Work Text:
April 29th, 1990
Listen, Mike Wheeler is completely aware that getting shit-faced on a Sunday night, especially when you have class tomorrow at nine in the morning, is an objectively bad idea. However, getting shit-faced on a Sunday means seeing Will Byers’ face flush more and more with every passing bottle.
It’s adorable, honestly, the way his face goes from solid tan to pink in an hour, and Mike is definitely staring at him. And who cares? It is perfectly acceptable for Mike Wheeler to stare at his gorgeous boyfriend.
So, Mike stares. He stares as Will picks up the bottle in front of him, watches the way his hand wraps around it. Lets his eyes catch on Will’s throat as he swallows.
Mike thinks back to a time before he knew—before they’d kissed, before Mike had been forced to confront things he’d always been leaving behind.
One morning at the Byers’, after a sleepover. Will, a glass of orange juice in his hand. Mike watching, staring, the same way he is now. He was thirteen. Thirteen and unaware of what that could possibly mean. But now he was nineteen, and he knew the implications behind it. And he doesn’t care.
It was taking every bone in Mike’s body to not walk up and kiss Will right then and there.
“Jesus, Mike, it’s like you’re undressing him with your eyes,” Dustin says, sidling up next to him.
“Gross, Dustin,” Mike answers, and he goes back to staring.
Staring at Will’s upturned lips, the way the light catches his hair. The flush of his cheeks—the main focus of tonight—the way his hips moved when he danced (horribly) along to the bars music.
Mike watched him link arms with El and spin them around, throwing his head back and laughing like a little kid.
And suddenly, Mike is walking across the room. He grabs Will’s arm, ignoring a small sound of protest, and drags him into a secluded corner.
“Mike—“
“Shut up.” Mike kisses him. And kisses him. And, for the first time in God knows how long, Mike doesn’t feel like he has to stop. He doesn’t feel the weight of fear on his chest, only the warmth of love inside his heart.
See, the thing about them has always been this: there was a constant fear that it would end. One of them would die, both of them would die, or some inexplicable force would tear them apart. Teenage love wasn’t something either of them got to experience, and Mike thinks as he stands in the back of a bar, shoes sticking to the floor, that maybe they’ve finally reached it.
They’ve finally made it. A relationship full of butterflies and nerves, not because of fear, but because of excitement. No more waiting for the inevitable crash and burn, because they beat it. They got out.
So they kiss, and they kiss, and Mike winds his hands through Will’s hair, and Will’s arms find their way around Mike’s shoulders, and theres nothing that can stop them.
It’s love. Pure, unfiltered, raw love. No fear, no hurt, no anger. Love.
The one thing Mike lacked growing up, right here coursing through his veins like it was always there.
Maybe it always has been. Mike can’t be sure. He is sure about this, though: Will Byers is the blood in his veins, the freckles on his face, the brightest part of his soul, and nothing could ever, ever change that.
There’s no getting rid of him, and Mike doesn’t want to. Will could put a knife to his throat, and Mike would still look at him like he hung the moon and stars in the night sky.
Will pulls away from the kiss.
“What is up with you tonight?” Will asks.
“I love you,” Mike responds, and thats his only answer. Love is what’s up with him. Love has always been what’s up with him.
“I love you, too,” Will whispers.
“We got another round!” Lucas yells from somewhere else in the building, and for once, an interruption doesn’t pop the bubble of love hanging around them.
Because their love is infinite, and it always has been. Crazy, stupid, beautiful, endless love. From the swings to Mike’s basement, from the Hawkins church to this stuffy college town bar, taking up space without either of them being completely aware of it.
The thing about love is that even if you can’t see it, even if you don’t believe it, it’s still there.