Chapter Text
Will smoothed his sheet of paper over his sketchbook, balanced on the top of his thigh. He’d chosen a spot near the corner of the pool that felt more private, to write… something. He had considered skipping this part of the evening. No one would be mad about it. He could write nothing, or draw the head of a dragon, or just go inside and start on the Doritos. He traced a small hole in the knee of his jeans, thinking about what Nancy had said– something he wanted to let go of.
He looked up at the sound of water sloshing. Argyle and Robin had taken off their socks and shoes to dip their feet into the pool. Robin was sitting up, writing in her lap, and Argyle was lying on his back with his paper across his chest, his hair spread out on the bricks like tendrils of ink in the near-dark. Nancy and Jonathan sat side by side on the lounge chairs, Dustin and Erica at the table, and Steve on his stomach on the ground with his chin on the back of his hand. Mike was bent over his page at a rather awkward angle on the other side of the pool, deep in concentration, light rippling his face. Will watched him write, the tip of his pen tracking steadily across the page and then hovering, Mike biting his thumbnail.
Steve was the first to finish writing. He knelt over the pool and offered the corner of his folded-up paper to the flame of a floating candle. It flared up brilliantly, and at the last minute, with something between a whoop and an exclamation as the flames singed his fingers, he let it go.
Next was Erica, then Robin. After a while, Argyle. Dustin and Lucas got up at the same time, and Lucas lit his paper from Dustin’s.
Will’s page was still empty. He rested his chin in his hand, moving the pen between his fingers. Normally he tried not to think about the things he wanted to let go of–that was the whole point. His stomach twisted. The things he couldn’t remember doing, the words he had heard coming out of his mouth that weren’t his own, the screaming heat. Mike’s face twisted in pain, his blood spilling out of him. He thought, inexplicably, about Lonnie yelling at his mom about his son acting like a faggot, the door slamming. He couldn’t remember what he’d done.
He pressed his knuckles into his lips, a lump forming in the back of his throat. He wrote only the two words. When he set his pen down and looked up, his eyes locked with Mike’s, whose mouth opened just barely like he was thinking something he wouldn’t say.
Will cast his eyes down, aware of Mike folding his page and then burning it over the swimming pool. Will saw as it was devoured that Mike’s handwriting covered the whole thing, front and back. Then Mike walked around the pool, there was the swut of the heavy glass door sliding open. The sound of people talking and eating flowed from inside, then muffled when it shut. Will sat there, staring at the shape of the letters in front of him. Jonathan and Nancy were the only two left, both writing slowly.
Will got to his feet and crouched next to the pool. He held the page face-up over one of the floating candles so that he could see the white space and then the words he'd written melt into smoke:
I’m sorry.
Mike was propped up against the wall, chewing his lower lip, unable to keep from looking at the door. Dustin and Lucas were talking near him, but whenever he tried to pay attention his thoughts welled up and dragged him from the conversation. Everyone was in the living room with plates of Argyle’s enchiladas and chips, sitting on the expansive sofas or the rug. Mike was standing, because sitting down and standing back up tended to shoot splintering pain up his side. And because he was waiting for Will to come in.
He’d kept his distance. Mostly, granted, because he had no choice. Over most of the past two weeks, he’d been so exhausted he couldn’t get out of bed except to use the bathroom. At first, even that made him feel like he might pass out. He was pretty sure the only thing that kept him from fainting mid-pee after he got home from the hospital was the fact that it would be too mortifying. Once, he lost his vision and had to sit on the tile floor with blood roaring in his ears until he could see again. He was a little relieved that they hadn’t talked about what happened between them when Will came over, because he was pretty sure he couldn’t physically handle that conversation. At this point it was becoming physically difficult to not have that conversation. But maybe Will needed space.
He’d seemed like he needed space. Mike didn’t know what he needed. He resented the fatigue in his body, it made him weak and impatient and agitated and he just wanted to talk to Will and he wanted Will to want to talk to him . What if he’d lost his grasp and things had changed between them? Or if Mike’s feelings just made everything worse for Will, and it wasn’t worth it? There was something Will wasn’t talking to him about. He could tell.
Mike had fallen asleep not long after Will left, feeling heavy and hollow at the same time, and he’d dreamed that Will was still lying next to him. In the dream Mike touched Will’s lips, and Will's mouth opened, and he was going to tell him something important, his breath warm on Mike’s fingers, and he whispered, I hate this about you , but he said it like he meant something else. And then he’d woken as if by a loud noise, the hollow feeling begging in his stomach, reaching for air.
The door slid open, and Mike’s heart jumped. Will glanced vaguely at the living room and then went into the kitchen. Wordlessly, Mike followed him.
Will was filling up a glass of water from the wide kitchen sink, his hand on the tap. He shut it off and took a drink, lowered the glass from his lips.
“Hey,” Mike said furtively to his back.
Will turned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and his eyebrows twitched upward when they landed on Mike.
“What’s up?”
“I…um,” Mike chewed on his lip again. “Can we…” he rubbed the back of his head. “I really need to talk to you.”
“Okay, talk to me,” Will set his glass down and rested his hands on either side of the counter.
“Not–not here.”
Will looked at him evenly. “Why not here?”
Mike frowned, his head falling to the side. Robin and Dustin were laughing loudly in the next room. “You wanna talk right here?”
“You wanna talk about us?”
Mike’s heart thumped somewhere near his clavicle. Us . He nodded. Will traced the edge of the counter with his pointer finger.
“Okay.” Will’s shoulders softened. “Where?”
Mike scratched his temple, looking around them. There was a door off to the side of the kitchen that might lead to the garage or something. He tried it. A washing machine and a dryer were tucked against one wall opposite a set of shelves stacked with linens and bottles of cleaning agents. There was a faint smell of dried cotton and bleach.
“Laundry room?”
Will shrugged. “Laundry room, sure.”
Mike flicked on the overhead light and shut the door behind Will. The room was narrow, with large squares of tile flooring and one window with a ledge around hip-level. Will leaned against the wall next to the shelves, and Mike stood opposite him at the window. He sank onto the ledge and ran his fingers through his hair nervously.
“Sometimes I wish we could just talk in the kitchen,” Will said in a low voice.
Mike’s shoulders felt heavy. “Do you not want to? Talk?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t be shut in Steve’s laundry room with you if I didn’t want to.”
Mike looked at him. He could feel his hands shaking. “Okay, look…I just really think that we should talk about what happened. And I don’t know if this is still important to you or like, I mean…It’s important to me, and I don’t know–
“Mike,” Will interrupted. “Why did you kiss me?” He had his arms crossed in front of him, waiting, his expression indecipherable.
Mike balked, his face reddening. “You don’t know why I kissed you?” he asked slowly.
Will looked between Mike’s eyes with uncertainty.
“I…” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I really wanted to,” he said.
Will’s brow knitted and he opened his mouth, then closed it. “Mike…” he started. He turned his face, his profile soft in the room’s yellow light.
“I–I thought...was that not okay? You didn’t want me to?”
“No, I did. It’s not that.”
The fist around Mike’s lungs let up. “Well…what is it?”
“I–” Will shook his head, his expression pained. “Maybe I should’ve told you sooner.”
Mike tensed.
“I saw your memories. Of me.”
“My….” Mike’s eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“I know Vecna was fucking with you. To get you into the Upside Down.” He looked away again with a helpless gesture. “I know he was making you feel guilty.”
Mike narrowed his eyes, trying to understand. “What are you talking about?”
When Will looked at him, his eyes were bright. “Vecna was showing you me –dead, and possessed, and lost. I saw all of your memories–all of those memories. And I understand why…you didn’t want to hurt me.”
Mike paused, realization sinking in. “You think I kissed you because I felt guilty?”
“You said you realized something that was true but felt kind of bad.” Will glanced away. “I know that you care about me–as your best friend. And…” he struggled for a moment. “You knew how I felt about you.”
Mike sucked in his lower lip. “Will–”
“But you don’t have to say that–”
“That’s not what I’m doing–”
“I was your worst memories, I–”
“I love you.”
Will stopped talking. “You…what?” he asked faintly.
Mike looked at Will, his heart hammering like he’d run a marathon. “You are my best friend,” Mike said. “But it’s–it’s more than that. It’s different.”
Will’s chest and shoulders rose as he breathed, as though he’d just remembered to.
“When I said it felt bad…It felt bad because what if you didn’t like me back and I ruined things? Or someone saw us and everything changed and everyone treated us differently? Or what if something happened to you because of me?” Mike ran his palms over his jeans. “I felt bad because I’m not…I’m not supposed to feel like this. About you. I know I’m not.”
Will’s eyes were wide. His breath caught when he inhaled. “You love me?”
He looked unbelieving, like the answer to this question was porcelain and might shatter out of Mike’s hands. Will, scared. It made everything seem very simple.
“Yeah. I love you,” Mike said.
Will’s expression changed slowly. His eyes fell to the space under Mike’s left shoulder, and he reached a hand there unconsciously, hesitated, then touched his fingers lightly to Mike’s collarbone, coming closer. Mike’s heart beat insistently under the heat of Will’s hand as he lowered his palm, open against Mike’s chest. His eyes landed on Mike’s, something like wonder in them. A familiar, charged feeling washed over Mike, and he blinked. Will’s cheeks were flushed.
“What you said, about restarting my heart.” Mike paused. “Can you still–…feel it?”
Will nodded, and Mike felt heat rise up his neck. Will was very close, every cell in Mike’s body awake to their proximity. And then he leaned into Mike’s space, and Will was kissing him, his lips smooth and full, heat pooling in Mike’s chest and abdomen. Will was kissing him . His taste and smell and warmth, his legs against Mike’s knees. Will .
Will expected Mike to kiss him softly, or to hold back, cautious, like he had at the cabin, but he responded more urgently. He held Will’s face in both hands, his fingers in his hair, then at his waist, pulling him closer. He couldn’t think. Desire he’d kept tamped down rushed into his bloodstream, into his lips against Mike’s. The first time they’d kissed it felt impossible, like at any moment it would end and he had to be ready to lose it forever. This time he opened to it, let his wall fall apart. He felt the way that Mike kissed him, longingly, a current that pulled him deeper. The intimacy of it made him feel dizzy, exposed. Mike pushed him a step back against the wall, his thumbs tracing along his jaw. The sensation was almost too much. Mike pulled away at the same time that Will did. His eyes were dark, his lips full in a way that made Will bite down on his lip hard enough to regain focus. Mike leaned his forehead against the wall next to Will’s ear, catching his breath, his hand at his ribs.
Will touched Mike's shoulder, still curved over his own. “Are…you okay?” he asked breathlessly.
Mike huffed a laugh. “Uh, yeah, good,” he said, stepping backward to perch on the windowsill, his hand still over his side. “Just, like, my ribs are broken, and I kind of forgot.” His expression was between a grimace and shy smile.
“Oh my god,” Will covered his mouth. “I forgot too. Did I hurt you?”
“No, you didn’t,” Mike shook his head. “It was my fault. I…I needed to stop any way.” Red rose in his cheeks. He was leaning forward, one hand on his knee.
“Oh.” Will swallowed. “Me too,” he said. He took a slow breath, trying to clear his head. It took a couple of moments. They couldn’t have been in there long, but it must be getting late. “Actually, um…." Will straightened the hem of his shirt. "I need to tell you something.”
Mike’s eyebrows tightened slightly. “Okay.”
“I’m…” Will rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m moving back to Lenora.”
Mike straightened and stared at him. “You’re what?”
“Tomorrow morning, we’re flying back.”
Mike stared at him, disoriented. “For how long?”
“Just to finish out the school year, and so my mom has time to sell the house. And find a new house here. So, it’s just temporary,” he added, when Mike didn’t say anything.
“Oh,” Mike looked at the baseboard near Will’s heels. “Okay. I mean…that-that makes sense, I guess, that you would have to go back. I don’t know why I wasn’t…I just wasn’t expecting that.”
“I would’ve told you sooner, but it was really last-minute.” Will sighed. “Um, this…” he started.
“We’ll figure it out,” Mike said, but something in his expression faltered.
Will watched him look at his knees, his face hidden. He was very still, even his hands not moving or fidgeting.
Will crossed the small space between them. “Hey,” he prompted.
“Yeah.”
“You know I’m coming back, right?” Will said. Mike turned his head, hastily dragged his sleeve under his eye and cleared his throat before meeting his gaze. Will touched a spray of freckles on his cheekbone hesitantly. Mike closed his eyes. He put his hand over the back of Will’s, pressing his palm to his warm skin for a long moment, and then letting their hands fall.
“I know.”
Will studied Mike’s eyes, waiting. Eventually, Mike looked at him again.
“I don’t want you to leave any more,” he said softly.
Will felt a warm, almost sweet ache in his chest. He leaned toward Mike and kissed him once, lingering for a couple of seconds. He pulled back, watching Mike’s brow smooth, his eyes opening slowly into Will's.
Just then the doorknob turned and the door cracked open. Will’s heart leapt out of his chest as he and Mike snapped away from each other.
“Oh,” Robin’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry! Do you guys…need a minute?”
“No!” They said in unison.
“We were–um–” Will and Mike exchanged an alarmed look.
“Getting towels,” Mike said. “To swim. We wanna go swimming.” He rubbed his nose.
“Right,” Robin glanced behind her and, incredibly, squeezed into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said, smiling apologetically. She steepled her index fingers and pointed at Will. “It’s just that Jonathan is looking for you? It’s getting late and, as I understand it, you have a flight to catch in a few hours.”
Will stared at her blankly. Mike looked just as perplexed, but before he could open his mouth, Robin continued.
“And just so you know, in case you’re at all worried, I didn’t see anything even slightly unusual or worthy of talking about, just now, and judging by, well, the way you both reacted to me seeing absolutely nothing at all in here, just now, I won’t mention it. To anyone. Cool?” She flashed a thumbs up, smiling brightly.
“Um,” Mike said.
“Okay!” Robin said. “I’ll…leave you to it.”
“No, um,” Mike turned to Will. “You should go first. I’ll come out in a minute.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Mike nodded.
Will followed Robin into the kitchen and then the foyer, where Jonathan was putting on his jacket and saying goodbye to everyone. Will did the same. He felt like he was in a bubble. He tried to pretend he hadn’t just been making out with Mike next to Steve’s washing machine, which should have been easy in theory since it was how he normally acted–but he could barely pay attention to what anyone was saying to him.
Mike had come out of the kitchen and was saying goodbye to Jonathan while Lucas and Dustin hugged Will at the same time. Their eyes snagged and Will paused, before Mike pulled him into a hug, his hands at Will’s shoulder blades, his head bent down into his neck, and then too quickly they let go.
“Bye,” Mike said. He looked so beautiful it was almost painful, and Will forced himself not to stare. Lucas was hovering at Mike's side, surveying them both with his hands in his pockets.
“Bye,” Will said. He shouldered his backpack and followed Jonathan outside.
He looked back to see an oddly familiar expression on Mike’s face before someone shut the door.