almosts. No running away. No hiding. Give Mike a lit match, and trust him not to burn down their friendship.He does trust Mike. He trusts him completely. Who Will doesn’t trust is himself. He doesn’t trust himself not to ruin them. If Mike finds out and reacts badly, that’s not on him— that’s on Will. He wouldn’t blame Mike if he decided to use that match. Mike is the victim. It’s not his fault if they break.Then again, it’s Mike. If anyone would be kind about this, it’s Mike. He’s so sweet and understanding; the worst he could do is give Will a pitying smile and let him down gently. They might not hold hands anymore, but is that really a bad thing? It’s better than getting led on. And if his mom is right— if Mike could like him back— that would have to be worth the risk. What’s worse— potentially damaging his friendship, or losing out on a romantic opportunity with the love of his life because he was too scared to try?Will ponders that question until well past his bedtime. It’s a normal routine for him at this point: getting ready for bed at 10 p.m. sharp, only to fall asleep well into the a.m. He tries to sleep, but his brain doesn’t let him. It’s torture— waiting for rest, knowing he’s going to be woken up by an inevitable nightmare. He’s just a sitting duck, counting down the seconds until his doom. Some weekends, he gives up trying whatsoever.He doesn’t want to do that tonight. He’s unbelievably tired, and he just wants to catch up on sleep for once. Getting more than a couple hours would be great, even if it will make him groggy in the morning.Will flops on his back in exasperation and stares at the ceiling. It’s not going to happen. Not only is he kept up by the fear of whatever horrible visions he’s going to have this morning, he also can’t stop hearing his mother’s voice in his head.Why did he even ask in the first place if he didn’t want the answer? It would have been a disaster either way— soul-crushing disappointment, or soul-crushing hope. He doesn’t know what to do— and for some reason, his brain thinks that he has to decide right this moment.Will remembers what he used to do to ward off nightmares when he first returned from the Upside Down. During his time in the hospital, he received many gifts from neighbors and parents who pretended to actually care about him, just so they would look good in front of their snobby friends. Most were flowers or cards—none of which were of any use to a twelve year old boy. He did not care that he was in your prayers, Linda.There were a few gifts he appreciated, though. Firstly, the mixtape his brother made him. He still listens to it on bad days— which means it’s been getting a lot of love lately. Then there was his X-Men 134 from Dustin, even though it wasn’t really a present if he earned it fair and square.Most importantly, however, was the stuffed frog that Mike gave him. Will loves that frog. It was the only way he was ever able to get through a night alone. Not only was it great to hold on to when he was scared, but it also smelled like Mike’s basement. It smelled like Mike; which is super creepy and should not have been as comforting as it was. It always felt like Mike was in the room with him. He gave that to Will to protect him— and he certainly felt protected.Even now that the scent is long gone, Sir Ribbit— Mike’s name, not his— lies rightfully on his bed all autumn. And anniversary. And whenever he misses Mike. So, really, every day of the year. Sadly, it has lost its magic. It’s nothing more than a nice gesture now. A symbol of Mike’s care. Maybe if Will put Mike’s jacket on it…Or—No. Nope. He is not cuddling Mike’s jacket to sleep like a complete weirdo. That would be so strange, even for him.But he is tired. And Mike gave it to him.Accidentally. He’s borrowing it. And that still wouldn’t give him permission to snuggle it. Not Mike’s prized possession.…Fuck it.He’s tired. He’s in no state to think clearly right now. He can freak out about it in the morning. That’s future-Will’s problem when he can’t look himself in the mirror. Present-Will wants to sleep.He gets out from under the covers and walks over to his desk, pulling the jacket off the back of his chair. He ashamedly hurries back to his bed, head down to hide his face from the zero witnesses to his crime. This is too much. He’s done for. After he does this, he’ll officially be insane.Though, it’s better than sleeping through math and embarrassing himself in front of the entire class when he wakes up screaming, so he tucks himself in and buries his face into the jacket.He’s a freak.Initially, it doesn’t work. His heart is beating too fast from the adrenaline to relax, and his first inhale doesn’t help that. It smells like Mike. Maybe he should have factored in how developing a major crush on Mike since the last time he tried this might affect the results. But as his eyelids start to droop and his thoughts become foggy, he realizes that this might work after all. In fifteen short minutes, Will is asleep.Surprisingly, he doesn’t have any nightmares that night. Embarrassingly, he doesn’t have any the night after either.He went back for the jacket.Can he really be blamed? He slept all night for the first time in weeks. Sure, he felt horrible afterwards, but nowhere near as horrible as he would have if he woke up crying, thinking that he mysteriously teleported back into the Upside Down. It’s a method that works; it’s the only method that works. He’s tried everything— vitamins, medication, Dr. Owens’ “therapy.” It’s all useless. It turns out, all he needs is the smell of leather, fabric softener, and teenage boy. The power of love, or whatever.He’s giving it back tomorrow— he’s not so messed up that he’d steal it— so what’s the harm in using it for one more night? He can’t undo what he did. The damage is already done. He might as well take advantage of the situation while he still can.“Honey?” his mom calls from behind his closed door, knocking once before entering. He looks up from the sketchbook he was drawing in— not a picture of Mike— and sees her standing in the doorway of his room. “I’m doing a load of laundry. Do you want me to put Mike’s jacket in?”No. Why would he want that? That’s his ticket to rest. He needs that. If she washes it, it’s all over. It’s no use if it smells like his detergent.Will’s eyes flit over to his desk chair, where he thankfully remembered to return the jacket early this morning. “Uh— why?” he asks intelligently, sounding not at all panicked or stiff.“Because it’s polite,” she answers, making her way over to his desk and picking up the jacket without his permission anyway. He wants to stop her, but what can he say? Stop! That’s my super secret security blanket! He’s going to scream. “When someone lends you their clothes, you wash them before you return them.”Mike doesn’t care. Will knows that Mike doesn’t care— he barely washes that thing himself— but his mom wouldn’t take that excuse. She has to “set a good example,” and “make a good impression on Karen,” as if they haven’t known each other since high school.But then Will remembers the fact that he literally slept with the jacket for the last two nights, and that he should probably be jumping at the opportunity to get rid of any potential evidence. He can already imagine Mike going, “Hey, why does my jacket smell like you’ve been living it in? You only wore it for two hours,” and then Will would have to come up with some bullshit lie that they‘d both have to pretend to believe.That’s why Will gives him mom a small, “Sure, thanks,” and doesn’t protest as she walks away with the one thing that’s brought him any comfort in the past two weeks.Maybe he can steal another jacket from Mike next time he visits— one that he won’t notice is missing. He doubts it though. That might be taking things a step too far. He’ll just have to get through this the old fashioned way: with a lot of pain and suffering.
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Mike picks at the bun of his chicken sandwich as the Party chatters around him. He’s not paying attention; he rarely does. He’s more focused on the history test he has next period that he didn’t study neary enough for.That is, until Lucas decides to breach the forbidden topic. “It’s officially October. What were we thinking for costumes?”Mike loves his friends— he really does— but sometimes they can be straight-up clueless. They don’t notice the things that he does— like the way Will immediately goes rigid beside him at the mere mention of Halloween. They just don’t understand. This time of year isn’t really an issue for the others; not like it is for Will. Their problems don’t start until early November, or spring in Max’s case. They weren’t at the hospital with Will. They didn’t deal with him when he was possessed. They weren’t there. They will never understand like Mike does.“Aren’t we getting a bit old to dress up?” Max asks judgmentally. Mike doesn’t even get to call her out on her hateful and wrong opinion, because unfortunately for him, this is the perfect ticket out.“You can never be too old to dress up,” Dustin corrects. Mike agrees. Dressing up is cool in elementary school, lame in middle and high school, but cool again in college. It’s all just bullshit anyway— they should get to do what they want without caring about what other people think. Although, this time, what he wants is to stay home and not dress up. “You’re such a negative Nancy.”“Leave my sister out of this,” Mike jokes, trying to crack a smile out of Will. It works only slightly, which is better than nothing. “And isn’t it a bit early to start planning this? It’s only the first,” he attempts, earning some curious and downright concerned stares.“Are you alright?” Lucas questions, holding his palm up to Mike’s forehead as if checking his temperature. Mike bats his arm away with a scowl. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’re usually begging us to start planning our costumes at the start of September. It would be earlier too, if we didn’t force you to wait until closer to fall.”“Yeah, you’re the king of Halloween,” Dustin adds, helping absolutely no one here. Mike was the king of Halloween. Now he flinches when he hears the Ghostbusters theme song.“I’m fine, nothing is wrong with me,” Mike insists, sulking as he tears his sandwich apart on his tray. They will never understand. They were all too focused on the new girl to pay any attention to what was going on with Will.“Good,” Dustin says, turning back to address the table at large. “So what are we thinking?”Great. That went well.“We could be The Breakfast Club,” El suggests, a movie that she knows Mike likes. This feels like a trap. It could be worse, he supposes. At least it’s not a very Halloween-themed choice. Will could survive a night as The Breakfast Club. “But one of us would have to be the principal.”“That’s good,” Dustin nods, pulling out his notebook to jot down ideas. “Who would be who? Lucas as Andrew, obviously. El as Claire, Max as Allison, me as Brian, Will as John, and… Mike as Vernon, I guess?”That is actually offensive. Mike doesn’t want to jump to any inaccurate conclusions, but… he’s totally John, right? He’s certainly not a middle aged man who only lives to make kids suffer. That is diabolical, and absolutely targeted.Max is the first to complain. “That’s actually so impressive. How did you manage to get everyone but Lucas wrong?”“Seriously, I look nothing like John,” Will agrees.“Well, no, but personality-wise—“ Dustin starts. Bullshit it’s based on personality. The only reason Will got stuck with him is because Dustin wanted to fuck Mike over.“Why am I the principal?” he tries, fruitlessly. Ignored as always.“I want to be the weird girl,” El interrupts, bringing their fighting to an immediate halt. “I like her.”Max sighs in resignation. “Does that mean I’m the frilly girly-girl?”“It is Halloween,” Mike quips. Logically, it makes sense— Max has to be the redhead. “And Will would be Brian, I would be Bender, and Dustin, that would make you Vernon.” Checkmate.That sentence seems to have gotten a reaction out of the wrong person. “Are you calling me a nerd?” Will raises his eyebrows at him, daring him to say yes.Mike shrugs one shoulder, turning his head away to hide his smirk, eyes glinting mischievously. “You’re a goody two-shoes, Will. Come on.”Will gasps, kicking Mike in the ankle. “I am not. I’m… rebellious.”Liar. He is such a liar, it’s adorable.“You cried when Mrs. Reid yelled at you for accidentally sitting on the wrong mat square during reading time.”“I was seven,” Will rebuts, like that makes a difference. He still gets upset whenever he forgets to do his chores.“Hold on,” Lucas waves his hands for a time-out, before verbally attacking Mike like a bully, barely containing his laughter. “You cast yourself as the bad-boy?”Mike sputters, blushing as the table giggles. Everyone but Will, who hides a smile behind his hand like a good friend. “Well it wouldn’t be Dustin,” he fires back. And then, before he can quit while he’s ahead, “I can be bad.”Max almost doubles over in laughter, clutching her stomach as she goes red in the face. “You have a puzzle collection.”Hey. She needs to leave his puzzles out of this. They’re a very relaxing pastime to help him calm down after a long day. He doesn’t even let his sister play with them, which is pretty bad if you ask him.As he’s about to come up with a better defense— because even he knows that he would be mocked into oblivion if he spoke his initial thoughts out loud— he feels someone lightly elbow him in the side.“I think you’d make a good John,” Will admits quietly, smiling softly just for him. It makes Mike feel incredibly special. “You’d look cool. With the gloves and stuff.”That… seems like flirting. Is that flirting? No. Will is not flirting with him in the middle of lunch. He’s not flirting, period. Those are Mike’s own twisted desires; all he wants is for Will to think he looks good. That’s the main reason he wanted to dress as him in the first place. Plus the fact that Brian is totally gay for him, but that’s another story.“Well, let’s put a star next to Breakfast Club,” Dustin decides, as he does just that. “Any other suggestions?”“We could do Ghostbusters again,” Lucas supplies. “Now that we have a Dana.” Mike wants to strangle him for the way Will closes himself back off. The situation was handled. Mike handled it. Will was cracking jokes and playing along with Mike’s antics. They were approaching the subject of Halloween in a careful manner. But no— Lucas had to suggest the one thing that would send Will into a spiral.“We can’t have two Dana’s,” Max argues, which is true and also very correct. They should listen to her and drop it.Or, El could say, “I can be a ghost. I’ve always wanted to be a ghost.”“Do we really want to be Ghostbusters again?” Mike hurries to interject. “I mean, we’ve already done it. Isn’t it a bit redundant?”“I don’t mind repeating,” Dustin shrugs, completely missing the dread in Will’s eyes. Mike needs to fix this. He would die before letting this plan be carried out. “But nothing is set in stone. We can go look at costumes this weekend and decide then.”“I heard about a new store in Indianapolis,” Max proposes. ”It’s only open during fall. I know it’s kind of far, but they’ll have more options than here.”“That sounds cool,” El nods. “We should do that. It would be a fun trip.”No. No it wouldn’t. A whole store full of Halloween decorations? That’s a living nightmare— for Will. He seems to agree too, looking over at Mike in panic. He can fix it. He needs to.“My mom can probably drive,” he thinks he hears Lucas say over the blood rushing in his ears. He has to get Will out of here.“I need to get something from my locker before class,” Mike loudly announces, turning to Will as an invitation. “Want to come?”Will breathes out a small sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly sagging. “Yeah, sure.”“There’s twenty minutes of lunch left,” Max points out, looking more than a little confused. They all do.“Well, I have to go to the bathroom too. And cram from for the history test,” he lies, already picking his backpack up off the ground. “See you in class.”Will doesn’t even bother saying goodbye to the others as he follows close on Mike’s heels. Seriously— he steps on Mike’s heels a couple times. He can’t bring himself to mind; if Will needs to step on his shoes to feel comfortable, so be it.They make their way down the hallway and stop beside a vending machine by the boy’s locker room. It’s probably the most secluded area in the school right now— around a corner and away from the eyes of authority. The only downside is that it’s facing a giant window to the outside, colorful trees over a mockingly clear sky and all.Will slides down the wall, just out of range of the sunlight streaming down on the floor. He buries his head into his knees, breathing deeply as if he just ran a marathon instead of speed-walking a couple hundred feet. He wiggles his fingers one-by-one, the way he does whenever he needs to calm down. He’s panicking. Not quite a panic attack— his breaths are coming in too evenly for that. Just regular, everyday panic.Mike knows this routine like the back of his hand. The two of them have been doing this for ten years now, for countless reasons— Will’s dad, starting middle school, the time Troy stole Will’s lunchbox and he was too nervous to tell his mom. The best thing to do in this situation is to remain calm. If he lets Will think that there’s something to be worried about, it’ll only get worse.As leisurely as he can, Mike pulls out his wallet and puts two quarters into the vending machine, pressing C1. He grabs the fallen water bottle from the compartment and pops the seal, knowing how shaky Will’s hands can get, and sits on the ground beside him, holding the bottle in front of his head as an offering.Will slowly looks up, sending Mike a grateful smile, and grabs the water, taking a small sip. Ms. Byers‘ number one solution to tame intense emotions has always been water. Just got in a fight with someone? Drink water to calm down. Cried for an hour straight? Drink water to replenish fluids. Too excited to sit still? Drink water so you have something to do with your hands. It’s something that Will and Mike have grown up on.As Will sets the bottle on the ground, he returns his head back to his knees, this time resting on the side of his cheek, and closes his eyes. Mike now has a perfect view of his face, soft and peaceful and unguarded. He wants to kiss it. Instead, he scoots closer until their arms are pressed together, and wraps one around Will.Will immediately leans into it, letting out one final big breath before he settles down. “I can’t do it,” he whispers into the silent hallway.“That’s okay,” Mike assures, rubbing his hand up and down his arm. “You don’t have to. We can stay home together.”“No,” he protests, lifting his head up to meet Mike’s eyes. He looks so anguished— Mike is going to kill someone. “You go. I’ll be fine alone.”Like hell that’s going to happen. If he could follow Will home and tuck him into bed, he would. He would sleep on the floor of his room to chase the monsters away. If Mike had a choice, he would never leave his side. Ever.“It’s fine. It sounds lame anyway.” If twelve-year-old Mike heard himself say that, he would have beaten himself up. Halloween could never be lame.“Mike,” Will deapans, staring at him with an are you kidding me? look on his face. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”“Doing what?””This,” he stresses, gesturing with one arm to the empty space around them. “You don’t need to keep standing up for me. Ushering me out of the cafeteria, trying to convince the others not to dress up— I’m okay. I can handle this stuff by myself.”He doesn’t mean that. Mike saw the wordless help me in his eyes at lunch. He wants help, he’s just too embarrassed to ask for it. He’s backpedaling; trying to do damage control on his ego. He doesn’t need to. Mike wishes he could see that no one would judge him for this.“I want to,” Mike tells him, aiming for nonchalant. No big deal. Just another casual decision that doesn’t negatively impact him at all. “I would rather be here with you than in that noisy cafeteria.”“I was fine,” he reiterates, mumbling to his feet and convincing absolutely no one. “Doing stuff like that, it just— it draws more attention to me. The others are going to start noticing that something is wrong.”“Is that a bad thing?”Will’s head snaps back up. “What?”“Is it a bad thing?” Mike repeats. Then, when Will raises his eyebrows like he’s hearing the dumbest shit on earth, “I know, I know— they treat you like glass. But at least they’d listen to you. They’ll know your boundaries, and we’d never do anything you aren’t comfortable with. You wouldn’t have to keep pushing yourself like this. We don’t have to do Halloween at all, if it bothers you.”That was the wrong thing to say. Will was opening up to the idea— he could tell. But then Mike had to go and open his big fat mouth and scare him off. There’s no way that Will would “burden” everyone by not allowing them to celebrate one of their favorite holidays.“No,” Will shakes his head, standing up off the floor and out of Mike’s grasp. “No, I’m fine. I just overreacted today, don’t worry about it. I can go this weekend. It’s not a problem.”Great. All Mike wanted to do was make Will comfortable, and now he’s going to overexert himself.“Is there any way I can talk you out of this?” he tries uselessly.“No. I’m doing it.”Mike sighs deeply, joining Will on his feet. If Will is going costume shopping, Mike has to go too. All he can do from now on is be there if Will starts to freak out. They’re in this together. “Fine. We’ll go. But I’m asking you for final decisions on costumes. If you’re not a fan, I’ll find some excuse not to wear them.”“Deal,” Will sticks out his hand with a small, fake grin.This is not going to end well. For the second year in his life, Mike is dreading Halloween.
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As Will hops out the back of the Sinclairs’ minivan, he conveniently “forgets” his jacket on the seat.He has a problem.It’s an addiction at this point. A crazy, unhealthy addiction, developed after only two blissful nights of sleep. Is it really his fault though? He’s about to walk into the store of his nightmares to shop for costumes for one of the worst days of the year— sue him if he wants a bit of comfort for this one.All he has to do is fake a shiver or two; truthfully, he probably won’t have to fake it. He might even decide to give the jacket back at the end of the night— who knows? It would just be nice to be surrounded by Mike in an eternal hug while he fights off flashback after flashback.That is, if Mike even gives him his jacket. If he doesn’t, Will is utterly screwed. All he’s wearing is a thin flannel and a long-sleeved undershirt— which would be plenty warm for the average person, but Will has never been average. He did not think this plan through enough.Whatever— the Sinclairs’ car has already pulled out of the parking lot. It’s too late to change his mind now. At least they’ll be inside for the most part. How bad can it really be?“Will!”He turns to see Mike waiting for him beside the store entrance; the others have already gone inside. Mike nods his head in the direction of the doors. “Are you ready?”Will takes a breath to steel himself, nodding as he determinedly makes his way over. Mike holds the door open for him, threatening to send him into an early death. Why does he have to be such a gentleman all the time? Can’t he be an asshole like the majority of teenage boys?The second Will steps foot in the building, he wants to turn right back around. The first thing he notices are the sound effects coming through the loudspeaker. Witch cackles, booming thumber, and howling wind play periodically over the song Thriller. It’s a stupid thing to be scared by— there are six-year-olds browsing the aisles who are handling it better than him— but it makes him feel sick to his stomach.The entire store is covered in black, orange, and purple. The light-up pumpkins are mocking him with their stupid toothless smiles, and the giant lawn decorations are towering over him. As childish as it is, he feels like they’re going to come alive and haunt him.Will’s breath hitches as Mike’s hand settles on his lower back. He hadn’t even realized that he was frozen in the doorway. “Are you alright?” he whispers into Will’s ear from behind. Will gives a small jerk of his head, forcing his feet to move forward in tiny steps. He hears a cashier snicker to his left, and sees Mike give him a dirty look, muttering, “Jerkwad.”Will’s heart would have warmed at that if he wasn’t dying of embarrassment. No matter how stupid he’s being, Mike will always have his back— literally and figuratively. He keeps his steady hand there as Will slowly navigates the store, giving him just the slightest push. It’s completely necessary; without it, they would both be stranded in the middle of the store.“Hey,” Mike says quietly, making Will glance back at him. “The second this gets too much, tell me. I’ll get you out of here.”Of course he will. He’s Will’s own knight in shining armor. He would expect no less. “I’m okay,” he assures. He means it— he’ll be fine. He just has to keep trudging forward.They find the others in a matter of seconds, browsing one of the many aisles of costumes. It wasn’t hard— all they had to do was follow the sound of laughter from across the store. El is trying on a bright pink wig, and Lucas is shoving every pair of sunglasses he can find onto Max’s face.“Hey!” Dustin calls, waving at them from their short distance of ten feet. “Where have you been?”“Checking out the decorations,” Will lies easily, ignoring Mike’s frown that must be directed at the back of his head. This won’t be too bad. Will can do this. It’s just beaded necklaces and colorful wigs. He’s seen worse from Nancy’s dress-up box. Halloween doesn’t necessarily have to mean scary.“What do you think?” El asks, flipping her hair and spinning in a circle.“You look great,” he says as cheerfully as possible, and she flashes him a smile. “Who are you supposed to be?”“Me with pink hair,” she shrugs, taking it off and setting it back down on the rack. He doesn’t think that’s very sanitary— what if someone has lice?“We were waiting for you two,” Lucas explains, giving Will a forgiving look, but an accusatory to Mike. That’s a bit unfair— it’s Will’s fault they’re even late in the first place. Lucas turns on his heels and starts toward the next aisle. “Now that you’re here, we can really get looking.”Fantastic. Were they not before? Why can’t they stay here with the fun accessories? They can go as lazy high schoolers who think they’re too cool to dress up.Will feels a soft nudge on his back before Mike joins him at his side. He smiles understandingly, encouraging Will to walk with him. The others are well ahead of them once again. He needs to get a grip.He vaguely registers as the song on the speakers switches to Monster Mash. That’s good— he liked this song as a kid. He just needs to focus on the positives. He’s here in Indianapolis for a nice night out with his friends. It’s fun; this is fun. He’s an artist— he should love throwing together costumes. Though, he’s never been that big of a craft guy. It’s cool. He’s still going to have a good time. For his friends. He’s doing this for his friends.Will has a newfound spring in his step as he rounds the corner. His confidence lasts all of two seconds as he pauses instantly, Mike slamming into his back and knocking the wind out of him. There in front of him, Lucas is proudly showing off an exact replica of the Ghostbusters costume they wore two years ago. Thunder crashes overhead.He’s back. He’s standing in front of a driveway on Halloween night, spores all around him, suffocating him, choking him. He hears a chitter, watching as a giant shadow rises in the sky, and he wants to run— needs to run. He can’t move. He’s frozen. His feet are glued to the ground, and he can’t breathe.“—ill,” he hears through the fog. He takes a small breath. “Will, please,” Mike is saying, desperate and quiet. “Wake up.”Will blinks out of it, turning his head toward the sound. Mike’s face is the definition of concerned, eyebrows pinched and mouth set in a straight line. He looks Will up and down, and wordlessly grabs his wrist, pulling him swiftly out the doors of the store.Will can’t even protest, still trying his hardest to get air through his lungs. Mike leads them to the right, leaning Will up against the wall as he steps back, giving him space.After about thirty seconds of Will trying somewhat successfully to calm down, Mike breaks the silence in a worry-filled tone. “Will? Can you please tell me if you’re okay?”“Why did you do that?” he snaps. He doesn’t know why he does— Mike was only trying to help. And he did help. Will would have had a panic attack in front of all of the employees if not for him. “That was so obvious. I could have handled it on my own.”“Why— Will, you were having a flashback,” Mike answers incredulously. “Did you want me to just sit there and watch it happen? Will— you weren’t moving, and it looked like you were being fucking possessed, or under Vecna’s curse, or something, and I didn’t know what to do—“Will cuts off Mike’s stressed rambling with a hug. He’s such an idiot. Of course that’s why Mike did that— he seemed more freaked out than Will did. Mike’s chest rises and falls rapidly against him— Will realizes that he’s hyperventilating. “It’s okay,” he promises, squeezing him tighter. “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”Mike slowly but surely relaxes in his arms, his head resting on Will’s shoulder. “I don’t really like Halloween either,” he reveals quietly, almost like an admission of guilt.Now Will just feels like a jerk. He’s been so caught up in his own shit that he didn’t even stop to think about how this was affecting Mike. Obviously it’s affecting him— he was right there beside Will that entire fall. Every time he thought Mike was pitying him, or sacrificing his own fun trying to save him, he was probably trying to help himself as well. The excuse to leave Wednesday at lunch, offering to stay home with Will today— he was trying to escape too. Will was the one who forced them to come here.“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and Mike shakes his head. “You did the right thing, I’m just being stubborn. I really appreciate you. And I should have paid closer attention. I’m sorry.”“No,” Mike protests, pushing at Will’s shoulders slightly to look him in the eyes. “You don’t need to apologize. This is about you. You were the one who went through all this shit, I shouldn’t be complaining. I broke down while you were… fine. That’s ridiculous. I’m supposed to support you.”“I’m not fine,” Will denies with a scoff, rolling his watery eyes. “That was not fine. I haven’t been fine in years. And— you’re allowed to break down once and a while. You went through everything I did. You were always there for me— supporting me. Our friendship isn’t a one-way street. I’m here for you too. I want to help you like you help me. You have to tell me these things, okay?”Mike stands shocked for a minute, like he’s surprised that someone could actually care about him that much. Will hates that he sees himself that way— unloveable, undesirable, unworthy of affection that he doesn’t have to work for. Just Mike is enough. He’s always been enough.“Okay,” he murmurs softly, full of awe. “I will.”“Good.” Will rubs his eyes, which, by some miracle, have not had any runaway tears. “I’m kind of done with Halloween,” he offers as a way out. Typically he would force himself to waltz right back into the store, but he’s not going to subject Mike to that.As if just realizing that they’ve been hugging for minutes on end, Mike takes a step back, stuffing his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “Me too. I have some costume money I didn’t spend— do you want to go buy some snacks while we wait for the others?” he suggests, motioning to the 7-Eleven next door.“Sounds perfect.” It really does. Way better than facing his biggest fears while trying to maintain a straight face. Will smiles genuinely at him for the first time all night, and takes off toward the building. Mike, clingy as always, hooks his arm through Will’s and guides him the rest of the way. Will, for once, doesn’t freak out. He doesn’t overthink. He just happily accepts the development, and lets himself enjoy it.Two slushies and a pack of gummy worms later, the two of them return to the parking lot in front of the store, taking a seat on the curb. Mike chose blue raspberry, while Will got cherry— but they both know that they’re going to end up sharing anyway.Will tries to ignore the goosebumps on his skin as he sips his slushie. He’s really regretting not bringing his jacket right about now. He’s literally drinking ice at nine at night.As if reading his mind— or seeing Will not-so-secretly rub his arms— Mike asks him, “Where’s your jacket?”“I forgot it in the car,” he replies, the perfectly practiced line flowing easily from his mouth.Unprompted, Mike shrugs off his jacket and places it over Will’s own shoulders. Even though his whole plan revolved around Mike doing just that, it still surprises Will a bit. Maybe this isn’t all in his head. Maybe it isn’t just wishful thinking. This is a thing now. Mike has a habit of giving Will his jacket when he’s cold. It wasn’t a one-off gesture, or a spur-of-the-moment decision. He meant to do it. He meant it.Will sets his slushie on the ground in order to slip his arms through the sleeves, savoring the way the jacket feels around him. He might not get to bring it home today, but he can at least memorize this moment for when he plays it through his mind all sleepless-night long. If he’s lucky, the smell will transfer over to his flannel.Will sighs, leaning over to rest his head on Mike’s shoulder. Mike stiffens for a terrifying second, before wrapping an arm around Will’s waist and pulling him closer. This sucks. This is amazing, and it sucks. Halloween is supposed to be one of the best days of the year. It was Mike’s favorite holiday before all that shit went down. It’s not fair.“Do you think we’ll ever get to enjoy Halloween again?” he muses. ”Of course,” Mike will answer. ”Trauma fades with time. We just have to keep pushing and everything will turn out fine. We’ll all live happily ever after and nothing bad will happen again.” He’s heard it all before.“I’m not sure,” Mike responds honestly. That was… unexpected. He’s usually the one Will goes to for the bright side of things. “I think… maybe not in the way we’re used to.”Will tilts his head up, squinting at him curiously. “What do you mean?”“Like— you know those candles my mom likes to light every fall? The ones that smell like cranberries and cinnamon?” Will nods. That smell is practically ingrained in him now— fall time at the Wheelers. “I can’t stand them anymore. They make me sick. They’re the same ones that were lit when you went missing, and again when we were dealing with the Mind Flayer. Things like that, I think it’s okay to leave behind. Our Hallow-weekend campout in your yard, for example. I’m fine never eating another s’more in October again.”“But that doesn’t mean we have to stop celebrating altogether,” Mike continues. “We watch horror movies year-round— I’ve never associated that specifically with Halloween. Why not make that a new tradition? Or pumpkin carving; my mom never let me do that before. Maybe when we move away to college, it’ll be easier. We can make a haunted house in our apartment, or bake Halloween cookies. We can start again. Make new memories. Together,” he concludes, grabbing Will’s hand and giving it a squeeze.Will tries his hardest not to stick on the ”our apartment” part of that speech, ignoring how Mike had just assumed they would live together. The rest is bitter-sweet. He would love to make new traditions with Mike. All of the ideas he had sounded fantastic. But—“I liked our old traditions.”“I know,” Mike agrees solemnly. “I do too. But it’s better than nothing, right? I don’t really feel like giving up on Halloween entirely. It’s just part of growing up. We’re not going to trick-or-treat for the rest of our lives— why is it any different trading out our other traditions?”He’s right. Of course he’s right. He’s Mike— the most logical person on the planet. Will is going to love these new traditions too, and he’ll look back on this moment years later and laugh at how silly he’s being. Change isn’t always bad. It’s growth. He just has to get used to it.“Why do you have to be so smart?” Will wonders out loud, biting the head off a green gummy worm.Mike snorts in surprise, and as Will looks up at him, he can tell he’s blushing. “Sorry? I’ll try not to be next time.”Was Will flirting on accident? Did Mike respond to his flirting? He’s going crazy. He has officially lost it.“You’re going to get a stomach ache if you eat those together,” Mike points out, nodding to the gummies and slushie on the ground, as if he hadn’t also eaten half the bag. Hypocrite. Will looks him head-on, reaches his hand in the bag, and tears a worm in half with his teeth, chewing without breaking eye-contact. “No! Timmy! He had a family!” Mike exclaims, shaking him by the shoulders.Will covers his mouth as he bursts into laughter, sure that the blue sludge wouldn’t be very appetizing to look at. He lets himself be jostled around for a few seconds before grabbing onto Mike’s arms, shaking him back. “I’ll just eat his mom too.”“You monster,” Mike gasps, absolutely affronted. “I wanted his mom.” He pulls one hand away and pops a red worm into his mouth. Mike clearly doesn’t have the same reservations as Will did, giving him a toothy smile full of worm guts.“Lovely,” Will deadpans, swatting his face away as Mike slowly leans in, showing off the remains of Timmy’s mother. “Chew with your mouth closed, Mike! Gross!”Mike’s cackles are cut off by the sound of a swinging door. They both turn to see their friends walking out of the store empty-handed.“Where did you guys go?” Lucas demands. “You were there one second and gone the next.”“We thought you would show up eventually, but you did not,” El explains, moving to stand beside Will. She takes a look at the bag and cups on the curb, and asks confusedly, “You went and got snacks?”“You ditched us for snacks?” Max yells angrily. “I had to listen to Lucas and Dustin argue over costumes for thirty minutes without their mediator, all because you wanted snacks?”That’s Will’s bad. He’s been the designated fight referee for— ever since Lucas and Mike met, really. His responsibilities only doubled when Dustin came along. “Sorry,” he grins up at her guiltily.“We couldn’t decide on costumes without you guys, so I guess we’re coming back another day,” Dustin says, fully intending to make them feel bad. “It’s almost ten. Lucas’s mom will be here any minute.”Will almost apologizes again before Mike cuts him off. “Yeah, about that. Will and I aren’t trick-or-treating.”When was this decision made? Because it certainly was not Will’s. He’s fine going out for the night; he can suck it up. Unless Mike can’t. If Mike needs him to stay home, he will. They’re in this together.“What?” Dustin shrieks, mouth agape. “You have to. We always trick-or-treat together. And Will is finally with us again.”“Yeah, well,” Mike shrugs, the image of calm and collected where Will is internally the opposite. “I don’t want to. Bad memories.”Will stares at him in disbelief. He’s doing what Will couldn’t— being honest with their friends about his feelings. He doesn’t even know if it’s true— if Mike is seriously dreading trick-or-treating like he is, or if he’s just making an excuse to cover Will’s ass. Either way, it’s commendable. His hero.“Ohhh,” the four of them blurt at once, understanding dawning on their faces.“That is okay,” El assures, patting him on the head. “We can stay home instead.”Mike and Will turn to each other, sharing a look. What do you want to do? They both nod. “It’s fine,” Mike waves them off. “You guys have fun. We’ll be fine.”“Are you sure?” Lucas checks, always looking out for the Party’s best interests.“Yeah,” Mike confirms. “Costumes for four are easier than six anyway. Especially with two boys and two girls.”Before any of them can argue any further, two headlights come shining through the parking lot. They all thank Mrs. Sinclair as they get in the car, and start their journey home.Maybe Halloween won’t be so bad after all. Maybe instead of pushing forward despite the obstacles, Will just needs to find a way around them. He might actually be able to enjoy another fall in his lifetime. He'll be okay.Will is the second-to-last person to be dropped off, since Mike lives right down the street from Lucas’s house. He savors every moment of the car ride, sitting way too close to Mike than the spacious minivan requires. He doesn’t hear any complaints though. Will even contemplates reaching for his hand at some point, but decides against it. Tonight was good— he’s not going to risk ruining that.In the end, Mike never ends up asking for his jacket. Coincidentally, Will “forgets” to give it back.
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Mike spends all of Monday trying not to freeze to death.He didn’t bring a jacket to school, since he had expected Will to return his leather one— but then Will approached him empty handed, shyly explaining that he hadn’t had time to do laundry over the weekend, but he would definitely get to it tonight. Mike, of course, told him not to worry about it. What’s one more day of chilly classrooms anyway? He also said to forget about washing it— though he does love the smell of the Byers’ laundry detergent that was coating it last time he got it back.Mike knows that Will lied. About all of it. Will doesn’t “forget” jackets in the car— especially not on cold October nights. The way back was almost more obvious; after saying goodbye for the night, Will glanced down at his own denim jacket on the seat, looked back up at Mike, and then quickly snatched it and fled, with Mike’s still on his back. His jacket has been stolen by the world’s worst thief.And now Will wants to “wash it” before giving it back? There’s no way. He’s obviously just delaying returning it— and Mike is one million percent okay with that. If Will wants his jacket, his jacket he shall have. He doesn’t know why he would want it, but the image of Will walking around his house bundled in Mike’s jacket sends a thrill through his stomach.That’s why, when he sees Will stroll through the front doors with the oh-so-familiar item on his shoulders, Mike almost drops dead on the spot. He’s wearing it to school. In front of everyone. In front of their friends, who up until now have not picked up on this little trend of theirs— no one but Lucas. He doesn’t know how— it’s not like they’ve been very secretive about it. Maybe they just haven’t cared.“What do we have here?” Lucas teases as Will approaches the group, head down and blushing. Mike relishes in the way Will automatically stops next to him in their little circle of friends. “You changing up your wardrobe, Byers?”“Mike let me borrow it the other day,” he explains, putting Mike on the receiving end of a few raised eyebrows. He sees El whisper something into Max’s ear. Gossips. “I was just returning it.”“There’s no way,” Max protests after El pulls away. “Mike Wheeler willingly gave you his precious jacket? He won’t even let us touch that thing.”Hey— those are two completely different situations. Of course he isn’t going to let Max get her greasy fingers all over his baby. She wouldn’t give his jacket the respect it deserves. Will, on the other hand, is gentle. He would die before letting anything happen to Mike’s prized possession. It’s like getting to know a stray animal— you need to earn its trust. The jacket trusts Will, and so does Mike.“Yeah, watch.” Dustin takes a step forward with his arm outstretched, reaching for the jacket.On instinct, Mike puts himself between him and Will, catching his forearm and pushing it away. “Hands off.” Whether he means Will or the jacket, Mike isn’t sure. Probably both.Dustin stares at him pointedly as Lucas snickers beside him. “Will, are you cold?” Lucas mocks in a ridiculously high voice. Mike does not sound like that— he rolls his eyes appropriately. “Here, take my jacket. The only warmth I need is from your smile.”“That’s not—“ Mike starts, but cuts himself off, because it is. That’s exactly what he does, and he can’t even deny it. He quickly glances to his left to find Will completely red in the face, not looking up from where he’s fiddling with his hands. He’s flustered too. Why is he flustered? Mike is the one being made fun of. Unless he likes it. He feels something when Mike says stuff like that. “Shut up,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. It only makes everyone laugh harder.“Do not be mean,” El chides, the nicest of them all. “It is sweet.”“It’s favoritism,” Dustin corrects. That’s true. Will is his favorite, and Mike is sick of pretending like he isn’t.“Come on, let’s ditch the lovebirds,” Max suggests, turning to walk away. The others cackle as they follow, slowly disappearing from Mike’s view as he stands there with his mouth wide open.It was a joke. The Party makes jokes like that all the time— mostly between Max and Lucas, but also Lucas and Dustin, or Dustin and Will, or Mike and Max. Logicly, if Mike and Max are joked about being in love, then it means absolutely nothing for Mike and Will. They don’t know. They don’t know about Mike, and they certainly don’t know about Will. Because Will wouldn’t like him. Sure, he holds Mike’s hand and steals his jacket and blushes at strange times, but it means nothing.He knows it means nothing as Will recovers before him, taking off the jacket and offering it to Mike. “Here.”Or does it mean something? There’s only one way to find out.“No,” Mike refuses, trying not to second guess himself. “No, you should keep it. You didn’t bring another jacket, right? I don’t want you to be cold today.”“Oh,” Will murmurs, looking down thoughtfully at where it’s held in his hand. “Are you sure? You do really like this jacket.”I like you more. “I’m sure. I dressed for the occasion,” he says, gesturing to his favorite blue and gray sweater. He’s perfectly toasty. If Will can stay looking that good all day, that would be a way better investment.“Yeah,” Will smiles, eyes following Mike’s motion to his torso. “You look— comfy.” Is that a compliment? He’s taking that as a compliment. “Um— I’ll bring this back tomorrow,” he promises, holding up the jacket.“You don’t have to. Keep it as long as you want,” Mike dismisses, before he can stop himself. He doesn’t even know why he said it— he would like his jacket back at some point. It’s sort of like a test, in a way; how long would Will want it? How long is too long to keep your best friend’s jacket before it teeters off the edge of platonic? A week? A month? Forever? Has it already reached that point by accepting it at all?Surely friends can borrow each other’s clothes— but surely they don’t lie in order to keep them, right? If Mike thought Lucas’s clothes looked cool— which would never happen— he would ask for them straight up. And Will has never shown interest in leather jackets before; he never wears dark colors. It must mean something. It must be because it’s Mike’s.“Really?” he questions, unsure. Mike nods enthusiastically. “Oh. Okay, thanks,” he replies, grinning sweetly. How can that not mean anything? “Did you maybe want to sleep over this weekend? Jonathan is staying with a couple friends from college, and Mom has work until late. We could eat a bunch of junk food.”“Yeah,” Mike agrees immediately. A whole afternoon alone with Will? Obviously he’s going to jump at the chance. It sounds suspiciously date-like— but it isn’t. It’s not a date. Why would Will ask him out on a date? And if he was going to do that— which is starting to sound more and more plausible by the minute— it wouldn’t be in the middle of a crowded hallway. They’ve had hundreds of sleepovers before; it’s really no big deal. Not romantic in the slightest.“Cool. Friday night?”“Yeah,” he repeats, sounding like an idiot. He’s sure his face is completely spaced out, and his voice is coming out all breathy. “I’ll be there at six.”“Six,” Will confirms, right as the warning bell begins to ring. “Let’s go.” He grabs Mike’s hand and starts dragging him down the hallway towards their class. Mike lets him, going completely lax under his guidance.Three days have never felt as long as the next few do— not even as a kid during the lead up to his birthday. Mike can’t remember the last time he truly spent one-on-one time with Will. He can’t remember the last time he was alone with anyone in the Party. They’ve been closer than ever these past few months; apparently, the end of the world can do that to people. Ever since the Byers bought back their old house and moved out of the Wheelers’, Will and Mike haven’t made plans separate from the others. Today though, the rest of the Party is heading back to Indianapolis to pick out their costumes for (hopefully) the final time, which means it’s only the two of them.Honestly, Mike thinks that the main reason he was invited over tonight is because Will is too scared to be alone. With his mom and brother out, it might be a bit too much for him to handle if he has a nightmare or flashback. Mike is going to take it anyway; he would love to protect Will from the horrors of autumn.Mike hops off his bike as he reaches the end of the Byers’ mile-long driveway, leaning it up against the porch. He takes a deep breath, shaking out his hands before raising one to knock loudly on the door. How cool would it be if he didn’t have to knock? If he could just walk right into the house where Will would already be waiting for him, because he lived there too? Soon, he tells himself. They can head off to New York or California, and move into a tiny apartment together. They can fight about chores and bills, and watch TV after long days, and maybe adopt a cat—“Hi,” Will greets as he swings open the door, with his blinding smile and socked feet. Sometimes Mike looks at him and sees the five-year-old boy he used to make blanket forts with on rainy days. It makes him feel old— which is ridiculous, because he’s barely fifteen-and-a-half. In fact, his half-birthday was just three days ago. Anyone that still counts age in halves is way too young to be going through a midlife crisis.“Hey,” Mike returns, awkwardly gripping the straps of his backpack and raising two fingers in a wave. Why is he acting like he’s going to some kid’s house for the first time to finish a school project? This is Will. Blanket-fort-making, colorful-sock-wearing, clothes-stealing Will. Will, who has still not given back his jacket.“Come in,” Will steps to the side, opening the door wider for him.“Thank you, kind sir,” he says in a shitty medieval accent, entering the house and looking around as if he hasn’t spent most of his life here. He knows every dent in the walls, every carpet stain covered by furniture— most of which were his fault.“So what should we do?”Mike spins around to face him, raising an eyebrow. “You invited me.” Will doesn’t respond— he just shrugs, trying to bite back a grin. They both know that Mike is the decision maker between the two of them; he was always going to be the one planning this evening. “Well, I brought a couple movies, if you wanted to try out the ‘new traditions’ thing. I have Friday the 13th, Poltergeist, and Halloween, which, now that I’m thinking about it, might not be the best option.”Will scrunches up his nose, walking over to take a seat on the couch. “Yeah, not that one. Maybe not Poltergeist either, because I watched that one right before I went missing. But Friday the 13th is good.”“Cool.” Mike sets his backpack down and rummages through its contents, eventually finding his family’s copy of the movie. He kneels in front of the TV as Will gets comfy on the couch, pulling a blanket over his tucked up legs.“Do you want pizza?”“Obviously,” he answers. Is that even a question? “Did your mom say we could order some?”“Yeah, there’s money on the counter. But…” Will trails off until Mike looks back at him, all cozy and warm under his blanket. “Could you order it?”Mike sighs loudly, dramatically pulling himself off the ground and making his way to the phone. “Yep,” he responds cheerfully, making Will laugh. No way is he going to force Will to get up right now. He’s already settled in so sweetly.All in all, the movie goes pretty smoothly. It was a smart idea to choose a film that takes place in the summer, rather than around Halloween time. At least on Mike’s end, there are surprisingly few moments where he feels like he might panic. Besides— it’s the least scary horror movie to ever exist.It also helps that at some point— somewhere around the murder in the bathroom— Will reaches over and grabs his hand. “I’m not scared of the movie,” he’s quick to clarify, never wanting to seem like a baby. Mike knows he isn’t; Will is better at handling horror movies than he is, though he wouldn’t consider either of them scaredy-cats. While Will’s natural fear response is flight, Mike’s is to fight. It gets hard being so helpless behind a screen.That does mean, however, that Will held his hand for another reason. Mike had initially summed it up to what he himself was scared of— having a random trauma-induced panic attack. But after thinking about it some more, there’s a second possibility: he did it just because. Maybe Will wanted to hold his hand, just like Mike wants to hold his. Maybe he told Mike straight up— “I’m not scared. I’m holding your hand because I like to.“Mike dwells on the idea throughout the rest of the night. Does all this mean something? Is Will acting different, or is it him? Was Mike the one that started all of this, giving away his jacket and holding onto Will’s hand? Has he set a new precedent for their relationship, and Will is just following it, like a good friend? Is it all Mike’s fault?Will passes him the bowl of popcorn and M&Ms from where he’s lying on his bed, Mike sitting criss-cross on the floor. He takes a handful, ignoring his giant stomach ache; it’s mostly nerves anyway.“But the art style was fine before,” he complains through a mouthful of food. “I don’t see why they had to change it.”Will shrugs, not glancing away from his comic book. “They switched illustrators. That’s what happens.”“Can they not just draw it like the last artist?”“They can try,” he tells him, like the art expert he is. “They did try. But it’s not going to be exact. There’s barely a difference anyway, I don’t know how you noticed.”He noticed because he has a very keen eye. He can tell when even the slightest things are out of place. Like how one of Will’s posters has fallen down since the last time he was here. Or how there’s a bit of black peeking out from under his pillow. Or—Wait.“Is that my jacket?” Mike asks, staring at the unmistakable leather between Will’s pillow and the headboard.Will’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as he sits up with a start. He follows Mike’s gaze and cringes, looking back at him in pure panic. “No?” he tries, high pitched and unsure.“Hey, it’s fine,” he reassures, bumping Will’s foot with his own. “I gave it to you, remember? I was just wondering why you decided to keep it there.” It’s a strange place to put a jacket— on a chair or a table he might understand, but this? Surely there’s a logical explanation. What if he just… no. There’s no reason Mike can think of for his jacket to be in Will’s bed. Whatever it is, it can’t just be friendly. If Mike kept Dustin’s shirt under his pillow, he would be called crazy for the rest of his life.“I’m really sorry,” Will blurts, breaths coming out short. “I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”“Hey,” Mike stands up, sitting beside him on the bed and setting a hand on his back. “Calm down. You don’t have to apologize. I’m not mad. What shouldn’t you have done?”Will tries to get his breathing under control, gasping in small bursts of air at a time. Mike really doesn’t understand what he could have done that was so bad he’s this worked up about it. After Will calms down enough to speak in full sentences, he explains in a meek, hushed tone, “It helps me sleep.”Okay. Well that’s a logical explanation. Sort of.“How does that work? You sleep with it under the pillow? Like the tooth fairy?”“No,” Will denies, almost cracking a smile. “No, it’s just like… your frog.” He reaches over to the other side of the bed and grabs the stuffed animal, hugging it to his chest. Oh. He cuddles it to sleep. Mike thinks he’s going to pass out. “It keeps away a lot of the nightmares because it smells like you,” he almost whispers, looking like he regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth.Now he’s seriously going to pass out. Will wanted to keep Mike’s jacket because he was cuddling with it. He cuddles with Mike’s clothes because they smell like him. His smell makes Will feel safe. And sure— maybe that would be true for other people as well, like Will’s mom or his brother, but they aren’t the ones getting their clothes stolen. Will could easily go and take one of Joyce’s jackets from her closet, but no. He chose Mike.That’s not platonic. Will likes him. Will actually likes him. Is he gay? Mike had tried not to listen to all the rumors being thrown around, but could they be true? They have to be, right? Will has to like him.Now he’s regretting eating all that popcorn. He needs to ask him out. Should he just do it right now? Before he chickens out? Does he just come out and say it? ”Hey Will. I know you like me. Wanna go out?” That’s ridiculous. He needs to say something though, or Will is going to start having a panic attack.“I do that too,” he admits without thinking. Will, rightfully, looks up at him in shock. “Well, I don’t sleep with it,” he corrects, feeling himself start to lose it a bit. He’s fucking nervous. “But— when you gave it back, it smelled like you. And, um— I liked it.”Holy shit, he sounds like an idiot. And a creep. What kind of weirdo smells his best friend’s clothing? Will, he guesses. Will does that.“You did?” Will asks, disbelieving, yet so hopeful. Mike nods. “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”“No!” he exclaims, a bit offended that Will would think that. “I would never do that. If you want to sleep with my jacket, you can. It’s not an issue.”He wishes that Will would keep doing that. He would be honored to own something that Will deemes nice enough to snuggle with. Mike gets to wear that afterwards. It’s like an indirect hug— a transfer of Will’s love.“Are you sure?” Will checks, hesitant. “It’s kind of weird.”“I’m positive.”Will seems to accept this answer, smiling softly at his stuffed frog. “Alright. Thanks.”The rest of the night tiptoes the line between comfortably quiet and awkward. There’s this strange anticipation with every word, every touch, every look shared between them. Romantic tension, as his mother would call it. Mike used to make fun of those romance novels she reads, but now he’s kind of regretting never stealing one from her collection. He has no idea how to act right now. Mike knows Will likes him. At least, he’s pretty sure. He also thinks that Will knows that Mike likes him. He should know, by this point. He was never really good at hiding it.It’s like they’re at a stand-off, each waiting for the other to make a move, just in case they happen to be wrong. Mike doesn’t mind making a move, but honestly this whole act has tired him out. He really just wants to sleep. It is three a.m. after all.As Mike fails to keep his eyes open for the hundredth time in the past minute, it seems that Will has had enough. “Okay. Bedtime.”“No, ‘m fine”, Mike slurs, propping his head up on his hand from where he’s lying stomach-down on Will’s bed. “Keep drawing.”“Nuh uh.” Will closes his sketchbook and sets it on his bedside table. “My subject is falling asleep. It’s late anyway.”Mike was his subject? That must have been why Will kept sneaking glances at him when he thought he wasn’t looking. Mike is always looking. He would tease him about it, but he doesn’t think his brain can form the words.He gets off the bed and settles into his sleeping bag, watching Will make his way to the other side of the room to switch off the light. With only his bedside lamp lit, Will tucks under his covers and holds his frog and tiger in his arms. Cute.“What about my jacket?” Mike questions, making Will reopen his eyes. He gave him permission— what’s the problem here? “I said you could.”Will blushes in the dim light. “That’s— not when you’re here,” he whines, hiding his face in his plushies. “And it’s running out of smell anyway. It doesn’t really work.”“Oh,” Mike nods in understanding. “Give it back for a while. I’ll wear it and return it later.” Return it, as if it isn’t Mike’s jacket in the first place.Is Will going to have a nightmare tonight? Maybe they should trade shirts. Would that help? Is Mike’s mere presence not enough? Does Will have to physically be surrounded by Mike in order to ward away the monsters? If that’s the case, there’s a way simpler solution to this problem.“Do you want me to come up there?”“What?” Will whisper-yells after a brief pause, looking at Mike like he’s lost his mind. Maybe he has. He is way too tired to be thinking clearly.“Here,” Mike answers without answering, inviting himself up onto the bed, as Will scoots himself as close to the edge as possible. “Is this okay?” he asks, because he’s not a complete idiot who sleeps in people’s beds without permission. Will nods tentatively, eyes wide and scared, but starts inching towards him anyway. Mike extends out his hand, inviting Will to lay his head on his chest. He wraps his arms around Will’s waist, pulling him half on top of him, and Will’s arm curls around him as well. This is a dream come true, he thinks, as he takes in Will’s weight, his warmth, his being. “Goodnight.”“Night, Mike,” he replies, and Mike’s eyes begin to droop closed once again.As Mike slips into a peaceful sleep, he has a lovely dream of giving Will a kiss on the forehead.
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Mike kissed his forehead. There’s no way Will imagined that. He can still sense the light pressure on his skin, can still hear the perfect mwah of Mike’s lips as they made contact with his hair, can still feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears.If Will was doubting Mike’s feelings before, he definitely isn’t now. You don’t kiss a friend after requesting to cuddle in their bed. You don’t tell a friend that you like to smell your jacket after they borrowed it. That’s what Will does, and he certainly doesn’t think of Mike as only a friend.This is real. Will isn’t insane. Mike actually has genuine, romantic feelings for him. Mike. The guy he thought he’d never have a chance with. The guy with an ex-girlfriend.If Will is mistaken, he will never recover from this. His hopes are way up. Like, unbelievably up. Ready to get married tomorrow kind of up. He’s already planning out how to make an official move. Should he ask him out first? Confess directly? Kiss him?No. He’s not kissing him. At least if the other two ideas go wrong, he can still be let down gently and forgiven. But Mike did kiss him. Will can’t be blamed for returning the gesture, right?The problem is, it’s all he can think about as he watches Mike hunched over the arcade’s Dig Dug machine, methodically mashing the buttons and swiveling the joystick. Will sighs, resting his head on the game beside them, staring dreamily as Mike furrows his brows, mouthing words to himself in concentration. He’s so adorable.Mike’s face lights up as the game over jingle starts playing and the screen turns black, which can only mean one thing. “Will! Did you see that?” he exclaims, with the widest smile on his face. “I beat her score!”Unfortunately, he did not see that, as he was too preoccupied by Mike’s beauty. “Yeah,” he says anyway. “You did really good.”“Thanks,” Mike ducks his head, moving to push a strand of hair out of his face before remembering that he cut it short a few months ago, lamely scratching his head instead. They hold tense eye contact for a few moments, Mike peeking up at him through his lashes, before he ultimately breaks the silence, grabbing Will’s wrist and leading him away. “Come on. I want to go brag to Max.”Sometimes Will wonders if Mike even remembers the kiss. He was pretty sleepy when it happened— Will wouldn’t blame him if he forgot. When they woke up the next morning, it wasn’t awkward in the slightest. Well, it was for Will; Mike pretended like everything was normal. He gave a groggy, “Good morning,” and didn’t even try to push Will off when he snuggled closer, thinking Mike was a pillow. When Will apologized, all he did was mumble, “It’s fine. Are you hungry?”It’s been a week, and neither of them have brought it up. Will has narrowed it down to three reasons: either Mike remembers the kiss and regrets it, Mike remembers the kiss and has decided to slowly flirt with Will to drive him insane, or Mike doesn’t remember the kiss at all. Strangely, the first option seems least likely, because Mike has shown continuous interest in him since the incident. He isn’t putting distance between them, or stopping their little shared looks. He knows Will likes him, and he’s playing on it— that much is clear.Which is why Will is leaning more towards option two: he must be fucking with him. Why would he kiss someone that he knows likes him, and not make a move afterwards? It’s a game to him. He wants to see if he can get Will to crack.Either that, or he has a shitty memory and has absolutely no idea what’s going on. This is just regular flirting for him. And if that’s the case, Will might end up looking like a giant idiot.“Max! Guess what?” Mike shouts as they near where she’s bickering with Lucas. “I’m the new Dig Dug champion.”Max stops mid-sentence, finger frozen where it’s pointed at Lucas. “No way,” she protests, pushing past them to head over to the machine herself. “Lucas, what does it say? You better not lie to a blind girl.”“Mike W— 752,850 points,” he reads, blowing out a puff of air. “Damn, Mike. How did you manage that?”“He didn’t,” Max denies. “If it was Dustin? Maybe. You? Possibly. But Mike? No way. He totally cheated.”“I did not!” Mike squawks, offended. “I’ve been on that machine all day trying to beat your score.” He has. Will has been keeping him company the entire time they’ve been here. He thought they could go play something together— actually have some fun, maybe— but it’s fine. He’d stand here watching Mike for the rest of his life if it made him happy. “Will was my good luck charm.”Mike sends him a secret wink, and this is what Will was talking about. He just wants to grab Mike by the shoulders and shake him, yelling, “What is your deal?” He wants to look inside Mike’s ear to see what’s going on up there. He wants to kiss him right on the mouth.“Did Will help you?” Max accuses. “Because that is definitely cheating.”“No! Why is it so hard for you to accept the fact that I beat you fair and square? You’re just a sore loser.”“I’m not a sore loser!” she argues, rolling her eyes. “I just don’t believe that you could ever be good at video games.”“Mike,” Will interrupts. He’s had enough of this— the fighting and the flirting. Mike is frankly giving way too much of his attention to Max right now. He needs to get him alone. “My mom is going to be here soon. Can you wait outside with me?”It’s not a lie— his mom is coming to get him at nine, and it’s currently 8:50. Normally Will would keep playing until his mom practically gets out of the car and drags him back herself, but desperate times call for desperate measures.“Thank you,” Lucas tells Will, apparently as done with their little debate as he was. “See you Monday. Did you want to say goodbye to the others before you go?”“No!” he declines in a hurry, nearly clamping a hand down over his mouth. “No, I’m running late. She’s probably been waiting a while already. Tell them I’ll see them at school.” Now he’s lying. Oh well. Will grabs Mike’s hand and pulls him out the doors, with no resistance on his end. Because Mike likes him. He’d follow Will to the ends of the earth just like Will would.“So what time was your mom supposed to get here?” Mike asks as they stop in front of the parking lot, no Joyce Byers in sight.“8:45.” Will has a feeling that he knows he’s lying, but if Mike isn’t going to say anything, neither is he. Is Mike really going to complain about a little more alone time?“You mom does always run late,” he concurs, nodding slowly and putting his hands in his pockets. Will thinks he’s trying to look cool. “So, um— how have you been sleeping?”Will nearly does a double take. The topic of sleep has not come up since the incident. Not the kiss, or the cuddling, or the jacket, or the sleepover in general. This feels like a trap. Should he answer honestly? It’s not like Mike doesn’t know; he encouraged it, even. “Not great,” he replies. “Without… you know,” he gestures to Mike’s jacket, too embarrassed to admit it out loud. “It’s just…”“Hard?” Mike guesses.“Yeah. Hard.” This is weird. This is so weird. It’s one thing talking about this in the safety of his room in the dead of night, but it’s another thing to bring it up in the middle of a public place, illuminated by lamp posts and neon lights. He might as well wear a sign that says, “I’m gay and in love with my best friend. And also very weird.”Will is almost waiting for Mike to spit on him and walk away. He doesn’t though. Instead, he reaches over and slides Will’s denim jacket off his shoulders. Will stares at him curiously until Mike takes off his own jacket, handing it over to him as he puts on Will’s.“There,” Mike says softly as he adjusts his collar. “Now we can both sleep well.”Will looks down at the fabric in his hands. It’s not that he thought Mike was lying when he said that Will could continue with his weird ritual— he just sort of expected it to be a fluke. Mike would eventually come to his senses once he left the Byers’ house, and he’d start asking for his jacket back at the end of the night. He certainly didn’t expect Mike to join in on it.“Do you need help?” Mike jokes, taking a step closer to him and grabbing the jacket out of his hands. He holds up one end for Will to slide his arm into, and then wraps it around his back to do the same on the other side. Once Will is settled in, Mike takes the zippered edges and tugs them together, making sure he’s snuggly inside. Instead of pulling away like Will had been hoping, giving him a chance to actually breathe, Mike runs a hand down the front of his torso, smoothing out the fabric. “You look really good in my clothes,” he mumbles. Will thinks he sees him lean closer.Holy shit. He can’t even concentrate on that insane compliment, because this is actually happening. They’re about to kiss in front of an empty parking lot on a random day in October. Will is just glad that he had the foresight to lead them out of view of the arcade windows.Mike has stopped moving now, hovering barely six inches from his face. He seems like he’s waiting for something. Will. He’s waiting for Will.Will quickly snaps out of it and follows his lead, leaning in slowly. He lets his eyes flutter closed, and puffs out his chest in the hopes of gaining a fraction of the height Mike has over him without having to stand on his tiptoes. Will can feel warm breath on his face as Mike tilts his head to the side, about ready to close the distance.They spring apart at the sound of tires on pavement.Mike’s hand falls from where it was settled on Will’s waist, and he shoves them in his pockets. Will side-steps to the left, staring intently at his shoes as his mom’s car stops in front of them. Great timing. Perfect. Right as he was about to get his first kiss from his lifelong crush.“Um… I have to go,” Will regretfully informs, pointing at the car as if Mike hadn’t even noticed it.“Yeah. Right,” Mike nods, making fleeting eye contact. Silence.Will makes a break for the passenger side door. God, he really hopes this doesn’t ruin things between them. What if they never get another chance? What if Mike changes his mind? What if they’re stuck in this awkward limbo forever? As Will slumps into his seat in defeat, a knock sounds on the window next to him.Apparently having chased after him— as much as you can chase someone that only moved ten feet— Will rolls down his window to see Mike standing right outside of it. Maybe they won’t be awkward forever. Maybe this is just the next step in their relationship. “Hey. So, uh— see you Monday?”“Yeah,” Will agrees instantly. That sounds like a promise. He’s not sure, but he thinks that means that he’s getting kissed on Monday. Maybe. Possibly. He’s never done the whole relationship thing. Why bring their next meeting up at all if not to make a plan? “Yeah. Monday.”“Cool,” Mike responds, still waiting with his arms crossed in the window, not looking like he’s going to leave anytime soon.“Hi Mike,” Will’s mom greets from the driver’s seat, ducking her head to get a good view of him.“Oh, hey Ms. Byers,” he lifts one arm in an awkward wave. “Sorry, I’ll go. Bye Will.”“Mike!” she calls, before he can fully turn away. He quickly pokes his head back in, as if he had been waiting for an invitation. “Do you want a ride home?”“Yes please,” he answers immediately. Will tries not to laugh at how obvious he’s being. For once, he doesn’t feel like the one with the massive crush. “I’ll get my bike.”Feeling generous, Will switches to the back seat as Mike puts his stuff in the trunk, so that they can sit together on the ride home. When Mike joins him, he decides to sit as close to Will as physically possible, choosing the middle seat instead of the one on the left. Obsessed much?“Nice jackets,” his mom says as Mike buckles his seatbelt, looking at them through the rearview mirror. Of course she’d notice. She would have teased Will about it the whole way back if they were riding alone. By the look in her eyes, she so knows. Whether she saw them nearly kiss a few minutes ago, or she’s picked up on the not-so-subtle clues that the person Will is interested in is Mike, she knows.“Thanks,” Mike replies after a beat. “I’m totally pulling it off, right?”Cracking uncharacteristically self-positive jokes? He’s definitely nervous. That, plus the fact that he’s being way overly clingy— Mike likes him.“Yeah, totally,” his mom affirms, taking the words right out of Will's mouth. Mike looks great in his jacket. The blue really suits him— even if it is a tad too small. “You do realize that it’s Jonathan’s, right?”“What?” Mike glances down at the familiar fur-lined sleeves that he’s seen hanging in Jonathan’s closet for years. “Oh. Well it’s Will’s now, right?”“Yeah,” Will answers. “He gave it to me last year.”“Then it counts,” he shrugs, playing with the button on the cuffs.They’re mostly quiet on the way back, tension radiating from the back seat. Will wonders what his mom must be thinking— if she knows that she interrupted a pivotal moment in their relationship, or if she thinks that they’ve been dating for a while already, and they’re just trying not to be suspicious about it.As they pull up in front of Mike’s house, he says a quick thank you to Will’s mom, and then turns to him, grabbing his hand and talking in a hushed voice. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”Is this a date? It sounds like a date— or, at least something that will turn into a date. “No, I’m free.” Even if he wasn’t, he would have cleared his schedule at once.“Good,” Mike declares, setting his second hand on top of Will’s. “I was thinking we could hang out? Maybe try one of our new traditions? I think baking could be fun, because then we’d get to eat a bunch of dessert afterwards. Or pumpkin carving, but they might go bad by Halloween if we do that this early. Whatever you want, really. Or if—”“Mike,” Will cuts off his nervous rambling. “Baking sounds good. My house? I don’t know if I could handle your mom’s candles right now.”Mike sends him a sweet, delighted smile. “Smart choice. I swear they’re getting worse. Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow.”“Bye!” he shouts as Mike hops out the door and slams it behind him. Once he gets his bike from the trunk, he turns around to wave through the window before heading off toward his house.“So—“ his mom starts after as Will switches to the front seat, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. He cannot deal with this right now. He’s had enough of her today.“Stop.”“I didn’t even say anything yet!” she defends.“You were going to,” Will murmurs, playing with the zipper of Mike’s jacket, as if that could replace the comfort of his hand. “I’m not coming out to you in the car.”He basically just did— it’s an admission in and of itself. Honestly, he can’t be bothered trying to hide it anymore. She clearly knows, just like everyone else in this godforsaken town, and if she had a problem with it, she would have said something by now. He’s spent way too much of his childhood worrying about how he was going to tell her; he’s just tired.“Okay,” his mom says, obviously taken aback by his bluntness. “Well— you don’t have to come out to me if you don’t want to. We can skip that part. You’re just my normal son with a normal crush.”Will feels the weight of a thousand pounds lift off his shoulders. He’s been stressed about this for so long, and it’s over just like that. All he’s ever wanted was to be seen as normal— maybe he can finally have that. “Okay, yeah. Thanks.”“You don’t have to thank me, honey,” she reaches over blindly and grabs one of his hands. She clearly wants to make a big deal out of this, but is holding back for Will’s sake. “So… is he your boyfriend now?”“Mom!” he complains, throwing his head back. Maybe acceptance isn’t all that.“What? You traded jackets, Will. That seems pretty boyfriend-y to me.”“Maybe it would’ve been if you hadn’t barreled through the parking lot in your loud-ass car,” he grumbles to himself.“Language,” she scolds. They both know she doesn’t really care.“Sorry.”“Did I interrupt an important moment between you two?” she asks, sounding genuinely regretful.Will shrugs. Only the most important moment of his life. “A little.”“Sorry, hun,” she squeezes his hand. “It’s the Mom curse. I have to ruin your life at least a little. But I’m sure you’ll have another chance. It sounds like you have a date tomorrow, right?”So she agrees with him— she thinks it’s a date too. Well now he’s nervous. He’s never been on a date before. Is he supposed to act differently? Does he have to dress up, or would that be weird since they’re going to make a mess of their clothes anyway? Maybe baking wasn’t a good idea.“Hey,” she interrupts his train of thought. “You’ll do great. Just be yourself.”Right. Himself. Mike likes Will’s self. He just needs to remain calm. He’s seen way too many shitty TV shows to know that the worst thing he can do right now is try to turn himself into someone he’s not. It’s just Mike. He’ll be okay.The date might be a total disaster. It might not even be a date. All Will knows is that by the end of the day tomorrow, he’ll have had his first kiss. He’s going to make sure of it.
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Mike stops outside the Byers’ front door at precisely noon. At least, in Mike Time— which roughly equivalates to 12:05 in the real world. As he gets ready to knock, he hesitates, arm left frozen in the air.He can do it. It’s just a date. (Date? Hang out? Friendly get together?) It’s not like he’s never spent alone time with Will before. He’s good at spending alone time with Will. It might be the thing he’s best at. He doesn’t even have to think when they’re together. Except now he is thinking. He’s thinking, and overthinking, and overthinking overthinking. Should he have bought flowers? Should they be doing something more romantic? Should he pull one of those lame tactics, like sneakily putting his arm around Will after a yawn?He probably looks like a mess after riding his bike the whole way here. He can’t look like a mess— not right now. Though there’s not much he can do, Mike steps over to the window on his right and scrutinizes his appearance in the reflection, adjusting the misbehaving strands of hair. Just as he’s grimacing at a particularly wild curl, the blinds directly in his field of vision bend down to reveal the wide eyes of a shocked Will, who immediately drops them.Mike hurries back to stand in front of the door, as if he could pretend he was there the whole time. That might have been the most embarrassing moment of his life. He just got caught checking himself out by his date. But Will isn’t totally innocent either— he was the one impatiently waiting for Mike by the door. It’s sort of comforting— at least he knows that Will is equally as nervous about this as he is. If Mike is going to make a complete fool out of himself, Will is going down with him.Mike doesn’t even need to knock this time, as Will predictively opens the door for him. “Hey,” he greets, alternating his gaze from Mike’s eyes to somewhere around his shoulder.“Hi,” Mike returns, equally as awkward. “You look… nice.”Will looks down at his outfit— the blue jeans he wears on special occasions, like school presentation days or nights out with the Party, and his favorite of Jonathan’s flannels wrapped around his waist. “Oh,” he blushes, shrugging off the compliment. “Thanks. I was going to wear it but I figured the sleeves might get dirty,” he explains, gesturing to the flannel.It looks great like that. It almost cinches his waist, or at least accentuates it, tightening the shirt underneath, so there’s a clear, visible dip below his ribs. Mike wants to hold him by it.He clears his throat, snapping his eyes back up to Will’s face. “So… can I come in?”“Yeah,” Will nods, hurriedly moving out of the doorway. “Yeah, sorry. I set up a bit in the kitchen. My mom bought us some ingredients to make one of the recipes from her old family cookbook. Hopefully she actually stays out of the kitchen like I asked her to, so this time we’re not—“ he cuts himself off.“So we’re not what?” Mike asks, stepping dangerously close to him. “Interrupted?” he guesses, tilting his head to the side teasingly. Where did that come from? Mike is totally not in control of his body right now. It’s like he’s addicted to that flustered little smile that keeps appearing on Will’s face— he can’t help it. He’d do anything to keep it there. “What were you planning on us doing that she’d be interrupting?”Will doesn’t back down as he had expected him to. Instead he shrugs, shyly glancing up at him from behind his overgrown bangs. “You’ll have to see.”Mike stands there with an open mouth as Will turns away and walks toward the kitchen. That was not how it was supposed to go. Will can’t flirt back with him. Mike is supposed to make Will flustered, not the other way around. Mike is the outgoing, unafraid, bold leader. Will is the kind, gentle, tentative follower. They can’t just switch roles.Will can’t insinuate that he’s going to make a move on him. That’s his job. Mike is just going to have to work extra fast today. There’s no way he’s letting Will take the credit for this. He’s asking him out.Mike trails after him to find a mess of a kitchen counter. He’s not a hundred percent sure about the ingredients, but he sees what he assumes to be flour, sugar, probably baking soda— baking powder? What’s the difference between those two again?— and a whole bunch of other random shit that Will has so graciously set out. There are bowls, measuring cups, spoons, mixers— and now would probably be a good time to mention that he has never baked in his life. He thought it would be easy— just follow the instructions and put it in the oven— but now he’s seriously doubting his abilities.Mike slaps a hand on top of the counter as he settles up next to Will. “So… what are we making?”“Pumpkin bread,” Will answers, diligently reading the recipe page. “My mom said it was pretty easy— like she’s ever made it before. Wash your hands first,” he scolds, grimacing as Mike goes to scoop a cup of flour, just to have something to do.Mike sulks his way over to the sink, but does as he’s told. Honestly, he doesn’t remember the last time he washed his hands. He doesn’t really feel like eating dirt bread.“What’s first Chef?” he jokes once he’s dried, lightly resting his hand on Will’s waist as he comes to pass him from behind, wrapping his arm around him.Will relaxes into his side, whether intentional or not. “Here,” he pushes the recipe book between them, so that Mike can see it. “Read for yourself.”Mike quickly scans the page— which is probably about as thorough as he’s going to get. Most of it makes sense; canned pumpkin, cinnamon, nutmeg— whatever that means. It all sounds pretty autumnal for the most part. He had figured that bread needed some sort of yeast, but maybe not, since it’s not listed. Eggs, water, sugar— hold on.“There’s no way that’s right.”“What?” Will asks, leaning forward to get a closer look. Mike points to the list of ingredients.“Three cups of sugar? Doesn’t that sound like a bit much?”“What do you know about baking?” he challenges, which is fair. The answer to that question is zero. He knows zero about baking. However…“Will, do you know how much a cup is?” Mike rebuts, picking up the largest metal measuring cup. “Three of these would be a lot of anything. We’re going to get diabetes.”“Oh yeah, I see what you mean,” Will mutters, grabbing the handle over Mike’s own hand and tilting it in every direction, as if that would change the size. “Should we just do one?”“I think we should follow the recipe or it’ll turn out like complete shit.” There really is no or in that sentence. It will taste like shit. He’s sure of it.“Good point,” Will agrees, reaching for the bag of flour. “It says we need separate bowls for the wet and dry ingredients.”“Why?” Mike scrunches up his nose. There should not be rules for baking. “They’re all going to end up in the same pan anyway.”“I don’t know,” he shrugs, scooping up an approximate cup of flour and dumping it into the bowl, resulting in a wave of powder blowing up into their faces. Will coughs and waves it away with his hand while Mike laughs at him. “Maybe it makes it easier to stir? Wait— why is sugar listed as a wet ingredient?”“See?” he exclaims, throwing out his free arm and almost knocking over the bowl. “I told you. This recipe is whack.”“‘Whack,’” Will chuckles under his breath. Yeah, that’s right. Mike is hilarious. “Why don’t we split up?” he suggests. “You do the wet ingredients, I’ll do the dry.”Sure, that’s totally fair. Mike has to get his hands dirty with the eggs, while Will gets to make pretty white and brown patterns with the spices. This is supposed to be done as a team. Equals. Both to blame when this all inevitably fails.Should he try to flirt? It feels right. He did say he wanted to move fast. Maybe he should just get it over with now— ask the big question. Well, not get it over with— he wants to savor every moment he has with Will— but he thinks he’s too anxious to savor much of anything right now. The sooner he asks, the sooner they can go out. Hopefully.“Actually,” Mike begins, dragging the word out ominously. This grabs Will’s attention, as he turns a full ninety degrees to face him. Mike switches his focus to the hand that has now slid to the other side of Will’s waist, squeezing it gently to clue him in on where exactly this conversation is headed. No more egg talk— this is their time. “I was thinking we would do this together. You know, like… partners.”Will stares at him, shocked, as if he wasn’t the one who had planned for this in the first place. Mike is just following up on his request. “What… kind of partners?” he questions, voice nervous and shaky. Mike feels the exact same way— he doesn’t think his heart has ever beat this fast before, and that’s saying a lot, given their history of near-death experiences.“I was hoping,” he pauses, taking a step toward Will and crowding him up against the counter, “this kind.” Will gasps quietly, tilting his head back as Mike begins to lean closer. He lifts his left hand to Will’s cheek, guiding him up and in until their lips brush. Will gives the final push, nudging his head forward just enough to lock their mouths together.The kiss is slower than expected. Mike would have thought that after everything they’ve been through— all the years they’ve spent pining, all the almosts they’ve had— it would be more of a desperate act. Trying to make up for lost time, trying to seize the moment in case it doesn’t last— but it will. They have all the time in the world, and they know it.Will holds fistfuls of Mike’s shirt collar, not to yank him down, but to hold him there. The gentle, leisurely slide of their lips, the little clicking sound they make when they pull apart, just to join back up again, the feeling of Will’s jaw moving beneath his hand— he’s in heaven. This is all he ever wants to do from now on. This is all he’s going to do from now on.Will pulls away first, hand flattening against Mike’s chest as he breathes deeply. He’s so pretty, all flushed with shiny lips.“Was that—“ Mike starts, cut off by Will surging up on his toes, kissing him square on the mouth.“It was great.” he assures, smiling like he’s the luckiest guy in the world. He isn’t— that would be Mike. “You kissed me,” he marvels, disbelieving.“I did. You wanted me to, right?”“Obviously,” Will rolls his eyes, but his grin hasn’t dimmed in the slightest. He looks— ironically— like a kid on Halloween. “I’ve been dying since the first time you did. I thought you would never do anything about it.”Hold on— the first time? Now Mike is wondering if he somehow bumped his head that resulted in severe memory loss, because it seems like he missed a huge moment in his life. He did not kiss Will. He would know if he did.“What first time?” Mike asks, deeply puzzled. What kind of weird, alternate reality are they in?Will stops for a moment, creasing his eyebrows in equal confusion, before sputtering a laugh. “You really don’t remember?” No. No he does not. What the hell? “On the head, last week. I think you might have been sleeping.”That was real? The best dream he’s ever had was not a dream at all? No wonder his heart flutters every time he recalls it. That was their second kiss?“Now you remember,” Will notes, amusement written over every inch of his body. He thinks this is so funny, doesn’t he? “I thought you were just being unnecessarily cruel and dragging this out longer than you needed to.”“Trust me, that would have been way more torturous for me than it was you. It was already hard enough not asking you out immediately after I discovered that you liked me. It just never felt like the right time before, you know? With your family in the house that morning, and the Party constantly around the rest of the week. If I had known I kissed you and you didn’t immediately recoil, I would have made a move on the spot. I wanted this to happen as soon as physically possible.”“And what is ‘this’? Like, are we…”“Boyfriends?” Mike supplies. Will nods quickly. “Yeah, if you want to be. I want to be.”“Yeah, good,” Will decides, still nodding furiously. “Boyfriends.”They’re boyfriends. Will is Mike’s boyfriend. They’re dating— and not just in Mike’s head this time. Everything should feel different, but it doesn’t. Time hasn’t stopped, and the earth is still turning— for some reason, Mike had expected the opposite. But they’re just Mike and Will, same as always. Where do they go from here?Will voices Mike’s concerns for him. “What do we do now?” he whispers. It looks like it’s up to Mike to figure this out.“Uh— we bake?” he suggests, stepping out of Will’s space and handing him one of the bowls. “That was the date anyway— I think we should continue it.”“So this is a date?”“I mean,” Mike shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed about asking Will out before they were even dating. “That was the intention? But if you don’t want to count this one as the first date, it’s fine. I’ll take you out on a better one.”“No!” Will yells, startling even himself as he flinches back. “I want it to be. I’m having fun.”“Oh,” he blurts, happily surprised. Will is having fun on their stupid little baking fiasco? It’s been thirty minutes and they only have one ingredient in the bowl. Mike hasn’t even started trying yet. Maybe he doesn’t have to; maybe Will just enjoys his company, like Mike does. “Good. This is a date then.”“Good,” Will returns, slowly tipping forward, eyes locked on Mike’s lips.“Good,” Mike parrots, just before closing the distance. They are never going to get any progress done if they keep this up.Eventually— after way too long of a time, and way too few kisses— they have produced two separate bowls of ingredients. Will grabs the electric mixer from the counter and inserts it into the wet bowl, looking over his shoulder at the recipe. “Okay, it says to slowly add the dry ingredients. So— I’ll use the mixer and you pour?”“Sure,” Mike agrees, scooching over next to him so that their sides are pressed together. Will smiles up at him, switching the mixer on and turning it up all the way. Before Mike can warn him not to do that, pieces of batter spray out of the bowl and directly onto their faces.Will screams, frantically trying to turn it off as Mike cracks up, pulling the plug out of the socket and stopping the rapidly increasing mess. “Oh my god,” Will joins in on his laughter. “My mom is going to kill us.”“She’s going to kill you,” he corrects. “I didn’t touch that thing. That was all you.”“‘Let’s be a team, Will,’” Will mocks, lowering his voice even though Mike’s is now higher than his. It’s a habit for both of them, still seeing Will as developmentally delayed, as his mom would put it. Tiny, as Mike would put it. Short. Little. “‘Let’s be partners.’ That’s all bullshit,” he grumbles, pretending to roll his eyes.“No it’s not,” Mike denies, grabbing Will’s jaw and forcing him to look at him. “Watch— I’ll help you clean it up.” Mike sticks out his tongue and licks a strip of batter off of Will’s cheek.“Mike,” he shrieks, trying to push and twist out of his grasp, but Mike has an arm tight around him. “That’s so gross. There’s eggs in there.”“You’re worried about the eggs?” he exclaims, and Will smiles embarrassedly, not halting his attempts to escape. “I’m eating your face, Will.”“Well you were doing that before, too, so it’s not really—“They both freeze as they hear footsteps approaching from down the hall.Ms. Byers pauses as she steps into the kitchen, taking in her surroundings— orange splatters on the fridge, her son encased in Mike’s arms, the shocked looks on their faces. “I heard a scream,” she explains, hesitant and clearly alarmed.“Mike did it,” Will takes an easy step away, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Mike gapes at him in offense. Traitor.Ms. Byers just sighs, making her way over to the sink. She grabs a rag and runs it under the faucet. “I’ll clean it up. Thankfully it doesn’t look too bad. And you,” she swats her wet rag at Will lightly. “Quit lying to me.”Mike stifles a laugh with the back of his hand as Will opens and closes his mouth in a sorry attempt at an excuse. If there’s one thing he loves, it’s ganging up on his best friend— boyfriend— with his own mother. It’s a rare treat, since Will is usually a perfect little angel.While Ms. Byers begins to tidy up their mess, Will leads Mike to the sink and wipes him down with a paper towel. He’s so gentle and attentive with it— Mike almost feels like he isn’t good enough for this kind of care. As Will finishes dabbing up a spot on his cheekbone, he stands up on his toes and pecks Mike on the mouth— in front of Ms. Byers, who’s staring right at them, looking like she’s about ready to explode with excitement.Mike looks at him, wide eyed— not so much concerned for their safety, but more so alarmed by Will’s uncharacteristic confidence. “She knows,” Will mouths, flitting his eyes in the direction of his mom. Of course she does. Mothers know everything. Mike thinks that his mom might know as well— perhaps since the very beginning. It’s really not an issue though; if there’s one person Mike would be fine with knowing all his secrets, it’s Joyce Byers. That’s why, as a response, he leans down and kisses some of the batter off Will’s nose. Or, he tries to.“That didn’t work,” Mike notices as he pulls back, using his thumb to wipe the now-smeared streak off his face.“Why would that have worked?” Will laughs, reaching up with his own hand to swipe at it as well.“I don’t know, it does in the movies.”“What movies—”“Boys.” Mike and Will snap their heads toward the counter, where Ms. Byers has already finished cleaning up, and is waiting for them to stop flirting. Oops. “I don’t want to intrude on your date,” she starts, lying out of her ass— Mike knows that she’s dying to spy on the rest of it, “so I’m going to head to my room. But before I leave, I want to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” She motions for them to join her, the offending mixer on the counter in front of her.“Sorry,” Will apologizes, biting back a smile. As he settles next to his mom, Mike pulls up from behind and wraps his arms around him, tucking his chin into Will’s shoulder. Ms. Byers raises an eyebrow, but says nothing of it.Mike wants to stay like this forever. Will’s back feels so warm, despite the fact that he always complains about being cold. He’s the perfect cuddling size— solid torso, squishy arms, slightly shorter stature than Mike, allowing him to rest his head on Will’s if he wanted to. His shirt smells like the Byers’ house, and the air smells like pumpkin, and for once, those two things combined don't send Mike into a panic. It’s actually really calming. It feels like home. It feels like Will is Mike’s home.“You got that?” Ms. Byers questions. No. No he did not.“Huh?” Will asks, turning to his mom. It’s nice to know that Mike isn’t the only one completely frazzled, at least. They really are a team— pissing of Ms. Byers one moment at a time.She sighs, shaking her head and switching targets— unsuccessfully, unfortunately for her. “Mike?”He smiles guiltily, squeezing Will just a little bit tighter, as if that could shield him from her wrath. “Um… I thought Will was paying attention.”“Start it on low, and slowly increase the speed,” she repeats, looking them both intently in the eyes. “You don’t even listen when I’m speaking to you,” she mutters to herself as she walks away, like a crazy person. She spends way too much time with Hopper.“Can I mix this time?” Mike requests. As much as he loves her, he does not want Ms. Byers crashing their date once again. “I just feel like I’m a little more qualified.”Will opens his mouth to protest, but quickly shuts it as he pushes the mixer in his direction. A willing surrender.As Mike— expertly, in his opinion— starts to mix the batter, he decides to go for a slight change in topic. Something he’s been thinking about all week. “You know, our anniversary is in fall.”“Great,” he replies sarcastically. Okay, so he’s not a fan. That’s understandable. It would certainly be preferable to celebrate their relationship while they’re not under a shitload of stress, but it’s not all bad. Mike of a couple years ago would have loved an extra holiday in October.“No, it’s good,” Mike assures, trying to convince both of them at once. “This way we have something to look forward to. It doesn’t have to be fall-themed at all— we can go to the beach if you want.”“You’re thinking pretty far ahead,” Will says, but he doesn’t sound mad about it— more amazed. “You think we’ll be together in a year?”Was that too much? They just got together, like, half an hour ago. Maybe he’s moving things a bit too fast. But then again, he’s wanted this forever. He has no doubt in his mind that he would choose to be with Will forever, if at all possible. He’s spent his entire life trying to hide that fact. Why waste another minute?“I mean,” he shrugs, aiming for easygoing while actively sweating through his shirt. “I hope so? I want to be. I really want to be.”“Me too,” Will confirms instantly, locking eyes with Mike. “This is— serious. For me.”“Good,” he responds, growing increasingly nervous. The reality of their situation is slowly creeping up on him. They’re dating. For real. They’re in a serious relationship. He’s on his first date with his new boyfriend. There’s no going back anymore— not that Mike would want to, by any means. “Same here. Serious. The most serious.”Will stares at him for a few moments, before erupting into a snort. “Okay. I’m glad.” Just like that, the tension breaks, and they’re back to themselves again.“I was just saying. Poor the rest of the stuff in— my arm’s getting tired.”“Alright, alright,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing the bowl off the counter. “I’m just gonna dump the whole thing in there.”“Don’t you dare,” Mike warns before getting a face full of powder. It’s worth it, to hear Will’s little mischievous giggle.The bread ends up coming out of the oven a little charred around the edges. One might blame Mike, first for insisting that they don’t need a timer, saying that they could just note what time they put it in and check on it incrementally, and second for distracting them both, forgetting about their task until they smelled something burning. It doesn’t matter much anyways, since their shared kisses tasted much sweeter than those three cups of sugar ever could.Because let’s be honest— this was never about the baking.
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Will watches the fully decorated houses fly by as he rides beside Mike on his bike, cobwebs and scarecrows and pumpkins in every driveway.For the first time in a while, Will is actually looking forward to tonight. While the others are going to be out trick-or-treating, he and Mike will be snuggled up in the Wheeler’s basement for a date night. Will is happy because they’ll both be safe and warm— Mike is happy because watching R-rated movies will keep Holly out of their space.Right about now would be the time an eight-year-old Will started begging his mom to get him ready for Halloween— immediately after school, with the sun still high in the sky. He would give anything to be eight again, just for tonight. Nonetheless, he’s determined to make the most of what he has. It’s like Mike said: while things can’t be exactly the same as before, that doesn’t mean they can’t be good.The two of them peddle up the Wheeler’s driveway, and Mike punches in the garage door code to safely store their bikes. Once they’re neatly (messily and haphazardly) leaned up against the wall, he opens up the door to the house for Will, like a proper gentleman. “Wait,” Mike holds out a hand in front of Will’s chest as he’s about to walk through, and then quickly leans over to kiss him on the mouth.Will is never going to get tired of this— the little stutter of his heart every single time without fail, how he immediately smiles into it, the way he doesn’t want to pull back. It’s better than he ever could have imagined. Even after two weeks— to the day— he still finds himself surprised at the fact that he can have this.What might be the best part, however, is knowing that Mike is thinking the exact same thing. As he resumes his position as doorman, he gives Will a self-satisfied smile. “Payment,” he explains simply, gesturing for Will to continue into the house.“You owe me change,” Will quips back, rocking forward slightly and tilting the side of his face in his direction. Mike complies without hesitation, kissing Will directly on the cheek. “Thank you,” he says, content, and walks through the door with his head held high. If he was tired from the long day of school and journey back, he isn’t anymore. He feels like he could run a marathon.“Hey boys!” Mike’s mom yells from the kitchen as soon as the door slams shut behind them. They round the corner to see Holly sitting at the island with an orange crayon in hand, presumably doing some sort of Halloween-themed homework for first grade. Mrs. Wheeler is watching over her as she cuts up a tomato, already prepping for dinner. Will could never be a stay-at-home mom— he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her sit down, apart for meal times, which she then has to clean up all on her own. Although, with how his first date with Mike went, he might not be let near a kitchen for the rest of his life anyway. “Will, honey! It’s so nice to see you!” she greets politely, as if he wasn’t over at the house last weekend.“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler,” he replies, because he’s also polite. “Thanks for having me.”“Suck up,” Mike mutters under his breath. Will elbows him in the side; sue him for trying to get in good with his boyfriend’s mom. He would like to stay in this relationship if he can help it.Mrs. Wheeler, thankfully, doesn’t hear anything, continuing on with her thoughts. “I guess you kids are getting too old for trick-or-treating, huh? I was going to ask if Holly could join you two tonight, but Mike said you’re just staying in.”Yet another positive consequence of their arrangement: no babysitting in the middle of a crowded street while it’s pitch-black out. Not that Will would mind— he loves Holly— but Mike definitely would. That’ll be two less whining children for Will to deal with.“Yeah, it just— doesn’t really sound like fun anymore,” Will answers to the best of his ability.She tsks, shaking her head. “That’s a shame. I’m going to miss taking pictures of you guys in your group costumes. They were always so cute. Are the others coming over later?”“No, they were all busy,” Mike lies. Busy on Halloween? Really? This is why he should leave the lying up to Will— he sucks at it. “It’s just me and Will.”“Oh, alright,” she accepts without a second thought. Maybe Will overestimated her ability to be involved in her children’s lives. After all, her kids were off fighting monsters for days at a time, and she never had a clue. “You two have fun then. Don’t eat all the candy— it’s for trick-or-treaters. And don’t spoil your dinner.”“Okay, thanks. Bye!” Mike yells as he grabs Will’s wrist and drags him down the stairs to the basement. The second his foot hits the floor, he turns to Will and asks, “So— what’s first? Movie marathon?”“Sure, that sounds good,” Will agrees, moving to sit down on the couch, while Mike stands in front of the TV like he’s about to give a presentation. “What’s the lineup?”“I’m kind of feeling Nightmare on Elm Street. If that’s cool.”“Yeah, that’s fine,” he pulls a blanket off the backrest of the couch and over his legs. It smells like Mike— he must use it when he sleeps down here. Maybe Will should steal it— although he knows that Mike will give him the leather jacket he has on by the time they say goodbye tonight. “It’s one of my favorites.”“Mine too,” Mike opens the movie case, slotting it into the VCR player, and the screen crackles as it processes the request. His back is still toward Will as he tentatively adds, “Glen is hot.”This is new for them. As much as Will knows that Mike likes guys, they’ve never talked about them before. It feels different— more real. Mike doesn’t just like a boy, he likes boys. The two of them are the same— maybe more so than Will has previously thought.“In the crop top?” he inquires, somewhat nervous. Will has never admitted these kinds of thoughts out loud before either. It feels forbidden— like this is a line they shouldn’t cross. They can be gay, they just can’t talk about it. He pushes that thought to the back of his mind. If Mike can take the jump, then he can too. There’s nothing wrong with what they’re doing.“Yeah,” he nods, eyes wide in emphasis. “He—“ Mike blows out a dramatic puff of breath, getting up to join Will on the couch.Will giggles at his antics, offering the edge of his blanket as Mike settles beside him. He takes it, pulling it so it’s covering them both, and wraps his arm around Will, keeping him close. “Are you really going to look at other men in front of me?” Will jokes, raising an eyebrow.Mike’s mouth opens and closes in surprise as he tries to formulate a response. “Well— he gets murdered! It doesn’t count if he’s dead!”“Is he?”“Shhh, spoilers,” he dismisses, waving a hand in Will’s face as he hits play on the remote. Will chooses not to bring up the fact that Mike has seen this movie dozens of times, and, apparently, has drooled over Glen just as many. It’s not like Will has any room to speak.They both snuggle closer as the movie starts, Will’s bent legs practically on top of his lap, his head resting on Mike’s shoulder. This is what Halloween should be from now on— cuddling on a couch, scaring themselves shitless without any threat of an actual panic attack. Mrs. Wheeler’s cranberry candles might be a bit too much, but they’re homely. Maybe that’s what Halloween is— the most uncomfortable kind of comforting.Soon the sun sets, and Mrs. Wheeler yells down the basement that she’s taking Holly out for the night. It’s around then that they pop in their second movie of the evening, The Thing. By the third movie, Will decides that he’s feeling brave enough to try Halloween; he’s survived the actual holiday so far, so how bad can it really be? It can’t be worse than hearing the trick or treats of the children walking down Mike’s street.It’s not too bad so far— besides the fact that he and Mike used to watch this every Halloween. He’s determined to get through it though; he’s not about to let some stupid movie get in the way of his date. Not even with the pool of dread setting in his gut.Mike reaches between them and grabs a handful of popcorn, shoveling it into his mouth. They aren’t usually this silent when watching something they’ve seen time and time again, but their growing drowsiness has put an end to their play-by-play commentary. Mike’s chews can be heard over the movie, slow and distracted, until he breaks the lull in their conversation. “I can never take your last name.”“Huh?” Will turns to him, confused.“I’d be Michael Byers,” he gestures to the screen. “I wouldn’t be able to live it down.”Take his name, as in marriage. Does Mike want to marry him? Obviously they can’t right now, but someday, surely. Hopefully.“Were you planning on taking my last name?” he teases, as if he doesn’t have William Wheeler scribbled in his notebooks about a hundred times.“Well— not anymore, Mike grumbles, blushing under the TV light. “You’ll have to take mine.”Fine by Will. He’d like to die a Wheeler. Or a Wheeler-Byers. Or whatever else Mike decides.Both boys jump as the handle on the basement door starts to jiggle. Before Will can process the fact that Mike channeled the spirit of Michael Myers, who has come to break into the house and murder them to death, the lock starts to turn, and the door swings open to reveal Dustin in his Shaggy costume, stuffed dog on his shoulder and all. “Boo.”Will breathes out a sigh of relief— he must have used the spare key hidden in the light next to the door. “Hey guys. What are you doing here?”The others shuffle in, taking their seats on the various pieces of furniture around the room. “You really think we were going to ditch you all night?” Lucas asks. Yes. Yes he did. He was planning on it, in fact. “We came back to share our candy. Hold on— are you watching Halloween without us?”The Party, who have just unwittingly crashed their date, all cry out in offense, as they dump their pillowcases out on the table in front of them. Will can’t say that he wants them to leave— honestly, this might be the best surprise ever. He should have known that the Party wouldn’t let them be alone tonight. And they’re sharing their hard earned candy. Not even Mike seems to be too annoyed by their interruption.“Sorry if we’re intruding on your little date,” Max says, not really sounding sorry at all. ”I told Dustin to knock in case you were making out, but he decided to ignore me.”Okay, so maybe it wasn’t all that unwittingly. They know? How do they know? Mike didn’t tell them, and Will certainly didn’t tell them.“Was that a joke?” Mike questions, just as confused as he is.Lucas groans, throwing his head back. “Please don’t tell me that you’re still not together. You’re fucking cuddling,” he gestures to the two of them, who are, in fact, still cuddling. So maybe that’s how.Will shoots Mike a look— should we tell them? Mike nods. “No, we’re dating.” It feels weird admitting that out loud. A good weird, he thinks. It’s freeing, getting a chance to shout to the world about how much he loves Mike Wheeler.“Thank god,” Dustin exclaims, at the same time that Max asks, “When?”“When what?”“When did you start dating?” she clarifies. “Lucas guessed late September, but I thought it was when you two were hiding away in the parking lot at the costume store.”Well that’s embarrassing. It seems like everyone had figured it out before them. How did their friends discover that they liked each other when Will couldn’t even do that?“No, it was…” Mike pauses, cringing at their own stupidity. “It was a couple weeks ago. After the arcade.”El smiles widely, holding her hand out towards Max, Dustin, and Lucas. “I will be taking your candy,” she demands, as the others mutter their complaints and hand over a king-size candy bar each.“You bet on us?” Mike shrieks, jaw dropped open in offense.“Yep,” El replies, happily peeling open a Snickers. “It was easy. You guys would not stop giggling at each other.”They do not giggle at each other. They aren’t thirteen-year-old girls. They’re fifteen-year-old boys. They save their giggling for when they’re safely alone in their rooms.Will turns to Mike, rolling his eyes fondly at his almost-step-sister’s antics. Mike returns the gesture with a shake of his head, and pulls Will further into his side. He easily complies, circling his arms around Mike’s waist and sighing contentedly.Even if Halloween sucks— even if Will hates it with a passion, and wishes he could skip past fall entirely— at least he still has people who care about him. Maybe he doesn’t have to carry this all on his own. His mom had been right the entire time— it is easier to deal with stuff when you have people on your side. He doesn’t have to try so hard to act okay. There’s no point in pushing himself until he breaks. He can be perfectly happy just like this, with the people that matter the most.Now all he has to do is get through November 6th.“I love you,” Mike whispers into his ear, nuzzling their heads together.With the ease of which it was said, one would think that this wasn’t the first time those words were spoken between them— but it was. It almost doesn’t register as such in Will’s brain. It felt too casual— too right. Maybe that’s because Will already knew it. It’s an unspoken fact that Mike loves him, and that Will loves him back. And now, on a random Halloween night in 1986, it becomes a spoken fact.“I love you, too.”