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Mike Wheeler was dying.
A cruel, painful, humiliating death.
His parents were going to find his body sprawled out on the Wheeler living room carpet. And his tombstone? Oh, his tombstone was going to be tragic.
Here lies Mike Wheeler.
Cause of death: Will Byers Pretty Face.
Because holy shit, Will looked hot.
Like, unfairly hot. Like, Mike-might-throw-up-or-explode-or-burst-into-flames hot.
Sure, Mike had always thought Will was cute. Obviously. It was Will. Will, with his stupidly perfect bowl-cut and soft eyes and quiet smile. Mike had spent years trying not to think about how adorable his best friend was.
But then Will moved back to Hawkins.
And Will had the audacity, the nerve, the cruelty, to grow his hair and style it in a way that made Mike’s brain short-circuit. Will had gotten taller, broader, older, sharper. His voice was deeper. His smile was devastating.
Will Byers had become beautiful. Breathtakingly, irrevocably, unbearably beautiful. And Mike Wheeler had become a walking house fire.
Every time he saw Will now, he felt physically overheated, feverish, oxygen-deprived. It was like his entire bloodstream turned into static and his lungs forgot how to lung.
And then - because the universe hated him - Will had to go and kill a demogorgon. With his mind. Saving Mike. Heroically. Ferociously. Radiant and terrifying and stunning, covered in sweat and dirt and looking like a fallen angel.
Mike didn’t think WIll had ever looked more beautiful than he had in that moment.
Mike had stood there watching, useless, in awe, thinking wildly, I want to lick him.
Which was insane. Mike knew it was insane. Wanting to lick your best friend wasn't normal. Mike was well aware of that.
He wasn’t trying to be creepy - really, he wasn’t - but something about Will just ripped his common sense out of his body and replaced it with one long, desperate, feral scream.
Because Mike had never felt like this with El.
He loved her. He did. They’d split after Vecna had hurt Max, after the destruction of Hawkins, after the military quarantined the town. Agreeing that maybe, someday, when the world wasn’t ending, they’d figure things out again. Maybe. When El didn’t need to focus on rebuilding her life and powers and finding her own place in the world. On saving the world.
But even when they were together, Mike had never wanted to kiss down El’s throat until she gasped. He’d never wanted to push her back against a wall and bite at her jaw. He’d never wanted to grab her hips or pull her closer or…
He had never, ever wanted to consume her whole.
Will, though?
Mike wanted to devour him. To kiss him until neither of them could breathe. To hold him so close that it felt like gravity was breaking.
Everything about Will - his hands, his voice, the way he laughed, the way he said Mike’s name - just wrecked him.
And worst of all? Will looked at him sometimes, eyes soft, cheeks pink, and Mike swore he could die on the spot.
So now Vecna was defeated, Holly was safe, his parents alive and healed and life in Hawkins was crawling back to normal.
But Mike Wheeler? He was still absolutely convinced that Will Byers was going to kill him.
And honestly?
It might be the best possible way to go.
“What are you doing?”
Mike jerked his head up and there was Will. Smiling. Soft and bright and golden around the edges, like the sun had decided to take human form just to ruin him.
There was laughter in Will’s voice, this warm, teasing lilt that never failed to knock the air right out of Mike’s lungs. He looked relaxed. Happy. Stupidly beautiful.
Mike let his head fall back to the carpet with a dramatic thud, staring up at the ceiling like it might swallow him whole.
“Dying,” he groaned. “Tell my family I love them.”
Will laughed.
Mike squeezed his eyes shut because that sound - shit, that sound - wrapped around his chest like a hand and squeezed until his heart was a tight, aching knot. Will laughing was the most unfair thing that had ever existed.
“You are so dramatic,” Will said, voice warm with affection. Too warm. So fond it felt like a stab straight to Mike’s ribcage.
And then, because apparently Will was committed to finishing him off, Will lay down and stretched out on the floor beside him. Close enough that Mike could feel the heat of him. Close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. Close enough that Mike’s entire nervous system lit up like a thousand fireworks.
Mike peeked over.
Will was staring at the ceiling, hands folded on his stomach, hair fanned out around his head in soft waves. His lips were curved into that small, private smile, like just being near Mike was enough to make him content.
Mike swallowed hard.
Yeah. He was dying. Will Byers was absolutely going to be the death of him.
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Will mumbled, voice low and thoughtful. “After everything from the past few years and now… now it’s all done. Gone. For good.”
Mike turned his head on the carpet and just… looked at him. He was supposed to look at the ceiling, or at least pretend he wasn’t completely obsessed with the way Will’s mouth moved when he talked. But Mike had never been good at pretending when it came to Will.
“Yeah…” Mike breathed. His gaze traced every line of Will’s profile. The curve of his nose. The soft shape of his cheeks. The way Will’s hair brushed against his forehead. How was he supposed to look away?
“How’s it feel to finally be free from Vecna?” Mike asked, though it came out quieter, more tentative than he meant.
Will smiled - small, real, and brighter than anything should be allowed to be - and Mike’s stomach swooped. He swallowed hard, resisting the completely inappropriate urge to lean over and press his lips to Will’s cheek just to see Will smile like that again.
“Good,” Will said. “Really good. Although…” His grin widened. “Having powers for a bit was cool.”
Mike laughed, the sound bursting out of him before he could help it. “So cool. You’re a real-life sorcerer.”
Will huffed a laugh, bumping Mike’s shoulder gently. “Not anymore.”
Right. Will’s powers had been brief. Blindingly, terrifyingly brief. They arrived in a dazzling surge that left Mike breathless. For a moment, Will had glowed, fierce and brilliant, something otherworldly and awe-striking.
And then, just as violently, they were gone.
Snuffed out in a screaming haze of blood, smoke, and the final death rattle of Vecna. Will’s powers didn’t fade.
They died with Henry.
But Mike still saw magic every time Will existed near him.
Mike’s voice softened without his permission. “You’ll always be a wizard to me, Will. Will the Wise.”
Will turned his head at that. Slowly, like he was afraid he’d miss something if he moved too fast. Their eyes met.
Mike forgot how to breathe.
Will’s face was so close. His eyes warm and deep and searching. The kind of look that made Mike feel like his insides were melting. And Mike didn’t look away. He couldn’t. It felt impossible, like gravity was dragging him closer and closer to Will with every tiny second that passed.
Will’s breath brushed Mike’s cheek. Mike’s fingers twitched toward Will’s hand. The world felt small and quiet and perfect.
And Mike Wheeler was absolutely, completely helpless.
“I never told you how I did it,” Will murmured, voice low and drifting. “That first time. When I tapped into the hivemind… into Henry… and used his powers.”
Mike turned his head further to look more closely at him. A tiny movement. A soft shake. His hair brushed the carpet with the sound of a whisper.
Will swallowed. “It was something Robin said. About accepting myself. About not running from the parts of me I was scared of.” He let out a shaky breath. “And then, I saw the demo rushing towards you. Fast. Too fast. And I just… I couldn’t let you die.”
Mike’s heart seized. His lungs forgot how to work.
“I mean, I couldn’t let Lucas or Robin die either,” Will added quickly, eyes darting away in embarrassment. “But you…” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t watch you die.”
The confession hung between them, heavy and bright and terrifying.
Will’s fingers twitched next to Mike’s on the floor.
“I thought of that first day we met,” Will whispered. “When we were kids. Sitting on the swings. And you asked me to be your friend.” His eyes softened, distant with memory. “And I let that feeling take over. That… that warmth. That safety. You.”
Mike couldn’t breathe. Not even a little. He didn’t even try. He just stared, chest aching, as if his ribs were too small for everything inside him.
Their eyes met. Will didn’t look away. Neither did Mike.
For a long, suspended moment, it felt like the kind of silence that meant something. The kind that buzzed. The kind that made the air feel thick and sweet and impossible to breathe.
Will’s fingers inched closer on the carpet, so small a movement Mike might’ve imagined it. Except he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when his heart stuttered at the sight of it.
Mike let his pinky brush Will’s.
A spark shot up his arm so strong he almost choked.
Will blinked and let out a breathy, startled little laugh, like he was just as overwhelmed. “Mike,” he murmured, voice soft enough to melt bones.
Mike wanted to say something. Anything. Something profound or stupid or brave. Something like I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Or your smile is illegal and it’s killing me. Or maybe just please don’t move.
Instead he whispered, “Hi.”
Will laughed. Really laughed, and Mike felt lightheaded with how warm it sounded. Will nudged him with his shoulder. Mike nudged back.
Soon they were just… giggling. For no reason other than they were sprawled on Mike’s sitting room floor, alive, happy, safe, and maybe, just maybe, something was changing between them.
Will tilted his head back, grinning at the ceiling. “This is stupid.”
Mike snickered next to him. “The stupidest.”
They dissolved into quiet laughter again, shoulders touching, legs sprawled carelessly next to each other, everything easy and dizzying and soft.
Which was, of course, the exact moment the front door opened.
“Boys?” Karen’s voice floated into the room. “Why on earth are you lying on the floor?”
Mike and Will both froze. Made eye contact. And immediately burst into hysterical laughter.
Mike could barely breathe. Will pressed his face into his hands. Karen sighed the long-suffering sigh of a mother who knew fully well she wasn’t getting a real answer, shook her head, and went into the kitchen.
And the boys - still breathless, still red-faced, still buzzing with something new and warm - just kept laughing.
******
The unfortunate thing - truly, deeply unfortunate, in Mike’s opinion - was that he wasn’t the only person who had realised how ridiculously attractive Will Byers had become.
Apparently the entire school had eyes. And hormones.
Will was getting attention. Real, obvious, infuriating attention.
Girls asked him out. Girls lingered by his locker. Girls giggled when he walked past, whispering behind their hands like Will was some kind of walking, breathing heart-throb protagonist in a movie.
Mike hated it.
He wasn’t proud of it, but he did.
Every time someone flirted with Will, a sharp, ugly jolt of jealousy shot through him.
Mine, he wanted to scream at anyone who so much as batted their eyelashes in Will’s direction.
Back off, he’s mine.
(It would be slightly easier to manage if Will actually was his, but unfortunately Mike was still stuck in the “secretly in love with his best friend” stage of life.)
He wanted to slam lockers. He wanted to stand between Will and every simpering girl like a human shield. He wanted to grab Will’s hand and make it extremely clear to the world that, well. That he wanted him.
But instead Mike just clenched his jaw until it ached, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and pretended he was totally unaffected. Normal. Calm.
He was not calm.
Not even remotely.
Especially not when Will came bounding up to him one afternoon after class, cheeks pink from the cold, smiling that bright, heart-stopping smile, completely unaware that three girls had just been staring at him like he hung the damn moon.
“Hey, Mike!” Will beamed.
And Mike, hopeless and lovesick, thought, If one more person flirts with him, I’m actually going to explode.
“Will,” Mike breathed, barely managing the one syllable. It left him embarrassingly weak and a little dizzy.
Will blinked at him, clueless and perfect. “You okay?” he asked, smiling like sunlight. Like warmth. Like he hadn’t just unintentionally ruined Mike’s ability to function as a person.
“Yeah,” Mike lied. Badly. “Yep. Totally fine. Great. Amazing. Never been better.”
The corner of Will’s mouth tugged up. “You sound like you’re dying.”
I am, Mike thought. You’re killing me. Right now. With your face.
He cleared his throat. “I’m just… tired.”
“From what?” Will laughed as they started walking toward the school doors. “English class?”
“Yes. Obviously. Shakespeare is exhausting.”
Will snorted. “You didn’t even read. You doodled a dragon in the margins the whole time.”
“That was a griffin,” Mike corrected, trying very hard not to stare at the way Will’s hair caught the light.
“A very angry griffin,” Will shot back.
“It had every right to be angry.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“Because…” Mike gestured vaguely, heart thudding. “Because the world is cruel and unfair and, whatever, don’t judge my artistic expression.”
Will bumped his shoulder against Mike’s as they pushed through the doors. “I would never judge your artistic expression.”
Mike nearly fell down the stairs.
They walked onto the bike rack area, the afternoon sun catching Will’s face just right. Soft gold on soft skin, eyes bright and warm. Unfair. Criminal, actually.
“You wanna hang out?” Will asked casually as he unlocked his bike, fingers working quickly on the chain.
Mike swallowed. Hard. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I do.”
Will smiled again, that small, sweet curve that always hit Mike like a spell. “Cool,” he said. “I feel like we haven’t had real time together in a while.”
“We hung out yesterday,” Mike blurted.
Will laughed. “Yeah, but that was D&D. I meant just us.”
Mike’s brain short-circuited.
Just us.
He remembered the last time they’d hung out, just the two of them, lying on the carpet, shoulders almost touching, fingers brushing in those accidental-on-purpose ways. The soft laughter. The quiet. The feeling of being wrapped up in something warm and familiar.
And Will… shit, Will had looked so painfully beautiful. The kind of beautiful that hit Mike out of nowhere and left him breathless. Hair falling into his eyes, cheeks flushed from laughing, lips parted just slightly as he tried to catch his breath. The kind of beautiful Mike wasn’t built to survive. The kind that made his chest ache and his pulse stutter and made him think wildly impossible things like I want to kiss him everywhere and if I look at him any longer I’m going to explode.
Just remembering it made Mike’s stomach flip and his palms go sweaty.
Will Byers was a danger to his health. A full, lethal threat.
He hoped to God Will didn’t notice the way his knees nearly gave out.
They mounted their bikes and Will glanced over at him, that same gentle, searching look that always made Mike feel seen in a way he didn’t know how to handle.
“You sure you’re okay?” Will asked quietly, wheels slowly rolling.
Mike nodded way too fast. “Yep! Totally fine. Never been more fine.”
Will grinned and Mike, hopeless and entirely gone, thought, I’m so in love with you it’s physically painful.
And then Will said, “Good. C’mon, Mike. Race you home.”
He kicked off, speeding ahead. And Mike, lovesick and doomed, chased after him like he always had.
*****
Mike wasn’t stupid.
Okay, academically, he was solid. Good at school, good at planning, good at strategizing, good at mapping out the quickest way to defeat whatever monster-of-the-week the Upside Down spat out at them. He could solve a campaign puzzle in minutes. He could construct elaborate multi-phase plans to defeat immortal psychic villains.
So, yeah. He wasn’t stupid.
But when it came to people, specifically emotions? Specifically his emotions? And Will Byers’ emotions?
Yeah… Mike Wheeler was a certified idiot.
He knew that. He could admit that. Dustin had pointed it out multiple times. Nancy did it at least once a week. Even Lucas had said, “Dude, how do you survive thinking this much and noticing so little?”
And that was the problem.
Because Will was everywhere. Will was everything. Will was soft smiles and quiet laughter and eyes that made Mike’s stomach free-fall. Will was thoughtful touches and gentle brushes of fingers against Mike’s wrist that made his brain go offline for entire minutes. Will was so beautiful it was basically a health hazard.
And Mike couldn’t keep doing this.
Couldn’t keep being around Will while feeling like a shaken soda can ready to explode.
Couldn’t keep pretending he was fine when every time Will looked at him with those soft eyes
Mike felt like he was going to pass out.
So Mike decided - finally, unbelievably - that he had to tell him.
Tell Will the truth. Tell Will everything.
Because friends don’t lie.
And Mike had been lying - by omission, sure, but still lying - for way too long.
He planned it out carefully. He practiced in front of the bathroom mirror. He tried saying it into his pillow. (“Hi, Will, I like you. Like like you. Like I want to hold your hand and maybe kiss you and also you’re really pretty please don’t pass out”) He wrote and crumpled up three separate notes he would never, ever give Will.
He hyped himself up for two days.
And by the time he was walking to Will’s house, his palms sweaty, his heart doing backflips in his chest, he’d accepted something vital:
Will Byers would not like him back.
Why would he? Will was… Will. Kind and talented and brave and sweet and stupidly gorgeous. Will saved the world. Will was the most amazing human being to ever walk the earth. And Mike was, well, Mike. Tall and awkward and loud and prone to monologues nobody asked for. It didn’t take a genius to see the mismatch.
Best friends, yes. Boyfriends, no.
Besides, Mike thought glumly, he didn’t even know if WIll liked boys. Liking boys wasn’t something people did. Wasn’t something people were supposed to do. Especially not in small town, closed-minded Hawkins.
He wasn’t expecting anything to come of this. Not a yes, not a kiss, not a miracle.
He just needed to tell Will. Needed to breathe again. Needed to stop holding this enormous, painful, beautiful feeling inside him.
And Will… Will would understand. He’d be nice about it. He’d still be Mike’s best friend. And Mike could, maybe, move on.
So when Will opened the door - hair messy from painting, cheeks smudged with charcoal, eyes bright and warm - Mike’s heart immediately fell straight through the floor.
“Mike?” Will said, confused but smiling. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
Mike swallowed.
Oh shit. Oh shit. He was really doing this.
“I, uh, I need to talk to you,” Mike blurted out, voice cracking embarrassingly on the last word.
Will’s brows furrowed, concern flickering across his face as he stepped aside to let Mike in. “Is everything okay?”
No. Everything was horrible. Everything was terrifying. Mike was about to confess to the boy he loved.
“Yeah,” Mike lied weakly. “I just… um. I have to tell you something important.”
Will shut the door gently behind them, worry blooming in his eyes.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Then tell me.”
And Mike’s heart pounded so hard he thought it might just give up completely.
Because Will Byers stood there looking at him like he mattered.
They stood frozen in the Byers’ entryway, the quiet of the house wrapping around them. The afternoon sun spilled through the windows, painting Will in soft gold, which did exactly zero to help Mike form a single coherent thought.
“Uh,” Mike muttered, blinking rapidly. His heartbeat was in his throat. “Is anyone home?”
Will shook his head. “No. Mike… what’s wrong?”
His voice was gentle, steady, so painfully kind that it broke something open in Mike’s chest.
Mike took a shuddering breath. His hands shook. He couldn’t stop them. He didn’t know if he wanted to.
“You see,” Mike blurted, words tumbling out uncontrollably, “I think,I mean, I feel, that is, you’re just… you’re so, shit, Will, you’re just so pretty.”
Will looked startled. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed and his lips started to curve. “Mike-”
“No, let me, just let me finish,” Mike begged, voice pitching upward, desperation clawing its way out. “You make me sick with how beautiful you are and I can’t breathe around you and I’m so sorry, Will, I’m so sorry, I just, I can’t not tell you anymore, and I know this is probably ruining everything and, I just, I love you, I love you, I’m sorry, I just-”
He didn’t get any further.
Because suddenly, impossibly, Will was kissing him.
Will. Kissing him.
Warm hands framed his jaw. Soft lips pressed against his. The world snapped into slow motion and then exploded like fireworks behind his ribs.
Mike made a choked, startled noise, eyes flying open before fluttering shut again. Will was kissing him. Will was kissing him. Like it was the easiest thing in the world, like he’d been waiting for this too.
Mike’s hands hovered stupidly in midair for a beat, his brain white-noise static, before they found Will's waist, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he was afraid Will might vanish if he let go.
Will pulled back only a breath, barely an inch, just far enough for Mike to see his flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and trembling smile.
“Mike,” Will whispered, breath brushing Mike’s lips, “you don’t ever have to apologise for loving me.”
Mike swayed. Literally swayed.
Will caught him with steady hands, laughing breathlessly. Mike groaned, burying his face in Will’s shoulder for a second, trying to calm his racing heart.
“You…” Mike swallowed hard, looking up again. “You love me?” he asked, hopeful.
Will huffed out a shaky laugh. “Mike. I’ve always... I’ve always loved you. You’re my heart.”
And Mike let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, all joy. He surged forward, kissing Will again, messy, eager, clumsy with relief and adrenaline and emotion he’d been holding inside for years.
This time Will laughed into the kiss, hands sliding into Mike’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
“Holy shit,” Mike whispered against Will’s lips when they finally came up for air, cheeks burning, chest heaving. “Holy, holy shit, Will, I can’t believe you-”
Will kissed him again, soft and sweet and certain.
“Believe it,” he murmured. “I’ve been in love with you forever.”
And Mike Wheeler was done. Completely undone. Melting. Boneless. Hopelessly, stupidly, wonderfully in love with the boy who loved him back.